Oof! Wearing my blue vest and blue shirt to Sam’s club might have been a mistake. I’ve already helped five customers and I’ve only been here 15 minutes. The plus side is that I can totally wing it. I am so amused to think that these people I’ve interacted with think I work here. One lady was looking at clothing and asked about another size availability. Without batting an eye, I told her that the best sizes and selection are kept over at Target. She laughed and smiled. She thinks I work here though. .
During the cheesecake fiasco at Whole Foods the other day, I bought a reasonably-priced jug of protein powder. I should have known!
Anything reasonably priced at Whole Foods is 100% a mistake. Trust me.
It’s like buying your auto insurance from a guy named Honest Pete. You just don’t do it.
This brand is plant-based. Today, I made ten servings of it. The label said “French Vanilla.” The flavor is so opposite the label that I decided it is a new form of reverse marketing.
I made mine with skim milk. When I took the first gulp, the truth is that I thought it tasted like a chalky fart.
Yes, you read that right.
You know how you drive past a weird part of town and realize that the municipal wastewater treatment plant must be nearby? It was exactly like that but without the nostalgia. You have to drive a mile to rid the smell from the interior of your car.
The grit and residue left in my teeth was remarkable. Had someone thrown an urn of ashes in my face, I wouldn’t have noticed, probably even if threw the actual metal urn in my face, too. I decided that it reminded me of a mix of flatulence, diet tonic water, black licorice, and the tears of Tibetan monks.
As I stood there drinking it, I read the label. I couldn’t find “bile” anywhere in the list.
By the time I finished the serving?
I realized that it tastes so terrible that I LOVE it.
Just ignore me if I swallow and shiver as I imbibe it. I wouldn’t be surprised if I grow horns or an extra ear after drinking this stuff.
It’s rancid. I’ll buy it again if I catch it “on sale” at Whole Foods. Or possibly in their dumpster. Yes, I’m conflicted!
I went to the grocery store after work. Yes, despite the glamour of my storytelling, I sometimes visit one. I do like some aspects of Walmart+ and delivery but there are times when going inside yields interesting interactions. I had my fill of Walmart yesterday, after having to go there for cheesecakes. Whole Foods dropped the ball in that department. Cheesecake is no laughing matter, as the Great Cheesecake Skirmish of 2016 proves.
Today, I shopped and then realized I left my wallet in the car. That led me to entertain the Salvation Army greeter twice before entering the store.
Before I got there, though, I was turning right. The car in front of me zipped away incredibly fast. I looked – no traffic turning toward me. As I turned, a truck came around through the yellow light going really fast. As expected, a horn blared at me, loud and long, like a mother-in-law complaining about the gravy. I turned into the grocery store parking lot. The truck was turning there, too, but was detained by oncoming traffic. As I exited my car, I noted that the truck was pulling into a nearby spot.
Before I thought about it too much, I approached the older man and said, “Hello, sorry about not seeing you coming from the other direction. If you’d hit me, I’d have done at least $4 damage to your truck with my little car.”
I pointed toward my car as I spoke.
He laughed. “I was a little enthusiastic with the horn! Sorry about that.”
“No need to be sorry. You could do it in Morse code next time, though, to confuse everyone who wasn’t in the Navy or has a ham operator license.” I grinned.
He laughed again. That was two laughs in ten seconds.
“Do you like that car?” He said. “It seems small.”
“Yes, I do like it, and especially the $150 payments. And it is so small that I have to get out just to change my mind.”
That brought out the third laugh from him. “I needed a laugh! This morning was the worst.”
Because I had to go for laugh number four: “The worst? The worst is realizing that it’s your wife’s birthday at 9:02 p.m.”
He did laugh. “Have a good day,” he said as he walked toward the store.
“Honk if you need me,” I quipped as a parting shot. He grinned and shook his head.
To the rest of you, honk if you need me. You’ll know it’s me when you see the weirdest sky blue Spark with a front license plate that reads “Divine” on it.
If you do honk, could you do it in Morse code? Thanks!
If you have a front license plate – or a holder, you might want to check your vehicles!
When I took off the flimsy license plate from the front of my attractive clown car, I had a flash of inspiration. I was going to paint it and decorate it. Of course.
I realized that I should revive an old trick of mine: secretly put NEW plates on other people’s vehicles.
And so, today, I put one of my special creations on someone’s vehicle.
Today’s proudly asked: “AM I CUTE??? CALL XXX-XXX-XXX.”
I’m laughing even as I type this.
I love you all and one of you needs to walk around to the front of your vehicle. Or don’t. Just expect a confusing phone call from a stranger, and/or a potential love interest if they think you are cute.
I don’t want to live in a world where someone doesn’t invent cat mittens or broccoli-flavored chocolate. Enough with the conventional, as if we all enjoy the same level of normalcy. Without the zany, my life would be miserable. And stop arguing about the ‘best’ foods. There’s no such thing. We are all individuals and taste is wildly subjective, as is taste in hair, purses, clothing, cars, furniture, music, and lovers.
Can we instead talk about the things and people each of us loves, in our own way, and the people that light us up?
And while we’re at it, buy each other some cat mittens.
Living seriously is something that we can all agree is for the birds, the kind that swoops down and releases upon our heads.
I will start with a bit of humor for a friend, who will appreciate the inside joke: “My boss told me to start every presentation with a joke. The first slide was my paycheck.”
