Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of July 15, 2018
• I can never spell the word collegues — colleagues — correctly the first time. That may be the reason I’m destined to work for myself.
• The desire of my son to not take a nap is equal to Hillary Clinton’s desire to be president. And the efforts to get him to nap are just as futile and pathetic as Hillary Clinton trying to become president.
• I would prefer to do the work of a long-haul truck driver or a Great Lakes shipping captain or a bellhop or a plumber than whatever the fuck it is that I think do for a living now.
• Listen here, knobface; people can’t pull themselves up by their bootstraps if you’re doing everything in your power to keep them from having boots.
• I’m trying to do a better job of finding the bright side of things. So, here’s the good thing about America being folded into Russia: Russian women are gorgeous.
• You want to have fun? Walk into a baby store, like, say, Red Balloon in Bucktown, as a 39-year-old man. When the young woman folding and stocking baby tees and onesies asks you, "Hello, what brings you in today?" with polite suspect, reply, "Oh, me? I have some time to kill before my eye doctor appointment and I really like baby stuff. Just looking at it. Touching it. Feeling it in my hands." Then hold eye contact with her for a full 20 seconds. If she doesn't ask you to leave but shows you the new arrivals, you've won. Reward yourself with a $70 t-shirt sized for an 18-month-old.
