It’s not always easy to come up with material for CNR. Life happens all around me, but it’s not all extraordinary or noteworthy. Still, it is my life, and sometimes I like to document its eccentricities.
- Today I passed a VW Bug convertible, painted in the most gloriously loud color that can best be described as Barbie Pink. Now, when I was a kid, Barbie’s car of choice was a Corvette. But this is a Barbie of the now. A fun-loving, energetic Barbie, striking out on her own, with a car that says “I’m hip, I’m quirky… and I’m single.” How do I know the last one? The license plate: DUMT KEN *giggle*
- In the world of counting ones blessings-- I stopped for lunch today at a Burger King nearby. I’ve been trying to stay away from the fast food, but I was in a hurry after my chiro appt, and I thought I’d try a salad or some such. I went inside, instead of drive through, because I’m tired of eating in my car… and more importantly, because I suddenly had to piss like a racehorse. However, the Universe knew that my need was not the greatest. I went into the restroom, only to hear the moaning and groaning of an unidentified woman. Figuring that she might need some privacy, I stepped out, ordered some food (all while doing that “I have to potty” dance), filled my beverage and sat at a booth near the bathroom. A few moments later, I peeked in again (if she wasn’t out, I was going to make a dash for the men’s room). She was emerging from the stall looking as if she was on death’s door. She walked to the sink and began soaking some tissues to press to her face and neck. I slipped in, took a quick pee, and emerged again. She was still at the sink. She was still fevered and sweaty and in her own world. I waited to wash my hands. She suddenly left the water running and bolted back into the stall. I washed and left as fast as humanly possible, all the while thinking “Thank you Universe, that in all my days I’ve never been face down in a semi-clean toilet at a Burger King in a questionable part of North Hollywood. No seriously…..Thank you!”
- And lastly, in the realm of unexplained & unnecessary drama… What is the spiritual point and purpose of ingrown hairs? Seriously, they are painful, unsightly, and annoyingly reoccurring. I’ve spent the money for a series for laser treatments for my lower legs, and the next time I find myself with a truckload of excess cash, I’m going to get myself a session for the bikini area. Don’t worry, I don’t intend to blaze off the “full fifi”. I mean, like it smooth and such, but being the 90 yr old with a constant Brazilian seems like the quickest way to a bad reputation as “Sunnyvale Rest Home’s Hoochie Mama of the Year.”