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Monday, September 24, 2007

two tic-tacs and a trace of pocket lint

...Or, Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.

This weekend was fairly quiet for me, but yesterday I got to see the little niece-monster. She's such a cutie. And she is SO mine.

We were sitting at Primanti's (if you don't know, don't ask...ick) having lunch, and Miss Bree was sitting beside me. She was getting into all sorts of trouble involving some buttered penne, french fries, ketchup, and a cup of milk, when she looks up at me and declares, "I TOOTED!" Yeah, that's my girl.

I then left her to go home and watch the game (since I'm in Pittsburgh, there are no other games, so don't ask which one) and start dinner. You would have thought that Uncle Scott told her that Elmo was not real. Her lip puffed out, her eyes squinted, and she looked like she was going to have a 2-y.o.'s nuclear meltdown as I put her back in her car. It was heartbreaking, but I had to go. After promising to see her next week, she still thought that I was the most evil person on the face of the earth.

What it is about me that attracts the freaks? I mean seriously? Seriously! I was on the bus (I know, mistake #1) this morning and was sitting next to this sorry-looking man in his late 30's who looked to be in his early 50's. He was awfully close and kept brushing his arm against mine.

I tried to ignore him and read my book, but he kept getting increasingly closer -- my doctor doesn't get that close. Then, as we are getting into the heart of downtown, I finished my chapter and put the book away, when he says to me "I couldn't help but read your book. Man, those foreman drills are boring to watch...we used to use them at the mill, and you had to be high to enjoy that job. It would take hours to drill through a piece of metal that [holding up hands] thick"

I gave a polite chuckle, and then noticed his folder from a local rehab facility in his hands. I then felt very sorry for him. Not because he was, what I assumed to be, an addict, but because he obviously couldn't read the piece of trash that I was engrossed in, "Bless Your Heart, Tramp," which just talked about the evils of the Foreman Grill. I can't imagine what he was thinking when he saw some southern woman's disdain with cooking on one of those things...



At 9/24/2007 10:11 AM, Blogger mineIsay's whiny, bitch-ass comment is...

maybe he was just trying to figure out how thick your grill was :)

At 9/24/2007 8:56 PM, Blogger Nate's whiny, bitch-ass comment is...

Oh dear god mineIsay.

That's only for Tuesdays ;D haha

At 9/25/2007 2:01 AM, Blogger naechstehaltestelle's whiny, bitch-ass comment is...

Seriously, those Foreman Grills are boring to watch, too. It'd take forever to cook a piece of meat *this* thick.

At 9/25/2007 2:22 PM, Blogger honeykbee's whiny, bitch-ass comment is...

It's okay, baby Bree, don't pout --Aunt Steve will be back next week and will be sure to teach you how to pick your wedgie in Pizza Hut.


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