I wouldn’t donate one of my kidneys to just anyone. Don’t send me a friend request on Facebook, then start schmoozing with me for a few minutes about how we were friends in 9th grade English class, and then slip in a, “Hey, man, I need a kidney.” I didn’t have friends in 9th grade English class. Don’t tweet me a sob story or send me a sad Instagram photo of your dog. Besides, I don’t even like dogs. I didn’t help anyone move when I owned a pickup truck, and this is no different. Continue reading “No one is taking my kidney!”
Sitting in the exit row of a plane is something I take very seriously. As a relatively frequent flyer, I jump at the chance to bear responsibility for the lives of other travelers who are too wimpy to take on this burden themselves. In fact, most of these ingrates on the plane aren’t even aware of the sacrifice I am willing to make for them. They just sit back in their reclined positions, playing Sudoku and drinking Scotch, while I listen to the special instructions afforded to us as exit row specialists, also known as ERSs (a term I coined). Continue reading “Life as an ERS (Exit Row Specialist)”
I glanced down at the clock on my vehicle’s dashboard. It read 4:33 p.m.
“Plenty of time to get from Rockville, Maryland to D.C.,” I told my neighbor in the passenger seat. “The game is at 7.” Continue reading “Driving to a Baseball Game: Grand Jam”
Here, at the fifth precinct, my partner and I investigate the improper use of grammar. We take our jobs seriously. With advanced degrees in both Criminal Justice and English, we seek to rid the world of abuses of the English language. Continue reading “Weapons of Mass Instruction”
I think I speak for my outdoor trash cans when I say that they have no intention of ever being scary. They stand there, tucked between the adjoining corner of my backyard fencing, bleakly colored tan and gray. In fact, they are quite content to stay in the yard, only being moved on the eve of trash day. They require very little. Continue reading “Trash Can Containment”
The microwave won’t tell you that you accidentally added two additional zeroes to the timer. Coffee needs 30 seconds to heat up, not half an hour. Inevitably, you’ll hit “start” and move on to other things, intending to come back shortly to collect your warm coffee. After several minutes, it will dawn on you that the microwave shouldn’t still be rotating your java. As you hurriedly rush to the microwave and open the door, the carnage in front of you is not hard to miss. Continue reading “The Coffee Catastrophe of 2017”
Don’t get too excited. There are seven of us. One for each continent. Obviously.
We gather every June, at Devil’s Island, for our annual meeting. We selected this island purely for the irony of it all. Our Australian representative thought Easter Island would be equally as ironic, but he’s an idiot and majority rules. Besides, we didn’t want anyone to mistake our immortality for anything religious. It’s purely scientific. Continue reading “Immortally Yours”