just do it.

end::so good luck with my tragedy

i am enamored with writing things in check memo fields. it is a rare chance for comedy in the otherwise staid world of financial services and automated check processing!

i have always been a fan of writing “stop following me,” just because i love the idea of a guy who is being followed by someone, and then gets so pissed off that he spins around, whips out his checkbook, and cuts the dude a check then and there just to make him go somewhere else.

other good ideas:
“for your continued silence!”
“the exact value of a broken heart”
“no one ever has to know…”
“we can still be friends, right?”
“protection racket”

(totally stolen from ryan north)

end::this table is set for one

so, i was taking care of my laundry, and i put a blue shirt on a green hanger. i thought it didn’t go very well, until i noticed that the shirt had green on it already, so it actually looked pretty good.

then i realized what the heck i was thinking about and decided to think about something else.

end::

an american businessman was at the pier of a small coastal mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. inside the small boat were several large yellow fin tuna. the american complimented the mexican on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them.

the mexican replied, “only a little while.”

“you’re such an excellent fisherman,” said the american. “why don’t you stay out longer and catch more fish?”

the mexican said he had enough to support his family’s immediate needs.

the american then asked, “but what do you do with the rest of your time?

the mexican fisherman said, “i sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take a siesta with my wife, and stroll into the village each evening, where i sip wine and play guitar with my amigos. i have a full and busy life, senor.”

the american scoffed, “i am a harvard mba, and could help you. if you spent more time fishing, you could buy a bigger boat. then you could buy several boats. eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats. instead of selling your catch to a middleman, you could sell directly to the processor, eventually opening your own cannery. you would control the product, processing and distribution. you would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to mexico city, then l.a., and eventually new york city, where you would run your expanding enterprise.”

the mexican fisherman asked, “but senor, how long will this all take?”

to which the american replied, “15 to 20 years.”

“but what then, senor?”

the american laughed and said, “that’s the best part. when the time was right, you would announce a public offering, sell your company stock to the public, and become very rich. you would make millions.”

“millions, senor? then what?”

the american said, “then you could retire. you know, move to a small coastal fishing village — where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siestas with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your guitar with your amigos.”

end::there’s a shaking inside and the sun in my eyes

tomorrow she leaves

a year is a long time

end::now life takes us separate ways

how can i be so busy and so bored at the same time?

end::it’s a therapy i’ve been pending for my happy ending