Road Bad

I travel this one rural road every day to work.  

And last month, I hit a terrible pothole.  Brutal.  Like, I felt the jolt of it radiate from my butt to the top of my head (as it hit the roof my car interior.  And I am short.)

The same pothole has been there for nearly a month.  Worsened by the fact that it doesn't even look like a pothole, or anything worthy of bracing yourself while soccer-momming the nearest passenger.

Beautiful, historic Canal Road, in Griggstown, NJ (07/24/12)

If I don't need a new suspension soon, then I will probably need a whole new car altogether.  And a new skull.  Or something to fill in the skull-shaped dent in the roof of my car.

But something happened.  If you have any doubts that your fellow man is not looking out for you, good citizen, well think again.

Another Fail Cause By Social Media

You know the arrow "hidden" in the Fed Ex logo?

Notice how the moment you finally "see" it, you never not see it?

It's sort of annoying actually.

(And if you don't know what I mean, this is me now rocking your visual world:   If you look at the white space between the E and the X in the logo, it forms the shape of an arrow.  Coincidental?  Intentional? Clever subtle brand marketing?  Meh,  I don't know.  It's a shape, and it's there.  Much like the way the white-spaces under the beautiful golden arches of McDonald's big M are phallus-shaped.  Oh, sorry, did you not already know that?)


Anyhoo, I liken this to the anthropological discovery I've made, thanks to Facebook, and specifically My Newsfeed.

And that is:  Some People Just Really Do Sorta Suck.

"ANY Super Power, you say?"

The ability to apply CTRL + Z in real life. 

 1)   That is my answer when the question (in question) comes up either in an all-important online poll -- the ones that enable your friends to know The Real You more fully.... OR in a 2am lazy scramble for a brilliant conversation topic. Yes, the type of brilliant conversations at 2am that can only happen between two people who probably shouldn't be driving home.

<<  The Question in question being: "If you could have, like, any super power at all, what would it be?" >>


2) When you ask me that question, don't tell me that CTRL+Z-ing in real life doesn't count because it potentially wrecks with that ever-fragile "time-space continuum".  Because I will hit you with my flux capacitor made of my open palm and say, "You're a fricking idiot."

The Secret Maid

Ever hear a story that is SO outrageous, but somewhat believable... because there are details in it that are so specific that only a few certain people would know of its truth?  A story so elaborate and detailed, only made even more outrageous because ....  the story is about YOU????

This happened to me quite recently.  Wednesday, in fact, when Shinn came in to work early.

For some reason, we started reminiscing about old friends, and old flames, and old homes, and old parties... and pretty soon we were talking about "that one Christmas party".

Which one, you ask?   In fact, I did ask, because there quite a many Christmas parties.

"Gigantic Head Drives Car, News at 11"

See, they really have velcro on them.

Guys, do you know what velcro rollers are?

In case you don't, I'm posting a pic here so you know exactly what I'm talking about before I launch into today's tale.  They're basically enormous plastic hair curlers, with velcro wrapped around the entire surface of the curler.  The not-soft side of the velcro strip.  Ideally, these curlers hold themselves up because they stick to your hair like a used dryer-sheet on socks.  They're also ridiculously big because when you let your damp hair dry with these rollers in, once you're done untangling the velcro out of your hair, you're left with tons of volume (and possibly, static too).

Bouncin' & behavin' hair.  Every girl wants it, and thus the Velcro Roller.


But as you can see, they're not very comfortable things to sleep on.  So, I find that I don't use them unless I've got tons of time to put them all in and let my hair dry.  Kind of hassle, actually.

"What?!  Whatcha lookin' at??"

Which is why... when my mom asked me to take her to the airport at some ridiculous early hour, I thought to myself...  5AM....  it'll still be dark... I'm gonna roll up my hair before I drive her to the airport, and return home and get to work with bouncin' & behavin' hair.

What a plan! 

Not.