So I'm having a lovely Sunday dinner out with friends. My meal was okay, but not worth taking home when the waiter asked if I wanted a to go box. I said, no thanks, but then the man next to me piped up and said, “Oh, I’ll take one.” He didn’t mean he wanted a to go box for “his” food. He wanted the box for mine. And no, I hadn’t offered.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Okay. It was my fault. I should not have been in Walmart on a Saturday afternoon so I guess I brought this experience on myself.
I’m standing in an epically long line. I imagine that outside of this discount retail cocoon, civilizations are rising and falling while I wait. There’s a family in line behind me: parents, two kids. Their youngest was a little boy of about four. Together with a little friend the two of them were very busy laughing, tussling and playing. And then it got a little too good to them. They started chasing each other around the register in faster, and faster laps. It is, of course, impossible at that age to run without screaming. But there comes a point when the sound of young people playing at the top of their lungs swings from being endearing to just straight up annoying. I reached that point with surprising speed.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Ok, America, we need to put this Anthony Weiner thing into perspective. Yes, he lied. All politicians lie. People lie. Let he who is without a social media networking presence or a camera on their cell phone cast the first stone. But in the middle of the hoopla, let us not lose sight of what’s important. Money.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
My degree is in Journalism & Creative Writing with a minor in Theater Arts. That wasn’t the plan. The plan was to get a degree in finance and go to work on Wall Street, but plans change. I spent my first two years in college slugging it out with intro to business classes only to get knocked out with the one, two punch of macro economics and statistics. Liberal Arts here I come.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
My Niece knows that I travel a lot by plane, and she asked if I had yet gone through one of the new airport body scanners. I told her, no, that I try my best to avoid them, and she seemed truly perplexed by my aversion. I thought it was obvious. I mean, where do I begin: efficacy, safety, privacy? When she stared at me blankly, openly dubious of my objections, I was hit by the reality of our generation gap. My distrust of airport scanners must seem to her like my Mom’s misgivings about bank ATMs seem to me.