What I Wouldn't Want to Be.

Winter strikes with brutal vengeance once again. It's mildly cold outside, we all anticipate a white Christmas, and then WAMMO - the temp drops to negative 5 and I start to think about tires.

The sound of car tires rolling on fresh snow has an very recognizable sound to it. It's kind of a long, drawn-out crunch that eventually fades as the car gains speed. For some reason in the winter I think about my car's tires. How hard and cold they are when I first start driving. They have been sitting all night it negative temperatures and have probably learned a slight imperfection of non-roundness. As they move , of course, they warm up and eventually run smoothly but sometimes I think about those cold, hard tires and how much... you guessed it, I would not want to be a tire.

There are plenty of things I wouldn't want to be: a woman, for instance. Women's bodies are so complex and confusing (along with their emotions) that it makes me crazy knowing them sometimes. I certainly would not know how to deal with being one... Luckily, I don't have to worry about that.

But there are other things I would never want to be. Inanimate objects, most the time. You've already heard one - a tire. But there are others... I think about obvious ones (underwear, toilet paper, syringes;) but there are less commonly thought of ones that occasionally mingle in my mind. Like a stick of deodorant. I would never ever want to be a stick of deodorant. Can you imagine being shoved into a warm armpit and then thinly applied to skin? The mere thought sickens me.

I also would not want to be the cold ceramic outside of a precipitous toilet. There's a little twist one this one, because I guess I wouldn't mind being the outside of a toilet as long as I was in a warm climate - but in the colder areas of the country, toilets "sweat" as I've heard it called, and I cannot imagine being cold and dewey and drippy 24/7.

I would not want to be a butt. Staring through the vastness of enclosed darkness, with only short, bright spurts of time to breath. Eww.

I would never want to be a pore on the face of a pubating teenager. I would live of life of an oily cavern - filled with toxins and too-much poorly placed make up (for the girls). I would never feel the fresh cool touch of water (if I was a boy). Overall, I would want to be scraped off (which eventually would happen due to the fact that bodies shed skin). I sure would not want to be a pore.

I probably would not want to be a pool filter. But I would want to be one of those signs BY a pool that says: "Welcome to our OOL - as you can see, there is no "P" in it - let's keep it that way."

I wouldn't want to be a shoe. I can picture it now - my face leaving and then hitting the ground with each step....ahhh...AGHH!....ahh....AGHH!... A pebble sticks in of the corner of my mouth and a wad of gum greets my nostril. Oh, and with my luck, I would be the shoe of a smoker and would always be putting out cigarette butts with my forehead. Boy that would sure beat all.

I wouldn't want to be you reading this article. You are probably wondering who deals my crack or if my dealer stopped dealing it. You are probably wondering why you are even on this site, when you could be doing something worthwhile, like breathing or eating of looking at something. So get out of here and do something worthwhile - but check back in a couple days; I hear that it's pretty dang uncomfortable to be a silk slip.

Quote of the week:

Quote of the week:

"Ever notice that people who are late are often much jollier than the people that have to wait for them?"