Great White Snark: Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans.

Thursday, May 20, 2010

Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans.

Oh man, yesterday was one of those days where I feel like everything happened and then I wonder why it can't all be spread out over a number of days. Alas, it seems that eventfulness likes to happen all at once instead of evenly. Kind of like when you hit the 57 on the ketchup bottle in desperation only to receive a veritable deluge of ketchup.


First of all I had an interview at a mall store that shall remain unnamed.

See what I did there?

It's so silly. They take their job SO SERIOUSLY and, I kid you not, described the store as "the leading emporium in the lingerie and brasierre industry." I was struggling to keep it together. One moment, please: BRASIERRE??? Nobody under the age of 150 SAYS that. It's a BRA. We all call them bras. Also, I didn't realize applying for the job would mean that my ultimate goal was not to make money, but rather to become, exact words, a "bra expert." There are many things I wouldn't mind becoming an expert on. Women's underthings are not one of them.

If I was a sixteen year old guy, perhaps my thoughts would be different.

Then someone got arrested in my front yard. It was highly exciting. My mom and I sneakily watched the whole thing for about an hour and a half through half-shut blinds. Apparently, this kid came in on a bicycle with the intent to burglarize cars and houses. The police apprehended his backpack, which was full of tools to do so (a crowbar, screwdrivers, wire cutters, etc.), and he tried to convince the police that the tools were so he could fix his bike. Liar. So they arrested him. Apparently there's been a rash of young guys breaking in and stealing stuff in this area. Naturally, this pumped my already high level of paranoia into the realm of ridiculousness. ALAS: BETTER TO BE SAFE THAN SORRY. Even though sleeping with mace in my bed is probably not safe for me. DOES NOT MATTER. The weird thing is that the police were on their hands and knees in our lawn searching for something. Regrettably, we never found out what they were looking for. At first we theorized that he was in a drug ring and had thrown his stash in our yard (my mom: "We can't let the dogs out! What if they eat pot? OR COCAINE???" Millie always acts high, it's no big deal.). We never figured it out, so I'm very curious.

Also, there were two detectives on the scene. I'd just like to point out that detectives in real life look NOTHING like Sherlock Holmes. Unless Watson was lying and Holmes was actually morbidly obese with a penchant for pleated-front khakis. I doubt this very highly.

Detectives in real life DO NOT EQUAL Sherlock BAMF Holmes, who's knocking over a table and then will blame Watson for it. No lie. That's CANON (The Adventure of the Reigate Squire. One of my favs because there's a bitchy little man who hates Holmes and Holmes is all like, BITCH PLZ, and fakes sick and blames Watson for knocking stuff over. READ IT.).

And then, finally, I came *this* close to my #1 fantasy being played out. After all the excitement, my mom and I took the dogs for a walk (having realized that there probably WEREN'T random hazardous drugs laying around in our grass...). As we're walking, we spot, up by the entrace of the neighborhood, a little dog dashing across the road and going into random people's yards. It was tiny, and it was getting progressively close to Chapman Road, so I ran up to go intercept it before it got smished in traffic. So I'm running (like a retard, btw) and it disappears into someone's backyard. I start whistling and calling for it and it peeps its little head around the corner. I carefully approach it the way you're supposed to approach an unfamiliar dog (not meeting its eyes directly, hand outstretched, palm upwards, speaking softly, etc.) and its little eyes lit up. I could see it was a female Shih Tzu, probably like 3-4 years old, freshly groomed. Once I realized she was freshly groomed, I knew my little fantasy was over. People don't just LOSE $2000 purebred dogs who've been groomed meticulously in the last week. They just don't. So she sees me and approaches all happy and starts kissing my hand. SUCH a sweetie. I get into position to pick her up, scanning her for any injuries (she was collar-less, so I wanted to make sure she wasn't some very fortunate stray), and she totally let me. So then I figured she was definitely tame, and definitely belonged to people. She was SO happy to see me though! It was adorable. And the whole time I'm holding her, she's giving me little kisses. I almost DIED of cuteness. So my Mom and I start knocking door to door to figure out who she belonged to. Turns out it's some neighbor up at the front of the 'hood that I never talk to. He was all like, "AWW! THANK YOU! I didn't even know she was out!" He was really happy and really relieved. So even though my sick little fantasy didn't play out, I was happy. Because he was happy.

It kind of looked like this. Cute, y/y??

Now I figure I've committed my good deed involving a dog. The laws of Karma indicate that something similar must now occur to me in reciprocation.


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