Random dumb thoughts

This page is to put those little weirdnesses of life that don't really fit anywhere else, or aren't worth a page of their own

Saturday, May 22, 2004

Good heavens. I know the guy is loopy, but get a load ofMu'ammar in his new suit. Kind of mafia don meets generalissimo meets aging Latino pop singer. Cracked me up.

.: posted by Lily Saturday, May 22, 2004

Thursday, May 20, 2004

Here's today's site of the day. I came across it when I ran one of the searches that had directed people to Michelle's Blog (the pantiliners one) to see how it got to her in the first place. Some of these are priceless, and I have to hope that some of these are put ons. Some are also sad, and you realize just how little you can know especially if you're young.

.: posted by Lily Thursday, May 20, 2004

Sunday, May 16, 2004

Three random thoughts for a random Sunday afternoon. It's good to be in before the skies open -- it's positively green out there.

There's something weird about CVS. This isn't even the same CVS with OCD boy behind the counter, but today I found the customer for him. As I was waiting on line this afternoon, I notice that one of the customers ahead of me is taking an inordinately long amount of time to finish her transaction. The cashier -- a perfectly harmless young man not native born to the US -- takes a few of the purchases over to the manager, and asks a question. He comes back, and this lady starts running down the counter aisle toward the manager. The cashier asks her to wait there, in a low tone of voice, and hand hits the countertop as he says it. It was not a threatening move by any means -- it was more like a harmless tap by someone who doesn't speak very loudly in order to catch the attention of someone who's trying to scurry away. "Did you strike your fist at me?" she shrieks? "How dare you smack your fist at me!!!". The manager comes over with the items he was checking out (I'm hoping it was prozac, but I digress), and she reaches over the countertop to grab them. The manager starts to hand them to the cashier, and she shrieks "No, I don't want him to touch them. He put his hands near his mouth! Look at him, he's dirty! I want you to give me my change, he put his hands on his mouth!" (Where does she think the money's been?) The manager actually looks less clean than the cashier, but he wasn't an immigrant, which is what I noticed. She also gets really squirrelly about handing the pen and the paper, which makes me realize that she's probably very much like the CVS clerk at the other store with his rubber gloves and fear of touching anything. I think they'd make a good cashier/customer pair -- it would take a million years to do anything, but the amount of potential germs and dirt entering any transaction would certainly be minimized.

Another result of the Great Northeast Cicada Invasion of 2004 is that it's bringing out some very classic tendencies in our youth, particularly pre-teen boys. As I was walking to the CVS, I went by the school playground, and these two boys about 11 or 12 are out staring out the ground. One of the boys says to me, "You wanna see a cicada?" Now, being more than 17 years old, I've been through this cicada-fest before, so I said, "no thanks, I've seen many of them. They won't bite". "Yeah, but he's going to PICK ONE UP!". Sure enough, the other kid picks one up, and I continue on my way. Suddenly I hear "whoops, it's now dead" in a not particularly surprised tone, more of a gleeful one. Ah, boys and small creatures. This one even does have wings to pull off. I'm not particularly upset, as the cicadas seem to be doing a good job of just dying all over the place all by themselves.

Finally, I am starting to understand how bridezillas happen. It's all coming from the kitchen, from which I'm convinced liquid gold will be pouring from the faucets at the price it will cost me. I went into this not really caring passionately about the details of the kitchen. Some nice new wood cabinets, a nice off-black countertop, new appliances, etc. I realized we'd need floors, lights, faucets and hardware, but I really didn't give them much thought. I didn't care, and still don't, but once you start asking me to pick one, the angst is immense. What exact shade to the doors? Three drawers in a base cabinet or four? End cabinets or rounded ones? What color are the walls going to be? Track lights or nouveau fluorescent? Knobs or pulls? In what material? What kind of tile for the floor? What color? What size? Grid or diamond pattern? How many watts on the range? Stainless or regular interior to the dishwasher? I think what's bothering me is that if I had just bought a house with a redone kitchen, I'd be happy with all the nice new shiny stuff. If I didn't like some aspect, I'd note it and move on. But now, if I don't like something when it's done, it's all going to be my own fault. It's too much to contemplate. I really want to tell the nice kitchen man: "Just put something nice in there. I will be happy with whatever is in there, now that I've picked the basics. I will give you a very large check if you'll just put the stuff in there" But I'll continue agonizing over floor tiles and drawer pulls anyway. I think if I ever get married I'm signing us up for that show where they let your family and friends plan the whole thing in a week for $5000, and you can't see anything or know anything about what's happening -- you just show up on the day. You don't even have to pick a dress yourself. Because if I don't, I'm going to be one of the brides with the uzis on the belltower threatening to get the florist who gave me baby pink instead of blush rose petals for the church.

.: posted by Lily Sunday, May 16, 2004

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