I was in Marshall's yesterday, in line to purchase my selected goods, when the woman in front of me's boyfriend joins her in line and drops another package in her arms.
It was a nose hair trimmer.
"Good, you need it." She says. "You should get it lasered."
"I knew a guy who got it lasered and they didn't do it good," he informs her.
"That's 'cause you gotta keep going." She's clearly a little exhasperated. I wish I had had the guts to check out this dude's nose situation. I might've better understood her concern.
"No, it's 'cause they didn't do it good." I am now imagining a terribly botched nose hair laser session, because of which his friend now looks like Voldemort.
"I had it and they did good for me."
"No, they didn't."
BURN!
This. was. hilarious! I literally had to stifle laughter. It didn't end there, though. She followed up with, "No, down there." Which is what one might call "TMI." It also means she has had more than one laser hair removal procedure, and for at least one of them, "they didn't do it good."
I checked out at Marshall's with a sweater, a holiday gift, and knowledge. And that, my friends, is priceless.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Confessions of a Sad and Pathetic Nature
1. It just took me far too long to log in to my blogger account. That isn't necessarily the sad part, what is is why it took me so long. Typing in my e-mail address went fine up until I got to the '@' symbol. From there I started to type my friends twitter handle (handle? really? what am I, a trucker?). I managed to recognize this was wrong, but could not remember, for much longer than I care to admit, what should come next. Which means, this post almost didn't happen. Scary thoughts, I know. It also means I spend way too much time on twitter.
2. I am physically incapable of throwing out this jello. The cafeteria at work did not serve lunch today, but had some purchasable snacks on hand for the hungry worker. When we we're leaving, however, they had some of the perishable snacks for free. The cafeteria man was standing right there and offered them to us. My co-worker accepted and I felt she had set a precedent and now I must also, lest I insult cafeteria man. So I grabbed some red jello. I do not want this red jello. But I cannot just throw out this red jello. That would be wasteful. I know that is what was going to happen to it if I didn't take it anyway, but someone else would've been doing the throwing. Not me. I cannot be wasetful. So you can bet I am going to eat this damn jello that I do not even want, and probably be gagging the whole time.
3. This week I have been extremely fidgety. This happens every so often, and I am pretty sure it means my body is reaching a new level of atrophy. It's saying, "exercise now, or no longer be able to lift your coffee mug!" I should probably work out, but instead I'll just stock up on straws. Deteriorating muscles be damned! You can keep me immoble, but you can't keep me down!
4. I am terrified of spiders. I came back to my apartment one night, and found this gargantuan eight-legged atrocity hovering right above my doorknob. I stood at the end of the driveway (so the spider would look smaller than it actually was) for at least a half an hour before working up the courage to do something. Let me remind you it is November, and night's are not particularly warm. I was texting my roommate to see if she was coming home and would save me from this plight, and my phone stopped recognizing that I had fingers that were pressing on the touchscreen -- that is how cold my hands were. Anyway, a frigid half an hour goes by, and I finally sneak up to the front steps, eyes averted the whole time, in order to grab a decaying pumpkin, back away, and then hurl it at our front door. Spider 0, Sarah 1.
Though, how many people get to say they smashed their own pumpkin? Take that, Billy Corgan.
2. I am physically incapable of throwing out this jello. The cafeteria at work did not serve lunch today, but had some purchasable snacks on hand for the hungry worker. When we we're leaving, however, they had some of the perishable snacks for free. The cafeteria man was standing right there and offered them to us. My co-worker accepted and I felt she had set a precedent and now I must also, lest I insult cafeteria man. So I grabbed some red jello. I do not want this red jello. But I cannot just throw out this red jello. That would be wasteful. I know that is what was going to happen to it if I didn't take it anyway, but someone else would've been doing the throwing. Not me. I cannot be wasetful. So you can bet I am going to eat this damn jello that I do not even want, and probably be gagging the whole time.
