The most amazing book ever.

While Brother was at work, he stumbled across what is perhaps--nay, definitely!--the greatest book of all time. He didn't even have to open it. He could just tell from the cover.

Really, there are absolutely no words that can do this justice, so here it is:

All That the Rain Promises and More . . . A Hip Pocket Guide To Western Mushrooms

I know you really, really want to focus on the man in the tuxedo, with the trombone, and the handful of mushrooms and, well, his everything (especially his face), but I'll get to that in a moment.

First, I was unaware that the rain made promises, and mushroom promises at that. I was sort of under the impression that it fell from the sky, evaporated, and then went back up into the sky. A cycle, if you will. But apparently, this entire time, it's been promising people mushrooms. 

Mushrooms and more!

Maybe trombones. Or bearded men in tuxedos. I'm not entirely sure at this point. 

I also feel the need to point out that David Arora was being redundant in the second part of the title by using the word "hip". Clearly, a pocket guide to western mushrooms is hip, David. There's no need to state the obvious.

Okay. So now you can draw your attention back (but did it ever really leave?) to the dude in the tuxedo and join me in a jovial, "DOUBLE YOU, TEE, EFF?"

At first I was all, I don't even know, but then I found the following image and was all, that actually just confused me more:

So, so . . . SO, apparently mushroom lovers are "opportunivores". What this means is that this trombonist was picking mushrooms--I mean chanterelles--five minutes before a concert. And he was doing so gleefully. I don't know about "opportunivore", more like an "I'd-rather-hold-up-the-entire-concert-just-to-dig-up-some-mushrooms-because-I'm-hungry-and-is-it-okay-that-there's-mud-all-over-my-tuxedo-now-but-here-have-a-chanterelle-they're-delicious-vore." Also known as an asshole. 

Also, there appears to be some heated debate over chanterelles and boletes. Mohammad, I totally agree with you: there hasn't been a bolete I didn't like either. We might be mushroom soulmates. 

And here's a guy peering into a toaster. And apparently you can toast mushrooms. 

Now, children! Children are excellent at picking mushrooms, as they are low to the ground and can be convinced into doing just about anything if you threaten to take away the TV privileges. Also, you can wear mushrooms as hats--they keep your head dry, are fashionable, AND provide you with a snack. Amazing.

Now, I know what you are thinking, that this book must be a dream right? It's just too magical! But, thankfully, it is a real book. It does exist! Santa Claus, respect for the elderly, and knowing the difference between 'your' and 'you're' doesn't exist, but this book does. Thanks, life.

I'M GOING TO DIE.

I'm going to the doctor on Friday. This wouldn't be such a bad thing, except I am getting vaccinations and a TB test. And that wouldn't be such a bad thing, if I were a normal person.

But I am not a normal person. Oh, no. I'm way too awesome to be "normal". (Other adjectives that also apply are the following: fantastic, rad, super, cool, wicked, amazing, weird, quirky, dorky, special [but only in the positive sense, not the backhanded way often used when referring to stupid people], etc.)

Where was I? Oh, right. I'm awesome.

I'm awesome and I also have a crippling phobia of needles. This is an actual legitimate fear.

Now, I have piles of irrational fears. For example, sometimes if I'm walking on a narrow sidewalk downtown, I imagine I somehow lose my balance and fall into oncoming traffic. Or, I could be walking with a dish to the dinner table and then trip and fall right onto the dish, which will crack and impale itself in my neck. Or, that guy from the Scream movies could be under my bed.

I try not to devote too much time to these irrational thoughts, because then I'd end up in the corner of my bedroom, in the fetal position, softly rocking back and forth while singing Neil Diamond's Sweet Caroline over and over.

Instead, I go about my life the best I can and banish the irrational thoughts from my brain. Like a ninja. A banishing ninja. Which is way cooler than a regular ninja.

But the one thing I can't banish is my fear of needles. (Well, that and my fear of getting stuck on a ski lift with Shawn Ashmore. Seriously: never skiing, ever again.) Needles are scary.

Needles are so scary. I'm actually getting nauseous just thinking about them now. It's terrifying to think about needles. See, there's real terror in my eyes (I used a red arrow to really draw your attention to the terror.):

Also, isn't my turban thing snazzy? But anyway, NEEDLES.

A lot of people tell me that if I have tattoos, I shouldn't be afraid of needles. Those people have no idea what they're talking about. SHENANIGANS, I say.

A tattoo gun has a very teeny, tiny needle. It barely scratches the surface of your skin to deposit the ink.

A medical needle is BIG and GIGANTIC and full of evil FLUIDS that gets jammed into your ARM. Or is SUCKS blood out. Basically, it's the work of the devil. I Googled around for an evil picture of a vaccination needle, but I started to get sick from looking at all the pictures.

I have to go lie down now.

Seriously.