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The First Rule of Fight Club

Regardless of what Jodi may tell people (I suspect she has a rival blog and is plotting a coup), I’m really not that picky.  I just like rules, order, and a semblance of cleanliness. Nothing crazy.  By order, I mean simple things like all the books on a shelf lined up.  And by rules—we don’t talk about fight club.  People can just infer whatever they want from our bruises and lacerations.  We don’t talk about it, even if they get testy.  There’s no reason to break a rule just because people threaten to get the cops involved.  Fun fact—Jodi and I tried to start a fight club, but by the time we had taped our hands up, we were too tired to continue.*  So we started a book club when we woke up.

Here’s what we’ve read so far—in case you want to try out a new book:

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Fight club turning into book club is a pretty good analogy for my life really.  I come up with grand ideas and plans, but they usually aren’t super realistic, so I just play the scenarios out in my head, and then move on with my day.  Take for example my idea to overthrow the government of a small South American nation and become the supreme dictator of said nation—I just don’t have the energy.  And I have no idea which country is the most vulnerable to being overthrown by a tubbly American with very little desire to do anything that might cause him to sweat profusely.

Just the other day, Jodi asked me if we could quit our jobs and start a biker gang.  Actually, I’m not sure if quitting our jobs was part of the plan, but starting a biker gang was definitely involved in her plan.  At first, I was totally on board with the idea—I mean, I’ve never had a reason to be completely tattooed and wear tons of leather and bandanas, but here it was, falling into my lap.  Of course, I then realized that there was likely no motorcycle that could hold both of us at the same time, so I had to decline.  Jodi’s response was simple: “Soooo…we’re not going to do anything that interests me?”  Once I explained my concerns, she realized that I was probably right.  But for a good two minutes, we were going to carry on Sons of Anarchy** style.

For years, I’ve been threatening (along with the help of my friend, Jennifer), to upgrade the current Burger King burger, The Whopper.  We thought that if we wrapped it in chicken skin, battered it up, and fried it to a crispy, golden brown, it might be even better.  Especially with a mayonnaise-based dipping sauce.  Of course, that project is still in the planning stages and stalled for the foreseeable future.  Our cardiac health is probably dependent upon us leaving this idea in the planning stages, too.

Several months ago, I started putting together a PowerPoint presentation about a road trip that Jodi and I should take to Alaska sometime.  It got past the planning stages, but it hasn’t been completed yet, either.  Not that I think the road trip will never happen—I just know it won’t happen anytime soon, so there’s no rush.  And besides, I’m known for impromptu and “play it by ear” road trips, so the PowerPoint is really just pointless.  I mean—I don’t follow plans, so why would a PowerPoint be any different?

Oh well.

Until next time…

*That’s obviously a lie.  We skipped the “taping” stage and went straight to the “nap” stage.

**I’ve never seen a single episode, so don’t bother trying to engage me in discussion.

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