www.geoffmitchell.com

You know you’re a parent when you do a double-take at the office because you thought you caught a co-workers shoes flashing red lights with each step, as do many shoes for toddlers these days.

You know you work at Apple when you’re right.

Here’s a pet peeve which those of us who think with their right mind might related to. Chained pens, such as those found at a bank counter, are a severe annoyance for left handed people such as myself. As far as I see it, it’s just another case of dexti-bigotry against the south-paw. Just like the charge receipt that’s typically slid across the check-out counter at a retail store being habitually turned around to face you for signing, and angled to the left, for the ‘majority’ of the signers, but not for the lefty.

Lefty’s of the world, unite!

….or at least just start yanking the pens off the chains to send a message.

Coming up on the kids “nap time” is like riding in a car with no shock absorbers on a dirt road, and hitting a mile long stretch of smooth fresh pavement. The problem is, you know it’s only for a mile.

What is it about pizza that makes it always taste as good if not better, cold, the following morning. I’ve put this theory/observation to the test over and over again, and it still holds true. Even crappy Costco pepperoni pizza for the kids takes great the next day. But then again it’s not like it could taste worse, now could it?

It’s just me thinking out loud, but while glancing at the label of a pair of shorts recently, I started thinking about how I have shorts stored away that are smaller sizes, and that led my mind to wonder why a pair of size 30 shorts are priced the same as a pair of size 40. Ultimately, there’s a good deal more fabric used in the larger sizes, right? So does this mean that the price is averaged out, and that sales of size 30’s net greater profits then sales of size 40’s? And what’d be the consequences if clothing costs went up along with sizes? Would having to pay a few extra bucks for the added material needed to cover one’s fat ass be enough motivation to hit the gym whittle down a size or two?

One of the attendee’s in this meeting walked by a couple of times. They smell like pot. I know that smell, and it triggers numerous memories. But perhaps it’s just a fluke, and perhaps it’s their perfume. “eau de the Kind”. Who’s to say? And more importantly, who’s to ask? Not me. I’ll just sit here and reminisce on days gone by.

There’s something fun about catching a glimpse of the boom mike in a sitcom or TV show. It always makes me feel like I found a hidden easter egg. But more so, I find it oddly entertaining to watch an exit or entrance through a door way, and catching the wobbling of the fake wall/set when it closes.

It’s the little things.

You know you’ve become a lazy slug when having to walk across the street between work buildings on a beautiful, warm, sunny day is greeted with an interest in having some sort of accelerated underground short cut. Complete with electric carts or a people mover.

Sad. Sad, sad, sad.

I’ve so much to say, so many posts started but incomplete, and no time to finish them of late. I’ve been quite busy and just don’t have the time, so far, to put the final touches on some more personal and detailed posts that are stuck in limbo. For the time being, though, I’ve setup a “Passing Thoughts” category as a catch all for tidbits such as the following…

• I did it again. Spilled coffee down my shirt. ARRRGH. WTF? I guess having the sink spray over the crotch of my pants is just around the corner.

• Did that guy peeling out at the light really think he’s a man because of it? Does anybody really think a car makes them special? And do men that parade muscle cars in such a fashion actually imagine that a beautiful woman might consider him virile, as if the gas pedal was being depressed by something other than his foot? I think not.