If you are new here, I have been known to post about garbage now and then (define now and then). Ok, so maybe there is a little more spring in my step when I go out to walk in the AM on a garbage day. What can I say, I have very creative neighbors.
Today, my daughter came off the train from work with a story about the boxes of random stuff that has been in her office for weeks. She has been thinking to herself, “Hey, why have I not taken a picture of this garbage that appears to have a penis sticking out of the top of the box.” Then she asked a co-worker, why have we not talked about that garbage over there and the friend replied, “Oh, you mean the penis garbage?”.
No lie.
She then proceeded to make everyone sit at her desk so they could get a good view of said penis garbage.
Go head, look at that picture and tell me you don’t see the penis. What? You are on a mobile. Well then let me help you. Here is a close up.
Oh the little things we do to amuse ourselves during the day.
I received this as a text from my daughter on Saturday night. You have to love a kid that would send you something like this from the bathroom at a party.
I am not any more stressed then usual these days. And honestly, choking someone is not really my idea of a release. But I do like the homespun, country craft show look of the sign against that sweet calico wallpaper.
I am wondering if the woman of the house does her choking in a Martha Stewart apron.
So, you are invited to eat at a dockside waterfront restaurant. You look in your closet and think, ‘These will be the perfect shoes to wear for such an evening.’
I guess if you are smoking crack, maybe!
What the hell? This young woman – she could not have been more than 21 – was wearing these babies with a skin tight micro mini white lace number. Sort of like hooker-not-so-chic. These gave tacky a whole knew meaning. The peace sign anklet has me a little confused. It surely did not go with the rest of the outfit.
We never did get the chance to see her walk on the deck in these. I am hoping her date had a good grip on her arm.
I found these at the counter at Bed Bath and Beyond. They were sitting at the checkout in the coveted impulse buy spot by the cash register. This is the spot where they put those items that you just can’t resist. Or… this item.
I am convinced that the buyer saw these and told their assistant, “oh, these are kind of kitch, order 10”, meaning pieces and the assistant accidentally ordered 10 cases. That is when the impulse buy spot becomes the we are desperate to move these babies spot.
When I was in HS I worked at a drug store chain and this exact thing happened with a crazy product called Top Coverage. Check it out.
Yes, kiddies, this product claims to be the hair loss concealer that ‘erases bald spots’. Top Coverage is easy to use: just spray on the thinning area, bald spot will disappear instantly. You can choose black, brown, light brown or gray to match your hair color.
Or not.
In actuality it is spray paint for your bald spot. I think it probably worked better for the comb over guys.
After many laughs at the 6 cases vs. 6 pieces fiasco we used this stuff to spray paint doors, make signs, you name it.
Being a family of women who are not known for our love of shopping, Jana and I try to do little things along the way to entertain ourselves.
As we were walking through Century 21 (the discount store, not the realtor for those who were confused last week), we came across a rack of fur jackets and dresses. As I was snapping away, my dear, sweet, thoughtful daughter uttered the words every blog mother dreams of, “Do you want me to try this on so you can get a shot of it?”
Being the coy blogger and considerate mother that I am, I asked, “Do you mind if I do a post on this?” Her response? “When I offer to do something like this it is understood that you want to blog about it.”
Damn I love that kid.
We have always held to the idea that women are slaves to fashion and will wear just about anything that the fashion gods tell them is chic. This dress was no exception, until Jana tried it on. She said, “Hey, I get why people would want to wear this. It is soft and warm.”
This style has a certain prehistoric charm to it, don’t you think?
Ok, I will admit this upfront. I was going to title this post ‘No evidence of a penis on this man’ but I was truly fearful of what sort of traffic I would get from that. And the whole gender stereotype thing does rub me the wrong way – although by the way he is dressed it is obvious this dog was not his idea. And I am thinking the shoe shopping wasn’t either. He looks more like a Home Depot sort of guy to me.
Maybe I should have titled this, ‘Shopping is not a canine activity’, because that is what really irks me. I could go on about the upswing in people bringing there little pampered pooches out to shopping and dinner excursions, dressing them up in little clothes and putting them in strollers, for G-d’s sake. I hear this is an epidemic in South Florida. The last time I was there I saw a yorkie in an Ed Hardy hoodie… that is just not ok. (but a lovely outfit to shop for shoes in Bloomies, I suppose) What is up with this behavior?
