Google Transit Zen
A public service announcement
Yelling “I want to talk to a person” over and over at United Airlines’ automated help line does, in fact, get you a person.
Steve points out that sometimes it pays to think like the elderly.
Steve and I subscribe to a local vegetable service, which I love. Every Thursday is now Produce Christmas. Will I get the onions I hoped for? Will there be another weird variety of radish that doesn’t go with anything I cook? Of course, the winter months can get a little monotonous (There is a legion of parsnips in the crisper right now. I think they are planning something. Maybe a crudites coup d’etat? A crudetat, if you will?) Still, there have been some fun surprises. Like today’s delivery of the MOST ENORMOUS MUSHROOM I HAVE EVER SEEN. I weighed it. It is 10 ounces. It is about the size of my considerably large head.
Here. I took a picture. It doesn’t look quite as impressive as I think it is in real life. I should have found someone more diminutive to pose with it. But it is glorious. I believe its destiny is to be a pair of delicious sandwiches.

two is the lowest number
On the way home from work today I saw the first digit in the price of regular gas was a “1″. I assumed the sign was broken until seeing the price really was 1.99 a gallon at another Citgo down the road.
My initial, cynical judgement on the rapidly dropping oil prices was that this was largely the result of oil cartels dropping the price they’ve kept artificially high to make sure the bottom didn’t completely fall out of their gas-guzzling markets in the U.S. and worldwide, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. If nothing else, we can experience some sweet schadenfreude as we take down the economies of other nations in our flaming crash back to the earth (though the cheap gas may not last long).
nooks and crannies of consolation
Hi, I’m Tommie Harris. Let’s talk about English muffins.
Tommie Harris, WBBM-780
Magazines for Babies and Toddlers
That is the subject line of an email I just got from amazon.com. I am now having daydreams about magazines with headlines like “How to Poop Yourself and Look Like You’re Smiling” and “He said he had my nose: true stories of deception”.





