Famous among dozens
What I think of first, when I think of you:
Jake got really annoyed whenever someone told him their dog’s name was Jake.
Katy wouldn’t drink rootbeer because she thought it tasted like toothpaste.
Geno wouldn’t go into Port-A-Potties because of an overwhelming fear that the booth would blow over–door side down–trapping him inside.
So I’ve mentioned before that I sometimes come across weird stuff in my online shopping forays. But, people, what the ever loving hell is THIS? A “black man bottle opener” for sale, on Amazon, in 2006? This is not what we mean by diversity in the marketplace, retailers.
Bryan and I stop for Mongolian Barbecue in Auburn. My fortune cookie reads, “Genius is more work than genius.”
hot potato corroborate
swagger shoplifiting
frothy heavely
We went grocery shopping at 6 a.m. on a weekday, and it blew my mind, people.
Rather than deciding between the meagre remaining cartons of lemon and vanilla yogurt, we found Stonyfield Farm Organic Lowfat Raspberry yogurt. I didn’t even know this existed. I wanted to pour it in aisle and roll around in it.
Don’t even ask what happened when we got to the Ben and Jerry’s.
Thus far, I’ve spent 32 waking hours in a car in the last seven days. Apologies for the lack of posts, I thought the place where we were staying had Internet access, but I was not correct. I am an utter failure at the NaBloPoMo experiment.
Yesterday, we stopped for a van that had slid off the road into a ditch in Nevada. There were three adults and a two-year-old girl in the van. None of them spoke English, and none of them had warm clothes. I stumbled along in halting Spanish, and figured out that two of the adults (the ones with the baby) were deaf and possibly mute. I briefly wondered how we managed to end up in a David Lynch movie.
We took those two and the kid to a dubious bar/grocery called Water Hole #1, and explained the situation to a weathered, unhappy bartender. “What am I supposed to do with them?” he asked. We told him we’d return to tell the other guy where they were, and he’d pick them up.
We bought them some food and drinks, and wrote down what was happening in Spanish so they’d know. As we left, one of the drunk patrons was ambling toward the counter with a variety box of travel-sized cereals for the little girl.
Right now we’re in a hotel in Reno, preparing for the rest of the drive home. First, we’ll need to get chains. And about 16 magazines. And at least three tubes of chapstick.
Tomorrow I’ll return to our regularly scheduled programming. I’m in karmic debt for six posts. Fortunately, I’ve got some time on my hands.
– A severed and decaying boar’s head resting on the ground — at the end of a driveway.
– A young man brushing his seat clean of smashed window glass from his driver’s side window. He is dazed and has a large, fresh cut on his temple.
– I find myself nodding furiously in agreement with Angelina Jolie, who says, “If you ask people what they’ve always wanted to do, most of them haven’t done it. That breaks my heart.”
Lori is taking a Sunday adult-ballet class that she adores. Her teacher is a small, French/Japanese women with a soft voice and a thick accent.
Lori: When we put our arms above our heads she says, “Now open your hands, and let all the wishes of the world rain down upon you. Happy! Happy life!”
Me: Oh! I love that! It’s better than church.
Evany raises her arms above her head ballerina style, then furrows her brow and hunches her shoulders as though she’s carrying an immense burden.
Bryan: Man! Most of these wishes aren’t even mine!
Evany: All the world’s wishes are stressful.
Jeff: I don’t even want a pony!
Saw the Borat movie on Friday and I hated it. I realize that I’m well in the minority here, but the movie wasn’t funny, it was mean. (Spoilers ahead.)
He gets a rodeo crowd so riled up that it spooks the horse the flag-bearer is riding. The horse then rears up and falls over backward on top of her.
He pretends to be converted to Christianity and mocks the people speaking in tongues who believe he’s being born again at their revival.
He breaks several hundred dollars worth of antiques at a mom-and-pop store.
He attends an etiquette class followed by dinner in a private home. His hostess is so kind that she gives him a patient lesson in how to use the toilet when he brings a sack of feces to her dinner table, pretending to be unsure of where to dispose of it. Then he invites a prostitute over.
There’s also lots of naked wrestling with an obese man.
Overall, it’s about as amusing as walking in on your parents having sex. Enjoy, America.
Bryan helped organize a Yes on Prop 87 Rally yesterday, so I got shake President Clinton’s hand. Listening to him speak makes me long for a president who seems smarter than the rest of us.
Which isn’t to say that our current president is stupid. He just thinks we are.
Mighty Girl 