Notes From The Cosmos

An LG Cosmos.

Sometimes I write little notes to myself.

And sometimes, when I want to write a little note to myself and there is no pen or paper around, I pull out my cellular telephone, a first generation LG Cosmos, and activate the “Notepad” feature.

For instance, on October 28th of last year, I recorded this: “Why aren’t there any funny tampon commercials.”

Here we are, over a year later, and I still have not witnessed a humorous feminine napkin advertisement, and I still don’t understand what tampons are actually for.

Local Blogger Presses “Publish,” Sits Back To Await Praise And Accolades

THE INTERNET—A local blogger recently published its latest article, sat back, and vibrated in excited delight.

“Yes. This will be the one,” it says, grinning at its own genius. “People magazine, here I come.”

The post is currently wafting aimlessly through the internet, where it is completely available for the top editors at every major periodical in the world to stumble across and hire the blogger once they recognize the raw talent and “outside of the box” recklessness that comes from the “writer’s” complete absence of any formal journalistic training.

Whether it was being one of the first few thousand pundits to make the astute observation that the only people who like Justin Bieber are generally preteen girls, to coining the phrase I’m more confused than Bruce or Caitlyn Jenner’s genitals!, or just having an all-around knack for “sticking it” to pop culture figures who “have it coming,” this blogger has got the stuff.

After pressing the “Publish” button, the blogger spent half an hour sorting through old Facebook photos, trying to decide which one would look good as a profile pic for the weekly column it will soon be writing for the local newspaper, which will then lead to a nationally syndicated gig.

Things Only Nine-Fingered Gluten-Free People Will Understand

—->you once stuck your finger in a carny’s mouth because you didn’t think he had any teeth

—->you once dug around in a carny’s mouth searching for a finger

—->you once punched a carny in the face until his teeth fell out

—->you once used a broken beer bottle to slice open the stomach of a toothless carny

—->you once brought your own nibbled-up, chewing tobacco and stomach juice-soaked finger to the hospital, where you were told it could not be reattached

—->you once were in a hospital examination room, looking at the stump that used to be your left pointer finger, while a doctor told you that you were morbidly obese

—->now you’re gluten free, because that will help, just like Atkins, essential oils, watching Dr. Phil, owning one eight pound dumbbell, and taking the top part of the bun off your Arby’s roast beef sandwich did.