Funny. Insightful. Intelligent. Stupid.
Have you ever chased a baby rabbit out of your living room with a broom, or elaborately staged your house to appear deserted in order to avoid speaking with a door to door salesperson?
These are real things that happen to real people, and Jeffrey James wants to talk about them. His essays and stories uniquely blend inspiration, wit, comedy, and raw emotion in an entertaining collection about living life. He advocates slowing down, finding comforts, and celebrating the goofy side of our personalities.
This compilation is sure to inspire and entertain. This is his first collection of essays. Its selections will have you rolling with laughter as you read, but also provide a platform for insightful introspection, helping you examine life and all its wondrous nonsense.
A selection from Uffish Thoughts:
The day following our wedding, my new wife and I sat in the back seat of our good friend's tiny clown car sausage wagon really cool new Honda Fit as he graciously transported us across the dull, empty, 126-mile expanse between my in-laws' house and Pittsburgh International Airport, where we were scheduled to depart for our honeymoon: a luxurious week of Disney World escapades. If you haven't been to Disney World as an adult, I suggest you remedy that horrendous problem with haste, because it's really the only way to go. I'm sure witnessing the expression on your child's face the first time they see Cinderella's castle elicits some sort of euphoric emotional orgasm, but being an adult trapped in a child's play-town without the encumbrance of actual kids is an exercise in unparalleled bliss.
Our honeymoon was my third (fourth?) time to the carnival of commercialism and all newlywed elation aside, it was my favorite trip. There is something eerily amazing about the magical world of Disney, ever-growing and expanding, reaching its giant Disney fingers around everything you've ever known and loved and smothering you under its weight, charging you enormous fees to breathe again. The place is just giant plush characters, $5 sodas, zillions of people, standing in lines in the hot Florida sun, bronze statues, and everything in sight is trying to plunder every dollar you've ever earned from your moth-eaten pockets. But for some reason, you do it all nary a plaint be heard, never wanting to leave. You hand over your money, drop your pants, bend over, and let the Imagineers see if they can dig a couple extra nickels from your colon - because dammit, Disney World is magic, and they know it.
This was the first time my wife and I had flown anywhere together, and I think only the second time she'd ever been on an airplane in her life, which is adorable in a really sad sort of way, like when handicapped dogs use those hind leg mobility carts to wheel themselves around.
We arrived at the airport after what felt like an infinite amount of time trying not to throw up in the back of that Honda Fit. Inside, we did the whole bag, shoe, laptop, belt, scanner, beep, wand, beep, pass, scanner, belt, laptop, beep, shoe, bag routine and got to our gate without much of a hitch. None of this 21st-century airport security business really bothers either of us because we're a couple mellow yellows and don't get all hissy about nonsense. (That description of our attitudes you just read is a literary term called 'foreshadowing.' You'll see why at the end. That's how foreshadowing works.) And now I've just insulted your intelligence.
We boarded the plane and Laura took the window seat because she gets what she wants. Happy wife, happy life. We were on day two and I already knew that, guys...
Check out the full book for the rest!
