flattery, gas, and chirpy, chirpy, birdie par

I went to the union yesterday to get some papers filled out for work. The union representative said I look like Sanjaya.

"Who?" I said.

"Sanjaya," he said. "You know...that kid on American Idol."

"Who...I don't watch the show....?"

"Mr. Mohawk..."

"Oooh!...Really?"

"Ya, and you talk like him." (Gee, thanks. So I know I still have yet to hit puberty, but really now...)

Oh well, I am slightly flattered, I admit. We're alike in so many ways. He thinks too highly of himself. I think too highly of myself. I can't sing, and neither can he. He talks like Michael Jackson, he is unsure of himself, and he makes things awkward.

...alike in so many ways...

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In other off-the-cuff news today, I am going to try and stop peeling my nails. Unfortunately, that adventure looks dim and daunting because we don't have "Nail Peelers Anonymous" here in Orange County. I'm not sure I have the will power to withstand my urges. But I shall try somewhat valiantly to conquer this self-destructive behavior and put this phase of my life behind me like a trail of pestilent flatulence.

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I was watching golf on Sunday, which I rarely do, but it was on. And decided it was time to actually find out what a "birdie" is...

Bill Nye (the science guy): "DID YOU KNOW???"

birdie: a score of one stroke under par on a hole.
(thank you dictionary.com)

Um...what's "par"?

par: the number of strokes set as a standard for a specific hole or a complete course.
(thank you dictionary.com)

Bill Nye (the science guy): "NOW YOU KNOW!!!"

and just for kicks: