Friday, June 24


• Had to drive to the Trans-Global Multi Megamall this afternoon to get color cartridges for my wife's printer, because she made the pouty mouth last night when she told me "I'll go tomorrow after class if you can't." It's ninety-two degrees and there's an ozone alert, and I had to go the long way because the first place I went was out of cyan. How do you run out of one color before the others?

• This is why monogamy is a threat to the environment.

• I don't mind traffic, though. Gives you a chance to listen to other people's music. And read up on their political opinions.

• It's genetic with her. Her whole family is repeatedly shocked to learn you might have made plans to do something more than fifteen minutes in advance. "Shirley's getting married again at 2pm. The usual church. What? You have surgery scheduled? Well, is it elective?"

• One other problem with going the long way is that it passes through what was, as recently as fifteen years ago, nothing but wilderness and abandoned farmland and an excellent location for sodomy al fresco.

• I decided I had earned the right to at least consider buying a new CD, so I stopped in Best Buy #229. I'd been there about twenty seconds, had picked up the new John Hiatt and was reading the back cover when a kid walked up and asked if I needed any help. I considered:

a) "Yes, I was wondering what these song titles would sound like if someone your age read them in a fake British accent."

b) "I noticed you stock these things in alphabetical order. Is that all of them, or just the aitches? Do spaces count? Is there a numerical section, or do I have to spell the numbers out? And what's that letter with, like, the straight line and the two feet going off at an angle?"

c) "Where are your .78s?" (Alternately: "What the fuck, am I too old to be in the fuckin' CD section unassisted, dickweed?")

• Via Kathy via Fussy comes
Baby's Named a Bad, Bad Thing which is probably the funniest thing I've read on the internets since Henry Raddick's Amazon reviews. I'm only about one quarter through so far, because I keep spitting insert choice of beverage on my insert choice of peripheral.

• There. I finally wrote a sentence with as many links as Michelle Malkin averages.


Anonymous said...

I love Baby's named a bad thing! That's one of the best websites out there. Highly recommended for a day at work when you don't want to do anything!

Anonymous said...

I had not seen those Amazon reviews before. Too funny. Here's his review of Pocket Massage for Stress Relief (Yoga for Living):

A tremendous book to help soothe and relax. I tried a little "pocket massage" on a train recently - it certainly relieved the stress, but do remember to chose your venue with care, especially if you are using essential oils.

Anonymous said...

a) "Yes, I was wondering what these song titles would sound like if someone your age read them in a fake British accent."

Once again, you are an amazingly witty man, mushroom brush or no.

And re the baby names, I choose to pretend these people are naming mice. When you're facing your fifth litter of seventeen, you can find yourself reaching for names you might otherwise never inflict on a living being. (The baby mouse train is difficult to derail, once it has left the station.)
If they're naming actual human beings this, don't tell me. I have enough trouble sleeping.

I always considered one owed any offspring an utterly boring birthname and a legal name change once it graduates from school.

Of course, I was mere hours and a sensible grandmother away from being a "Jesebel". Not that I was much happier with what I got instead, but I paid for my own name change.

robin andrea said...

I took my mom shopping the other day in our Victorian Seaport tourist town. Art shoppes line both sides of the main street. Some storefront entrances lead to even more darling shoppes with quaint quilts and flowery cards inside. What we noticed, though, besides the chi-chi-ness of my little adopted home town is that nearly everything that was not hand made by local artists was made in China. We made a game of picking up items just to read the labels to each other. It became a challenge to find something made in the USA.
No one spoke to us in a fake british accent, but one cashier asked, "Are you two ladies having a good day?" But it wasn't cheerful, it was morosely inqusitive, because we had the look that said our country was already economically doomed beyond redemption.