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?!?