The color of passion! The color of excitement! The color of sex!

Beige.

Ooooooh yeah.

On my way to meet a friend for lunch in my (ahem, cherry red) Honda, I noticed how many beige cars there are on the road these days.

Most of the cars out there now are black, silver, and white (there have been studies done that have concluded that these non-colors are popular during economic downturns).

Ok, I get that. But beige?

People put beige carpet in their homes because it doesn't clash with anything and it's good at hiding dirt.

But don't you want more out of your car?

You're in the dealership lot. You've picked out what you want. Heated seats! iPod compatibility! 200 horsepower! Amazing gas mileage!

And... beige?

That's the equivalent of soda crackers and tea for dinner. Every night. For the next seven years. 

Who are you people???

Ridiculous, unnecessary product #3,154

I love kitchen gadgets. I truly do. But this one is more than a little ridic.

Does the modern kitchen really need a spring-action banana slicer??

Last time I checked, a knife did the job just fine.

Caution: Children in the office

Not even the cute, short, young variety.

Yesterday I had a little email spat with a coworker (he used to have a pretty good sense of humor, so I tried to be lighthearted about something. He came back with a hail of fire and brimstone. So much for lighthearted humor).

Today, he stopped by my department (something he hasn't done in over a year; just ask him) and said hello to one of my coworkers. She said hello back.

And then he responded to her (loudly, pointedly) I SAY HELLO TO YOU BECAUSE YOU'RE NICE.

Really?

Is my desk actually a sneaky time machine that's deposited me back in the 7th grade? Do I hear WHAM! on the radio?

I ignored it.

Then my coworker and I passed him again in the hallway, where we (and everyone within earshot) heard this:

OH LOOK! IT'S THE NICE ONE AND THE RUDE ONE!

Sigh. Is this what office politics has come to?

I wonder why he doesn't have a girlfriend.

Some things are destined to remain a mystery, I guess.

Two more examples of my tragic unhipness

I would never wear something called Gorilla Snot in my hair. Not even in some sort of alarming zoo incident.

Extreme Hold indeed.

And, having lived through this trend in the 80s, you won't see me sporting any of this nonsense either. The photo doesn't really capture the.... nuclearness/nuclearosity of these colors. They're dayglo, every last one. I could still see them when I closed my eyes to blink. Granted, I like these colors mixed in with other, more muted shades, but I won't be strutting around with a nuclear sunset bag on my arm any time soon.

I'm old, old, old. :)

Thanks for the reminder, Target. 

Today's WTF Target item

I'd say something pithy, but the product speaks for itself.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

I could have a nice little side business

A friend of mine on facebook posted a photo of an unfortunate tattoo (not his own, thank God).

In super-fancy script, it said:

REGRET

NOHING

Perhaps his only regret is failing to run spell check first.

And then I realized I could totally make money off of these poor, ignorant souls.

I could freelance in tattoo parlors by proofreading tattoos BEFORE they're tattoos!

I could save Bulls fans from tattooing CHIAGO on their necks.

No gang member would ever walk around with CRIPES inked onto his skin again.

And nobody would ever have to suffer forever with YOU BLEED JUST TO KNOW YOUR ALIVE again. (Why are your/you're and there/their/they're such stumbling blocks? It's. Not. That. Hard, Folks.)

And if anybody ever walked in wondering how to spell TEBOW for a tattoo, well, I could point that individual to the back room where someone could beat some sense into him.

Aw yeah. It's gonna be a fat payday for me!

I know they foster a hippie vibe...

But I question the necessity of nipples on the T-shirt mannequin at Whole Foods.

Once upon a time at a Super Bowl party...

I sat behind a woman who had an adorable newborn baby. He was very sweet, and his mother was utterly besotted (as all mothers should be).

And she loved-him loved-him.

Through four quarters and a gajillion commercials, this woman cooed, cuddled, hugged, and kissed the little guy.

And then she just couldn't help herself any longer.


She licked the baby.


(I'll give you a moment to let that sink in.)

Not just once. She did it a few times.

I've seen cats do this, but the human equivalent was simply mind-blowing. I elbowed Beau because I needed someone to share the insanity with, but he didn't see it (there was a game on, so I give him a pass).

True story, my hand to God.

This turn of events lead me to coin the awesome phrase: It's just not a Super Bowl party without a babylicker!™

I still wonder about that woman.

And that child.

[shudder]

Not so fast, Princess

Bullshit political bumper stickers aside, nothing has made me want to ram into another vehicle more than this.

And before you come to this girl's defense, she does NOT have a child (no baby seat), and she had a Class of '13 tassel hanging from her rear-view mirror.

It's irritating enough that we push the Princess Theory on little girls (don't get me started). The fact that some of them hold on to it long after childhood gives me the shivers.

I weep for the future. 

Outta my way, princess. There's a grownup comin' through.

Here's to your health

I've taken it upon myself, dear reader, to show you the path to health and wellness.

Today's lesson: Calci-Yum!

Worried about those frail old bones of yours? Have no fear....

COOKIES ARE HERE!

And for those of you who don't like to read the healthy fine print, let me enlarge it for you.

One jug of these and you'll be good as new!

I'm here to help, folks.