Friday, July 23, 2004


I Can See Clearly Now ...

Well no, I can't. That would seem to be the problem today.

Actually, it was the problem last night. My husband and I went out for dinner and afterwards decided to engage in some advanced domestic disputing, which is why I didn't post yesterday. Not that I could keep up the post-a-day-routine for very long anyhow, but we're awfully good at the domestic disputing. Not the "smack the Rabbitch upside her little pointy haid" kind of domestic disputing (which is good, because I look like crap in prison wear), just the "two pig-headed people both being very very right and very very angry and then not talking to each other a whole lot" kind of disputing.

Fucker's still wrong today, dammet, even though I can't remember what we were pissed about.

Anyhow, I guess I first started noticing a couple of years ago that everybody's started printing instructions, ingredients, even newspapers a couple of points smaller than they used to. I have no idea why this disturbing trend started, but it's been getting worse. I wonder why they chose my 40th birthday to start doing this? Seems a sort of arbitrary decision on the part of the entire world.

I've been known to misread things on and off, however last night it really hit home that I'm going to have to start wearing my glasses a little more often. (btw, do those make my ass look fat?) We were sitting in this fairly nice restaurant (franchise, but one in which you can spend $50) and I was happily reading all about their appetizers when I came across the description for their "fully loaded potato skins". It would seem they were filled with mashed-up potato, and cheese, and some onion and secret spices too, and -- this was the part where I started to get concerned -- baked golden crap.

This of course made me wonder, while gigglesnorting hysterically, if perhaps they were taking the Truth in Advertising laws a little too seriously and figured that nothing could be "fully loaded" unless it included a modicum of baked golden crap, or conversely if the person writing the menu descriptions really wasn't that interested in his or her job, and instead of finding out the actual ingredients, just typed whatever they thought it looked like.

Was this a portent of things to come? Were we going to find "mushrooms stuffed with some green shit and maybe fish" a little further down on the next page?

Anyhow, after calming down a little and putting on the glasses, I discovered that in fact the last words were "baked golden crisp". Not as amusing but considerably less disturbing words to find on a menu.

The good thing is, that even though my eyes are going, I will still be able to participate fully in the day-to-day management of my financial affairs! Today I visited a good-sized financial institution which shall remain unnamed for fear of some sort of unfriendly reaction. They have done a wonderful thing in that they have installed a drive-through teller. For those of you in the US who are used to this sort of thing, you may laugh at my country-bumpkin-like delight but I'm thrilled that I don't have to spend $15 on gas and $5 on parking so I can go and take $20 out of the ATM.

This is a lovely ATM. An unremarkable ATM. But, what is not visible to the naked eye (or to the digital camera even though it cost $800, it would seem) is that this ATM has not only a jack for headphones -- I'm assuming for the hearing impaired -- but it also has braille on it. Politically correct, you may say! Delightfully inclusive, you may say! "What the hell do they need braille for on a DRIVE-THROUGH ATM?" I say. I've seen a lot of really bad driving in this neck of the woods, such as left turns from the far right curb lane across four lanes of moving traffic. This clears up a lot of the mystery for me. I'm gonna keep an eye out for cars in which there is either a dog at the wheel or the radio antenna is painted white ...

It's about 95 degrees up here today, and although that might seem like nothing for those of you from warmer climes, I've always considered Portland to pretty much be the start of The Deep South, so I'm not coping as well as I might. Makes me long for the winter.

Please note that this picture was taken two years ago, not far from here. I believe I started whining about the cold about six minutes after I took it.

On the knitting front, I did maybe three rows of my dishcloth sitting outside on the deckchair, trying not to hurt passers-by (I ~really~ don't do heat well). I'm beginning to wonder if I can call this a knitting blog at all ...

That's it for me for tonight. Off to enjoy three hours of sweaty solitude, waiting for it to cool off enough for me to sleep.

Sweaty dreams are made of this ...

Rabbitch, you are just too funny. I laughed myself silly (well, okay...I was probably already silly before the laughing fit), and I'll be back to read your bog often.

I live in B.C. too. Chilliwack to be exact. I hear you about the heat...I don't do heat well either. If I get any crankier my saint of a husband will likely find somewhere else to live until the next cool spell.
It ain't the heat, it's the humidity!

95 degrees and 95% here in the deep, deep South (Pennsylvania).

And I certainly hear you!

I'm heading to the basement with my knitting, a bowl of ice cream and a rented movie. Someone wants dinner? Let him cook it, then!

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