I ran into this TED Talk the other day. And even though it was nested in among such gems as “Your Vagina is Not a Car,” a highly intellectual search for hidden meaning in Kubrick’s version of The Shining, and assortment of official and unofficial music videos, it stuck with me. If you ask teenagers
On my way home from work, yesterday, I passed a man selling eclipse T-shirts. He must have had a lot of them, judging from the horse trailer he’d dragged them in in, and I’ve seen him around town before. I stopped to talk, mostly because I was passing within ten feet of him anyway, and
I am counting down the days until I start in on a new job. Same company, different department. I know it’s not ideal, but at the same time, it’s an income while I mosey toward the door. My direct supervisor–who has treated me as if I were disposable at every turn up until now–threw a
I’m always on the lookout for the most convenient, least time consuming breakfast on the planet. Well… at least, I have lofty dreams of finding something I 1.) Want to eat and 2.) Have plenty of time to work on real projects during/after eating. I’m pretty sure the ideal would probably be a gastric tube
One of the trends that’s really caught my eye lately is children (usually little girls) who are wildly out of sync with their families. You know the ones. Mom’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Dad is wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Three brothers… jeans… t-shirts. Five year old girl? Tea length chiffon cocktail dress with
I bought a jar of peanut butter on the internet. There’s nothing special about it. It’s just a big old jar of Skippy, but it will be delivered to my door, and it will be delivered to my door for exactly the same price that I could have gotten at the grocery store in town.
I subscribe to the Ex-Boyfriends R Us newsletter. It’s one of the unforeseen pitfalls of dating people you or people you know actually have things in common with. You might be able to get rid of them, but you can never liberate yourselves from the shared-interest newsletters. From now on, it’s dates from the union
Time has now murdered the charming, 1970s era refrigerator in my somewhat mustard yellow pied a terre, so I spent most of yesterday and a good chunk of today shopping for replacements. You’d think that wouldn’t be much of an issue. After all, it’s a refrigerator. All it has to do is keep things cold.
One of the things I like to do–as a point of interest, not as a career path–is to take the information that people hand out without a second thought, go to the internet, and see how much more I can come up with. It’s a holdover from my time writing thrillers, and the truth is,
I found some cat-proof usb cables on the internet, and I’m having a 3 pack delivered. I’m hoping the animal won’t go through them as fast as he does the usual ones, and that I can replace some of the ones he already has bitten through and maybe charge two things at the same time.