Saturday, February 20, 2010

Candy corn

So, new poll again. But this one doesn't really count for much, because I'm probably not even going to listen to whatever you-all think this blog needs. So far the only vote is for "try to be funny," and buddy, that is not going to happen. I am just not a funny gal.
I don't know, I read back to my eighth-grade posts just now. They were written by a much more energetic and humorous person. Maybe I used to be a funny gal, but people change. Maybe this used to be a good blog, but things change. I don't really mind if nobody reads this, anyway.
Check that. I do mind if somebody reads this. Getting comments on the posts and messages in the chatbox used to make my day. Now I rarely see a sign of life. Not motivating, folks.
Anyway, sorry for seeming so downtrodden yesterday. I was just really frustrated with myself about something. This is certain to be a happier post.

Last night I couldn't sleep. At all. I don't know why, because I'd been exhausted all day. And what do I do when I can't sleep?
WHY, MAKE A CANDY-CORN SMILE TO ATTACH TO A PAIR OF GLASSES, OF COURSE!
I had entirely too much fun with this thing. Even though the "candy-corn smile" did not end up looking like a smile at all.

And how on earth did I obtain giant candy corns in the middle of February, when all citizens of the United States of America are aware that candy corn is only readily available in October, and sometimes the end of September if the grocery stores are a little too eager that season? This is the secret:
On the way to Monterey, we stopped at the Gilroy Outlets, which is a bunch of stores, mostly women's apparel with names like Nine West and Ann Taylor, stuck side by side by side by side. My mother and grandmother spent hours browsing through racks of beige slacks and navy blue button-up sweaters, ribbed cotton tee shirts the color of pond scum and sold-color pencil skirts. It was loads of fun, let me tell you, being surrounded by such exciting variations in clothing.
What I think is that they should just take all the dull clothing from all the stores and make one giant warehouse out of it all. Each store literally sells the exact same thing as the one next to it.
But not the Jelly Belly store!!!!!!
That's where I got the candy corn. They were selling big sacks of it, three sacks for a quarter. Three sacks of stale mellocreme, just twenty-five cents. How could I resist?

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