Do you ever feel beyond irritated, as in extremely pissed off, when you send an email or make a call that requires a reply but the recipient neglects to respond?
It’s a phenomenon of the 24/7-communication age it seems, the no-response response to communiqués.
A bloke with an accent like Nikov’s (think Borat) approached me in a store the other day. He held up a t-shirt gingerly and said, “Excuse me, you look the size of my girlfriend and I buying this for her, do you think it fit you?”
Don’t hate me because I’m happy, even worse, happy tumbling out of bed every morning.
It used to be that morning people, who hum happily over breakkie, were at the top of my love-to-hate list. Though now that I’ve become the kind of person who used to irk me intensely, I’ve thrown away that particular list.
I saw a girl at the mall on a date. She was about sixteen and she was wearing her pajama bottoms as trousers and under her pj’s were mauve-blue lace undies.
I know about her undies because a couple of inches of lace showed above the tartan, flannel jim-jams that sat several inches below her pierced belly button.
God, I feel overwhelmed with the state of the world some days. Overwhelmed, powerless and unable to imagine how I can make a difference.
However, yesterday I had an opportunity to put into practice one of my fave bumper bar stickers, “Think Globally Act Locally.”
Do you find when the sun’s reflection dances in a certain way or the wind whooshes and whistles evocatively that you’re unwittingly lured into a faintly familiar memory?
In the midst of busy lunch hour traffic, I had to slow to a snail’s pace due to a flat tire. Unquestionably, my luck had run out. You see, after 24 years of driving, this was my very first flat.
Did you know that members of the band Metallica, willingly subjected themselves to group therapy? (See documovie, Metallica: Some Kind of Monster.)
I went to a July fourth do last Wednesday and took a chook, some Chards and a pav.
The food and booze spoke for itself. This was a good thing, because nobody had a clue what I was talking about when I cheerily referenced my contributions to the picnic lunch.
You know how wannabe Buddhists drape Tibetan prayer flags at the entrance to their homes? Well I’ve done that.
Strung those lovely yellow, green, red, white and blue flags across the entryway to my walk-in closet that is.