Dear Diary

I can understand to a certain extent the government's intrusion into our private lives in order to provide us with better national security. As a brother with two teenage sisters I felt it was my solemn duty to infiltrate their "imbalanced worlds" so that I might identify potential threats and thus avert another emotional crisis. Now, the only way that I could obtain the intel was by reading their diaries (the ones that had those useless little locks and keys). Trust me, I did not particularly enjoy reading about all their little magical romances (the cat fights were entertaining) but I did what I felt I had to do in spite of the dislocated shoulders, broken teeth and fractured ribs that I suffered from their ungrateful fists.

God and Moses

God: "Hello Moses. I see you forgot the wheelbarrow that I had asked you to bring."
Moses: "Sorry Lord. I had to hightail it out of there. I can only put up with their shenanigans for so long. They act like such children sometimes." 
God: "Nice one. Anyway, it's probably best that I don't give you the whole kit and caboodle at once. Somehow, I have a feeling that those little party animal heathens down there are going to mess up big time with the ten that I'm going to give you."
Moses: "Right, Lord. Like they say, Father knows best!" 
God: "Yes, it makes my job a little easier. Now, I want you to notice something. I did not write these on papyrus. They are written in STONE which means they CANNOT be changed or altered in any way, shape or fashion regardless of what might be considered popular at the time. There will be those who will eventually say, 'These need to be updated or even deleted because they no longer fit with the times.' Moses, always remember and tell them, I DON'T change my mind." 
Moses: "Um, these here are good ones but do you have to give us these?"
God: "MOSES!"
Moses: "Right, Lord. I'm on my way!"

Two Gloves Or Not Two Gloves?

My neighbors occasionally ask me, "K.L., we see you every Saturday working in your yard like a mad man and yet you never wear work gloves. How do you do it?" I tell them, "Friends, I know that my refusal to wear work gloves to protect my soft, delicate, office hands seems totally irrational but, you see, I am "old school." Did Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig wear batting gloves? Did the gridiron gladiators of yesteryear wear gloves while battling it out on the frozen tundra? I must have dirt under my fingernails, rose thorns pricking my flesh and blood blisters on my palms!" Maybe I should try "new school" at least on Saturdays.

Hair Today Gone Tomorrow

When looking at old, blurry pictures of myself (okay, so I have absolutely nothing else better to do), I can't help but ask myself, where have all the follicles gone? Perhaps, I neglected to fertilize and reseed my scalp sufficiently over the years or maybe they (follicles) just sought out greener pastures like the ears and the back (I know, ewww). Anyway, your hair was much like an old boyhood pal that was with you through thick and thin and then as the years went by, you began to notice that the attachment was not quite as close as it once was. You tried desperately to find alternate ways to recapture those wonderful, carefree days but knew that in the end they were always nothing but cheap, phony substitutes. And, you painfully realized that your old boyhood pal and you would remain forever separated at least until the glorious resurrection!