3. This week I have been extremely fidgety. This happens every so often, and I am pretty sure it means my body is reaching a new level of atrophy. It's saying, "exercise now, or no longer be able to lift your coffee mug!" I should probably work out, but instead I'll just stock up on straws. Deteriorating muscles be damned! You can keep me immoble, but you can't keep me down!
4. I am terrified of spiders. I came back to my apartment one night, and found this gargantuan eight-legged atrocity hovering right above my doorknob. I stood at the end of the driveway (so the spider would look smaller than it actually was) for at least a half an hour before working up the courage to do something. Let me remind you it is November, and night's are not particularly warm. I was texting my roommate to see if she was coming home and would save me from this plight, and my phone stopped recognizing that I had fingers that were pressing on the touchscreen -- that is how cold my hands were. Anyway, a frigid half an hour goes by, and I finally sneak up to the front steps, eyes averted the whole time, in order to grab a decaying pumpkin, back away, and then hurl it at our front door. Spider 0, Sarah 1.
Though, how many people get to say they smashed their own pumpkin? Take that, Billy Corgan.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Pro-cat-stination
I wish everyone at work had to wear tiny little bells on them so that I could hear them coming from a cubicle mile away. Then I could more swiftly minimize my browser-window-of-procrastination du jour. It would work similarly to the belled collar my former cat wore as a warning to all birds in her vicinity. If they didn’t notice the bright white kitty crouching stealthily in the green foliage, then they’d hear her as she flung herself through the air, pouncing onto her tweety bird prey!
That actually sounded more cruel than helpful, like when you hear the jaws theme song you know you’re about to die a gory death at the hands (fins?) of multiple rows of serrated teeth and there is NOTHING you can do about it. But the collar really did work; I don’t think she ever caught a single bird. She did, however, try to learn to fly herself one day at my parent’s house. I don’t understand why she wouldn’t just GO THROUGH THE FREAKING HOOP instead of backing off the railing of the deck, falling what had to be a couple of hundred feet.
She lived though, so that’s good. Now I don’t have to live with a lifetime of guilt for driving her to her untimely death by being the most dedicated trainer she ever had in her dream to become America’s Next Top Circus Cat!
If not for her fear of circles, she would’ve done it, too. *sniff*
Fin procrastination
That actually sounded more cruel than helpful, like when you hear the jaws theme song you know you’re about to die a gory death at the hands (fins?) of multiple rows of serrated teeth and there is NOTHING you can do about it. But the collar really did work; I don’t think she ever caught a single bird. She did, however, try to learn to fly herself one day at my parent’s house. I don’t understand why she wouldn’t just GO THROUGH THE FREAKING HOOP instead of backing off the railing of the deck, falling what had to be a couple of hundred feet.
She lived though, so that’s good. Now I don’t have to live with a lifetime of guilt for driving her to her untimely death by being the most dedicated trainer she ever had in her dream to become America’s Next Top Circus Cat!
If not for her fear of circles, she would’ve done it, too. *sniff*
Fin procrastination
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Plastic Forks are Useless
Things Plastic Forks are Defeated by:
1. Apples
2. Meat of any kind
3. Other things made of harder plastic (ex.: tupperware, flimsy plastic plates, plastic knives)
4. My fist
5. Probably my pinky
6. Rocks
7. Marshmallows
8. Time
9. The slight application of pressure
10. Cotton balls
11. Heat
12. The little mermaid's hair
13. Tinfoil
14. Minorly resistant surfaces
15. Fine china
16. Russia
17. Jello
I think I have proven my case beyond a shadow of a doubt.
1. Apples
2. Meat of any kind
3. Other things made of harder plastic (ex.: tupperware, flimsy plastic plates, plastic knives)
4. My fist
5. Probably my pinky
6. Rocks
7. Marshmallows
8. Time
9. The slight application of pressure
10. Cotton balls
11. Heat
12. The little mermaid's hair
13. Tinfoil
14. Minorly resistant surfaces
15. Fine china
16. Russia
17. Jello
I think I have proven my case beyond a shadow of a doubt.
On a silly, but slightly more serious note...
