Month: February 2004

How did THAT happen? Seriously, where did this day go?

I was going to hit the vending machine up for some chocolate, but peer pressure or guilt or something, made me buy pretzels instead. Now I’m all loaded up on carbs and salt and I still want some candy.

Would I have gone for the M&Ms if I was alone in the building? I don’t know. I think I may have *gasp* made the decision to avoid them all on my own. Somehow, in the past couple of months, I’ve developed the first buds of self-control. Don’t know/don’t care how, but there it is.

Here are some items that aren’t developed enough to be their own entries, but I don’t want to lose the thoughts. Or something.

* I drove by a house that had an old, broken-down wagon in the front yard as a decoration. It actually made me wonder if homes with a big wooden wagon wheel propped up against the fence realize they are creating the 19th century equivalent of having a Goodyear radial propped up on the front lawn. The big broken wagon? Like having a Subaru Justy up on blocks, dude.

* In the “things I don’t want to eat” department, I heard a radio ad this morning proclaiming that my days of commute hunger are over – 7-11 is selling some kind of omelet sandwich. People, if you ever see me buying an omelet at a 7-11, take away my keys, my wallet and anything pointy I may have on my person.

* I’m craving a Greek salad from Demos in Waltham. Big time.

You know, if I had been able to keep my wits about me, and wasn’t actually trying to drive at the time, I’d have attempted to put my little tiny crappy camera on the Sidekick and get a photo of this. But of course, that didn’t happen. So I’ll have to paint you the picture in words.

First of all, I noticed the mini van because it was the same make and model and color as Junior’s old daycare provider. So I always notice these purple vans, trying to see if it’s her so I can wave.

I glanced down at the license plate, and realized that this van had hearse plates. Hearse plates. I was behind a purple, Plymouth hearse. So many thoughts ran through my head, the first of which was “Man, I would be so pissed if I died and didn’t get to ride in the big fancy black one.” Oy. Ya, sure, this could be the vehicle they use to get the flowers or whatnot to the Church, or whatever it is they need to do to prepare for a funeral. Or it could be carrying the body from the morgue to the funeral home, I suppose.

Either way, I guess those fold-down seats come in handy. I just want to know, if I buy a used van someday, what EXACTLY it was used for. It didn’t occur to me to wonder until the other day.

Do I really need a sale to buy Cocoa Pebbles? Well no, I don’t. I’m more than willing to buy them if I want them. But a sale on Cocoa Pebbles means we’re having cereal for dinner! Well, I’m having cereal for dinner. And some leftover Peking ravioli. (Yea takeout! Thanks Deb!)

Oh, so at Sam’s* this morning and our favorite waitress gave Junior a little paper umbrella in his apple juice straw. Jackpot! It’s good to start your Sunday with an umbrella drink!

Well, while Junior and Mr. Dump waited for me in the parking lot of Shaws, apparently the umbrella got torn. The solution, per Junior, was to go to the Chinese restaurant! Wow! Nobody ever wants to go to the Chinese restaurant with me! But then the kicker: “Ya, we’ll go in and get one and then just leave.”

NO! If I’m going to obtain a paper umbrella, it had better be because I’m on the receiving end of a scorpion bowl, baby.

I leave you with the lyrics to a song Dave wrote on Dave the Barbarian – it’s an ode to a cheese danish:

“Cheese and Sugar, Cheese and Sugar, with the texture of a booger.”

I like that show. I don’t know if it’s popular enough for anyone to know what the hell I’m talking about if I tell you that all my shoveling this weekend makes me look like The Can. Heh.

*Sam’s is the name Junior gave the place we get breakfast every Sunday morning, back about 3 or so years ago. He thought the owner’s name was Sam. It wasn’t. Her name was Kim, but to this day if we see her, we call her Sam – I think she finds it VERY amusing. She doesn’t even own the place anymore, so if you are looking for a restaurant called Sam’s around here, good luck.

Man, that was fun. I am not a big fan of ice, in case anyone was wondering. It’s pushing 40 outside, so we were able to scrape up everything eventually. My poor back says “can I have the rest of the week off, ma’am?”