I’m one of those folks who happens upon randomly awesome comments and latches onto them. While Skyping with Chloe last night, Carrie sat and talked with me while Chloe went potty. When Chloe stepped back into the room, Carrie said, all casual-like, yet decidedly cheerfully, “I’m happy to see you’ve got your pants on the right way.” Now, I knew perfectly well that this was one of those parental type comments and was most likely the result of some sort of inside out/backwards pants incident. The way she said it however, cracked me up. I couldn’t stop giggling. All I could think of is someone saying that to random people as they exit a restroom. Like, someone standing by the bathroom in a bar and saying that to everyone that comes out. Can you imagine the looks they’d get??? LOL
So I went to a funeral today. It sucked. Actually, it was just normal, funeral sad until the end. I was actually feeling quite pleased with myself for managing not to get all sobby and such. And then it sucked. As I sitting there, waiting for the end to free me from the god-awful, uncomfortable chair, they played a final song. As I heard the first notes, I spun in my chair and stared at my aunt in complete panic. It was Garth Brooks’, ‘The Dance’, the same song that was played at my mom’s funeral. Hearing that song in that setting was startlingly distressing. I more or less lost it. I couldn’t stop myself from sobbing like a total freak. First I sobbed all over poor Robby, then Virginia appeared beside me and I started sobbing on her. I have to admit, I was completely shocked at how freaked out I got. For a few minutes, it was almost like being at her funeral all over again. It will be 21 years on the 31st, and, for those few minutes, the pain hit like no time had passed. The whole incident was unsettling and embarrassing. But less than it could have been, since my family cried right along with me.
I have a piece of advice for anyone shopping in a retail establishment. In fact, it’s a good bit of advice for anyone dealing with someone in the service industry. If you’re displeased with something, don’t be a douche about it. Being a douche will not only make the poor employee loathe your existence, it makes you look like a total jackass to everyone around you. If you are curious about a price, just ask. Don’t go on and on and on and fricking on about how everything should have a price tag because obviously people need to know how much it costs before they buy it. And when they increasingly irritated employee explains that there had been prices in front of the bags of soil, but they were knocked off when customers pulled the bags off the shelf, do not inform her that good employees would check regularly to make sure the signs stayed in place. This sort of comment will make the poor, over-worked, under-paid employee want to punch you. Once again, I hate people.
Randomosity: I read a lot. I’m on, like, my 4th book in 5 days. Whenever I see a post-apocalyptic movie, or read a post-apocalyptic book, I always feel rather perplexed at how few people consider books to be a vital part of essential survival supplies. I bet it’d be cool to have a pet piranha. I’d name him Hank, I think. I worked on my book for a bit tonight. I’m hungry. Why do people always talk about how good the dead person looks at a funeral? I always just think they look, well, dead. I just added ‘free climbing’ to the list of stuff I will never ever do. Is it wrong to cheer every time someone gets tased on Cops? Aww! I’m watching an episode now, and the big old cop fella is in a trailer where these old dudes had over 50 cats. When the old dudes got evicted, they left the cats. So this big old cop fella is in there and he finds an itty bitty baby kitty and he’s all, “I know baby, we’ll get you out of here. Yeah, we’ll get you safe. Poor baby,” in a cooing sort of voice. It was kinda adorable. I really need new tennis shoes for work–mine are starting to look downright sad. Unfortunately, I have yet to win the lottery and good shoes are expensive as hell, so it will be awhile. I have to work the next four nights–yuck. Only ten days until the Titanic exhibit thingy!!! So excited! I think I’m going to go eat supper now.
Gotta jam, clam!