Cutting to the chase about cutlery

     I don't get cutlery. As much as I love earth food, this has been a struggle for me. Using a fork at the same time as a knife is a daunting task. If you have two perfectly good hands, why can't you use those to eat?

     In Eden we had no such tools. All our food was raw, unprocessed and fresh from the vines that grew them. We required  no etiquette and no table manners. For one thing, we had no tables.

     I think your species invented utensils because yours is the only one that cooks it's food. I say that if your food is too hot to the touch than let it cool. Or eat it raw.
     Why can't I simply drink my soup from the bowl? Why must I use a knife to put peanut butter on bread? My hand is bigger. Wouldn't it simply be easier to eat peas like grapes rather than scooping them with a pronged instrument? Why eat fruit with your hands, but fruit salad with a spoon? Don't get me started on chopsticks!
     Sigh. These rules are so confusing, it makes me want to throw my handful of mashed potatos in the air in disgust...



Photo by: Carlos Porto

Halfwits?

     What in the name of the Energy is wrong with your

Halflings? You know, the ones that aren’t quite 

 miniatures and not fully grown humans? They’re very 

strange. They appear to be nocturnal and are fueled by 

Red Bull, cola and MacDonalds. There are two in my 

family unit and I can’t understand either one.

     The male, I am told, is not typical. He’s very smart. 

The female Halfling is obsessed with male Halflings. Both spend a lot of time on confusers…Oh I’m sorry-

computers. Perhaps I was right the first time. They do seem very confused most of the time. When do they 

grow out of it..?  Do they grow out of it?




Photo by: Tina Phillips

Sweet Nothing

     Ah, Valentine’s Day….My very first one. A whole entire day 

dedicated to celebrating the one you love. How come there’s only one? 

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we gave and received flowers and 

chocolate everyday? (Again with the food, you humans are obsessed 

with the stuff) And we could have teddy bears and lingerie, and devote 

more time to cuddling and telling each other how much we wuv each 

other and….What am I saying? Was I just waxing poetic and making 

baby talk ? Yuck. Good thing Valentine’s Day only comes once a year.







Photo by: Nutdanai Apikhomboonwaroot

Birthday Blues

     Uh-oh. I just looked at the calender...
It's here again. My writer's birthday. Hide the liquor!   
     Ohhh...this one's going to be rough. She's thirty-nine on Saturday.
     Every year, around this time of year, she whines and moans about her weight, her hair, her wrinkles and her misspent youth. Isn't she a little young for a mid-life crisis?
     Wah,wah, wah. Can you imagine what she'll be like next year? When she's forty?
     She thinks she's old? I'm so old, I don't remember the first one hundred years.
     She worries about her career? I nearly blew up the universe at my last job. How's that for stress? I was in charge of the welfare of The Energy. How's that for responsibility?

     She's worried that she's not a good enough writer. Nonsense! She's a genius! After all, she created me, right?
     Happy Birthday to my writer-the woman who gave me existence. Cheer up, Mrs. M-- cause I'm fantastic.
     Hmmmm....What do you get for the woman who has me?


Photo by: Idea go