I ran into town earlier today, and somehow I managed to drop a wad of dollar bills while lugging my tank of a baby out to the car. I figured they were gone and lost forever, considering how windy it’s been.
When I got home, O was sound asleep in his carrier. I took him in the house and went back outside to re-trace my steps on the off chance some of the money was still there. I was shocked when I saw a lone dollar sitting in the gravel of the driveway… and then another one a few feet away.
I spent the next five minutes or so wandering around my driveway and front yard, picking up dollar bills like they were a trail of bread crumbs. I found every single dollar.
The whole time I was looking, I couldn’t help but think about that State Farm commercial, with the creepy agent dangling a dollar bill in front of his customer.
It was quite a bizarre experience.
So if you happened to drive by my house at just the right time, you might have seen me wandering around the front yard, stopping to bend over at random and jumping up in excitement with a dollar bill in my hand yelling, “I found another one!”
It really doesn’t take much to make me happy, y’all.
Have y’all seen the Wendy’s commercials that feature the red headed chick traipsing around judging everyone’s lunch choices?
If you haven’t seen them, here’s the basic idea:
Wendy’s chick: Oh, hello there person I don’t know. I see you’re eating lunch. What is it that you’re eating?
Complete stranger: Um, turkey on wheat?
WC: Well this is actually none of my business, but that just looks awful.
CS: …It does?
WC: Yes. But don’t worry, I carry around this bag of greasy fast food from Wendy’s just for occasions such as this one.
WC: Now that’s better!
Now, don’t get me wrong…I enjoy a Wendy’s Frosty and fries occasionally (like, maybe once every couple of months…) and I really like their chili…But would I eat there all the time? Uh, no. I don’t care what this red-headed lady says, Wendy’s is not better for you than, say, a container of yogurt and a turkey sandwich. I mean, it is fast food.
I really hate the commercial for the flatbread chicken sandwich… When little miss barfs-a-lot (how else does she eat that much Wendy’s and stay slender?!) exclaims “I’d rather share it with my taste buds!” in a rather annoying sing-song voice. That one makes me want to stab something.
If these commercials were honest, I think they’d go like this:
Chubby red-head: Hello stranger! What is that you’re eating?
Stranger: A stick of butter and some potato chips dipped in butter. Oh, and fried butter with sugar on it.
CRH: Oh gross.
S: I know, right? But that’s what my wife packed for me today.
CRH: Well I happen to have this bag of greasy fast food from Wendy’s…
S: I’ll take it!
CRH: Well…I suppose that’s at least somewhat better.
Anyway, I don’t know why these commercials annoy me so, but they do.
What commercials make you feel all stabby?
While visiting my parents on Sunday I discovered a bunch of old shirts my mom had kept (I’m fairly certain she’s kept everything my brother and I ever touched). They were all from my elementary school days and as a joke I decided to try them on. I grabbed the first one I saw and started pulling it over my head, singing “Fat guy in a little coat…”
Imagine my surprise when the Indiana Beach shirt I got when I was six actually fit. Ok, it was definitely tighter and way too short, but I didn’t care.
Next, I tried on a shirt my mamaw gave me when I was 7:
No freaking way.
I grabbed the next shirt in the pile, my fifth grade cheerleading sweatshirt:
I was so excited that I ran downstairs to the kitchen where the BF and my dad were chatting. I paraded myself in front of them (completely interrupting their grown up conversation), making sure to do some pathetic toe touches and other cheerleader-type moves in the most obnoxious way possible. But seriously, I fit into something I wore in fifth grade and I had a baby five months ago.
I’m kind of proud of that.
Sort of related…I was in Wal-Mart the other day with a friend and we were looking at little girl’s shoes for her daughter. I pointed at a pair of sparkly black flats and said that I wished they were in grown up sizes. My friend laughed and said “I’ll bet those fit you…”
They did. I can wear little girl’s size four sparkly flats. I almost bought them just because, but they were ten dollars and I’m a tight ass.
I guess the moral of this story is that you can have a broken thyroid, have a baby, and carry around a giant fibriod (yes, it’s still there) and still come back from all of it.
Well, spring is here… even though in good ol’ Indiana we still have snow on the ground.
I’ve been doing a lot of digital spring cleaning… my voicemail inbox is empty (Did I listen to them? Of course not), my email is less frightening, and my Facebook friends list is about to get smaller. I’ve also been cleaning out my photo library to free up some memory.
I take a lot of pictures, y’all. LOTS of them involve food.
Anyhow, I thought I’d share some randoms with you guys!
For your viewing pleasure:
This is a perfect illustration of how I feel today:
Wasting my morning (and the better part of the afternoon) dealing with health insurance nonsense has left me in a fairly rotten mood. APPARENTLY my coverage has lapsed (no, I did not forget to pay a bill). In order to get my coverage back I have to jump through more hoops than a dog in a circus. And then there is a substantial waiting period. For “processing“.
Truth be told, I heart Grumpy Cat even when I’m not in a bad mood.
Anyway, I’m busy saying nothing because I have nothing nice to say. About anything.
Y’all remember this movie? I suppose my younger readers might not since it came out in 1988.
Awesome, now I feel old.
…Anyway, if you haven’t seen it (you young whippersnapper) feel free to go here for a good description of the plot. Or maybe you should rent it on VHS. They just don’t make good movies like that anymore.
So the other night The BF and I were talking about high school (we graduated in the same class) and a name came up that I hadn’t heard in a long time… I wondered out loud what had ever happened to this person and, since neither of us knew, the conversation went in another direction.
We went to Wal-Mart last night for more bottles, coffee, and some other things (guess which dumbass walked right out of the store with decaf but no regular coffee. I blame The BF for distracting me during the selection process). While we browsed through the baby section another couple walked by. They looked familiar and I realized the girl might have been who we had mentioned. Trying to be quiet so as not to seem like a weirdo, I got The BF’s attention and mouthed “Is that insert name here?”
Me, mouthing again- Is that name of person we were just talking about?
BF- I have no idea what you’re saying.
Me, now whispering- Is that person’s name?
By this time, the couple had walked away after noticing my wild hand gestures and, I’m sure, assuming I was completely insane.
Me- I SAID is that who we were just talking about the other night?! I think we Beetlejuiced them!
BF- Oh. I have no idea, I didn’t see them.
I never did find out if she was our old classmate. I probably would have been less conspicuous had I just walked right up and asked her name.
So next time you’re talking to someone and you bring up a person you haven’t seen in a long time, be careful. If you say the person’s name too many times you just might end up looking like a maniac in Wal-Mart.
And you’ll probably forget the coffee.