Well. We made it.

This is my final NaBloPoMo entry. (“Thank Christ,” says My Lovely Wife.)

When we jumped into this raging river way back when, little did we know what we were getting ourselves into. What proceeded was a cavalcade of marvels and trinkets meant to dazzle the mind and enchant the soul.

And — on occasion — gurgle the stomach.

So, we’ve grown as people. We’ve laughed a little. We’ve cried a little. We’ve glanced at each other uncomfortably before looking at our watches and mentioning an appointment that we really can’t miss but hey let’s do lunch sometime, ok?

But what have we truly learned from NaBloPoMo?

• The Rhino Song is larger than one man. And this one man is not allowed to show anyone what he looks like singing The Rhino Song. Thus The Lovely Wife has decreed. Repeatedly. And emphatically.
• My father has a mean streak.
• “Unrepairably” is not as pretty (or “grammatically correct”) as irreparably… but dammit, it has heart!
• In addition to cookies, I like granola bars.
• Robots will kill us all. Really.
• My Lovely Wife, beyond being far lovelier than I, is also smarter than me.
• Fonzie’s jacket doesn’t fit me.

And what is the single most important thing I have learned through judicious use of the NaBloPoMo Randomizer:

• The largest and most powerful demographic in the word are mommy bloggers who swear a lot. They are taking the fuck over.
  

So… I hope everyone has enjoyed the festivities. The bar will remain open until 10:00. Drinks are on the house.

…

P.S.: For everyone that has left a comment in the past three days, please forgive me. Alas, I have been on a course and have had no time in which to savour their fine, delicate bouquet. I promise to revel in their beauty in the very near future.

Just remember… SPACE MONKEY PANTS LOVES YOU.

I don’t know. I’m looking at the things I did so far this morning. Something seems a little off…

1. Wake up.
2. Pee.
3. Feed the cats.
4. Make coffee.
5. Get cereal bowls.
6. Get Cheerios.
7. Pour Cheerios into cereal bowls.
8. Pour entire box of Cheerios on floor.
9. Take picture.

What could it be?… what could it be?…

…

Oh yeah.

I got blueberries out too.

The basement echoes
With my plaintive cries unheard
Cleaning up cat puke

Yeah. It’s been a good day.

Much to everyone’s chagrin, we have now entered the holiday shopping season. Which means hordes and herds of people heading out in a mass panic to… THE MALL.

Which leads me to our topic for the day.

ESCALATORS.

Are we all familiar with them? Stairs that move? Good. Saves me drawing a diagram.

Let us first look at the word “Escalator”. What is the root of the word? Yes! You, in the back-row. Can you please speak up for the class?

That’s right.

The root of the word “escalator” is “ESCALATE”.

And what does the word escalate mean?

“To increase, enlarge, or intensify”

So, if we take that meaning, it would seem that the escalator, which is a mode of transportation whereby an individual or individuals can be conveyed from one floor to another, it seems logical that the escalator is meant to increase the speed — in comparison to the use of stairs — at which one could travel from one floor to another.

Logical, no?

However, let us examine the two species of escalator users, which will illustrate that this intended purpose is by no means universally accepted:

MOVERS: These are those blurs of motion that you see dashing about on escalators. These are the individuals that are using the escalators to increase the speed at which they can move from one floor to another. They are dynamos of action. They are stepping onto the escalators and ACTUALLY WALKING. These are your Movers.

SHEEP: These are your standers, your slouchers, your herds of loungers. These are the individuals that see the escalator as a means of eliminating the need to walk. These are the individuals who feel nothing about wasting minutes, hours, even DAYS of their lives being shuttled from floor to floor. These are your Sheep.

Being a strong advocate of the Mover camp, I am nevertheless quite willing to allow that there is enough room in this wide world of ours to accept both tribes. I will not — though from time to time I have felt the urge to hand out literature extolling the virtues of moving your ass — deny fellow members of humanity the right to grow moss on the escalator if they so desire.

No.

But I do ask one favour — nay, I IMPLORE — those members of the Sheep faction to show myself and my fellow Movers the same courtesy and give me the freedom to pursue my goal of getting off the escalators in as brief a period of time as possible.

And how, you ask, can this be accomplished?

STAY ON THE MOTHER-FREAKING RIGHT-HAND SIDE OF THE ESCALATOR

That escalator you are standing on? Note how wide it is? Wide enough for two people side-by-side? Or maybe… just perhaps… just enough room for one person standing and FOR ONE PERSON THAT MIGHT ACTUALLY CHOOSE TO WALK?

“But wait!”, you ask? “I’m with my friend! We want to talk! Waa! Waa! Baby wants his bottle!”

Interestingly enough, I say to you, the escalator has a built-in feature designed to deal with JUST THIS SCENARIO!

Just follow these steps:

1. Person A steps on the right-hand side of the escalator.
2. Person B steps on the right-hand side of the escalator, directly behind Person A.
3. The most crucial step — PERSON A TURNS AROUND!

Viola! Face-face-conversations may ensue! Here. Have a tissue. Dry your eyes.

So please, all members of the Sheep Nation, I invite you to go forth. Stand on your escalators. Chat with your friends. Revel in the pleasures of the steel grates at your feet.

Just remember… you are not alone.

And we are in MUCH BETTER SHAPE THAN YOU.

This is your only warning.

I honestly cannot count the number of times this has fallen down on me.