Glowing Ballerina Hat

Growing up, Morgan told everyone that she wanted nothing more than to be a professional baseball player. She made sure she was better than every boy in Minor B, Minor A, and Little League. Then she made it the major leagues. Her mother and father were so proud of her for sticking to her dreams and not giving up though she was faced with many hurdles that would have tripped up a lesser woman. Morgan, however, had a secret; she wanted to be a ballerina. Sure, she really loved baseball and she was happy with where she was at professionally, but deep in the most secret portions of her heart, she wanted to dance. She wanted to wear beautiful outfits and glide gracefully across a lit stage with thousands of eyes watching her every move. She wanted this so badly that it began to manifest itself in the form of a tiny ballerina that grew brighter each day until it finally took form atop her baseball cap. Morgan didn't know how to explain it to people. She got stares wherever she went, but she didn't care. The ballerina was cute and when Morgan took off her hat at the end of a long day the ballerina would dance for her, gliding seamlessly across the bill as if on the world's most flawless stage. One day, when signing autographs at a local Girl's Club, Morgan found another person with a tiny, shiny figure upon her head. The girl was about twelve years old and looked like she had just come from dance class. Upon her perfectly pulled back bun sat the figure of a girl dressed in baseball pants and wearing a jersey with the number 44 embroidered on the back; Morgan's jersey number was 44. The little figure silently swung a bat and pointed at imaginary bleachers far in the distance. Morgan smiled at the girl, reached up, and touched her hat. The girl smiled back and touched her hair. They both laughed.

-Rob Signed Off

PS: Thanks to Cara Keyser for submitting the phrase for today's design!

Patriotic Carp Tunnel

A little known fact about the Revolutionary War is that George Washington's famous crossing of the Delaware River in December of 1776 was made possible by the bravery of a school of genetically modified, patriotic carp. These carp, created by a collaboration between Albert Einstein, Charles Darwin, and Nikola Tesla, three time-traveling super scientist heroes bent on maintaining the proper flow of time and events for the good of all mankind. The carp were developed to hunt down enemy submersibles that Washington didn't even know existed. Plans for the submersibles made their way into enemy hands via an accidental time jump when a technician dropped his fish filet sandwich and hit his head on the "send" button as he bent down to pick it up. So, when you salute the flag or sing the National Anthem, remember all the patriotic carp that made it possible.

-Rob Signed Off

Anxiously Modern Furniture

I have been on sale at Ken's Current Furniture for four long years. I was a trade-in for a particle board entertainment stand. Ken decided to keep me out on the showroom floor as a joke, something for people to compare with their more modern purchases. I can't say its been easy. Nobody has an eye for the elegant anymore. I'm not kitschy enough, that is to say, I'm not kitschy at all, and people don't like that. My cherry finish can't compete with the bright, neon colors of these amorphous abominations that have the gall to call themselves furniture. Sure, my seat is a little faded and there are a few small scratches in my glossy coat, but I'm sturdy. I'll last forever. You'll be lucky if that porn-film knockoff doesn't dump you on your head after six months. I know when to admit defeat, though. If I want to be useful again I have to get with the times. I'm not going to spend my good years as a joke in overpriced furniture freak show. I already painted my seat a nice orange color, sure it's a little spotty, but I'm already getting more attention. Now I've got a bucket of neon green paint, a brush, and a holiday weekend over which I plan to lower myself into the cesspool of modernity. I hope this gets me out of here, because I can't stand another day of the smug look that orange chair keeps giving me.