In high school, our friend Stacy created a newsletter about herself called Stuff That Has Happened to Stacy. It was actually quite advanced given the limitations of early-90s graphic design software and her issues that arrived after graduation continued to make me laugh. It was a lot like an entertaining blog, come to think of it. (Goes out searching for Stacy on Google…no, I don’t think she’s a track star…duh, look in the alumni database. Will get to that later.) Anyway, for lack of a better subject here (Camera Phone Post 3?) and yes, I know it’s not as entertaining, Stuff That Has Happened to Amy:
No Dogs in the Bed! Well, Walt gets up there when I get up for work, but I have strict demands that the blankets are up so I don’t have dog hair in my sheets. And even Casper put her paws on the bed last week to see when I’d get up. That’s really bizarre for her!
People with Big Noggins. Hey, I don’t care how big your head is. Just don’t perch a regular-sized hat on top, even if it is your favorite team!
Don’t Offer Me a Salad. (That might become my header mantra at some point.) For all of you who wonder what the heck I eat, I give you a typical lunch at least a couple of times per week at one of the cafeterias at work. This is today’s fresh saute of mushrooms, spinach, red/yellow/green bell peppers, bok choy, diced tomatoes, onions, carrot shreds, and broccoli in a rose sauce on penne pasta (and of course with garlic!). Then I threw a few chow mein noodles on top. The cafeteria advertised this as a sausage jambalaya, but hold the sausage and I’m thrilled, I’m full, I have eaten lots of pretty-colored veggies that are very good for me, and I saved a buck over everyone who had it with meat! The sauces are different every day and I can usually eat for less than $4. Note my bottle of Crystal Light, cuz I believe in me.
At Least the Editor Tried. At Kohl’s yesterday (David claims he hates all their stuff but he asked to go there. He asked me to read what was on his exterior jeans label, pulled two pair off the shelf that matched his label, and bought them. I hate him), I found this note taped to a rolling cart. What I find hilarious is that someone (NOT ME) tried to fix the grammar mistakes, but still missed some. It’s not just me, I swear! I resisted the urge to correct the rest (mostly because I lacked a pen), but I did turn a polo collar back down on a child mannequin because I think that collar-up-layered-polo nonsense is just STUPID.
>Are you finished? >Just Wait ‘Til I Get Going! Where Was I? (name the movie)
Cult, anyone? Yesterday after dining at Three Sisters, we stopped at Good Earth next door because I knew they carried Birkenstocks and I’m on a mission for comfortable shoes. This place is a natural foods store, crammed with all the goofy stuff I can’t find at Meijer, and upstairs (among the bulk herbs and books on cleansing your bowels) is a selection of Birks, Earth Shoes, etc. And there is a middle-aged guy who sells them to you in a rather goofy way. At one point some people in the essential oil room burst into rousing song, after random people offered their opinions on my feet. Everyone seemed to know each other a little too well, and later we relayed our odd shoe store experience in a generic way to a friend who said Oh, Good Earth? That guy is weird. Anyway, I tried on lots of shoes, and decided I really like Earth Shoes but not exactly the ones they had there (I bought some online instead), while David was reading about how to mend himself in the forest with the plants around him. The goofy guy pretty much forced David to take off his Birks to repair the edges, which have been beaten to hell over the years. This caused us to wait even longer and not be able to go to another store which closed in the meantime, but I thought the picture was funny.
And that was one of several ridiculous parking stops between the cafe and the grocery, where I did buy bulgur and dishwasher rinse that was not tested on animals.
Gassy Ass. I saw this on a car at the Post Office. I suppose it’s like my Mend Your Fuelish Ways bumper sticker, but mine’s way classier. And not a ribbon.