Title-ating news

One of my devoted readers ok, fine, the only friend of mine to whom I've mentioned this little blog experiment (and thus my only reader), remarked to me that the title of the blog, The Kooky Cookie, is corrupting the minds of the thousands of young kids.

Before I get to my corrupting influences, let me first explain how TKC was christened. My search for a title was simple: I wanted a name that somehow captured the essence of this blog - a unique combination of edible treats and the fact that I have a bizarre enough sense of humor to find this whole idea amusing. So I debated the Funky Fortune or perhaps the Comical Cookie. Despite their alliterative qualities, neither name held much appeal to me. And they shouldn't hold appeal for you for the simple reason that they suck. After much consternation, Kooky Cookie came to me like an unexpected bite into a red pepper hiding in a Kung Pao chicken. It was appealing because if you say it fast it sounds like Cookie Cookie or Kooky Kooky depending on which variant of English you prefer. Sadly, Kooky Cookie was taken, so I had to settle for The Kooky Cookie. TKC was born.

Now that you understand the innocent and humble beginnings of this blog's title, let's return to my corrupting influences. My friend remarked, "isn't your title a double, or even triple entendre?" Umm, what? So I quickly ran over to the Urban Dictionary and it turns out that cookie and kookie, but not kooky, do indeed have less than desirable anatomical meanings.

So do I rename the blog? Perhaps give it a name with no meaning at all, like Xyburt? Or do I keep it and hope that people will realize that my blog is not called The Kooky Vagina? If the title is good enough for a rather perky looking UK-based cookie catering business, it surely can be good enough for me. Besides, this blog is totally innocent; who doesn't like nibbling on sweet, tasty cookies? Umm... you know what I mean, I hope.

Just in case, though, my thousands of young readers should stop reading right now. What? I don't have any? Problem solved.

Tip your waiters

". . .  It can't serve you any worse than we did tonight."

What a kiss!

". . . But so do dementors."

Yes, I know the explanatory link providing a definition of dementors is probably totally unnecessary unless you've been living in a cave for the past decade; I just felt that the Harry Potter Lexicon needed some lovin'.

WWTYD? (What would the Yakuza do?)

". . . Except getting Uma Thurman to like you."

All the news that's fit to print

". . . Because your doctors can't bear to tell you the truth."

Now with 25% more action

". . . Demand that someone else do something."

Someone loves you

". . . And it's your Mom.  You will die alone."

A journey of 1000 posts begins with a single step

For quite some time, the idea of blogging has intrigued me.  As I've read others' blogs, I've thought "I may not be able to do this well, but I could do it."  Holding me back though was nagging self doubt.  What would I write about?  Would it be interesting?  Would anyone read it?  Could I do it consistently?  Would my boss find out and fire me?

Given these questions, I chose to just fret on the sidelines.  I spent my time watching others succeed and fail, while I simply aged.  Then one day, over a rather awful egg foo yong, I opened a fortune cookie and read "Behind every dark cloud lies a brite sun."  I had no clue what it meant, but it spoke to me.  Behind the poorly spelled fortune was not a bright/brite sun, but a message: blog about fortune cookies.

As Confucius once said, "A good blog can be made of nothing but fortunes and humor, but making fortunes requires more than blogs and humor - you also need pictures of kittens."  Since I don't intend to pay off my school loans using this blog, instead I'm just going to post fortunes I get from cookies and offer my own unique spin.

There is an off chance that I may also blog about my work (except I'm governed by a confidentiality agreement), politics (except I have relatives in politics who may wish I was governed by a confidentiality agreement), my love life (except it sucks and I wish it was governed by a confidentiality agreement), and my thoughts on life (except those would put you to sleep).  Or maybe I'll just stick to fortunes.  Who knows what I'll do?  Other than a fortune of course...