stuff for the stuffaholic in you

My parents are in China, but luckily, nowhere near the earthquake. My aunt emailed me the morning of the quake to see if I had heard from my folks and I told her they were totally fine. Then the following exchange ensued:

Auntie Do: It probably wasn't an earthquake at all. It was probably just your mother farting.
Me: Yeah, she said they were eating Chinese food for breakfast.
Auntie Do: Imagine the moo goo gai pan she must have in her underwear!
Me: That's why they call them "moo goo gai panties."
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Dear TJ Maxx,
I tried to get the maxx for the minimum today, but I failed. I was totally thwarted in the dressing room. Not only do your sales associates consider a bathing suit "two garments," (and only allow seven garments at a time) but you've made it impossible to look good in a bikini.

I'm not blaming you for the bumps and lumps and wrinkles and frumps on my body. No, no, those are all mine, and I own them with (self-enforced) glee. I am, however, blaming you for BOLTING TOGETHER the tops and bottoms of the bikinis.

"I sure look GREAT in this blue and white top, but only when the bottoms are hanging out of my armpit with a security device attached."

Yours harumph-ily,
Filene Z. Basement
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I almost stepped on a baby bird that had fallen from its nest today.

Yuck.
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I always take the same route to and from the subway -- the one that goes past the lilac bush. I actually stop to smell it twice every day. Because someday, way too soon, that bush won't smell so good anymore. And then I'll be sad.
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Speaking of smelling, I was changing out of my gym clothes last night when I smelled the oddest smell -- Fritos. I thought, gee, that's dumb. Somebody's here working out really hard, only to put Fritos back into her body. Then I realized there weren't any actual Fritos in the locker room. It was just me.

Easily the oddest thing I've ever smelled like.