We have these corn bags in the office we heat up in the microwave for shoulder or back pain or whatever. Sometimes someone puts it in too long and the whole office smells like a silo on fire.
Have you ever noticed when someone’s nipples are askew? I mean, you’re not looking for it, but there they are. It’s like looking at someone and trying to decide which eye to focus on. Except in this case it’s nipples and you’re not supposed to be looking at someone else’s nipples.
There’s been a lot of static electricity lately which means every time I touch a filing cabinet or the clothes dryer I get zapped. I accidentally zapped a coworker and so I just shrugged and, what can I say? I’m electric.
I met a 4-year-old last week who informed me that he knows his times tables and also – the periodic table. Holy smokes! That’s SO COOL, I told him. Yeah, he said.
At what point in our growing up do we stop announcing we have to go potty? Little kids announce it like they’re calling a hockey game. At what point do we decide that no one needs to know? Or that it’s a private affair?
On that note, I was at the raceway yesterday and had to use the port-a-potty – which was labeled, “honey pot,” and (I know literally everyone has joked about this but still) I do think that’s a strange name for something that has absolutely nothing to do with honey – and I am here to report that it was the cleanest and least offensive one I have ever been in. Anyone who is ever faced with one has that one-second moment of weighing the importance of going versus how long one can hold it before taking a deep breath and opening the door. Admit it – you know you hold your breath.
I also love the, “that’s not a good choice,” statements from parents while their kids are running circles around the waiting room ON TOP OF THE CHAIRS. I remember those days of early child-rearing and reading every available parenting article about “using your words,” “gentle hands,” and “1-2-3-Magic.” What wonderful memories! I raised them the best I could with what support I had. Fifteen years later and being over 50, I also see the value in SIT DOWN. Because I said so. Fuck “not a good choice.”
Speaking of good choices, I was at home sick recently and Todd sent me a text about 11:40 asking how I was feeling and then without waiting for an answer added, “cut down on the Housewives and bon-bons, you will probably feel much better” and now I feel exposed. First of all, I have NOT been eating bon-bons. I don’t know if I’ve ever even had a bon-bon, but I have had M&Ms and I’m not sorry.
Being at the raceway is a smorgasbord of people watching. We stood at center track for a while – very exciting – next to a dude with fuchsia-colored crocs on and can I just say it one more time? I hate crocs. I don’t care how comfortable they are.There, I said it.
There is literally nothing Todd can do to get rid of me, except maybe start wearing crocs with socks. Which, now that I think of it, would be hysterically funny and might make a great gag gift.
Anyhoo, back to the racetrack. We moved closer to the start line where a gaggle of young women were sitting with little children in the shade, and the unmistakable smell of Mary J was drifting in our direction. The origin of the smoke was a guy sitting on the pavement wearing a red t-shirt that said, “It’s a joke Not a dick Don’t take it so hard,” with a blunt in one hand and tossing a water bottle back and forth with his daughter with the other.
Two women sitting in the shade behind him were holding babies; one was slipping a pullup over the baby’s legs while simultaneously removing the used diaper. A little while later I noticed she was holding the baby and the bottoms of this child’s feet were black.
There is something about dirty children and dirty feet. Not necessarily in that order or even simultaneously. It makes me sad to see a parent holding a child whose mouth has a huge, dried circle of food residue around it. Years ago in my 20s, there was a dad standing behind me in a liquor store with his little girl, a circle of chocolate around her mouth and her white top was filthy and all I could think was, you needed that MD 20/20 so bad you couldn’t clean your kid up before you took her out?
Subsequently, my kids were never dirty if I could help it. I was washing their hands from the time they could crawl. My mom used to say I’d give my kid a complex, but guess what? He didn’t need to be reminded of hygiene during the pandemic.
You ever have a friend over and you set a jar of sweet gherkins on the counter in front of them and the next thing you know the jar is empty? Man likes pickles. That is all.
There was a sweepstakes in 2002 with Tickle Me Elmo dolls, aptly called “Surprise” whose computer chip was programmed to change its message when tickled on January 9, 2002. One doll was set to say “You Found It” and the holder won $200,000 (toward the purchase of a new house), a VW Beetle ride-on toy, a savings bond, and other things. There were four runner ups.
In my rabbit hole search for the aforementioned information, I found a horrifying video of “Tickle Me Elmo Without Fur” and learned that the first Tickle Me Elmo was sold in 1996 and – thanks to Rosie O’Donnell (and her talk show) – stores couldn’t keep him on the shelves. During that holiday season, “Elmo Mania” led to fights, stampedes, and black-market sales upward of $1500.
In case you’re wondering, my son did get a Tickle Me Elmo and we didn’t win. And also in case you’re wondering/don’t remember – $200k was a lot in 2002. The 1901 Victorian we bought in November of that year in a coveted community was $154k.
At 1055 words, I’ll stop here and end with something uplifting. Macy’s is having a clearance sale on bras. You’re wecome.
*Tickle Me Elmo Without Fur https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gg5VSUOlBxA
*Elmo Mania https://www.90stoys.com/dolls-and-soft-toys/original-tickle-me-elmo-1996/#:~:text=The%20original%20Tickle%20Me%20Elmo%20retailed%20for%20%2428.99%2C%20but%20thanks,rival%20the%20Beanie%20Babies%20craze.
*I’m terrible at tech and whatever upgrades WordPress made, I can’t figure out how I used to add links.