Here’s a hard truth about destroying the future. There’s no guidebook. You’ve got your gut, and that’s it.

Hey, my eyes are UP HERE.

A few years ago, I decided that I might need to lose a few pounds.

It was the little things, really; lack of energy, clothes that didn’t fit anymore, excessive perspiration, the fact that I hadn’t seen my penis since 1973. I thought that joining Weight Watchers would be the most sensible way of going about this, that I could lose weight in a steady, controlled manner, in a friendly environment, surrounded by like-minded people who would support and encourage me throughout the entire process.

Hi CCHS parents! It’s Sheila Rasmusen, new PTA president.
The Varsity Football fundraiser is this Saturday!

Grains of salt. Wadded napkins. A scent of slivered fried potatoes in the air. This former site of dining, this leatherette monument to food-based fellowship remains desolate. But clearly someone dined here.

There’s a fish on my desk and it’s weirding me out. It’s just sitting there. Where did this thing come from? How could it have possibly gotten on my desk? The damn thing isn’t even cooked! It’s not baked, or sautéed, or pan fried, or pan broiled, or grilled, or poached, or deep fried, or prepared in any way that would be beneficial to me. It’s just raw, and not in a creative or delicious way, like sushi. Raw!