Mysterious Bunny

Easter is coming.  Easter is a mystery to me.  I’m not a very religious person unless you count worshipping the Cubs in the shrine of Wrigley Field and having read a few books on Buddhism.  So I don’t really know what Easter is all about, other than for some reason a giant bunny lays eggs.  That is a big mystery.  I know birds lay eggs.  And turtles.  Haha, no, birds don't lay turtles.  I meant turtles lay eggs.  Oh and I know the geese at the Willy Wonka Chocolate Factory can lay golden eggs.  And often times the Cubs will lay an egg, but I had no idea rabbits can do this.  It must be really special since it only occurs once a year. 

Easter reminds me of jellybeans.  Not Jelly Bellies although I will forever love the marketing genius at corporate headquarters of Jelly Belly that named imperfect Jelly Bellies “Belly Flops”.  I do like Jelly Bellies, but they haven’t been around as long as jellybeans.  So Easter reminds me of jellybeans.

Once upon a time there was a little jellybean.  Little in size, but big in stature.  And voice.  Yes, this jellybean can talk.  And talk and talk.  The little jellybean could even make Annoying Orange shut the fuck up.  Other than Mexican jumping beans, most beans don’t do much.  But this little jellybean is special.  This jellybean is colorful, smart and funny.  I admire the little jellybean.  I held the little jellybean tightly.  And then I ate the little jellybean.  Yum.

The moral of that story is a mystery to me.  Another mystery is that I think someone made pasta in my house while I was in San Diego with the kids.   I came back and noticed the remains of noodles in the sink.  They didn’t look like mac n cheese but I didn’t think too much about it.  Later, I opened the dishwasher and saw the big white plastic strainer in there.  I’d call it a colander but I want to say calendar and I know that’s not right, so I’m sticking with the big white plastic strainer.  I know I didn’t use that because I don’t cook and I believe the primary use of big white plastic strainers is for straining while one cooks. 

Perhaps I have a hungry Italian ghost.  I will name him Luigi and not worry about it. 

Another mystery is all this Pinterest hoopla.  Why is every chick I know on there?  I figured I finally better look at it, especially as clients have been asking how to utilize it in their marketing campaigns.  I’m now one of a handful of guys on there.  I started three boards and can see how it gets addictive.  Check me out on Pinterest here.

I’m so happy I can meet someone new and say: “Hi, I’m Brett. Follow me on Twitter at WTWA.  Read my blog.  Email me at any of these three addies.  Here are my digits.  I like inappropriate texts – keep the actual phone calls to emergencies only please.  Let’s network on LinkedIn, yo.  I say yo cuz I have great street cred.  Especially now that I’m on Pinterest with all my girlfriends.  Please re-pin something from me and I’ll like you on Facebook.  Check out my video and music channels on YouTube and Pandora.  I’ll make you a mix tape.  Haha.  My photo album is still on Flickr.  I know, I’m so 2010.  At least I’m not on MySpace anymore.  By they way, I already checked us in on FourSquare.  I’m bretthead on Words With Friends, Scramble With Friends and Draw Something.  Let’s get three games of each going at the same time.  We should FaceTime to talk smack.  IM me later.  If we keep hitting it off this well, I’ll think about taking down two or three of my dating profiles.  If you lose my data, I’ll put an ad in the Missed Connections on Craig’s List.  Love those posts.  Anyway, great to meet you.  I’ll send you an eVite to the virtual party I heard about on a podcast.  Bye now.  Skype me!!”

When my old iphone was broken and the battery died every fifteen minutes, I think I was more human than the rest of the world. 

So anyway, how the hell does the big bunny lay eggs? Never mind.  I’ll ask Siri.