I went to the Dollar Tree to buy my demanding cat Güino specific cat treats. I ended up helping two Latina ladies with their questions. My bright orange shirt and hospital name tag evidently identified me as an employee. Because I was playing the part of an exemplary employee, I told them to go to Hobby Lobby too, as they were searching for decoration ideas that weren’t going to take all their cash. I used an index card to draw them a diagram of where to find what I was recommending. They were very happy. I’m definitely in the running for employee of the month. And people tell me speaking Spanish isn’t useful. 🙂 Hobby Lobby should write me a check too, as I am certain that once the two ladies go into the store, they are going to get a lot more ideas than they entered with.
At checkout, I saw that the woman in front of me had to leave a few items on the register rail because she didn’t have enough money. I bought them and handed her the bag of her items when I went outside. The look on her face was priceless. “It’s just $5, ma’am. You’d do the same for me if you could.” Covid be damned because she hugged me unexpectedly. “Is it too early to say ‘Merry Xmas?’ I asked her. “No, this gesture is a good start.”
I went over to Garland to use the ATM. A man was standing near the out lot of the parking lot, his driver’s door open. “Can you help me push this a few feet?” he asked as I pulled up and got out to help him. I told him that I couldn’t because I’d had surgery a couple of months ago. About that time, another man stopped and he helped push it several feet into a parking spot. “I can give you a ride to wherever you want to go, as long as you’re not wanting to go to Nebraska. I hate that place.” He laughed. I moved my bags from the front and he got into my car. As we pulled out onto Garland, his cellphone rang. His wife had listened to his voicemail and was on the way to pick him up. “No worries, I said. I can take you home or drop you back at your truck.” He thought about it as I turned right at the light to double back around. “It’s my brother’s truck but yeah, I’ll wait for my wife.” I dropped him back at the parking lot.
Driving down Sycamore, I must have sensed the oncoming yellow car was going to ignore the traffic signal. As I stopped and waited to turn, the car sped through the red light. I honked. The driver proudly waved high with a single finger as he sped away. I could tell that man would live a long, short life. 🙂
When I got home, I opened the fresh bag of cat treats and proudly laid several on the kitchen floor. My cat Güino sniffed them and then walked away. I’m pretty sure he was saying “Kiss my butt” in cat language in the way only a cat can. To prove I am at least smarter than him, I scooped them and put them back into the bag. After he was doing losing his mind with a Looney Loops doo-dad, I put them back down and he ate them like he hadn’t seen food in sixty-two days. The picture shows two of the Looney Loops at his feet.
Afterward, I made 14 servings of protein drinks. After doing it the hard way for a couple of weeks, I bought a cheap blender. Then, I realized I could make a lot more by using a gallon jug and shaking it like a pair of dice at a Las Vegas craps table. It’s good exercise, too, especially when the lid comes off and sprays thick protein drink all over the kitchen. Yes, I did that. I still love eating the powder dry, too. It gives me teeth that thick pie dough look that people find so attractive.
I still have my bedroom in my living room. No couch. Just my red rocking chair. Two big-screen televisions, one of which I sometimes use to stream my window camera view to. The other, to mostly ignore as I play the news. Four cat beds, one cat. One bed, one human. I spend more time vacuuming and sweeping the floor than I do watching tv, thanks to my beloved litter-scatterer.
I’m considering becoming the first-ever minimalist hoarder., but as Steven Wright says, “You can’t have everything–where would you put it?”
Anyway, I hope your day is full of wonder and also a jar of loose, vengeful spiders.
Güino is becoming adept at tricking me. Yesterday, he bolted from the apartment and ran full-speed down the landing to be near the feeders. I’m running flamboyantly ( ) because the video doesn’t start until after I’ve tried hooking the fleeing cat with my foot. It looks like I’m prancing to unseen music. I don’t mind looking stupid; it’s a part of who I am. If you knew how many times this year I’ve kept my promise to say, “I don’t know,” or “I don’t understand,” you’d laugh. Prancing is fun and doing so in this apartment simplex is about the least weird thing you’ll see in five minutes of careful observation.
The math picture I made is of Güino; it accurately reflects the mental machinations he’s undoubtedly doing when he sees or hears the door open. Cat 15, Human 0.
“The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.” Sylvia Plath. I wrote one of the best jokes of my life to accompany this quote, but due to the nature of her death, I can’t risk demonstrating how tone-deaf I am.
I’m infamous for carrying index cards everywhere. To jot down thoughts, draw/doodle, note reminders, pranks, or actual important messages.
I’ve always known that messages on index cards carry weight, but recently I’ve been practicing and refining my delivery. It’s led to some hilarious and amusing results: most people just believe whatever you’re reading from an index card, even if I’m looking at a blank card or one that has nothing to do with whatever I’m saying.
Psychologically, if it appears you’re reading something off an index card, people will be more gullible about its alleged contents. It’s evocative of the Uniform Effect.
You can use this to your advantage, whether it is to make up a fake phone message, statistic, reminder, or important information.
Just telling them somehow lessens the credibility compared to “reading” it from an index card. People don’t just write crazy stuff on index cards, do they?
Love, X
“I’m writing my book in fifth person, so every sentence starts out with: “I heard from this guy who told somebody …” Demetri Martin
) because the video doesn’t start until after I’ve tried hooking the fleeing cat with my foot. It looks like I’m prancing to unseen music. I don’t mind looking stupid; it’s a part of who I am. If you knew how many times this year I’ve kept my promise to say, “I don’t know,” or “I don’t understand,” you’d laugh. Prancing is fun and doing so in this apartment simplex is about the least weird thing you’ll see in five minutes of careful observation.
P.S. Parenthetically Speaking 