I wrote this last night. Growing up is hard. Letting go is hard. Even if it's just selling the bureau you've had in your room at home for nearly as long as you've been there. It's change. Okay, and maybe, maybe, I'm a little hormonal. But it was still hard. And writing this all out helped me come to terms with it (well, until I was hit with another hormonal wave, but let's focus on the positive here!):
I'm getting upset about a bureau being sold.
I know it's ridiculous.
My mom said, "I'm not going to baby you, I want you to get over this."
I don't need to be babied. I need to be understood.
It's true that, in part, I've ascribed feelings to this inanimate piece of furniture. Pulling it apart, drawer by drawer, dragging it out through the rain to wait in the car port for some new family (a good one, I hope) to come take it away forever, makes me feel cruel, and like I don't appreciate all it's been for me. It's a piece of my history. My childhood. It's big, it's hard to move, it's not the most attractive, but it was always there, and always mine.
It's been in my room for nearly as long as I have, and it is a piece of home. Selling it is getting rid of a piece of home. It is change. It is sad, it is scary, it is upsetting. No matter how small the piece. It is a reminder this home won't be here one day. It won't be my home. It may not even be anyone else's home, it may just be gone. Completely.
I know it seems silly, crying over this piece of furniture.
And I know it was my idea in the first place.
It took me by surprise too.
I've never been all that good at letting go.
I'm just sad. I don't want to be babied. I don't think a hug, and you saying "It's all okay" is being babied. It's proving to me that home is not with this furniture, but with you.
I'm getting upset about a bureau being sold.
I know it's ridiculous.
My mom said, "I'm not going to baby you, I want you to get over this."
I don't need to be babied. I need to be understood.
It's true that, in part, I've ascribed feelings to this inanimate piece of furniture. Pulling it apart, drawer by drawer, dragging it out through the rain to wait in the car port for some new family (a good one, I hope) to come take it away forever, makes me feel cruel, and like I don't appreciate all it's been for me. It's a piece of my history. My childhood. It's big, it's hard to move, it's not the most attractive, but it was always there, and always mine.
It's been in my room for nearly as long as I have, and it is a piece of home. Selling it is getting rid of a piece of home. It is change. It is sad, it is scary, it is upsetting. No matter how small the piece. It is a reminder this home won't be here one day. It won't be my home. It may not even be anyone else's home, it may just be gone. Completely.
I know it seems silly, crying over this piece of furniture.
And I know it was my idea in the first place.
It took me by surprise too.
I've never been all that good at letting go.
I'm just sad. I don't want to be babied. I don't think a hug, and you saying "It's all okay" is being babied. It's proving to me that home is not with this furniture, but with you.
Friday, November 5, 2010
MTV Killed the Music Video Star and then Brought her back from the Dead
So my friend tweeted this link on (where else, but) twitter. It talks about MTV's decision to fund music videos made by, and starring, some big names in an attempt to revive the essentially mini-movie art form.
I am actually pretty excited about this. I remember when MTV and VH1 actually played music videos instead of these...over-hyped, mind-numbingly asinine reality TV shows. Don't get me wrong, I don't hate all reality TV (just most of it!). I love me some America's Next Top Model (Tyra's so cray-cray!), but at least one (16 and Pregnant, anyone?) is pretty much glorifying teenage pregnancy, which -- and maybe I'm alone on this -- doesn't sound like the best idea. I can see the so-called "thought" forming in teens heads everywhere now: "Wait...so you mean I can get on MTV?? For being 16 and preggers?? That's all it takes?? IWILLBEFAMOUS!!!!" I mean seriously, people. Their brains aren't fully formed yet! Why must we put this idea in there to rattle around in the desolate emptiness?? They're going to love the noise!
But I digress (a lot). I can remember being pumped when I woke up early (in my formative years this didn't happen very often) because I could turn on MTV and VH1 and they'd actually be playing music videos! I never understood why they hid them away until the wee hours of the morning when no one was even up yet. I felt that calling themselves "Music Television" was some gross false advertising, as they never even played any music. I know I'm not the only one who felt this way, so it feels good that they're really going to start making an effort to bring music videos back.
