Old joke

What did the grape say after the elephant stepped on it?


Nothing. He just let out a little wiiiiiiiiiiiine.

My super-sexy secret accessory

They say that, every seven years, your cells completely regenerate.

I'm not thrilled with this iteration of myself--because I'm suddenly allergic to everything.

Luckily, I've ALWAYS been allergic to wool. The turtleneck sweater I'm wearing is 5% wool. FIVE PERCENT. And the second it touches my skin, I'm an itching machine.

But it's an adorable/warm sweater. 

So I'm wearing a long-sleeved shirt underneath.

And around my neck? I have a toilet-paper turtleneck between me and the sweater.

Va-va-va-vooooom!

(Most people would choose to be silent on such a pathetic subject. I choose to suffer for my art.)

Rush writes book reviews?

On my commute, I heard Cokie Roberts talking about her book Founding Mothers on NPR.

It's a book about the first ladies and wives of our Founding Fathers and the roles they played in our history. The stories she mentioned on air were interesting, so I looked it up so I could put it on my amazon.com wishlist.












I looked through the reviews and found this gem:

Full disclosure, I did have not yet read the book. But I don't think that highlighting women's roles denigrates what men did.

Furthermore, I hate to burst "memie's" bubble, but the Founding Fathers were not saints. 

Not even close. 

Ignorance is funny. 

Sometimes. 

Not really.

Even though I loathe the term "Maxxinista"...

I still like to shop at TJ Maxx.

But Saturday's trip was superspecial at the checkout.

The girl behind the register was young. And it was clear that she thought I was a very old woman (then again, I probably thought 40 was old when I was her age too, but I maintain that I. Do. Not. Look. Forty.).

When she rang up the gloves I bought (it IS Colorado and it IS January--I didn't think it was that out of the question), she sniffed and said "My Grandma has gloves like these."

They're black, fleece-lined gloves with touchscreen-compatible fingertips--it's not like they were hand-knitted out of cat hair, for Pete's sake.

Then she rang up two little crystal candy dishes that are kind of shaped like old 60s egg chairs. I realize how odd that sounds, so I'll attach a picture of something similar (though mine are plain).

She held one of them up and said "These are kinda cool."

"Thanks," I replied. "I thought they were the perfect shape for terrariums."

She stopped and stared.

I mean STARED. Like I'd just told her that I was going to go eat a puppy for lunch after I was done shopping.

She spoke (loudly). "YOU'RE GONNA PUT FISH IN THESE?" [stares from nearby shoppers]

"Oh, no! I said terrariums."

Blank stare.

"Plants. Not fish."

"Oh," she said, looking like she didn't quite believe me.

Sigh.

That's the future of our country, folks!

New line of Colorado lawn gnomes

You think I'm kidding. Check out Hobby Lobby.

Something that makes me glad I'll be single this coming Valentine's Day

WHUCK???

I've got the post-holiday, broke-as-a-joke, mid-winter blahs

Drinking, it turns out, doesn't help.

Luckily, I've found that cutting back on drinking hasn't helped either.

:D

I'LL BE HERE ALL WEEK!

Thought-provoking reading

This is not about my sociopath book. I'm over that.

I'm not a sociopath (I swear--ask my pets. I'm never mean to them). 

I did find it interesting to see the selection of materials that Barnes & Noble finds to be thought-provoking these days.

Riiiiiiiight above Stephen Hawking. :)

I'm reading a book about sociopaths

I grew up with one (sibling, not parent), and they're very scary but very interesting.

But as I paged through, I started wondering. Am I a sociopath?

My friend Lisa assured me I was not.

But, according to the book, we hide in plain sight! Nobody can see us! Please don't let me be a sociopath.

Which lead me to realize that if you're concerned that you might be a sociopath, you're probably not a sociopath.

What I AM, it seems, is highly suggestible.

I can't help it

Whenever I hear the phrase "defrocked priest(s)", I think of a line of priests standing over a subway grate and getting their frocks blown off, a la Marilyn Monroe.