Not all mythical creatures are racist

Started the day by reading "Good Old Neon" by David Foster Wallace from his collection Oblivion. My assessment of the short story is that it was brilliant. An incredibly insightful look into the mind of the modern American attempting to make it in a world that relies heavily on appearances and perceptions. It is essentially the story of a man who is so obsessed with appearing to be good in the eyes of others that he eventually discovers he has no inner-self. Thus, the story winds up being a meditation on the incredibly complex relationship that we have internally, and how that effects our perception of our place in the world.

Further signs that old age is encroaching-
Woke up in the morning and wandered around my in-laws house in my "gym shorts." Gym shorts being the colloquialism used for underwear, and isn't that the sort of thing you start doing comfortably when you start to age? By all rights I've no business to wander around my in-laws house in my skivvies, but I wasn't sure where my shorts were, and it seemed appropriate enough. But of course the whole time I'm walking around I was conscious that I shouldn't be just wearing my gym shorts, and maybe when I get to the point when I'm not even worried that I'm wearing my gym shorts I'll know that I've attained some degree of yet unscaled adult height.

Further signs of old age encroaching at the Olive Garden-I wandered into the men's room, looking at pictures on the wall, comparing everything to Italy, and I walk up to the traditional three urinal wall arrangement, and while I'm surveying posters I begin to utilize the center one. Under no circumstances should any male ever use the middle urinal if they are the first person to approach the urinal wall. By utilizing the middle urinal you are essentially inviting people to come and pee next to you, which only seems natural after high consumption of alcohol, otherwise, it is not an acceptable place to have a conversation and by choosing that middle urinal I'm inviting the conversation, or at the very least making the next person uncomfortable because they don't have the nice buffer of a center urinal with which to distance themselves from me. And there I am blithely admiring a grainy black and white of some small alimenari in Italy trying to remember what it was like to walk those narrow cobbled streets more than a year ago.

Lunch at the Olive Garden involving the brief recounting of an episode of Flight of the Conchords in which Alby the racist dragon plays prominently and gives me my quote of the day. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g9Qu3iP3RYA
In which Jonathan recounts the story of a unicorn who wanders into a cave, gets knocked out and has a kidney stolen.
S: Was he racist?
J: Stephanie, not all mythical creatures are racist.

Came across a book called The Secret, which is apparently sweeping the nation right now, and Oprah has been flogging it and trying to raise its profile, so that people can finally just start thinking really positive thoughts to make life better. Of course, psychological experiments have proved that doing something like smiling more frequently can actually have positive effects on brain chemistry, however, wishing that your bills will suddenly turn into checks is not sound thinking...it's insane. I guess I just can't really get behind a book that advocates positive thinking to the point of starting an idiocracy. I'm not sure my cable company would understand if I just told them to take a look at my bounced check again, but this time with a bit more positivity as it related to my finances.

Applied thoughts from the Secret to my house.
Came home to a house with only one baby roach to greet us. I've rescinded my earlier position, I don't miss the roaches at all. I'd like to see them all die in horrific and complicated ways that really strain their infinitely small minds into considering just what it means to be a roach, to have roachood, and to consider that perhaps leeching off human beings light, warmth, and general good nature (when we're not spraying them or trying to get them to eat poison to take back to offspring) is not really an admirable way to live, and I want them to develop some small agrarian parties that exist peacefully, perhaps herding bits and pieces of saltine crackers and teaching them to mate. I'd then like them to evolve a bit more and develop (preferably within the space of a week but bear in mind I'm thinking positively and using the secret hear) a mini-set of the ten commandments, or at least, thou shalt not steal, and to have some sort of religious awakening that can eventually lead to our peaceful co-existence after a series of treaties, minor prophets, and perhaps a period in which they regard me as some sort of demi-God that eventually winds up in a sort of feudal serf lord kind of arrangement. Some people might say that I'm being too optimistic, but my answer to those people is that they are wrong. Those people just need to expect a little more from their household pests.