- reading Manuel Puig’s “Kiss of the Spider Woman,” Robert Penn Warren’s “All the King’s Men,” and Paul Lisicky’s “Famous Builder.”

- for fun, watching episodes of “Stella” on Hulu.

- criticizing writers of TV shows like “The Office.”

- writing stories, reading stories, critiquing stories.

- enjoying 70 degree November days, changing leaves, not being sick anymore.

- preparing CVs and cover letters for jobs I have zero chance of getting.

- wishing I could run around on the beach, except there isn’t one here, there’s only cement and country music.

- going back and forth on my opinion of Trader Joe’s.

- hoarding hand sanitizer obsessively.

Well well well! I examined the little drinky cup that comes with the cough medicine today, and it turns out the top measurement line on the cup corresponds to 4 TSPs of liquid. Why is that important? Because the standard dose is 2 TSPs. I, not having time to be bothered with instructions, had been filling Mr. Drinky Cup all the way to the top. That means I was quadruple-dosed for part of Friday.

Can anyone tell me why there’s even a 4 TSP option on the cup? That makes no sense.

A side note: You would think that after 34 years on this planet I would be smart enough to avoid such mixups! But no, you’d be mistaken. Yesterday morning I poured some coffee beans into my grinder, except I didn’t, because the clear plastic cover was on the top. Consequently, I poured coffee beans off the lid and all over the counter.

Here’s Mr. Drinky Cup. He’s a bad dude.

Before we move on, let me explain what I mean by “freshman housing facility.” I actually mean Freshman Housing Megaplex. The building in question contains a lounge area with a new-agey fireplace thing, pool tables, flat-screen TVs, iMacs all over the place, a coffee bar, a convenience store, a comprehensive food court/cafeteria/eatery, and a dining area that is straight out of a futuristic Harry Potter movie. To top it off, there’s an information desk in case you get lost or have questions. That’s all on the first floor. The second floor contains a post office, meeting rooms, and a fitness center that is bigger than my old high school. There are four (or more) other buildings with dorm rooms and, probably, an underground cavern filled with outlet malls, a wax museum, and the Holy Grail.

So what do students want on the top floor of this building? First, what do I want?

Things I’d like on the third floor of the Megaplex:

strategic missile defense system
Ferris wheel
wildlife preserve, populated entirely by giraffes and sloths
time machine
Willy Wonka factory
trampolines
mud baths
an igloo
goats

Students want, according to “Around the Loop”:

“Tanning beds. Or a candy store.”

“A beauty salon.”

“Starbucks.”

“A basketball court, a bowling alley or maybe some private rooms.”

We’re doomed. I don’t know where to begin. Starbucks? You can ask for anything in the world, and you ask for Starbucks? They serve coffee in the coffee bar/convenience store on the first floor, you artificially tanned freak.

The Mystery Bag inventory:

Kroger Pure Vegetable Oil. I’m wondering why it’s called “pure vegetable” oil…it’s soybean oil, according to the label. Does “pure soybean oil” just sound nasty? Yes, it does.

Duncan Hines Whipped Fluffy White Frosting. “Great Tasting! Easy to Spread!” What does it taste like? Fluffy White! Since when are fluffy things easy to spread, anyway? A marshmallow is fluffy, and not easy to spread. Clouds are fluffy. Puppies are fluffy. Platitudes are fluffy. Frosting should be smooth and delicious and have a flavor. Listen to me, marketing drones: Colors are not flavors.

Starbucks Dark Roast X-Bold Sweet Slightly Smoky Italian Roast Ground Coffee. “It takes special beans to go this dark.” I get the feeling that ad agencies charge companies like Starbucks by the descriptor. Hmm, I still don’t get it…what’s this coffee like? Why can’t you just tell me? Why all the waffling? Why all the fancy language and innuendo? Screw it, I’m going with Folger’s. Honest, straightforward coffee that tastes like you’re sucking on a soggy piece of cardboard. I bet you could predict a person’s political affiliation by their coffee selections.

Smucker’s Sugar Free Hot Fudge Topping. What? You can put “Sugar Free” in an elegant font and put a scoop of ice cream on the label, but that doesn’t prevent me from hating you, Smucker’s (and mystery shopper who is now missing his or her topping). Let me get this straight — you don’t want sugar in your FUDGE topping, but you’ll accept things called “maltitol syrup” and “sucralose (non-nutritive sweetener)”?

But hey, I can’t complain. I’m going to slather some white frosting on my blueberry muffin and toss in a few scoops of sucralose-laden “fudge” product…it’s party time!

And you would be correct.

That short piece was inspired by, you guessed it, jugs of “Endure” hand sanitizer in my classroom.

Endure. Endure. I’m fascinated by that product name. What names didn’t make the cut?

Prevail.
Succeed.
Defer.
Equivocate.
Congeal.
Reply.
Rationalize.

I have two water pistols loaded with antibacterial gel and I squirt people if they get within fifty feet of me. I mean, you can’t be too safe these days, can you? And really, I’m doing us all a favor.

(Maybe I’ll write a book composed of parenthetical expressions.)

Interspersed with italics at timely points.

Anyway, these are my random questions for a cold, rainy Friday night in October:

Balloon boy vs. train baby…who wins?

Is it lame that writers for The Office put that whole YouTube video thing into the Pam & Jim wedding episode?

What does it mean when hand sanitizer is called “Endure”?

Do you have to take that picture?

Cheap beer in large quantities, or expensive beer a six-pack at a time?

Brett Anthony Johnston, or Kurt Vonnegut?

Pearl Jam or Nirvana?

Seriously…we’re in a meeting…are you sure you need to take that picture?

Do you take fewer showers in the winter? Like pioneers, maybe, bathing only when they took time to melt snow and dad got the fresh bath water and the youngest kid got the muddy backwash bathwater?

Do you still watch baseball? I mean, truly care about it?

Would a book composed only of exclamations be fun! Boy, would it!