Special Deliveries. I ordered a book the other day from Amazon.com. The friend who recommended it to me (love you, Erin) strongly urges others to patronize local businesses and not send their hard-earned dollars to the big dot-commers, but...well...I can't help myself. I love getting packages. And even when I go online, punch in my address, and pay for the darn thing myself, I'm still surprised when the cute little brown package shows up on my doorstep a couple of days later. "Why, lookie here. Somebody sent me something! I wonder what it could be." So yesterday my unexpected package arrived and I was so excited...and surprised! In case you wanna know, the author is Laurie Notaro and the book is called, I Love Everyone (and Other Atrocious Lies): True Tales of a Loudmouth Girl. Check out all her books here. Or visit her website http://www.laurienotaro.com. She rocks. And so do little brown packages (that aren't ticking).
Politically incorrect toilets. Huh? Nope, do not adjust your internet. I said "politically incorrect toilets." I would like to meet the tree-hugging, one-square-of-tissue-per-wipe whackadoo who thought it would be a good idea to invent something called a low-flow toilet. Ever tried to flush something other than urine down one of these environmentally friendly doohickeys? Good luck with that. My house is new enough that I think I may be the victim of this cruel creation that probably had its beginnings in Al Gore's pretend global warming research lab. In other words, I think my master bath toilet is one of those low-flow gadgets. I'll spare you the details as to how I've drawn this conclusion, but let's just say I'd love to thank Al and his minions personally by paying a visit to them and using their low-flow toilets (though I doubt Al has one) about an hour or so after eating a giant plate full of linguine.
I guess I can't really blame them. These are probably the same people eating wheat grass and tofu for every meal. I wonder if they've ever even SEEN a brick of cheese...or a Twinkie. They probably don't expel anything larger than a rabbit pellet on any given day anyway. So for them, I guess those low-flow toilets do the job. Not for the rest of us, Al. Not for the rest of us. I'll take a 13 golf ball flusher, thank you very much.
I'm wondering, incidentally, exactly how much water am I conserving with these PC toilets when I have to flush them three times in order to clear the water? I'm just askin...
Taco Rides. Don't know what a taco ride is? Well, technically, neither do I. Click here for the Facebook page if you really want to know more about it. Here's what I DO know: It involves people in Nebraska or Iowa or both or something hopping on bikes on Thursdays and riding 10 miles to eat tacos, then riding back. Why in the world would a Utah girl care about a bunch of bike-riding taco-eaters in the prairie lands, you might ask? Let's just say that one of those bikers is a "friend" of mine who happens to have THE BEST, rock-hard thighs of any man I know. And I do believe that those beefy hunks of man-thighs that I so love to pinch are mainly the result of lots of bike riding. Taco rides included. And for the record, he didn't think I could find a way to worm taco rides into my Pollyanna posts. Ha. Guess I showed him. Really, what's NOT to be thankful for here? Mexican food and sexy legs...does it GET any better?
3 comments:
Last night's ride was awesome. Especially coming back. The weather was perfect and it was that night time quiet that doesn't exist in the city anymore. I had a lot of fun!
Whoa. The elusive taco rider himself has graced us with his commentary.
Glad you had a great night, sweets. You deserve it.
Oh Jacey . . . TMI, but too funny at the same time! Never thought to be Pollyanna about flushing . . . hmmm.
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