Scroll down to see new entries (in bold)
I got a new plaid shirt for kindergarten. I’d never seen so many colors and stripes, and I assumed no one else had, either.
From story time to nap time to play time, I worked the room, making sure everyone knew that even if they were my approximate height, they were still beneath me. “Know what this is? It’s plaid,” I kept saying with a nonexistent pause, all the while pointing at my chest.
Once certain everyone was well aware of how better I was than them, I took a well-deserved break, picking my nose and wiping the boogers on my shoulder. Suddenly, Mrs. Jolly rushed over, pointed her finger at the insidious social violation near my neck and screeched her infamous catch-phrase, “That’s rude!”
Confused, I stared back and replied at the same decibel level, “No it’s not! It’s plaid!”
As she dragged me to the principal’s office, all I could do was cry for my mom. I needed a representative that knew how to use a dictionary — there were some things I had to look up.
From story time to nap time to play time, I worked the room, making sure everyone knew that even if they were my approximate height, they were still beneath me. “Know what this is? It’s plaid,” I kept saying with a nonexistent pause, all the while pointing at my chest.
Once certain everyone was well aware of how better I was than them, I took a well-deserved break, picking my nose and wiping the boogers on my shoulder. Suddenly, Mrs. Jolly rushed over, pointed her finger at the insidious social violation near my neck and screeched her infamous catch-phrase, “That’s rude!”
Confused, I stared back and replied at the same decibel level, “No it’s not! It’s plaid!”
As she dragged me to the principal’s office, all I could do was cry for my mom. I needed a representative that knew how to use a dictionary — there were some things I had to look up.
4-minute reads
-
Click above to read my columns. Don't be afraid. It's just reading -- you're doing it now, only you scroll down a bit more and keep going. Think of it like a trip to the dentist. Apprehensive at first, but then there's laughing gas. Only you won't be spitting up swallowed blood once my hilarity subsides. If you are, let me know immediately, because that means I'm obviously doing something very, very wrong.
-
Download a better version of your life
Are we supposed to know what that icon above represents? I don't. But apparently, it's a link to my podcast feed.
-
Download the song everyone is talking about (if only to drown out the music).
-
All roads, and most chicklet icons, lead to iTunes, including the one above. Click it for the express route to becoming a digitialslobpod subscriber. Or click any other aggregator of choice below. Join the Digital Slob Cult. Don't worry, the doors all lock from the outside for your own protection.
-
The link above will get you to the digitalslob MySpace page. It must be worth a look, the chicklet is animated. There are only about 63 million other such MySpaces in captivity. But mine is one of the few that doesn't involve pictures of ass cleavage (I'm saving those for a premium service).
- Edit me!
Previous posts
Archives
digitalslobpod will come to you
Ah, screw it. I'll just e-mail it to you
-
If you haven't figured all this podcasting crap out yet (and who has?) then just enter your e-mail address below and each weekly episode of digitalslobpod will arrive in your in-box, just like your horoscope and 1,017 would-be home mortgage lenders. But this won't generate any MORE spam ... I'm a Digital Slob ... I can't keep track of my electric bill -- how am I going to sort through your addresses?
Pretty picture of my wife. Actually, a realistic picture of my stunningly beautiful wife. If you scrolled down this far, I figured your eyeballs need a spa break. Actually, no, this is really just for me.
ATOM 0.3
0 Responses to “Nov. 6, 1972 (4 years old)”
Leave a Reply