Shuffle

The truffle one. Or the cupid one? Maybe it's just Jobs' thing.

Today at work I realized that I'm the kind of guy that thinks that every time a pretty person laughs angels get their wings.
And that process is magical and painless and there's not gut-wrenching noise of muscle, bone and skin tearing out of their shoulder blades and stretching out in one satisfying creak.

I'm the kind of guy who thinks every time a corny line is used and meant on a girl, we add value to our race.
I saw relatives all over the place this weekend, from my brother Jimmy to her sister Billy.

I saw one of my favorite bros and met a couple of his relatives.

I mean relatives in the most loose adaptation of the word. Relatives are those we get to pick if we're lucky. They are the friends - bros, GIRLfriend! (screamed in a high pitch squeal), friends and best friends - we surround ourselves we. Life throws  a countless number of people in front of us everyday and we get to click with personalities.

Strangely nice ones in the subway who want to tell us nothing more than their life lessons and how we should conduct our life's from here on out. Her name was Ashley and she told us to do something between college and the real world - like teach in France. Her friend Alix (pictured in the same frame here) was proof enough that it was worthwhile. She then commented on a perfectly matched height situation and yelped FRIENDS!

One or two or three of them might be your friends friends. A good enough standard by which to measure most enough yields the discovery of great friends. And then they fight about how good oreos are and they offer kit-kats with devilish grins on their faces because they hope you'll say no because all they really want is to enjoy the chocolatey/caremely/cookiesh goodness of the candy bar.

One of them will tell you she really likes her shirt because it's like she's naked.

And the bonding continues over a multi-colored fish bowl of happiness that stands as a stark contrast to the army of black-cloth-clad youngsters lining up around the block for a Japanese artist who may or may not be the next big thing. Only in NY.

Meet friends and have a pickle.
A fried pickle.

Frickles.