dispatches from the peanut gallery

1. My dental floss calls itself "hi-tech" floss. I think it should prove that to me and reprogram my DVR, just on principle.


2. My spaghetti squash’s sticker claims that spaghetti squash is "the fun squash!" I’d agree. (It’s waaaaay more fun than dumb old butternut.)


3. Why do catalogs insist on selling bathing suits that make the models look dumpy? A woman who is five foot twenty seven inches and 108 soaking wet looks like my grandma in that suit... I think I’ll buy it!


4. My floors are cold and occasionally coated in yuck, so the last thing I take off before I go to bed is my socks. As such, I started to accumulate quite a mountain of socks next to my bed. I almost took a picture of it, but decided instead to sweep the mountain into the laundry, which I’ve now renamed Mohammed.


5. I’ve been running a lot lately, and have discovered a charming thing about myself: when I run, I give myself a double thumbs up! When I try to tuck my thumbs in and run like a normal person, I get all discombobulated and trip over my own feet. So... who likes to run??? THIS GIRL!


6. The milk they provide us for our coffee at work is "Growth Hormone Free.*" I was kind of alarmed by that asterisk, so I scanned the jug of milk until I found the two-and-a-half point font that read "no statistical difference from cows treated with growth hormone." Excuse me, but when did we start teaching cows statistics??


7. I totally clocked a little girl in Grand Central the other day. I was on my way to the turnstile and this woman was standing there with what I thought was a duffel bag, so when she swung it in my way, I didn’t dodge it with great effort. Except it wasn’t a duffel bag, it was a three year old girl, who promptly went sprawling onto the floor of Grand Central. And then set to howling. I asked the mom if she was ok, but the mom wouldn’t even look at me (or at the kid, either). Luckily, the sister figure (whoever she was) told me the girl was fine, and I went on my way.


The lesson? Clearly, don’t dress your daughters like duffel bags!


8. There’s a tanning salon in my neighborhood called "Alaskan Tanning." Maybe it’s just me, but can that possibly conjure up something other than the image of a goggle tan?9. There’s a hospital near that tanning salon that has one of those automatic revolving doors as its front entrance. But instead of being a regular revolving door (cut into equal quarters, and pushed by the people using it), this one’s a little off kilter, rotates automatically and ceaselessly, and in the smaller sections, there are plants. Plants that do nothing but go around and around and around in circles all day long. (For their sake, I hope they’re plastic.)

And we now return to your regularly scheduled nonsense.