Talk of the town: Mark cries fowl

Bok! Bok!

At Forage in Lewiston, they're selling a variety of cool hats. My hands-down favorite is a rooster cap, which can transform an ordinary human head into something that resembles a barnyard fowl. I ask you: Does it get any more fun than that? No sir, it does not. So, why am I walking around today NOT looking like a chicken? Because the sizes available are for babies and small children. Where's the love, local hat maker? Now that I know how easy it is to parade around looking like a chicken, I rue every moment that my head remains non-bird-like. It's rough being me.


Some nice reader sent me a hilarious book titled "How to Tell if Your Cat is Plotting to Kill You." This dovetails nicely with my own upcoming book "How to Tell if a Reader is Plotting to Stalk You." Ha ha ha! I'm just kidding! Please don't hurt me.


Pretty stressful, this sequestration business. And so soon after we sweat through the fiscal cliff and the precipitous plummet. Do you have any idea what these things are? Me, neither. Maybe Washington should let the Weather Channel name their various crises. Brace yourselves, everybody, for gun debate "Gunther."


I had originally named the gun debate "Paul," but sharp-witted reader Diane Something or Other recommended Gunther and, you know what? I'm down with that. I don't know a single Gunther in the real world so the chances of hate mail are slim. Maybe.

The key to a happy marriage

So on Wednesday, as winter storm Rocky pranced into the region wearing its little tutu (it wasn't much of a storm, is what I'm implying here), I accidentally locked myself out of the house. It happens to all guys, am I right? Sure, it does. So, I call that wife so that she can make arrangements via phone to get me back inside. Do you know what she said to me? Can you even guess what that woman said? She said: "Locked yourself out? How did that happen?"

As far as I know, there's only one way to lock oneself out of one's abode. You lock the door and leave the house without the key. I didn't accidentally exit the building through the chimney or use telekinesis to transport the keys back inside. I simply forgot my keys, OK? Do we have to make a thing out of this? So, now I've got to find some seedy motel to live in and there's all that paperwork. . . . This hasn't been a very good week at all.

Dylan coming to Lewiston

I have nothing to say about Dylan coming to Lewiston at this time.

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Jason Theriault's picture


You're giving your wife grief about "Locked yourself out? How did that happen?" when you, in fact, locked yourself out?

I also locked myself out once. And I was about to be late for a dentist appointment. So I did what any man would do - I kicked in the door.

Ruined the door, got the police called on me, but I made that appointment.
(Yes, I replaced the door with one you can't kick in)

Gary Grenier's picture


The only thing I have to say about Dylan coming to Lewiston:

I'm not going.


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