Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Amazonian Mistake

The other day, I received one of those pesky cards left by the postman/woman/person saying that I had a package that could be picked up after April 17. I say that the card is pesky, but it's only pesky in certain circumstances. Sometimes you realize that the card is leading you to that fabulous pair of shoes that you found online for half price. But other times it's a fruit cake from your great-aunt that you can't even re-gift unless someone in your office needs a door stop. Today, that card was definitely pesky.

I went to the post office to pick up my mystery package that was too important to be left at my door, and was, as usual, cut in line by someone. The cutter was an old man with hearing aids, and I chose to believe that the hearing aids somehow indicated that the man has not only partly lost his ability to hear, but also to realize that someone was there before him. I, as cut-ee, was very proud of myself for being the bigger person.

I received my package and could barely wait to get into my poorly parked car to see what Santa Mail had brought me.... only to open the package and find a size L/XL pair of what I believe are UFC approved fighting armpads. I didn't even know those guys wore armpads. You'd think that with the head bashing and embracing, which is more than a little homo-erotic, that the fighters would have more on their worry list than rug burn on their elbows.

Needless to say, I had not ordered them, and am only assuming that Amazon made a mistake, if, in fact the mystery fighting equipment was sent from Amazon.... which is still my favorite online shopping site even though they were a bit off their game today. I hope there's not someone out there who has burned elbows because I have their stuff. I feel like finding out the intended recipient and sending them some aloe vera gel. Or perhaps a fruit cake.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Fortune Cookie Requirement

I just decided over the weekend that fortune cookies need to be more in depth. I got one on Sunday after feasting on a shrimp-filled Chinese buffet that read: "You will never want for a steady income." OK..... so what exactly does that mean? Does it mean that I'll make a gob-zillion dollars after inventing some phenomenal, life changing product (if you have any ideas as to this mystery product, please send them my way.... unless the idea involves anything even remotely resembling Crocs or a Snuggie, BARF!) with a trust fund that will pay me $100K a month without having to lift a finger? OR... does this mean that I'll have a steady income cleaning port-a-potties after Lynrd Skynrd concerts? I hope those people get paid a lot.

But, back to my point-- I really think that fortune cookies need to get a bit more futuristic, and have some sort of Harry Potter-esque hologram that pops up and explains to you what your fortune actually means. Ok, so maybe Dumbledore is inappropriate, but I could really go for an elderly wise bald man with a flowing golden robe who tells me that my "steady income" will be gained by taking over for Mike on "Dirty Jobs" and having to muck about in various farmyard goo while performing dental work on a sheep with halitosis, or being part of a multi-million dollar lawsuit where I pull an Erin Brokovich and reap the rewards.

Tell me, wise man! I need to know so I can plan what to wear next week.

under the couch cushion

So you know how when you lose something really important, or maybe even something unimportant, the first place that you look is…. that's right, folks, it's under the couch cushion. Now, I know it's not all hidden gems in there, but amidst the debris of loose change, dog hair, jolly rancher wrappers from 1998, and, yes, trapped farts, you are bound to find something that you've been searching for, or even something that you didn't even realize you had lost. Case in point: my brother found my step-mom's brother's wallet trapped in our family couch a couple of years ago. The funny thing was that the license in the wallet had expired 15 years ago. Did we know it was missing? Of course not. Was it probably a big pain in the you-know-what to replace everything in it? You know it was.

So my point is this: though there is every bit of randomness and detritus that most closely resembles a geriatric candy dish (so that's where I left my unwrapped Werther's Originals, keys to the 1988 Ford Taurus, and buttons from garments that have long been donated to Goodwill!) hidden inside the bowels of the most comfortable resting place known to man, i.e., your couch (complete with the perfect impression left by your rear end), there are also some surprises that are sure to remind you that even the smallest things can make your day beautiful. Now that I think about it, under the couch cushion, while being like your grandmother's candy dish (yeah, I know I mentioned it earlier) is also kinda like life, don't you think?