Manic Monday Blogarrhea

When I was in high school and I found myself stopped at a stoplight for any period of time, I used to press the button on my garage door opener over and over again just to see if a garage door in the area was on the same frequency as mine. Now, when I’m stopped at a stoplight, I do kegel exercises. I’m sort of embarrassed about both.

This makes me think of a story my old neighbor once told me about how another neighbor across the street had gotten a new doorbell installed and it operated on the same frequency as her doorbell. So, anytime someone went to the house across the street and rang the doorbell, her doorbell would ring. This went on for about a month before she finally figured it out. I imagine that at the time it was really annoying, but I like to laugh about it when I’m in the mood to laugh and need some inspiration.

Speaking of things that take a really long time to figure out, I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately: How long do you think it took humans to figure out that sex is what led to babies? Seriously. The human gestational period is essentially between 9 and 10 months. That’s a really long time between cause and effect.

I am having a hot and heavy affair with my crock-pot. If there is a 12-step program, I need it. I use my crock-pot every day. I’m thinking of opening a restaurant with all slow-cooked food called, “That’s a Crock.”

Here’s a little pet peeve of mine, when I go to the gym and people circle the parking lot forever looking for the closest spot. I feel like saying, “Hey, you’re going to work out, right? Why don’t you just get a head start?” But I imagine they feel like no sweat will be broken before its time.

Another pet peeve (‘cause after one, I’m on a roll, right?) when people say, “baby-to-be”, regarding a pregnant woman’s bump. Like, “Congrats on your baby-to-be.” It’s a baby. It’s not gonna become a baby when it’s born, it’s already a baby, it’s just gestating.

About a month ago, Mr. Lindstrom and I were at a hockey game together. While in the bar, Mr. Lindstrom left me at a table alone while he went to grab drinks. I noticed a guy standing nearby that had the strangest piece of elastic hanging from his butt like a tail. It really was the strangest thing I’d ever seen, and I was trying to figure out what the purpose of this elastic was when it occurred to me, I could inconspicuously take a picture of his butt and post it to facebook so I could get some opinions about what exactly this piece of elastic was all about. Without thinking the plan through too thoroughly, I took my phone out, aimed it at the stranger’s rear, and began the process of snapping a picture. Only then did I realize that I had not turned the flash off. The flash on my cell phone is not like the flash on a camera that flashes quickly once, and then is done. Instead, it illuminates like a lighthouse beacon for a steady three-count before it snaps the picture quietly. There was no hope of being inconspicuous. My cover was blown. Not only did the head attached to the rear end I was photographing turn eyes on me, so did just about everyone in the bar. The funny thing, as embarrassed as I was, I really was more annoyed that the picture didn’t turn out, and I’d never get a good answer about this weird elastic tail. Lesson: If you are going to take a picture of a stranger’s butt with your cell phone, turn the flash off. Really, it’s quite simple.