Women's magazines

womens-magazines-zero-dean

Confession of the day:

I read women’s magazines while in line at the check out… Because they’re full of women.

Plus, I get to learn what women consider important.

It’s almost like women’s magazines should actually be for men.

Almost.

Or maybe I’ve been eating too many Luna bars again.

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Mathematical role playing

mathematical-role-playing-zero-dean

Confession of the day:

Sometimes when I’m walking across the gym parking lot towards the doors and I find myself gaining on someone, I feel like I’ve inadvertently become a role player in a wordy math problem…

“If Zero Dean exits his car at the far end of the parking lot walking 3 mph, and Bobby Shortlegs exits his car midway and walks at 2 mph, at what point will Zero overtake his parking lot racing adversary?”

And that’s when I like to throw a wrench in the whole math word problem scheme by exercising my free will and doing something completely unpredictable like spinning in circles or hopping on one leg while shouting “You’re not the boss of me!” at the great math word problem gods in the sky.

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A love for laughter

a-love-for-laughter-zero-dean

Confession of the day:

Whenever I read “I love to laugh” in online dating profiles, I switch it to “I love orgasms” in my head. Because hey, so does everyone else in the world! — And yet this simple switch feels fresher & more original. And it definitely beats out “I love breathing” in the “Things I like to do” category.

Life pro tip: “I love to have fun” is another great way to set yourself apart from the competition in the online dating universe.

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Silly typos, tricks are four kids

silly-typos-tricks-are-four-kids-zero-dean

Confession of the day:

I am cursed with one of the moist devious writing afflictions.

Rather than writing easily caught typos, such as misspelled words, I’m prone to writing the the wrong words correctly. Spell chick doesn’t help.

Also, I will sometimes insert a word twice or leave out a altogether.

That’s why I’m always especially careful when I right now.

Ugh.

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Engage the arm! *twang!*

engage-the-arm-twang-zero-dean

Confession of the day:

I have a “mom arm.”

It doesn’t matter if there is no one sitting in my passenger seat. It doesn’t matter if it’s a bag of groceries. Or a backpack.

It doesn’t matter that I know it will have almost no effect in the event an incident occurs. And it doesn’t matter how hard I try to override this automatic response.

When I apply my brakes in a sudden fashion while driving, my right arm flies out to protect whatever is (or is not) occupying space in my passenger seat.

The mom arm. I’ve got it bad.

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