Trying to dicipher the hidden code on the Dr. Bronner’s All In One! soap bottle.
There must be something in there…
Trying to dicipher the hidden code on the Dr. Bronner’s All In One! soap bottle.
There must be something in there…
It is a bit depressing to hear birds chirping at an intersection at midnight on Sunday. Makes me feel like it’s already Monday morning.
If commercial airplanes fly closer to the ground or ocean, it’d be more fun to fly.
It’s probably a good thing that they don’t.
When I come to think of it, it is a bit nerve racking to constantly sit in front of something that can pop out suddenly as I drive.
Surprises can be dangerous.
Surprisingly, quite a few books I want — not porn — have titles that I’m a bit hesitant to say at information desks.
How about putting running wheels around the places where mice come in and out of a house? If I attach some food to the wheel, would mice get on the wheel and start running?
If they are happy running on a wheel rather than around the house, I’ll be happy too.
I would like to award the ‘best place to be in an REI store’ prize to…
Behind/Among the hanging sleeping bag samples.
It’s very quiet, comfy, and cool. It’s a totally separate world from the rest of the store.
The moment after saying “cheers” to start drinking is often awkward. There is a moment of silence and/or random words to fill bits and pieces of silence while we decide which glasses to touch and whose are too far to touch.
Broccolli Rape — $7
Meatball — $6
Don’t look too appetizing. Broccoli rape sounds really offensive.
I’m not sure how I would feel if I’m given the specifal professor status with one of those “another professor’s name Professor” titles, especially when very few people know who that another professor is in most cases…
If dreams were continuous — meaning that when you go to sleep, you start from where you ended the night before — would the idea of sleeping become more or less comforting?
In such a world, I wonder if people with discontinuous dreams, like most humans in this world, would seek help from psychiatrists.
I don’t like the aftertaste of beer on my tongue. When my tongue starts tasting like beer, I start feeling less happy.
I lose my consciousness in the act of getting nuts out of shells and bringing them to my mouth.
I become something between a robot and an enlightened person.