Up My Sleeve

I’ve got a few tricks stashed away.  I won’t tell you precisely where, but rest assured, you’ll see them soon.  I shan’t reveal how I do them (no good magician would), but you will be free to gawk and marvel at my feats of derring-do and mysticism.

I’m working nowadays in the Ministry of Education and Science itself.  It’s a wonderful work environment!  I’m busy all the time, but loving it!  My coworkers are Amazing (ting!) and not once do I groggily and unhappily trudge to work.  No, indeed, you’re more likely to find me properly-caffeinated and dancing down the street as I listen to music/podcasts/audiobooks.  Life is surely treating me well.

This is the #3 result for "Sleeve" on a Google Image Search. Just wait though, things are about to get real crazy!

In the office we’re always randomly teaching each other words and phrases in our respective native tongues.  Many of my coworkers are determined to improve my Georgian or die trying.  They speak to me in Georgian and I often understand.  My response rate is woefully low, and I often don’t understand.  It’s a tragedy, I know, but it is what it is.

I’ve learned words like “Education” and “kiss you” (although I promptly forgot that one) and “Please, come in!”  Meanwhile, I’ve taught phrases like “Cheat Sheet,” and “Plastic Sleeve” to the great amusement of my coworkers.  We get a real kick out of each other and get work done in between the kicks!

The #2 Search result is a little less conventional. Whereas nearly everbody wears #3 sleeves, only a small portion of the human populace wears #2 sleeves. But can I get a drumroll for the #1 sleeve on the internet?

I’ve also realized lately that my apartment needs more clotheslines.  I run out of space every time I do the laundry and find myself living in a cave of shrouds.  Damp t-shirts and socks hang all over the bathroom and the entrance hall.  The freshly-cleaned rubber wire that stretches across the balcony sags under the weight of khaki pants and polo shirts.  You know, it totally makes sense, but it’s a little aggravating that the collars and sleeves of shirts are the last part to dry.  The body of the garment is bone-dry, but it needs to remain on the line or I’ll get mildew-sleeve–an affliction I wish upon nobody.

Fun Fact: The French don’t call the English Channel the “English Channel”.  No.  Indeed, they call it “La Manche” which means “The Sleeve.”

You know what I say to my friends when I’m ready to go?  “Let’s Leave.”  Sometimes I shorten it to “‘Sleave”.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you the #1 result for a Google Image Search of Sleeve. Can I get a shout-out from everyone rockin' Gastric Sleeves?

I was reading this little article from NPR and it had a catchy little ditty attached.  I’ve tried to embed the video below.  We’ll see how that goes.  If it doesn’t work out, the link to the original article is below.

<iframe width=”300″ height=”169″ src=”http://www.npr.org/player/embeddable/video/player.html?i=140467781&m=140753841&#8243; frameborder=”0″></iframe>

http://www.npr.org/blogs/krulwich/2011/09/28/140467781/wanna-live-forever-become-a-noun?ft=1&f=1007 <– Click Here!

I promise a more content-rich, less obnoxiously trite post (or two) in the very near future.  I have to get all my ducks in a row and as we all know, it’s tricky.  (YouTube is blocked on my

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