I sat at an intersection this week, checking out the cyclist waiting beside me. He had on the clothes that cyclists wear - the tight, shiny clothes that go along with the leg shaving that I was surprised to discover my brother engaged in when he was at the height of his cycling career. And this guy had sponsors. And the sponsors were: Allegiant and Patron. An airline and a tequila. Novel combination. No longer was I content to sit and wonder; I wanted to ask how he came to have these sponsors. And to ascertain if he has a life of cycling on weekdays, and jet setting on weekends to places where he can relax and indulge in "the #1 ultra-premium tequila in the world." But then the light turned green.
"Bad Day" by Daniel Powter and "Beautiful Day" by U2 are one after the other when my playlist is alphabetized. I like it. That's my life, baby.
IF you don't have the money for a boob job, or are morally opposed to such a thing, you can do worse for yourself than marching into Nordstrom and having a nice lady set you and your girls up with a professionally fitted bra. Even if you go with an eighty-dollar jobbie, it'll last a couple years and you'd have to buy a whole slew to equal the cost of surgical augmentation and you will have eradicated the pesky risk of booby breakage. Personally, I have been happy with Wacoal brand. Tell 'em I sent ya.
I can neither confirm nor deny my ongoing dalliance with coffee. I will admit recent purchases of Coconut creamer and Vanilla Cinnamon. But for all you know, I'm drinking it straight out of the bottle. Which leads me to state that I can neither confirm nor deny my ongoing dalliance with sugar.
Later this very day, I will join my good friend Michelle and our children in picking apart owl pellets, which Michelle was able to procure online. I have learned, as you now will, that owls swallow their prey whole. Within an hour or two, they regurgitate the undigestables - like bones and fur - into a handy, online-sellable pellet. We hope to reconstruct an entire rodent, glue it together, and put it out in the yard as a warning to the newly-discovered rats in our neighborhood.
The newly-discovered rats in our neighborhood: as this is not the year 1300, and I've never known personally any victims of the Black Plague, I am shocked to learn that our neighborhood has rats. Someone said they rode in on the palm trees with a landscaping company from Arizona - but someone said the same thing about the scorpions and, for all I know, the bunion on my right big toe; the delinquent middle-school boy across the street; my pre-menstrual headaches; the cigarette butts lining the sidewalk; and the pigeons which have taken over our street.
I'm doing my own breadmaking. It is in the preliminary stages. If I don't fail miserably, the next step is grinding my own wheat. That will be the final step - I can't plant a wheat field - there is no room in my backyard for a crop of any kind. Just like I can't have chickens in this neighborhood, (which is a crying shame since they eat scorpions), I can not grow wheat. Well, I think technically I can grow the wheat, but bringing in the oxen for the plow every harvest would be sketchy.
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6 comments:
I love it when you blog. That is all.
L.O.V.E. it!!! I need to go to Norstrom's ASAP! :) you totally should have asked that biker, and I want to use your bread recipe!
hahah very entertaining!!! Ew on the owl pellets, hilarious on the rats and everything else riding in on palm trees, and extra super hilarious on the ox and plow being sketchy!!
keep the quick takes (and slow ones, for that matter) coming!
I think it's a fantastic idea to blame all neighborhood problems on things that ride in on palm trees from Arizona. Makes perfect sense.
I love hearing someone elses random thoughts! Oh and the rats came from the New Yorkers that moved here {in their boxes that sat in storage}. We never had them here when I grew up. It's the scorpions that came from the palm trees.
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