The Randomosity That Lives In My Brain ALL THE DAMN TIME


Just a random post of the bizarre sorts of things that bombard my brain pretty much constantly.

How did that guy manage to sweat a heart?  Like, how does that occur?  How have I never seen such a thing before?  Maybe he has sweaty mini-man-boobs and he was sitting at a slight forward angle and his boob sweat and gravity combined to make this happen?(Seriously, there was a customer that came in with a heart-shaped sweat spot right smack dab in the middle of his shirt and I spent the whole transaction trying not to gawk at the sweat oddity)

I wonder what happened to all the Party Light and Home Interiors parties that we were constantly being invited to back in the day.  God those were wallet-draining beasts.

How does a single shoe end up on the side of the road?  Was someone dangling their foot out the window and the shoe just flew off?  Or maybe some kid saw their parents work out shoes/work shoes sitting there in the back seat footwell and just decided to chuck one out the window.  Either way, why did no one go back for the wayward shoe?  And why would you keep your shoe on while dangling your foot out the window anyway?  When you decide to stick your footsy out the window a bit, it’s usually to let said foot get some fresh air, which would be significantly hinder the whole process.  But really, how the hell does someone misplace a shoe on the side of the highway?

How did they come up with the saying ‘sweating like a pig’ if pigs don’t sweat?  Like, was the person who coined the phase just super ignorant about the lack of perspiration produced by pigs?  What made them think of sweaty pigs anyway?

Am I the only one who thinks those exercise ball chair things look a bit dicey and like you might end up in a cast or traction or something?

Abandoned houses are totally fascinating.  I would love to be all urban-explorer-like and go through a bunch of them.  Especially the ones that are still fully furnished and such.  Of course, I always wonder why someone would just straight-up abandon their house like that.  Like did they die and just have no one to come clean out their stuff?  Or was the place haunted?  Or infested with large, hairy spiders?  If it was ghosts or whatever, it still seems a bit hasty to me, especially if they had neat stuff and books and all that.  If it was spiders on the other hand, why didn’t they burn the place down too?  I’d totally torch those spider bastards for chasing me out of my stuff and making me ditch my cool stuff and for existing in general.

Why do people that are close to home stop at a gas station to poop?

Humidity just sucks.  Mother nature is a PMS-ing whore.

I bet it would be horrifying to have to go to the E.R. and explain awkward masturbation/sex issues.  Like, the folks who seem to find it irresistible to stick random stuff in their rectum/vagina and then get it stuck in there.  I did see one show where a lady tried to claim she fell on the cucumber wedged impossibly far in her bahookey–dude, you’re just making it worse.  Either just stay home and die from whatever stupid shit you did, or own it.  No one will believe whatever lie you come up with.  No one.

What the hell is up with frilly throw pillows anyway?  Just, why?

Why would anyone pay $125,000 to buy a ‘tiny house’ that is actually just an apartment over some random strangers garage?

Why would anyone move to Iowa that didn’t have family or friends or a job or anything to draw them here?  Like, did they lose a bet?  Or maybe they just really like hellish summers and ridiculously cold winters with no real Spring or Fall to cushion the transition.  Or maybe they like corn and the smell of pig/cattle farms and pretty much nothing super exciting or nifty to attract tourists.  I mean, the Herbert Hoover museum is riveting and all but not a big attention grabber.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m totally all Iowa-nized and nearly all my family and friends live here and I grew up here and I kinda love it and sorta hate it but it’s home.  Can’t see myself wandering too far.  Unless Trump gets elected, in which case I hear Canada is nice.

If I could design my very own tiny home, it would be the most adorable, bad-ass, earth-friendly little house in the history of ever.

I wish they made light-up twinkle-toes shoes for adults.  I could rock some twinkle-toes shoes!

2,600 miles is not a hike, it’s insanity.  And you should probably be institutionalized for thinking this sounds like an appealing activity.

I wonder if my tiny house could have a sort of collapsible room that I could pop up so I have a great spot for a Christmas tree every year…

When you decide to down-size, I think it should be totally okay to not purge books and jammy pants and maybe movies as much, as long as you do a good job cutting down on the rest of your crap.  Just sayin’.

I totally need a Bob the minion sticker decal thing for my car.

What’s with salads with grapes in them?  Like, fruit salads are good, and veggie salads are good–combining them is not good.  It just seems so freaky weird to me.

Anderson Cooper is kinda my purely platonic nerd-crush.

Is it nerdy, odd, or pathetic that I actually made a happy little yelp sound when I saw that there is a channel replaying Jimmy Neutron episodes again?

I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to attempt to do a javelin throw considering I have been asked, more than once, not to play darts at varies locales due to my inability to actually hit the board successfully.  And it’s probably a good thing they don’t sell those metal-tipped lawn darts anymore.

