So it’s 3:30 in the morning. I’m wide awake and can’t fall back to sleep. As such, I will attempt to tick away the pending minutes with the worst type of blog post: The Bulleted List of Random Shit.
“Damnit all to hell, man,” you’re probably muttering to yourself. “Those posts drive me nuts-o.”
The reason? I think they’re a dreadfully lazy way to compose one’s thoughts.
I feel your pain, loyal reader. But I’ve never been someone who can scribe such thoughts at such an early hour. The language flows best from my fingers at sunrise.
Here we go.
• I shopped at Victoria’s Secret during my lunch hour earlier this week. I usually have a few pangs of embarrassment walking into the store. Those feelings were magnified when a mother lead her two small boys (maybe ages 4 and 5, if I had to guess) through the store. The boys had no idea how to react to all the pink and all the lace and all the fruity, feminine smells. So they did what boys do: turn over boxes of bras, only to send the pretty little things crashing to the ground. And as I shopped, the boys looked at me. I wasn’t sure what felt worse: knowing the boys were at a women’s underwear store or having their little eyes follow my fingers as I went through the drawers and racks. For some reason, I felt like we both were in the wrong.
• A bowl of Corn Pops and two cookies does not a dinner make. My ravenous state Tuesday morning, after such a meal, is plenty proof of that.
• Last night I dined at the Millard Roadhouse with about 12 of my fellow neighbors, most of whom are retired. We have a football pool each fall and celebrate the end of the season with a group dinner. I was, by far, the youngest at the table. But the outing put my life in perspective when they talked of spouses who’ve passed away, prescription cough medicine that costs $75 a bottle, the skyrocketing costs of health insurance and, of course, grandchildren. I realized how much life I have yet to live, God willing.
• I have spent the past seven days combing through sale racks at a number of Omaha retailers until I, at last, discovered my coveted item: red tights. You would think red tights would be simple enough to find. But no. I even ventured to my local Hot Topic, hoping the pierce-faced sales teen could help me locate a pair. “Sorry, we just have these leopard print ones that are red and black.” As I stood there in my Gap khakis and Gap sweater, my work badge dangling from my right hip, I felt completely out of place and exited the store. Thankfully, though, JCPenney ended my search at the 11th hour.
• What does mean when I receive the same Viagra spam emails at home and at work?
• Demetri Martin is one of the funniest comedians I’ve seen in quite some time. He has more than 70,000 MySpace friends. It seems pretty pointless to click the “Add to Friends” link, but I did it anyway. I believe in miracles.
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