Friday, March 30, 2012

Over the Red Line

I think we all have a meter within us.  Some call it intuition.  Some call it their 'gut feeling'.  Mine is a bullshit meter.  It's usually in a yellow zone.  Just the nature of circumstance, I am around potential scenes in which the meter can go either way fairly quickly.

Sadly, my red line, the one that reads "BULLSHIT ALERT!"  "BULLSHIT ALERT!"  is wearing faint due to overuse.

Trust is not my strongest suit.  I work on it daily.  On the days I fail at it miserably, I check to see if my mistrust was warranted.  Usually, it is.  Then, the Bullshit meter goes off and, normally, the Bullshit Alert tips the scales of Tranquility over into Crazytown.  I mean, I might as well keep those little dissolving comfort lozenges in my reach at all times so that I don't lose my ultra coolness.

I have never, ever in a moment of seriousness claimed perfection.  But if I tell you I'm going to do something, I'm going to do my damnedest to keep my word.  If you have even the tiniest inkling you're not able to do what you're about to promise, don't promise it.  

I don't have one of those little lozenges handy right now.  If I end up M.I.A., check Crazytown.


  1. Try working in a casino. Dealing poker.

    1. Were you a F.R.I.E.N.D.S. fan? I'd like be as successful as Phoebe in a casino. May I offer you a lozenge?


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