Tweet twits

In a pre-election poll, local candidates were asked what they would say to the voters within the limitations of the Twitter word count. Several of them remarked “I don’t Tweet” and left it at that, entirely missing the point of the exercise and blowing a chance for free campaign space in the newspaper. Others, meanwhile, took full advantage of the opportunity and fired off 11th-hour messages to potential voters. Someone needs to take a look at how the “I don’t Tweet” candidates fared in the election compared to those who capitalized on those free 140 characters. Get on that, would you?

Sniffle

The day before Halloween, while I was out on vacation, my co-workers began calling and writing me to report a large mysterious box on my desk that had come in the mail. Speculation ran amok as several of my colleagues pressed ears to the package to ensure it wasn’t ticking. Not to worry. It wasn’t a bomb, but an entire case of Kleenex tissues, sent to me by a heartless San Francisco Giants fan from across the country. “To help you with your weeping until next spring,” went the attached note. Hurtful! But also helpful. I’ve already gone through four of the boxes.

Pestilence

The GOP has taken over the Senate. Oh yes, NOW things will change. Replacing one major party with the other is like curing head lice by taking on fleas. My prediction: The two-headed D.C. snake will continue to hiss. And now I’m out of vermin metaphors.

Please don’t hurt me

At last, the long search is over. I have found the perfect coat, a Carhartt Arctic in lovely sandstone bought at half price. Not only is the jacket extremely warm and tough as brick, it makes me look huge. Saw my reflection in a storefront window the other day and immediately turned over my wallet. I mean, that dude was scary!

Early dark

The only good thing I can say about the clock change is that the extra darkness is conducive to skulking. I used to skulk more. Don’t know why I ever got away from it. I’m going out to skulk this very minute, possibly in your neighborhood. Please prepare cocoa.

Nightmare on the Ridge

The haunted hayride at Wallingford’s Orchard in Auburn was absolutely awesome. The important thing here is that you can’t prove that I screamed like a girl when that gigantic dude with the chainsaw came lumbering out of the corn. A good time was had by all except for my underpants.

Nope

Still not ready to talk about the Royals. Maybe after the holidays.

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