This day has gone swimmingly.  My laundry was done without incident, the oil change guy greased my truck chassis with no extra charge, I had some of the best BBQ Ribs I have ever had, I discovered some freakin’ awesome tasty grapefruit cups at costco that I’ll take with me in my truck for snacks and in general, it’s just been a good day.  I even come back to my blog to discover upwards of 50 visits a day despite the last post simply being a you tube video I found.

Oh, and I found an application that plays you tube on my blackberry.  Yeah, life is sweet.  Did I mention I get my pay cheque in my hand tomorrow as well?  Perhaps the only down side (and it’s a significant one) is that I only get the minimum 36 hours at home this week to reset my hours of service before getting back to work tomorrow morning.  Gotta drive legal some times.

So none of this has anything to do with the title of my post but I’m getting to that I promise you.  Before reading any further, you should be aware that a “snufigal” is a unit of time.  I have no idea what I can compare the unit of time to as it was just recently made up via idle back and forth conversation between me and our youngest K but…there ya go.  A snufigal is some measure of time.  Oh, and the kids nick named me “sniffy” long ago due to my giant schnoz.  It comes with being a Jew.

OH!  Break for a joke.  Ever wonder why us Jews have such big noses?  Because air is free!  BWAHAHAHAHA!  HA !HHAHA HAHAH@HAIOUYKJAUIY!  HAHA!  Oh me oh my…ok.  So when you get back up onto your chair, read on.

So anyhow, as I worked hard on a determined kind of dent in the couch earlier today, I looked up at K and asked her quite nicely if I could have her brain please.  She responded saying no and that in fact, I had already promised to give her my brain and that I had done so ten snufigals ago.

Having no recollection of such a silly promise, I demanded she provide a written contract which I had signed to prove her ownership of my brain.  Thinking perhaps I had trumped her and won this little back n’ forth, I was surprised to see her rush off without any response.  “Ah” I had thought to myself.  “Embarrassed by such a crushing defeat!”  But no, she returned minutes later with the following.

See right there?  Apparently i initialled and signed a contract relinquishing my brain to a nine year old.  And you would think that the spelling mistake near the end is in fact K’s spelling mistake but as you can clearly see at the bottom of the page, it is clearly indicated that I have written and signed that contract all on my own.

There was an upside however.  After extracting my brain, K installed a squirrel to pull the levers, flick switches and push buttons in order to operate my body.  Aside from the occasional urge to forage for chestnuts, it seems to be working out quite well.  That, and she sent my brain to some kind of discipline school to learn tricks.  She drew out a short visual story for me.

So here’s what the story tells us.  That first thing there is my brain which apparently has arms and legs.  It was stuffed into an envelope which was then marked with to and from information before being affixed with a stamp.  The brain was then mailed off to brain school where it learned to jump through hoops, roll over, prepare turkeys, (for what I don’t know) do karate, play a banjo and ride horses.

Let me tell you, having a squirrel operate my brain is a little odd and I sure hope the squirrel knows how to shift an 18 speed transmission so I can still make a living with my truck.  All in all though, the squirrel seems pretty smart so it’s been smooth sailing up to now.

Well, as we all know, the French are just a tad off when it comes to everything but I have to say, I think they have the best approach to football around.  Yes, I momentarily break from my persistent silence not to rant about government, mechanics or people everywhere; I’m just presenting a great video of some classy urban touchdown plays.

Stay classy readers.  I’m Ron Burgundy.