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SubscriptionsSites I Read
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| You were sitting next to me when I had to go downstairs to use the computer because i didn't have wireless access. I turned to you and asked you if you could watch my stuff for a little bit if you were planning on sticking around. Yes, I felt uneasy about being away from my stuff for extended lengths of time, but in retrospect, it was just an excuse to talk to you. I'm pretty sure that if you weren't as cute as you were, I would have just taken my stuff and left. To my surprise, you said no. Since you were smiling while you said it, I just took it as your facetious way of saying "yes, of course." While I was working on the computer, I thought more about it and realized that your "no" was indeed the proper response to my request: "no, I don't mind watching your stuff." Questions like that are intrinsically prone to misunderstanding regardless of the answer given (if you opt for the short yes/no response) because no really means yes, and yes really means no. It would have been clearer if you response was more detailed--maybe a "no, I don't mind" or even a contradictory "yeah, sure." I shared my ponderings with you, and we had a good laugh before we parted ways. I didn't get your name but you looked like a Lauren, or at the very least, a Samantha.
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When life hands you lemons, don't let anyone make your lemonade.
In the days of yore, it was customary for me, a person of fine tastes, to request a refreshing lemon wedge with my water. Water by itself is bland, neutral, uninspiring, but with a little help from our yellow-skinned friend (and I don't mean Asian, unless of course, the lemon is served by an individual of said persuasion), it becomes something to get excited about. This is the reason my parents immigrated to this great country; to my father, a lemon wedge was much more than a boost in flavor--it was a right that should be given to every free water-drinker. Under the heavy hand of communism, we were denied that right. In fact, during a recent trip to China, our request for ice-water (a pre-req for "water with lemon") was received with confused looks and mutters followed by the hesitant mixing of ice cubes and hot water to form the most lukewarm of beverages...but that's neither here nor there.
I was happy. I was really happy until a few months ago when it was brought to my attention that restaurant lemons are unsanitary; that they're filled with E. coli, Staph, and other strands of bacteria. Initially, I was skeptical, but after getting my google on, I couldn't deny the validity of these claims. This discovery was the cause of many orders of water no lemon, but lately, my desire for a free lemony drink surpasses my aversion to germs. After all, Staph is normal flora dancing around on our skin at all times of the day, and it's foolishness to believe that any of us can get through an entire lifetime without getting feces thrown at us by some crazed primate during a trip to the zoo.
Alternatively, I can just bring my own lemon wedges that I prepare with clean hands, a pure heart, and knives that were not just used to cut up raw meet. All the benefits of restaurant lemon while forgoing the risks: food poisoning, resistant bacteria, and, most importantly, the heebie-jeebies. My self-respect, however, will plummet like the stock market, due to relentless jeering for bringing my own lemons.
There are just some things I wish I didn't know.
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| am I too old to be sleeping with a stuffed animal? I meant it's not like a cuddle with it...all the time...I mostly use it as a pillow. Is that okay?
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| If I ever get married and have children, my refrigerator will be fully stocked at all times with:
Cola
OJ
Purple stuff
and Sunny D
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Vintage Metal Transformers lunch box (circa 1986).
Can't wait until Monday.
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