Hitchhiking

I find in my life than incoherency can be one of the major problems of communication. Which when I state, seems obvious, but up until the moment I put it down, I hadn't really considered it all that much. Probably due to my mind being preoccupied with other, much more interesting and seemingly-useful thoughts (exactly how big can a corndog be before it's too big to stay on the normal corndog-sized stick? And how does one cook a corndog that large? And how much catsup/ketchup/sugary-tomato-paste do you need for such a corndog? How can I make a corndog exactly that big...but no larger?)

But as my mind wanders to such interesting thoughts, I can find it difficult to keep it on the matter at hand. And as I grow increasingly sleepy, I find it increasingly easy to discover my mind wandering to such increasingly interesting thoughts. And the less I think about here-and-now and the more my sleep-induced musings grow, the less I seem to make sense to those around me. Since I'm nearly always growing increasingly sleepy, the levels of my incoherency occasionaly manage to approach unbounded heights. Which in itself is impressive.

Although my thought procesees can be most entertaining and amusing for myself, mumbling about the stench of the space remaining in a clown car on Venus is unlikely to be much for continuing the conversation that happened to be about parakeets. Unless the parakeets are dying from the stench, but that's only been shown to happen when around clown cars parked in Venus' caves, a circumstance and location most certainly not covered by the conversation at the time.

And so my mind wanders, and I cannot seem to find myself making sense to anyone but me. Sadly, my mind started wandering again sometime last May. If anyone happens to see it, please send it home. I'd like it to find its way back before I move.

If it's not stopped wandering soon, I fear I'm going to confuse everybody by discussing the merits of underwater pens and the ways tuna have found to make use of them. Please send it home...unless you're into that sort of thing.

Lunch Leftovers

I find, in my greater-than-normal sleep-deprived state, myself wondering about a great many things. And thus, for today's topic. The origin of the napkin. The paper kind, not cloth. That's a seperate question all and in of itself. Whatever it is that that happens to mean.

Really, though, who came up with the idea to use a piece of paper to clean your face of any unwanted residue left after eating a generally cheap and often bland meal? Who was it that, being unable to find anywhere appropriate, such as on a sleeve or the back of a hand, to wipe their face, ended up using a piece of paper? And how many paper cuts did they get in the process?

Was someone running late to class, grabbing a quick bite as they fled, and realizing they didn't have their homework decided to make the 'my dog ate it' excuse more believable by wiping their own drool onto the remains of a ripped corner of paper, thereby attempting to convince their instructor that the dog did in fact find the last bit of paper less palatable? Did they, perhaps, notice that when the paper left their face, the jelly from their PB&J came with it leaving their face as clean as if they had just stepped out of the shower? Did they then completely forget to hand in their homework, fail the class, and thus not graduate, thereby lacking the education required to convince the incredibly expensive eating establishments that paper works, leaving their invention to be the domain of the less-costly locales?

Or were there different circumstances surrounding the invention of the paper napkin? Will the world ever know? What exactly /did/ I eat to cause that big blue smear as I cleaned up after today's meal? And when did I get so messy that I had to start cleaning my lips, my nose, my cheek, and occasionally my elbow?