Eavestopping

The other day I was quietly standing near a conversation I was rather interested in. I was not a part of the conversation in any way, shape or form, but I was very intent on quiet, harmless, non-participation. So I stood there, listening closely looking as normal and breezy as I could manage.

Shortly after I was fully immersed in active although not technically welcomed listening, a sweet old lady came up to me. She grabbed my arm and went on and on about something I really could care very little about. My mom has always made me be nice to old people so I did my best to seem pleasant and act like I was paying attention. I was seriously stuck in politeness prison. I was technically preoccupied, but there was simply no safe way to explain that. Left with no enjoyable options, I sucked it up and put on my happy face. I nodded and smiled in response to whatever she was saying all while trying real hard to focus my other ear on the tantalizing voices just a few feet away. Seconds painfully passed until chatty grandma left me alone, hopefully not realizing I had no idea what she was talking about. Anxiously I returned my full attention to the conversation that was now over...fudgepops! Nothing could be more aggravating.

There really is just no polite way to ask someone to stop talking to your face so you can continue eavesdropping on some other far more interesting conversation. What is a girl to do?

Minute to Win It?

I was just watching a new game show where contestants are asked to perform random, seemingly simple and random yet ridiculously challenging tasks in less than a minute. The person to accomplish the most rounds can win some absurd amount of money.

The edition I tuned into was filled with former beauty queens. The wardrobe and camera angles were just a little too skewed for me, but really I just couldn't handle watching these girls humiliate themselves on national television. I thought surely they'd have some skill allowing them to get a decent job, but then one girl cried over unfortunately stacked cups.

About 10 seconds later, I realized how appealing this game would be for members of my religious social network. Silly, simple challenges with only community-specific prestige at stake. The kids will love it.

Why is it that when someone says 'competition' we are so eager to willingly embarrass ourselves? Excuse me while I go beef-up my cup stacking skills...

All the Small Things

Yesterday I had an appointment with the eye doctor. I got a sweet parking spot right up front so naturally I gave myself a mental high five. Then I hopped out of my car into a huge puddle. Oh right, that's why it was available. What a sucker.

The Doc asked me how much I smoked.
Me: Excuse me?
Doc: It says here (pointing to the screen) you smoke.
Me: No, no I don't. Look at this amazing skin.

Then he proceeded to drill me on personal information to make sure I was in fact the person sitting in the chair needing a check up and not the the random assortment of facts making up some person on his computer screen.

Me: Sir, I promise. I don’t smoke.
Doc: Hm...(rather discriminant) Must have been a typo.
Me: Um yeah, pretty sure.

He lowered my prescription by a lot which explains all my recently traumatic headaches. Phew. I got out of the chair feeling so proud of my eyes. They have corrected themselves to compensate for the beautifully massive high resolution computer screen I get paid to stare at all day long. They are so smart. As I walked over to the sink to put my new contacts, I searched around only to find the mirror was far out of my visual range. I glanced over at the Doc who was handing me the much more accessible child's mirror with a sympathetic smirk. Thanks.

Later, I stopped by the Wal-Mart to pick up some milk. I walked by the produce section and saw mini bananas. I had to adopt them. They are adorable. I walked by another aisle and saw purple plastic cups. I had to buy them. They are purple. After the cashier rung up all my essential items, I proceeded to stand on my tippy-toes to reach the thingy to swipe my card and sign my name. Now I have been too short for a lot of things, but I’ve never been too short to spend money. Really, Wal-Mart, when did you add the height restrictions? C'est la vie