Pointless Drivel

Just for the sake of posting...

 

I got up extra early and voted this morning.  (By "extra early" I mean that I kept my alarm set for the same time I always do, but I only hit snooze once instead of twice.)  And I didn't really mind that I had to get up extra early - you know why?  Because I knew that where I was voting there would be a bake sale for me to peruse.  And that meant no boring Cheerios for me, nope, I will take that cinnamon swirl cake for breakfast instead, please.  The reason I knew about the bake sale is that my poll location happened to be the Family Life Center that I belong to.  I could call it "my gym", but it doesn't really seem fitting, as all the elderly people that hang out there don't fit in with the usual image of people you see at the gym.  At my Family Life Center, a man in the weight room will typically have an assistant with him to help him stand up and sit down, not just spot him with the weights.  In fact, this weekend I had intended to go to a class, but slept through both the ones that I had been considering.  Instead, I showed up in time for the "Flex and Stretch" class, and once I saw that everyone there was at least 80 years old, I didn't go in.  Because it is one thing to show off your pilates skills amongst the 50's & 60's, but stretching with the truly elderly just didn't seem right.  My parents gave me this membership as a Christmas present - an unsolicited gym membership, I might add.  Are they trying to tell me something?  Maybe.  But instead I pretend that they were just trying to be nice.

Anyway, last weekend while I was there skipping the Stretch & Flex class, I noticed a sign that read something like this, "blah blah blah will be closed Tuesday due to blah voting blah blah blah BAKE SALE."  Now I am trying, but I don't remember what part of my FLC is closed today, apparently that part wasn't important to me.  And maybe I never remember that I put clothes in the washer an hour ago and that one day they should go in the dryer.  But for five days, my brain can remember "bake sale bake sale bake sale!" and that's what got me out of bed this morning.  Sad, isn't it?

 

It kind of reminds me of this time my friend had a pot luck breakfast at his house, and a few days later we were out and he asked me what I thought of his friend, Steve, who had been there.  (I am making up the name "Steve" because I have no idea what his name was, but I really really hope it's not Steve.)  Apparently, this Steve fellow had asked about me, and so my friend was relaying the message.  After a few moments, I had to embarrassingly admit that I had no idea who he was talking about.  So he started to describe him - and he described him in detail.  And he did sound unique!  Every bit of clothing he described sounded unusual and very noticeable - eventually I was thinking, "How does one not notice a person who is dressed like this?  ...Who I apparently talked to...  And the guy is incredibly loud, too?  hmm... no idea!"  Finally I turned to another friend down the table and asked if he remembered, and he gave this simple answer, so much more simple and yet so much more enlightening than all the details that had previously been provided, "He was the one with the cookies."  And instantly a light bulb went on and I flashed on the cookies!  Oh, those glorious cookies.  They looked gorgeous as they made their entrance.  And I was so pleasantly surprised to see them - because you can't really count on cookies at a breakfast, you know?  But as much as I tried, the most I could remember about the guy who brought them were his hands.  Because they were the only part of him that was in my line of sight as I watched the cookies enter the room and make their way to the food table.  Oh well.  Steve, I applaud your breakfast vision, at least.

 

hmmm... maybe this is why I got the gym membership for Christmas... even though I've never expressed an interest in a gym before...

 

So, did anyone else have a hair dresser approach them at a bar this weekend and tell them that their layers are "not cool"?  hmm?  She also told me that my hair needed to be about four inches longer, and a bit lighter.  Now, in all fairness to my own hair person (who happens to be much nicer than this one), it's been about 3 months since I've had a haircut, so maybe it was less "uncool" at the time of the cut.  Also, this lady's hair was not looking so good itself, but did I tell her that?   No.  Mostly because I didn't want her to insult me anymore.  Are the rest of you all talking about my hair behind my back?  How it really needs to go from a dark brown to a medium brown and what could I be thinking?  I knew it.

 

I'm going to end here with a copy and paste from an email I got today.  This is from a newsletter I get daily, with little tips and news about new stuff going on around town, or just out there in general.  Here's an excerpt:

It has come to our attention that it is no longer acceptable for your bunghole to be, well, brown. (Yeah, we said bunghole.) And South Beach Skin Solutions has developed a lightening gel that is safe for that sensitive area (no, we have not tried it).

The natural product claims to give your poopshooter "a fresher, more youthful look" by making it blend in with your natural skin tone. (Seriously?) Here's how it works: The gentle formula first exfoliates then naturally depigments and whitens the backdoor by reducing the activity of tyrosinase (an enzyme responsible for darkening) in the skin.

They claim you'll see results in just a few weeks, or else you get your money back.

Consider it your ace in the hole.

Now, I have heard of this trend in celebrity land, but I had no idea that the regular people like me were considered part of the market, too!  I have some questions here...  So, say you want to check on your results and see if you need your money back... um, how do you do that?  Do you ask someone else to check weekly for you?  Because would you really want someone analyzing that?  Do you try to check yourself?  Wouldn't that take some fancy mirror work?  And wouldn't that in itself be a lot of work?  And then say you want your money back, do you have to prove that you aren't getting results?  Or are they just banking on no one actually knowing and/or having the nerve to show them?  If anyone has this much time on their hands, I would like to suggest that it could be better used by cleaning my house.

All right, I think I've bored you enough for the day.  I have some peanut butter chocolate chip cookies to eat - those ladies at the church can cook.