Bury it far below the frost line.
Leap Day provides an unusual opportunity to create and bury a time capsule. You can dig it up on the next Leap Day four years hence, thereby proving that you still don’t have a life.
First, you’ll need “stuff,” the technical term for anything you throw in the time capsule. Most of us have plenty of it lying around. Think of the fun memories this stuff will stir four years from now:
--movie ticket stub from “The Descendents”: “Wow, that was one friggin’ depressing movie. I should’ve gone to ‘The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo’ with my husband instead.”
--receipt from gasoline purchase: “I can’t believe gas was only $3.69 a gallon back then.”
--tumbleweed of dog hair picked up from floor: “Looks exactly like every tumbleweed I’ve swept up twice a day, every day, for the past four years.”
--crust of bread left over from lunch: “Euww! What the heck was this?”
Second, find a container. My favorite: a metal tin of cookies or candy from Walmart. Clean out the container by eating its entire contents in one day. This is something you’d probably want to do only once every four years – or once in a lifetime.
Third, put all your stuff in the container and bury it. If you live up north, this will require a hydraulic tool to get below the frost line. Then mark the spot with something really attractive (NOT a garden gnome, echhh), write yourself a reminder note, and stash it someplace where you’ll find it in February 2016 (yeah, right).
Did he see his shadow?
Lent was invented by Martin Luther in 1532 to wipe out the last traces of good cheer among early Protestants.
Lent consists of 40 days (without chocolate) and 40 nights (without alcohol), but it seems much longer. It doesn’t count if you give up something you weren’t doing anyway, like eating artichokes.
There are various methods for calculating when Lent begins each year, based on the cycles of the moon and whether the Easter Bunny saw his shadow in February.
If you have ashes applied to your forehead in church on Ash Wednesday morning, all day long people will mistake you for a chimney sweep.
Early catechumens fasted for six days prior to their first communion on Easter Sunday. This fast was reduced to three days once the early church fathers noticed a dropoff in early catechumens due to starvation.
Many denominations omit the “Gloria” from worship during Lent, but unfortunately the pastor usually lengthens his sermon to make up for it.
Never mind the Super Bowl – the most anticipated commercials of 2012 will accompany tonight’s Westminster Kennel Club broadcast. Here’s a sneak preview of products they will promote.
--Room fresheners you spray on the carpet for your dog to roll in. Fragrances include Unidentified Rotting Carcass, Deer Poop, and Discarded Crankcase Oil.
--Miss Manners’ new book for dogs, You Sniff My Butt, I’ll Sniff Yours.
--Deepak Chopra’s inspirational DVD “Making Peace with Dog Hair,” including the hit song “Tumblin’ Tumbleweeds.”
--A gluten-free, low-carb, low-sodium line of dog food made entirely from egg whites.
--Self-administered canine toothbrushes disguised as dead squirrels.
Ideas for guys
--Fix the dang toilet already. She’ll be so grateful, you might end up making out on the bathroom floor.
--Just for tonight, stay awake past 8 p.m. by using caffeine, self-inflicted pin jabs, or whatever it takes.
--Buy her a new apron. She’ll think of you when she’s up to her elbows in oven grease.
--Did you know you can print personalized covers of some magazines? Choose carefully, though. No woman wants her picture on “Dog Fancy.”
--Give her new boots to keep her feet warm while she’s clearing the driveway with the snowblower.
Ideas for gals
--Compliment your husband on his hair. If his hair is gone, compliment his eyebrows.
--Cook that favorite dish his mom used to make – the one requiring live-animal sacrifice.
--Deliver a shot and a beer to him in his favorite chair so he doesn’t have to schlep out to the tavern.
--Take a shower together, provided you both fit in the shower stall at once.
--Share your iPod with him. Put one earpiece in your right ear, the other in his left ear, and press your heads together on the open-ear side. If you each hear music in stereo, consider moving to an assisted living center.
1. They’re putting you under anesthesia for major surgery. Your last thought before losing consciousness is “When I wake up…”
A. “…I’ll feel like I got hit by a truck.”
B. “…I’ll be all better.”
2. You’ve won the lottery! You immediately:
A. Hire a tax lawyer, get an unlisted phone number, and deadbolt all your doors.
B. Tell co-workers, relatives, etc. the good news, knowing they’ll be genuinely and unselfishly happy for you.
3. The first day at your new job, you discover that the hottie you hit on during lunch is the boss’s spouse. You think:
A. “I’m dead meat.”
B. “This will make a great story down at the unemployment benefits office.”
If you chose mostly A’s, you’re a realist.
If you chose mostly B’s, you’re a nitwit.
If you skipped directly to this scoring table because quizzes never work for you anyway, you’re a pessimist.
If you thought this story would have a funny ending, you’re an incurable optimist.
I hope you weren't expecting anything profound.
If I ever need to plead insanity, this blog will provide valuable evidence.
Copyright (c) 2022 by Leah Carson, d/b/a Excellent Words, LLC