Sweet Toof

This month is over today. Yeah yeah, Take Your Blog to Work Day was supposed to happen, but for some odd reason my blog was down for 2 days. I didn't know who to blame it on: A hacker, a hurricane. Republished it and boom it's up again

T'will happen soon, but discipline has always been shaky ground to me. Plus this month is where offiically the creative lull for me was in full effect y'all

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Someone told me I had incredibly selfish tendencies. I wanted to "have my cake and eat it too".

But isn't it my cake? If I have a cake why would I not eat it? I like cake. Who doesn't? But now that I have it, I can't partake in cake? What do I do, share it? I should have my cake but give it to others? Who does that? Take away a 6 year old's cake and he'll take out your left kneecap

I think selfish would better be described as "You want to have your cake and then have someone else's and then someone else's until people start complaining about how much cake you've eaten but you still don't care because you got more cake on the way. The cake train is a-coming. Choo Choo!"

And why put such a negative character trait as selfishness and associate it with cake? Cake never did anything wrong. Cake is either directly or indirectly always involved with celebration.

DIRECTLY
Birthday party

INDIRECTLY
It's only $8.99 at Kroger and even though there "technically" isn't anything to celebrate, you can always celebrate the fact that no one else knows about this cake and you have it all to yourself

Have you ever had no reason cake? Like your friends went to a birthday party and brought some home and you get a piece? It's the best feeling. You have no connection to the person. If not for them celebrating, you'd never have cake but really you could care less about what it was they were celebrating. No emotional investment at all in that person's life. It's free cake without having to give a gift or any of your personal time. You win

I hate when people turn down cake. Like at a wedding or birthday. I used to think "Do they not realize that you don't get offered cake every day? Water, yes. But no one has a cake faucet at home." And then I realized that maybe they're one of those $8.99 Kroger Cake Kids who are gonna leave the reception, go home and munch down on some random kid's birthday cake that his Xanex-ed up soccer mom forgot to pick up

Hard to be mad at any function when there's cake. Cake could clear up tension in the Middle East. Hard to be mad at the Palestinians when you have carrot cake frosting on your lip. Of course I'm sure both the Israelis and Palestinians would fight over who got the icing, or the bigger slice, or they'd claim one side of the cake, leaving a sort of Gaza Strip of cake in the middle for no one to get

Who knew cake could be so controversial

I have a note..

To: Mr. Blogspot
1200 Lackuv Drive
Dallas, Texas 75040

I am writing to explain the events of Tuesday, September 27th, that prompted me to miss the 2nd Blogger.com Take Your Blog to Work Day. I hope that you appreciate my honesty in this matter.

I could easily concoct a story detailing an overturned big-rig and my near fatal miss while tailgating him in my Daewoo.

But I won't.

I can insist that nobody told me of this event, and as a result, I went to go test out mattresses at Bed, Bath, and Beyond by bellyflopping on them from the dresser drawer section.

But that would be false.

I would tell you that it's a racial thing. Blogger.com doesn't appreciate the contribution of South Asians to this part of the Internet. Where else can you find humor, Bollywood gossip, and fish curry recipes all at the left-click of a mouse? But does blogger promote that? Of course not, they'd rather you be concerned with Demetrius in Helsinki's take on The Real World: Austin. Racist? Possibly. The truth?

Definitely not.

I had a heavy night of booze and biscuits. I drank 5 Newcastles and 2 shots of Tuaca. Then capped off my drunken stupor with a dessert of Whataburger's attempt at the McMuffin. This does happen. But we call that Friday

It's Tuesday.

Grandma called. She's sick. Her last wish was to see me. As much as I love to blog, I love my heritage too. And I'd hate to think that I missed her last few days on Earth because I wanted to rant about breakfast cereal. This is a situation I hope never happens.

And so far it hasn't

My dog ate my blog

I don't have a dog.

I was nestled underneath the covers. Warm, toasty. You know you're sound asleep when you have dreams of yourself sleeping. Spooning with Mr. Sandman. The Boogeyman sang me a lullaby. Who knew he had such a soothing tenor?

That's the truth.

I'll come into work tomorrow. Bright and early. 8am, I'm bringing Krispy Kreme. Early, I'll be. Bright? I can't guarantee that. See you Wednesday

Paul

The Sequel

So this has been the most unproductive month of blogging yet. The entries have slowly been dissipating. If you made a line graph to chart the amount of blogs I've put in per month as the months have gone by, it'd look very similar to the line graph that charts President Bush's approval rating.

So drastic shortage of blog entries has led me to drastic measures. So when I get back into town next week? Tuesday will be PaulVarghese.blogspot.com's Take your Blog to Work Day 2: The Revenge. Seventeen blogs in eight hours. Four bouts of insanity. Two blogs about how insane this endeavor is. And a crack pipe in a pear tree

When We Last Left Paul..

It was August. My cellphone billing cycle had just been replenished. I had come back from D.C. I was rambling about redneck love and was headed to my high school reunion

Flash forward to Labor Day

It's September. I'm waiting for my cellphone billing cycle to replenish. I'm headed to Austin this week. I've personally witnessed redneck love in the form of Exhibit A mugging down at a Denny's over the Moons Over My Hammy platter and the reunion was non-eventful.

The next three weeks look to be somewhat eventful for me. I'm entertaining the orangey folks of UT Austin this week, then off to L.A for an NBC showcase of some sorts then to Laredo, Texas to share some border love to the borderistas over there then off to Vancouver to be in a comedy festival up there. Slightly hectic but travel makes the world go round .. I think

So it turned out at the reunion that I ended up not talking to people I didn't talk to anyway in high school. The people I did talk to came up to me. And even ten years later, dirty looks still exist. So my advice to anyone out there who doesn't want to go to their high school reunion? Go. You couldn't be any lamer than me in high school and the reunion experience wasn't as disgusting or down-trodden as I enivisioned it to be. In fact just to get revenge, I walked by all the guys who were jocks in high school and knocked their beers out of their hands.

It's Labor Day and nobody's working. What? Today's the day where the homeless feel like part of the crowd. Where all the struggling musicians, who mooch off their Hooters' waitress girlfriends, wonder why the mail didn't come in today. Where comedians like me use the lack of working bank employees as an opportunity to blog and try to come up with jokes about Labor Day.

Labor Night would be even more interesting. Just one night out of the year where nobody would have to worry about getting mugged or shot. Criminals are forced to take a night off, it's a federal thing baby! T'would suck for bars though. It'd force families to have to make their own dinner. It'd force my friends and I to bond over Yahtzee and chocolate milk.. I hate Labor Night

I have a lamp that won't turn off. I keep pulling its chain - nothing. Like it refuses to clock out. It's gonna show me that I made the right decision in buying him and not end up like the rest of them that end up in my aunt's garage. He's trying to earn a spot in my heart when he's really just being annoying. It's like someone coming to mow your lawn and they keep mowing. Grass has been mowed. Mowing has been established. He keeps mowing, thinking his mowing will make you love him all the more. No. You've done your job. Go home. I'll write you a hot check later.

Mr. Lamp. Know your role. It's 2 p.m. Your work is done here. Clap off