A spoonful of knowledge.

Well, probably a little more inanity than knowledge, but, that's neither here nor there. Apparently 2008 is the year of the footnote, and rumor has it there might be a thing or twelve that I say that causes a little confusification for my BFF, the reader. I guess thanks to Patrillo / McCain 2008 and the Straight Talk Express, mystery is a thing of the past.

So, pals, at the behest of the masses (ahem), here are some Occasionally Asked Questions and their oh-so enlightening solutions.

The name of this fair blog: Is it "this blog is eggsalady" or "this blog is eggs a lady"? Well, reader, I'd say that's open to interpretation. Originally, this blog was intended to epitomize all that eggsalady stands for. I guess I was under the impression that everyone had seen the breathtaking cinematic masterpiece that was robbed of the 1988 Academy Award, Big Top Pee Wee (whatever, Rain Man). Not to give the plot of the powerful film away or anything, but Pee Wee's suitor is trying to impress our stud by making him a picnic lunch, including (but not limited to) an eggsalad sandwich. How's it taste, PW? "Mmm. Eggsalady." To me, eggsalady is, I guess, just pretty sweet. You know what else, though, I realize is pretty frickin sweet? Egging a lady. In my head, that seems like it would be hilarious. So, you know, your choice.


Your name seems a little dumb. What is What's a Donzer supposed to mean? Sigh. This one is, I guess, a little weird to hold on to twenty three years or so later, but Ramona Quimby was always kind of my hero growing up. If you don't know who Ramona is, then you have some serious literature reading to do. Anyhoozle, here comes the pepperjack: I always thought the following story was really endearing (awwwww). You see, in my favorite Ramona book, Ramona the Pest, five year old Ramona gets a little mixed up. I'll let the omniscient answerdeity Wikipedia explain this one to you, as it does a pretty good short and sweet job, and I am not feeling like using the mindpower to paraprase at the moment. Here she is: "[Ramona]decides to impress everyone with what knowledge she [has] and tells her older sister Beezus to get a "dawn-zer" to provide "a lee light" to help Beezus read. This confuses sister and, eventually mom and dad, until they all realize that Ramona has misunderstood the opening lyric to the Star-Spangled Banner: 'Oh say, can you see, by the dawn's early light.' Pretty great, huh?



Did you really name your poor kid Cornflake? Well, that does seem like something I would do, but, no; I didn't name her Cornflake. It's Suri Apple. She kind of issued forth from my womb looking a little like a flake o' corn, and when it's time to awaken, "Wakey wakey, Cornflakey" she doth hear. Hence, Cornflake.



Did you really name your poor dog Timmy? Yes.





Why aren't there pictures of you on this blog? How do I know you aren't a thirty nine year old world-weary convict named Lonnie who is suffering from a case of the doldrums? Hmmm. You're weird, reader. I dunno. It feels a little Jerky Jerksmith being all la la la look at me. Besides, the guys in cell block four would be even more feelsies than normal if I started posting my Glamour Shots all over the information superhighway.


Who and what are the "BSGs"? Good question. Here's a clicky to bring you back to their introduction. If you're lazy and don't feel in the mood to get your click on, in short, the BSGs are part of my core fanbase. They are first-rate computer gurus; they are Battlestar Galactica Gangstas, they are BSGs. They just so happen to be my muses for Sexy Programmer Thursdays, which can be found here and here , if all of a sudden you are ready to let clicking back in your good graces again.


Speaking of Sexy Programmer Thursdays, from where are the SPT candidates plucked? That's easy. Heaven.




How you're not chewing and all: break it down for me. This subject is still a little embryo-ish not to sting. So, I'll explain in haiku, entitled A Dentist Sliced my Lingual Nerve and Diced My Heart.


A Dentist Sliced my Lingual Nerve and Diced My Heart
Goodbye, wisdom teeth
Mygod you just shivved two nerves
Thanks a lot, asshole




What does "there's an ass over my shoulder" mean? It's basic perfection. It's Eden in your backyard. It's a jaunt on a tugboat and a disembarkment at the promiseland. Succinctly, it's Wolf Blitzer. Aaaaahhh.

Well, I'm sure there's more, but I am distracted by Kim Kardashian's heinie at the moment and I can't seem to concentrate on this task at hand. If there's anything else I can clear up, let me know. I'll open up my brainfile of Afterschool Specials and see if I can produce an answer for it. Because, to me, you're worth it. Kisses!

Did you know Kansas is the sunflower state?

Well, this is going to seem a little weird. In commemoration of the upcoming sugery I am having on Wednesday, I was going to find some song lyrics that would , you know, commemorate the occasion. The problem is, the surgery is on my tongue (don't ask; it involves some wisdom teeth yanking gone awry. Perhaps seek an oral surgeon instead of a dentist for this procedure. Just a tip. Anyways....). It's on my lingual nerve, specifically, but, yeah, on my tongue. So, upon searching "tongue lyrics" on my homeboy Google, I found a lotta mess that doesn't really say "commemoration" to me.

Here's Seether's contribution: Well the tongue inside my mouth is not for sale; Any spirit left in me is fading fast;Could you throw another stone to ease my pain?;Could you throw another stone to seal my fate? For some reason, this makes me think of Hugh Grant holding giant earphones over his ears while sobbing listening to this. I dunno. Damien Rice and REM both provided songs named "Tongue", neither of which feature the word "tongue." The following is brought to us courtesy of one of my grandmother's favorites, Danny Kaye: "And it seems so easy till the word gets sprung; If you insist you want to try a lisp;Then step up mister and twist your tongue;Twista felt Twister was trying to whistle;But Twister had twisted his tongue." I can't help but feel mainly if not entirely dirty after reading those words. Yet, that didn't make me feel quite so unclean as I felt reading EVERY OTHER song about tongues out there. [sidenote: Remember sweet Sisqo and his dear little ballad about the thong? Well, there is some woman named Trina out there who went and further soiled The Dragon's lyrics, creating words that I am far too young to read. Don't believe me? See for yourself, but, I warned you! I'll provide no link for your degradation, but, you, too, know how to use my homeboy Google.]

Anyway, instead of any of these debacles that try to pass for music, I decided instead, to commemorate my upcoming surgery by examining the most famous lyrics of one of the most distinguished [cough. excuse me.] bands of all time: Kansas.

Without further adieu, I give you Dust In the Wind:

1st Verse:I close my eyes, only for a moment, and the moment's gone ...All my dreams __pass before my eyes, a curiosity ...Dust in the Wind. All they are is dust in the wind.

2nd Verse: Same old song, ... just a drop of water in an endless sea.All we do ... crumbles to the ground .. though we refuse to see.Dust in the wind. All we are is dust in the wind.

Interlude: Oh. ho, ho

3rd Verse: Now don't hang on, -- nothing lasts forever except the earth and sky.It slips away, ... and all your money won't another minute buy.Dust in the wind. All we are is dust in the wind.Dust in the wind. Everything is dust in the wind.The wind.(Ad lib vocal)

Holy crap of all crapfests! I was going to even analyze these lyrics, but I think it would be more poignant if you would do it yourself. And I LOVE this song! Wow. I, oddly, seriously feel so okay about this surgery after being crapped on by this crap. Nothing could have commemorated the lingual tongue operation better. Eat that, Trina.