Call the fashion police

easter goat

Ambling down the sidewalk of an unassuming strip mall, I encountered the above: a small goat wearing an orange tutu and an orange wig.  Its pet, a man with a brown shoe, was on a leash.  The gawkier, wearing purple shoes (who really had no business acting as the fashion police), took issue that the man was dressed inappropriately. His shoes were definitely last season.

Hail Nincompoops!

croptheatre

 

Son and I went to see Hail Ceasar! the other night.

I appreciate being able to pick seats ahead of time.  Not many tickets had been sold when I got online, so we reserved our favorite spot in the middle of the back row.

The theater seats about 150.  By the time the previews were ending, only 14 seats were occupied.

The lights were dimming when in sauntered customers #15 and #16.  They were carrying super-ultra-mega-sized drinks, ice cream bars, a 10 gallon bucket full of popcorn and a platter full of fried dough, masquerading as chicken nuggets.

And where did they choose to sit?

Right     next      to      me.

Are you kidding me?  Either side of us had empty seats all the way to the aisles.  What kind of egregious disregard of personal space was this?

My son looked at me and then I looked at the woman. She was adjusting her rather corpulent frame into the seat while also trying to claim the armrest.

And then she gave me the stink-eye!

I matched her stink-eye as I got up and moved to the other side of my son.

The movie was loud enough to mostly mask the sounds of their chewing and slurping.

My usual method of dealing with this type of situation is to repeat  Hanlon’s razor over and over to myself:

Never ascribe to malice that which can be adequately explained by stupidity.

I also try to practice gratitude, as in, “Thank heavens for Netflix.”

 

 

An oxymoronic playlist

 

 

car radio

I ran out of podcasts so I did a bit of station surfing as I drove home. The radio’s search feature landed on a new station, where a velvet-voiced DJ was announcing,  “Welcome to the new Sunny 103, where we have music to brighten your day.”

And here is what I listened to for the remainder of my drive:

“One is the Loneliest Number” by Three Dog Night

“Careless Whisper” by Wham!

“I’m all Out of Love” by Air Supply

“If You Leave Me Now” by Chicago

“Alone Again, Naturally” by Gilbert O’Sullivan

“All by Myself” by Eric Carmen

“Oh Girl” by The Chi-Lites

“Lost Without your Love” by Bread

Thanks, Mr. Velvet Voice and kudos to your inspired programming.  I’m now depressed as hell.

 

A plausible explanation

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Every time I drive by this house, I ask myself, “Why?”

Here’s my theory:

Simon, the simple elf, was charged with tweeting that Santa needed help in case of foul weather.  He typed “foal” and auto correct changed it to “fowl.”

So, here you have Rudolph the Rooster, thinking that he will be Santa’s fowl weather helper….

Why else would an 8′ rooster with a Santa hat be on someone’s front step?

Safety first

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I purchased the above appliance over a year ago.  I thought I was so clever to invest in a toaster that doubles as a little oven.  Buyer’s remorse followed.  It does neither job very well and takes up too much counter space.

Anyway, a few days ago I was waiting for my toast to pop when I noticed some sage advice on the oven door.  I don’t know how I missed it until now.

 

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There needs to be an addendum:

When you stop screaming, grab your coat because it’s time to go out to eat.