nEuRotIC #3: She Loves Me?

Where Ice Cream Really Comes From

"Gadzooks!" cried Sir Gregory of Cornwall, "What is this fantastic delight upon which I am partaking? It is as cold as a winter's night, and as sweet as honey fresh from the comb!"

"Ice cream," Timothy Walters explained.

"Nay, you speak normally."

"No. That's what it's called. Ice cream."

"Oh!" Sir Gregory marveled at the thought. "How are the eyes made so cold?"

"The what?"

"The cream of eyes. How are they chilled?" Sir Gregory took another bite and moaned with delight.

"There are no eyes! It's cream from cow's milk. ICE," Timothy paused, "CREAM."

Sir Gregory gagged, "A cow!? Disgusting!"

~~~
Other adventures of Sir Gregory of Cornwall in the present-day

Tales from Destin: Slumdog Millionaire

I entered a clothing store with several of my cousins as we were browsing the local outlet mall. I wasn't really looking for anything. I was just tagging along.

Reese casually looked at the tag on a shirt. "Made in India," he said. Then it hit him a couple seconds later and he sighed, "Aww, that makes me think of Slumdog Millionaire."

"Those poor little slumdogs," I interjected with as tearful a voice as I could muster, "I wish they could all be millionaires! I'd make them all millionaires if I could! They may be untouchables, but they touched my heart!"

nEuRotIC #2: Super Disappointment

Tales from Destin: Wrist Strap

My new camera dared me to attempt using it. What if I did something wrong setting it up?

My younger cousin Will was not daunted, "It's easy. Just put in batteries and the memory card and take pictures!"

"But the instructions haven't told me to do that yet!" I said. Then I carefully read to put in the batteries and memory card.

A few moments later, "Who uses a wrist strap? And why are you taking so much time putting it on?"

"The instructions told me to put it on! It's got to be important if they have instructions for it!"

Wrong Door

Oh, hello there. I didn't hear you come in. Well, come in, come in. Sit down.

Let me tell you a story. This happened about ten years ago. Now, Jim was a little wet behind the ears back then. Well, anyway, one day he says to me-- What's that? You were just looking for the bathroom and you must've taken the wrong door?

Oh, yes, you'll be wanting the third door on the left. Yessir, that'll get you to where you need to be. When you're done, maybe you'll come back and I'll tell you about ol' Jim. No? Well, okay.

nEuRotIC #1: Uncontrollable Urge

Dear Internet

Dear Internet,

It's been a great ride, hasn't it? We had some good times. Remember "All Your Base"?

That's partly why I'm writing you, Internet. It used to just be you and me. We had all sorts of inside jokes that only you and me got. You were a haven for me from the outside world.

But now, everyone's on you, Internet! Everyone and their mother . . . everyone and my mother! Now it's just as embarrassing to be a geek on you as it is in real life!

It was a good run, Internet. Sorry it didn't last.

Best of luck,
~Eric

Divine Encouragement

Special one, why the frown?
Don't let life get you down.
Sure, things don't look so hot.
You'd rather be where you're not.
But smile, special one. Smile.
I know you haven't in a while.
Your heart aches; lonely and sad.
But trust me when I say, "Be glad."
You are my special one; mine alone.
Now soften your heart from stone.
Trust in me; in love divine.
My special one, you will shine.
And then you will finally see
What it means to be loved by me.

Victorian Sensibilities

"You’re a woman, right?" Greg asked with incredulity.

"I think so," Susan muttered.

"Okay, then maybe you can help me. See, I tried to ask Mary out on a date—well not really a date—just coffee, and she just wouldn’t give me a straight answer."

"Mary is a fairly old-fashioned type of girl. It is possible that you violated her Victorian sensibilities, you know?" Susan offered.

"Victorian sensibilities? I don’t want to consider Victorian sensibilities! That’s not how I sensibilitate. I’m a modern man with modern sensibilities. Sensibilities like complete masculine inability and self-worthlessness. Victorian nothing."

"Sorry. Can’t help you."