cache [kash] n. 1. a hiding place, esp. one in the ground, for ammunition, food, treasures, etc.: She hid her jewelry in a little cache in the cellar 2. anything so hidden: The enemy never found our cache of food 3. Alaska and Northern Canada. a small shed elevated on poles above the reach of animals and used for storing food, equipment, etc
Howard Pyle (1853), Rex Harrison (1908), Dean Stockwell (1936), Paul Evans (1938), Fred Williamson (1938), Marsha Warfield (1954), Penn Jilette (1955), Teena Marie (1956), Andy Gibb (1958), Charles and Craig Reid (1962), Joel Osteen (1963), Michael Irvin (1966), MC Solaar (1969), John Frusciante (1970), Kevin Connolly (1974), Eva Mendes (1974), Niki Taylor (1975)
Time for a very special Friday edition of The Wishing Well, the weekly installment where I wish for things that’ll most likely never happen. Let’s begin.
→ I WISH Hollywood wasn’t completely dragging its heels. I mean, what is all this Mega Shark Vs. Giant Octopus crap all about. You what, though? People are going to go see this gigantic piece of garbage. That’s sadder than any movie.
→ I WISH the human race had developed more styles of driving. As far as I can tell, we have two. The first one is a balls-out aggressive approach that seems to put a concern for human life lower on the list of what’s important than, say, getting to a tennis lesson on time. The second one is a cautious defensive approach that seems to get some thinking going 35 mph on a major fucking highway is somehow safe.
→ I WISH I could piss all over how everyone in Philadelphia is so damn excited about the Philadelphia Phillies’ upcoming season. But I can’t. Truth be told, I’m sort of excited myself.
→ I WISH I could tell you truthfully that my third attempt at reading David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest was a glowing success. But that’s be a lie, people. That book is just too freaking long and dense. Sorry, Mr. Wallace, maybe the fourth time will be a charm?
→ I WISH someone out there could tell me what the entertainment draw might have been in watching the NFL Scouting Combine. A bunch of dudes I’ve never heard of running sprints on some field somewhere isn’t exactly my idea of riveting television. But, hey, what do I know?
That’s it for me this week. How about you? What are you wishing for right about now?
Small miseries, like small debts, hit us in so many places, and meet us at so many turns and corners, that what they want in weight, they make up in number, and render it less hazardous to stand the fire of one cannon ball, than a volley composed of such a shower of bullets. ↔ Rudyard Kipling
→ This has happened to me many many times. I’m sure you’ve gone through something just like it. Unless you were one of those people who always insists on sleeping in a bed. If you are one of those annoying individuals, maybe the article isn’t for you.
→ I liked it when people called each other “ock.” It sucks that didn’t stick. Just sounded kind of cool.
→ I know I dropped the ball with the Standpoint section this week, people. Lots going on and I just kind of wasn’t in the mood. That’ll change next week. Come back Monday for some more.