I might have to start watching them again. And let me tell you, people, it has been years.
So, kudos MTV! And don't let me down (again)! From the look of "Pow Pow" you're off to a good start!
I am actually pretty excited about this. I remember when MTV and VH1 actually played music videos instead of these...over-hyped, mind-numbingly asinine reality TV shows. Don't get me wrong, I don't hate all reality TV (just most of it!). I love me some America's Next Top Model (Tyra's so cray-cray!), but at least one (16 and Pregnant, anyone?) is pretty much glorifying teenage pregnancy, which -- and maybe I'm alone on this -- doesn't sound like the best idea. I can see the so-called "thought" forming in teens heads everywhere now: "Wait...so you mean I can get on MTV?? For being 16 and preggers?? That's all it takes?? IWILLBEFAMOUS!!!!" I mean seriously, people. Their brains aren't fully formed yet! Why must we put this idea in there to rattle around in the desolate emptiness?? They're going to love the noise!
But I digress (a lot). I can remember being pumped when I woke up early (in my formative years this didn't happen very often) because I could turn on MTV and VH1 and they'd actually be playing music videos! I never understood why they hid them away until the wee hours of the morning when no one was even up yet. I felt that calling themselves "Music Television" was some gross false advertising, as they never even played any music. I know I'm not the only one who felt this way, so it feels good that they're really going to start making an effort to bring music videos back.
I might have to start watching them again. And let me tell you, people, it has been years.
So, kudos MTV! And don't let me down (again)! From the look of "Pow Pow" you're off to a good start!
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Flattery gets you nowhere...except in my Top Ten Favorite People of All Time list
Once upon a time, I went to college. Freshman year I met some of the most excellent people ever, and as we had bonded so thoroughly, participated in our very own round of Secret Santa. It was apparenrlty found out by my friend that I loved Angelina Jolie, so she gifted me a drawing of Angie. It resided in my dorm room for the remainder of that year.
On one occaision, a friend was in my room and happened to spy this drawing.
"You know, she kind of looks like you right there."
While I can neither confirm nor deny that he was on some sort of hallucinogenic drug, I was absolutely flabberghasted. I choose to take the fact that he said Angelina looks like me (and not that I look like Angelina), as a compliment - the most beautiful woman in the entire world (in my obviously humble--and in no way distorted by our percieved similar visages--opinion) looks like ME!
Despite the fact this person and I will probably never see each other again, he will always remain one of my top ten favorite people of all time.
It is clear to me that my roommate's boyfriend has heard of this list and is desparately trying to claw his way onto it, as last night he said I look like Anne Hathaway.
Sigh. Soon, my friend, soon. Keep up these valaint efforts and you will be in my gracious favor before long!
On one occaision, a friend was in my room and happened to spy this drawing.
"You know, she kind of looks like you right there."
While I can neither confirm nor deny that he was on some sort of hallucinogenic drug, I was absolutely flabberghasted. I choose to take the fact that he said Angelina looks like me (and not that I look like Angelina), as a compliment - the most beautiful woman in the entire world (in my obviously humble--and in no way distorted by our percieved similar visages--opinion) looks like ME!
Despite the fact this person and I will probably never see each other again, he will always remain one of my top ten favorite people of all time.
It is clear to me that my roommate's boyfriend has heard of this list and is desparately trying to claw his way onto it, as last night he said I look like Anne Hathaway.
Sigh. Soon, my friend, soon. Keep up these valaint efforts and you will be in my gracious favor before long!
Half-Ass or No-Ass?
I know that this shouldn't even be a question, but I am currently in the throes of deciding whether or not I should go vote tonight.
It is, undeniably, my civic duty, and it isn't something to take lightly. It is important, and I truly believe that. I am, however, completely unprepared.
