Time out

You know when you call your Mom on a Saturday afternoon sobbing uncontrollably--to the point of hiccups and shaking--and she puts you on Time Out (always a high point)?

Then you'll also remember how you thought the Time Out was a really good idea so you say to your friends and colleagues all the time, "Sorry, I can't, I'm on Time Out. My mom said." But everyone just thinks it's a joke and so doesn't take it seriously, and after a week goes by where you spent just as little time at home and breathing as the one before, you realize that there really aren't that many things you are at liberty to cut out of your schedule because said friends and colleagues are depending upon you all the time.

And in the end, dear reader, you recall why it was the principle of the thing that mattered. And principles being what they are in this modern age, you'll understand why Time Out was no match for free tickets to fancy seats at a Giants game (still hate 'em...) with Tim Lincecum on the mound (...even though he's like an adorable little elf and their win actually helped the Dodgers).

Nor did Time Out stand a chance against Chihuly or his eye patch at the deYoung.

Mmmmmm. Glossy. Sparkly. Shiny. If I had stuff like that at home, Time Out might be more successful.