R for Random

I’ve had a few things floating around in my head lately, none of which are worthy of standalone blog posts, so I’m dumping them all here.

This might be incredibly Un-American, but I’m glad the Olympics are over. While I find curling fascinating and figure skating beautiful, I really don’t care about the competition part of it. Also, I hate that there have been no new episodes of the TV shows I enjoy, because no one wants to take away from the Olympics. There; I’ve said it. Think of me what you will. I don’t like apple pie either. I know, I know; I might as well be a terrorist. (Well, not really. For anyone who might think about turning me in for some kind of investigation, I am not, will never be, and have never been a terrorist.)

I don’t like visiting “musical blogs” (blogs where music starts playing automatically). I might be missing out on some really great blogs, but if I open a blog and hear music, I leave. It’s all fine and good if you want your readers to learn more about you based on your musical tastes, but perhaps it would be best to let the reader decide to hit play. It might seem that this is a stupid thing to be annoyed by, but there’s something so “in your face” about an unexpected assault on my ears. Besides, I do a lot of blog reading at work, and I really hate when music suddenly comes blaring out of my computer. (Okay; maybe not blaring, because I keep the volume very very low and have headphones plugged in, but still. Oh, and yes, I know this is my problem.)

I hate this time of year. You know what I’m talking about, dear reader, I know you do…it’s Girl Scout Cookie time!! Generally as a rule, Music Man and I don’t order cookies. There are two reasons for this:

1.   We refuse to buy cookies from the parent instead of the Girl Scout, and since we don’t know any Girl Scouts, our only option would be to order from one of the many parents we work with. I was a Girl Scout myself once, and I sold my own cookies. There’s supposed to be some kind of lesson in the selling part, though I forget what it is. Probably something about how one must work to earn good things instead of just having good things handed to them, which is a really good lesson; one that all kids should learn.

2.   We naively think that not ordering them will prevent us from eating them; however, this is never the case. Those little crack cookie pushers sellers setup shop in front of local grocery, retail, and drug (how appropriate!) stores. I also see them during the work day as I navigate the skyways during my lunch hour.

Music Man and I are weak. We cannot ignore the lure of those brightly colored boxes containing manna from heaven in the form of wee cookies. We rationalize: since we can only get them once a year*, what’s the harm in buying a couple boxes? The problem is that we buy “a couple” boxes almost every single time we see them being pushed sold.

It is terribly bad for our waistlines, but we just can’t help it. We usually round our purchase up to the nearest ten dollar increment (i.e. an order that’s 17 dollars is rounded up to 20) to increase our contribution to the Girl Scouts. I think we hope that karma will repay us by allowing us to gorge ourselves with indulge in a few cookies with little impact on our waistlines, thighs, stomachs, and butts, but this never seems to work.

(* I know that there are knockoff Samoas, Tagalongs, and Thin Mints available year round, but any true cookie connoisseur knows they’re just not the same.)

It occurred to me the other day while driving around in my fun, fabulous car that people might be hitting each other when they see me drive by. You’ve probably seen the “PunchDub” VW commercials on TV lately that illustrate this concept.

When I was growing up, it was just the Bugs (Beetles) you slugged for. We called the game “Slug Bug.” Some apparently call it “Punch Buggy,” but I think “Slug Bug” is far superior; it’s a much better description of the game, and “Punch Buggy” just sounds stupid. (You might be thinking, “No! you sound stupid, Elle!” and that’s just fine; you are entitled to your feelings on the matter.)

Upon spotting a Beetle, one would yell, “SLUG BUG NO BACKS!” as they hit (well, slugged) the person next to them. Some people, kids especially, seemed to get a little overzealous, resulting in bruises, hurt feelings, and/or fights in the backseat of many a parent’s car. Ah, tradition…

Thanks to the new VW commercial, the Beetle is no longer sacred. They have defiled the Slug Bug game by including all models of VW cars. That really takes the special outta owning the Beetle! My only hope is that the purists of the game will go forth and remind others of how it’s really done.

When I purchased the car, I wasn’t thinking about people hitting each other as they saw me driving my beautiful car; but, I have to admit that I now get a perverse sort of joy thinking about people in other cars hitting each other as I drive by. I know; I’m a no good, very bad person. But, at least I’m honest.

(My fun, fabulous car. Look at how happy it looks. Isn't it hard to believe that anyone could hit anyone after seeing such a cute, fun car?!)