Meditations on a Friday Afternoon
Dear Domino’s Pizza: Clearly, we’ve been seeing too much of each other, but you have to stop e mailing me! People will start to talk. Also, your breadbowl filled with pasta looks equal parts intriguing and gross. Seek help.
To my black Wacoal padded pushup Bra – I never should have forsaken you. I’ve been buying the cute, fun colorful bras at Cacique, but you were at the front of my drawer this morning. Va va va VOOM! That’s it – I’m saving some money and getting a few more friends just like you. Good support is so hard to find! If only your straps were a little wider. Ah, a girl can dream!
Hey tastebuds – Get with the program, already! That metallic taste in my mouth is soooo September 2009. And it would be nice to have a Thanksgiving dinner that tastes like it should. But you know, whatever – this is my “new normal”. Special thanks to Dr. B for that nugget of mantra-y goodness.
Dear Comcast: I love that you have chat support, but it would be great if the people working it were not probably one toke over the line (sweet Jesus). I could call you, but in theory, if you’ve already told me on the phone that my bill was wrong, fixing it via chat should take mere moments.
Stay-At-Home Mothers…I love you, I celebrate what you do. But whereas you have any number of different times during the day when you could venture out to Target, my lunch hour is going to be my best shot. So while I don’t mind sharing that time with you, I do mind when two of you stop to chat in the middle of the Crap Zone (Matt’s term for the $1 Bins) and block my progress. I also mind when you let your little precious Kelsiee and Taylur and Madisyn bob and weave wildly down the aisles. If I accidentally hit one of them, I’ll feel bad, but they probably had it coming.
Also, Target – where were your Brillo Pads? Seriously. That’s bush league. Thanks for the silver polish, though. I’ll be making my Towle Candlelight shine next weekend.