I should almost start a new thread called
Random Retirement Ramblings.
Here are three:
1 - Would you want to know if someone is having sexual fantasies about you?
Are you sure? Part of me would (guess which part), but the rest of me would not.
2 - The coolest email address: yourname@gmail.com.
Rando Dude: "What's your email address?"
Me: "It's yourname@gmail.com"
Rando: (Looks up, stares) MY name?
Me: No. Yourname.
Rando: "Wait...your email address is my name?"
Me: "No, it's yourname."
Rando: "So your email address is randodude@gmail.com?"
Me: "What? No, it's yourname@gmail.com."
Me: (Gets punched.)
3 - I forget the third one. Which is perfect for a retired senior f-ing citizen, which I was just called last week for the first time ever, to my immediate alarm and despondence. (Wow - turns out "despondence" is an actual word. I hate it when I try to make up words and it turns out they are actual words, like shenaniganry. At least I still have skidaddalize and reconstabulate going for me, which is nice.)
Oh Joy - I remembered! But upon further review, it didn't make sense, so never you mind. It was about how out of touch people who are passionate about something are. But then I remembered how much I love passionate people. And passion in general. But there sure is a tipping point. The fine line between passion and obsession.
And why is the line always a fine one? Can't it be a fat line? Or a coarse one?
Enough with the R-cubed.