I was looking at the sample ballot for my precinct, and I...I don't really know any of the people on it or what they stand for. I recognize some names from the ridiculous mudslinging and Big Dig finger pointing, but beyond that I'm at a loss. I have been trying to educate myself (albeit very late in the game, and I only have myself to blame for that), but I still feel that I lack the knowledge to make an informed vote.
Which is worse? Not voting, or voting (nearly) completely blind? I think the only thing I think I know for sure is how I feel about the ballot questions.
I feel wrong not voting, and I feel wrong voting for candidates based solely on the D or the R next to their name (or worse, at random). To me, if that's how I will have to decide, I might as well do their numerology and vote based on that.*
Is voting uninformed worse than not voting?
I want to vote and I know I should. I firmly believe we must know our rights and excersize them. I just don't see how going to vote and essentially choosing candidates at random is a good thing. This isn't a multiple choice test in my high school English class on a book I didn't read.** I can't suss out the correct answer by process of elimination, or complete guesswork. Getting this answer wrong doesn't just effect my grade for that section (I still got a B!), this will effect the future of my state and my country. I do not want to half-ass this.
So (for the third time) I ask you: Is half-assing better than no-assing?
*Note: I will never, ever do that. Numerology involves adding and I am strictly against math of any kind.
** Mrs. Kerrigan, if you are reading this, I am being purely hypothetical. I, of course, read ever single book you ever assigned. Twice. At least. Maybe even more than that. No, no I am not lying. Why do you ask?
It is, undeniably, my civic duty, and it isn't something to take lightly. It is important, and I truly believe that. I am, however, completely unprepared.
I was looking at the sample ballot for my precinct, and I...I don't really know any of the people on it or what they stand for. I recognize some names from the ridiculous mudslinging and Big Dig finger pointing, but beyond that I'm at a loss. I have been trying to educate myself (albeit very late in the game, and I only have myself to blame for that), but I still feel that I lack the knowledge to make an informed vote.
Which is worse? Not voting, or voting (nearly) completely blind? I think the only thing I think I know for sure is how I feel about the ballot questions.
I feel wrong not voting, and I feel wrong voting for candidates based solely on the D or the R next to their name (or worse, at random). To me, if that's how I will have to decide, I might as well do their numerology and vote based on that.*
Is voting uninformed worse than not voting?
I want to vote and I know I should. I firmly believe we must know our rights and excersize them. I just don't see how going to vote and essentially choosing candidates at random is a good thing. This isn't a multiple choice test in my high school English class on a book I didn't read.** I can't suss out the correct answer by process of elimination, or complete guesswork. Getting this answer wrong doesn't just effect my grade for that section (I still got a B!), this will effect the future of my state and my country. I do not want to half-ass this.
So (for the third time) I ask you: Is half-assing better than no-assing?
*Note: I will never, ever do that. Numerology involves adding and I am strictly against math of any kind.
** Mrs. Kerrigan, if you are reading this, I am being purely hypothetical. I, of course, read ever single book you ever assigned. Twice. At least. Maybe even more than that. No, no I am not lying. Why do you ask?
Monday, November 1, 2010
Poor Timing, Take 2: I didn't bring a lunch today & am too poor (see: stubborn) to buy one
The best decision I made all day was buying a bag of Wheat Thins Veggie flavored Toasted Chips.
For 80 cents!!
The saddest part of my day? Well, it was not waking up at 4:40am to ride the T for 40 minutes to South Station in order to take the commuter rail back home to go to work, after staying up til 12:30am and then realizing you wrote down the wrong train times...oh no! It was finishing said bag of Wheat Thins Veggie flavored Toasted Chips.
Those things are tasty! Would it be weird to lick the inside of the bag? It'd be weird, right?
...right?
For 80 cents!!
The saddest part of my day? Well, it was not waking up at 4:40am to ride the T for 40 minutes to South Station in order to take the commuter rail back home to go to work, after staying up til 12:30am and then realizing you wrote down the wrong train times...oh no! It was finishing said bag of Wheat Thins Veggie flavored Toasted Chips.
Those things are tasty! Would it be weird to lick the inside of the bag? It'd be weird, right?
...right?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
