This morning in the parking lot of our hotel in Meriden, Connecticut, I saw this:
These are bananas, just hanging from this tree. Is it bad that I thought about taking them? You be the judge.
I’ve been stealing a lot more lately. Just the other day I inconspicuously tucked a steel wool dish washer into my purse at the store, and then today I went into the supermarket, nonchalantly picked up a notebook, and started walking around writing my grocery list in it. Then I took it home. My theft is really helping me focus on some of my personal financial goals, however. I think the positive cancels out the negative. Then again, I’m no mathematician. Someone get Newton on the phone. He’ll back me up. See, since arriving in Connecticut, Trent and I have put our spending habits under the microscope. Suddenly I feel a lot more thrifty. I think my kleptomania is really just a tool to help me toward my goals.
Today, I hopped online, and my computer automatically loaded my Safari screen to Google. Of course when I say “Google,” I mean “Topeka.”
I was confused. I had heard recently on talk radio that Topeka, Kansas was temporarily changing its name to Google, Kansas in an effort to be prioritized more highly for Google’s newer, faster internet experiment, but this was not an exchange I was familiar with. I clicked the explanation link below, which read:
A different kind of company name.
4/01/2010 12:01:00 AM
Early last month the mayor of Topeka, Kansas stunned the world by announcing that his city was changing its name to Google. We’ve been wondering ever since how best to honor that moving gesture. Today we are pleased to announce that as of 1AM (Central Daylight Time) April 1st, Google has officially changed our name to Topeka.
For a moment I was shocked. Then I remembered it was April Fools Day. The end. You got us, Google. You always do.
It is raining cats and dogs here in the Northeast. The forecast displays 100% chance of precipitation every hour for the next 60 hours. Rhode Island is quickly becoming the next Lost City of Atlantis, as they are being swallowed whole by the rushing water. Sixteen inches. That’s the amount of rain they’ve had in the month of March. Some rainforests don’t get that much rain in one month. They’re dying. Someone call a carpenter or twelve; it’s time for us to fashion an ark.
I love rain, but I hate worms. If you have to ask me how the two are related, then you are either blind, or have no sense of smell. Or you’re blind and have no sense of smell. Every time it rains, worms quickly (a relative term) make their way up and out of the soil in an effort not to drown in the wet mud, and in turn, cover all the sidewalks and parking lots. I then find myself hop-scotching across the parking lot toward the car in an effort not to feel the disgusting squish-squish of squashed earthworms beneath my feet. Ugh. To boot, worms smell like shit. I wish the robins would take this opportunity more seriously and gobble them up as they sprout out of the ground.
Well, I’m out like a trout.
….whatever that’s supposed to mean.
Cole: “The thought of growing up and being a real boy pisses me off.”
Me: “What about being a real girl?”
Cole: “That would take thousands of dollars and months of therapy….and an assault from my father. I’ll stick to drag.”