Do animals get particular food cravings too?  Like, maybe they suddenly get a hankering for, say, raspberries or juvenile chipmunk or dumb young camper, whatever.  Anyway, say they get this craving, what do they do about it?  Not like they can call in an order for delivery or go through a drive-through, right?  So maybe that’s why wild animals don’t seem to be overly-eager to join the humans fan club–cause they are always hungry for something they can’t get and so they’re a bit suspicious and disgusted with the world in general.  I know I get a bit out of sorts when I really want Taco Bell or a strawberry shake or cantaloupe or fresh pineapple or crisp raw green beans, and I can’t have it.  It’s like everything else just starts to taste like broken dreams and false hope and lies.

So, there’s a little sampling of the delightful nonsensical randomosity that inhabits my brain.  Good times, right?!?

Toodle-loo Kangaroo!





Do I Look Like Doctor Freakin’ Doolittle Or Something, Kinda Like Christmas In Nerdville, And Other Stuff You Simply Need To Know…’Cause Reasons


I like animals as a general rule.  I mean, like, the likeable ones anyway.  You know, the cute and cuddly ones and the adorable ones and such.  Not like snakes and similarly horrifying creatures.  Yeah, definitely not snakes.  Fuck snakes.  They’re just icky.  But most critters are quite likeable.  (oh, and bats. Bats are totally NOT likeable)  So when I see an adorable little froggy fella outside of work, looking like he’s patiently waiting for someone to open the door so he can hop on in, I totally just have to tell everyone.  Or if I see some fat little critter that looks sorta like a beaver without a tail, I share that one too.  Inevitably, when I tell my critter tales, someone has to go and be all, “Well, was it a frog or a toad?”  or “Was it a groundhog maybe?”.  Like, do I look like Dr. Doolittle or something?  How the hell do I know if it’s a frog or a toad?  It’s not like it was wearing a little sign that said ‘I am a frog’ or something.  It’s a little hoppy critter that lives outside.  That’s the totality of my knowledge folks.  And if I knew it was a groundhog, wouldn’t I have said it was a groundhog?  Seriously, I didn’t even know we had those here!  For all I know, all groundhogs live in Puxatawney and are named Phil.  Just listen to the damn story and don’t ask me stuff I can’t answer.  Sheesh.

So I had to go meet with some guy the disability determination people decided I needed to talk to in order to prove I have issues or something.  Anyway, I had to meet this feller at the shiny new public library in Cedar Rapids.  I had not been to the C.R. library since the old building was destroyed in the flood in 2008, so it was quite fascinating.  So I had my meeting thing (shock, surprise, I apparently do have issues!  Shocking.) and decided to ask the library folk how I could get my fine paid off so I could eventually have a library card again.  See, many moons ago, I ended up with a rather sizeable fine thanks to some ‘friends’ of mine and a hospitalization and stuff.  So I went up to the library lady and asked how I could set up some sort of payment agreement.  So she typed my name in…and then typed it again…and then asked for the spelling again…and then tried switching my last name and first name…and then misspelling my first name…then asked if I have ever had a different name.  I told her I have definitely never had a different name.  At this point she informed me that I was not in the system.  I asked if it was because it had been so long and she informed me that fines and accounts are NEVER deleted.  Then, she asked me if I wanted a library card.  Seriously.  DID I WANT A LIBRARY CARD???  That’s like asking my cat if he wants food!  Of course I wanted a library card!  I couldn’t speak without shrieking in happiness, so I just nodded at her enthusiastically…very enthusiastically.  And as she took my ID and typed all my info in, I stood there trying desperately not to break out in a happy little dork dance.  And then , she held out my shiny new library card.  Y’all, I swear a beam of light illuminated that card and angels sang the hallelujah chorus as I reached for that beautiful piece of plastic.  And when she told me I could check out up to 99 items, I actually squeaked in delight.  And the she showed me the little basket on wheels with the nifty little handle–like a little shopping cart for books nerds, and I was so giddy I giggled.  By that point, I think the library lady was beginning to feel a bit unnerved by my giddy excitement.  Lucky for her, I happily took my little nerd cart and set out to fill it.  21 books and a totally high-tech and beyond nifty check-out later, I left.  It was truly like Christmas had come early to nerdville.


Is it just me or is it kinda hilarious when someone who qualifies for the senior discount says stuff like “OMG”?  I think I’m one of the only people I know that hates summer and heat and humidity and being outdoors and spending time in nature and all that sort of stuff.  Still waiting to get the title for the car so I can get the registration taken care of and then actually drive it.  Siiiigh.  I think anyone over the age of 6 should have to keep their money in wallets or purses or something like that–no wads of bills kept in pockets, bras, socks, underwear, etc.  In fact, no crumply wads of bills at all…none.

Gotta go, dingo!