The Art of the Morose Moose

sometimes things don't workout like you want them too.

sometimes things don't workout period.

sometimes i forget to workout.

and by forget i mean leave my gym bag at home in favor of a sexy take-out bag from last night’s late night mexican binge.

have i said too much?

when does too much become not enough?

when does not enough become a reason to leave?

when does leaving become impossible due to the fact that there is simply too much stuff?

does the fact that there is too much to do play into stuff not working out?

every one's got stuff.

sometimes you can see the stuff and sometimes you know it’s there, just by the way the person moves their mouth.

you can’t fight off what you can’t see.

leave your stuff on the counter, someone will be along to take it away.

fill your brain with useless stuff.

isn't that what college was for?

i've lived too long in vagueness.

let's talk about something more concrete.

it's not rocket science, it's just collating.

today i’m existing on a whisper.

it is amazing how many things a person can actually fall off of. i should know. i’ve tried most of them.

being klutzy is an art form.

this week in jenna theatre – jenna is in a changing room at macy's in new york city. next to her is a dad and daughter trying on dresses. the following occurred while jenna was inside her changing stall.
dad – are you sure you don’t want me to come in there with you?
daughter – yes dad, sheesh, there is not enough room for two people.
dad – ok. let me see the first dress.
daughter – i look fat.
dad – let me see.
(door opening)
dad – oh honey, you don’t look fat. you look sexy. you have sexy curves. your mother used to have sexy curves like that when i first fell in love with her. men love curves.
daughter – i don’t know. i’m not sure this type of dress works for me.
dad – you’re just saying that because i picked it out. here try this one.
daughter – but dad my chest is too big to not wear a bra!
dad – guys hate bras. just let me see you in it.
daughter – fine.
(a little later)
dad – are you coming out?
daughter – i think i look like a hooker.
dad – let me see.
(door opens)
dad – you don’t look trashy at all. you look so sexy. really, really sexy.
daughter – you think?
dad – oh yes, yes i do….

and this is why i hate to go shopping.