This is the second time this year that I have seen a man in the women’s shoe dept of Bloomingdales with one of these little dogs.
Just guessing when this guy first started dating this woman this was not his idea of a night out.
That would not be fashion nazi. I am a fashioNOTsa.
Or why I suck at shopping.
I know, I am a Jewish girl from Long Island and therefore it is expected that I love to shop. But I don’t. I hate it AND I suck at it. Perhaps I should explore my true lineage.
But sometimes you just need stuff. So after a lovely meeting this morning and a surprise lunch with Gary (because I was on the 59th Street bridge and had to pee so badly I had to stop at his office), seeing that I had no deadlines tomorrow, I ventured out into the consumer jungle.
Did I mention I hate this worse than going to the dentist? At least there I can get sweet air. These are the 5 reasons why:
The woman in the next dressing room at Lord & Taylor spent a solid 15 minutes on the phone with one of her son’s teachers and for the life of me I could not imagine how she kept trying on clothes without ever shutting up. All I can surmise was that her son is screwed from her micromanagement and someone should tell her that talking on the phone and trying on clothing does not constitute multi-tasking.
I need to see the dermatologist as soon as humanly possible because the lighting in every dressing room made me see that I must have no less than 5 horrible derm conditions. Fluorescent lighting and dressing rooms: who is responsible?
There are no circumstances in which a 3 way mirror is OK.
Clothes on. Clothes off. Repeat. How can this be fun? Well, I know how but this is the wrong context.
I always have to pee and the bathrooms are always in a different zip code than the women’s clothing. Why is that?
The only funny part of today was the cashier at Century 21. She had a very heavy accent and as she checked me out this was our conversation:
She: Your zin cone?
Me: (no idea what that means) Um, no thanks (afraid to agree to anything in fear it might be hard to undo).
She: No, no, no… your zin cone?!
Me: Sorry, not getting what that is.
She: Zin cone. Zin cone. Zin cone! (as if saying it 3 times will make me understand)
Me:(starting to get the giggles and wishing I had a witness) I am so sorry but I have NO idea what you are saying. Maybe you want to write it down.
She: Zin cone. You know… town. 1-1-something-something-something (she loves to repeat herself).
Me: OH! YOU MEAN ZIP CODE.
At this point I simply looked around for the camera and then split.
There are days when everything is funny. These are the days I live for. It could be the people that I know, the fact that they are also Magnets for The Absurd, or perhaps the universe has sympathy on us poor working slobs on a rainy Monday morning. But this. THIS. This one made me laugh so hard.
To the point of tears.
Which, btw, is the tagline for this blog.
So here goes. A big thank you to Wendy for posting this one.
It would seem that Bart Jansen’s poor kitty was killed by a car. So what did he do? Did he spend his days sobbing. Oh no, no, no. In the spirit of turning lemons into lemonade he turned his kitty into a kittycopter!
Um, yes, folks, good old Bart stuffed his deceased feline and converted Orville into a radio-controlled copter. When you think of it, why bury, cremate or toss a perfectly good dead cat when you can fly it around your yard for hours of entertainment? And then post it on YouTube so the whole world could enjoy your pet. I like to think of this as extending the pet value. This has the flavor of a good B. Kliban drawing. (please click that link and note the url for a little more kitty humor).
Is this disrespectful to the pet or the ultimate tribute?
Can you imagine the conversation at the taxidermist’s shop? You want him in WHAT position? Might I ask why? Oh, a kittycopter… that’s a cool idea. I would think that taxidermists are not all that easily shocked; they must have the most disturbing requests. Hmmm… maybe I should start a taxidermist blog and interview them all over the country. Sorry, I digress.
Of course there is video. When I clicked to watch there were only 301 hits. I predict this sucker breaks 100,000 in no time. I am sure I will be good for at least 50 myself. And if you are wondering, yes, I did watch the full 3:34 of this. The landing was the best part outside of his adjusting the little copter propellors.
Oriville the kitty? I heard his dog Wilbur has been crossing the street very carefully in fear of becoming the next victim of radio-controlled absurdity.