I made another blog. I want it to be one of those blogs that has a bunch of different writers, and each one posts under their name... you know? Alternatively, that blog will sit in a little corner of cyberspace, abandoned and lonely, desolate and forlorn, waiting for the day that somebody's fingers will fill it full of new words, stories, and ideas. Whoa. I think I just sent myself hurtling into a state of deep depression. That's pretty hardcore, man.
Um yeah so anyway. I was drinking water today, and the water was in a plastic cup, and the plastic cup was transparent. And when I finished drinking my water, I saw three words on the bottom of the transparent plastic cup. "MADE IN USA." I said it aloud. Made in USA just doesn't sound right. "Made in China," "Made in Indonesia," sure, but "Made in USA" just has a weird non-ring to it. Say it aloud. Right now. Yes, this means you! Say it: "Made in USA." I don't know about you, but it just doesn't work for me.
I also laid down today, on the pavement next to the front lawn. (Waiting for my dad to come outside so we could go to the hardware store) I used to do that all the time as a kid; we have all these home videos of me running around on the concrete driveway or sidewalk or whatever, and then suddenly dropping down to take a nap. Makes me laugh every time, HA! But yeah. Your whole perspective is different down there. The grass looks taller. The houses look squattier and further away. Home Depot is such a depressing place to be. All these beefy hairy guys comparing drill saws (Side note: Is a drill saw a real tool? I just sort of made that up.) and tired old couples arguing over paint colors for the family room walls and chubby little kids running down the aisles waving chainsaws in the air. And whenever I go there, whatever we're trying to find takes forever. Trimming. Paint. A special little metal hook thing for the toilet. We had to buy seventeen feet of trimming. It scraped the ceiling as we carried it to the register, and getting it all tied up and secured on top of the car was a messy job requiring lots of sweat, muscle, and twine.
You know how I was going to go bowling for Judy's little brother's birthday yesterday? Yeah, well. I showed up at the bowling alley with my gaudily-wrapped gift. I sat there for fifteen minutes. Then I texted Judy, wondering why she and her little bro were fifteen minutes late to his own party. She texted back saying the date had changed to next week. So she wasn't late-- I was a week early. Eurgh. I went home and ate a sandwich. My present for him was awesome, too: a plastic hippo with a sort of squeeze trigger protruding from the back, and when squeezed, its mouth opens and out comes a cheerful stream of nontoxic soap bubbles. I spent forty minutes wandering the toy aisles of Target picking it out.
Vaarwel for now!