blah.

I have turned into my Dad. I wrote the neat little tidbits of the past day on the back of an envelope to share with you. They will most likely be less than fascinating, just like Dad's.

Last night, I answered the door and there was man in a suit standing there. The first thing he said was, "Is your mommy or daddy home?"
(I could end right there. Cuz that's funny. But I won't cuz I like to kill my stories and draw them out as long as possible.)
"Well, I'm sure they are. But they don't live here."
So the man went on to tell me about how he was in a management training program that got him off welfare, blah blah, saving children from the depths of financial insecurity, blah blah, off the streets, blah blah. "Essentially" he was selling magazines. Alternatively, I could just donate ten dollars. My neighbor Joan did it. Do I know Joan?
Rather than explan that Joan probably wipes her ass with ten dollars every day, wheras I am not that fiscally liberal, I declined to purchase a magazine or donate money. I did offer to check some of the charities out (a compromise, eh?). However, he answered. "You don't want to help the children? Oh my God. I can't believe you." And walked away.

So then on the ride to work I saw/heard some interesting things.
- an Idaho license plate. Their tagline is "Famous potatoes." Sad. Just sad.
- Dr. Tattlebottom and his magical silicon. The good doctor is a plastic surgeon (if you hadn't gathered that already). I think the name is appropriate in many ways. "Do you have a tattle bottom that swings and sags? Let Dr. Tattlebottom take care of that! He won't tattle about your bottom!"
- The commercial for the good Dr. ended with "Can you imagine getting breast enhancement for $250? TOYOTA!" Hmmm.

Wow. completely uninteresting.