Today I was walking behind a guy who was singing along to his ipod. He could actually carry a tune, so I could actually tell that he was singing along to Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me.” At the time I was pretty sure these were not the actual lyrics from this 1987 song:

love is like a bomb baby, call and get it on/living like a lover with a red iphone

Now I’m quite sure because I looked it up on the Def Leppard site, which helpfully includes lyrics. Also, um, 1987.

This was not the same guy who was singing along to Night Ranger, “It’s been twenty-five years since I threw up on the rug/I had a bad reaction,” but maybe these guys could get together for karaoke. I managed to keep walking and not engage Def Leppard Guy in conversation, which was good, because I still feel slightly bad for almost falling on the floor laughing at Night Ranger Guy. I’m not certain whether Def Leppard Guy was old enough to know better, I was afraid if I got a better look at him I wouldn’t be able to keep it together. I suspect he was, though.

A little girl who couldn’t have been more than 5 or 6 years old, after looking at the Tigers: “I want them to be in the wild and have healthcare and food.”

What kid uses the word healthcare? Besides that one. It was spooky.

I guess she could have seen Madagascar a few too many times, but she weirded us out because she sounded like a miniature policy wonk, not like a kid repeating something she’d heard in a movie or heard an adult say.

The guy next to me at the gym was really getting into the Night Ranger song playing on the All Insipid Music All The Time station. When he started singing along and got to the line, “It’s been twenty-five years since I threwup on the rug, I had a strange reaction” I almost hurt myself laughing. And of course the more I tried not to laugh, the worse it got. Fortunately, he had a sense of humor about the whole thing. Or maybe he was just deeply fearful of the crazy woman. Maybe both. To be fair, I wasn’t sure what the actual [tag]lyrics[/tag] were myself, but I was pretty sure those weren’t them.

I suggested he submit his mistake to Kiss This Guy: the archive of misheard lyrics.

The actual lyrics, according to the 80s lyrics site:
I’ve lived twenty-five years I’m a kid on the run
I’ve got a pistol for action

I liked the vomit-oriented lyrics better, but maybe that’s because they sum up my sentiments about the song (and, for that matter, the band) quite nicely.

Husband and I overheard a hilariously surreal exchange at the paint store:

shopper: “I want to paint my laundry room aqua.”
paint store employee : “I love aqua laundry rooms!”

Now, as if the woman’s deranged enthusiasm for aqua laundryrooms wasn’t amusing enough, the conversation got unintentionally funnier:

paint store employee: “What color are your appliances?”
shopper: “I don’t know.” – Said so dismissively even I felt chastened – “I’ve never been in there.”

This made Husband wonder how, if she’d never been in the laundry room, she knew the room wasn’t already aqua. He’s very practical that way. I wondered if she’d heard somewhere that bright colors could make her mexicans 80 percent more effective or something.

It struck the designer as odd that you’d live in a house for so many years and never go into some of the rooms, ever, but it was pretty impressive to watch her forge ahead with the customer. I kinda felt bad for her. I also kinda wanted whatever she was on.

I can only hope for her maid’s sake that her laundry room doesn’t have any exposed cinder blocks so perhaps she can avoid the 1970s indoor-pool and locker room aesthetic gone horribly wrong. Perhaps the aqua laundry room will be just cute as pie. What do I know? Maybe all aqua laundry rooms are just cute as pie. All I do know is that Husband and I enjoy exclaiming, “I just love aqua laundryrooms!”

But if this is a hip new trend you can just count me out.

I think that people blabbity-blabbing on their cellphones while blatantly inconveniencing others is obnoxious behavior. For example, planting yourself somewhere and yakking on your phone while ignoring the animals (zoo) or art (museums) and obstructing everyone else’s view. I seem to be in the minority in this one, but my mom is on my side.

Yesterday this guy had the misfortune of being the final straw for us. To his credit, he wasn’t obstructing anyone’s view or stepping on children or blocking an exit. His real crime was, to be honet, just that he made himself an easy target for mocking. Although, in retrospect, he may be a bit thin-skinned to be an actor if his reaction is any gauge.

Or maybe it was just the first time it occured to him that everyone can hear him while he’s on the phone. I used to think most people learned this around the age of 7 as their levels of self-awareness grew, but clearly I was mistaken.

But I digress…

“I’m at the zoo. I have to observe an animal for 15 minutes for my acting class and then act it out.”

My mom turned to him, loudly and exceptionally cheerfully asking, “Can we all watch?”

It was excellent.

The guy didn’t just leave, I think he actually vaporized himself. Everyone else happily resumed panda-watching.

Speaking of panda-watching, we just can’t get enough of When Pandas Attack. Countdown had a lengthy segment of outtakes last night but I can’t find the link to it yet. It’s still on my tivo, I suppose I could upload it myself. But that would take effort.

Nisa Rant and I just had a nice little dose of normality. We were taking a walk just as a neighboring elementary school let out.

There were two boys. One was wearing one of those orange safety patrol belts – symbolic in The International Language of Children for “dork.” We’ll call him Safety Boy. The second boy was larger than the first, we’ll call him The Bully.

The two boys crossed the road, then the The Bully grabbed Safety Boy by the lapels. He shoved Safety Boy into a tall hedge and held him there for a moment. Safety Boy said, somewhat dispassionately, “Ouch. Ouch.” It was very matter-of-fact. “Ouch.” No yelling. Just “Ouch” in a sort of low tone.

Then The Bully sets Safety Boy back down.
Safety Boy: “Ouch.”
The Bully: “See ya tomorrow.”
Safety Boy: “Okay. Ouch.”

Then they casually walked away. Fortunately, Nisa and I got past them before we started laughing. This appears to be a ritual, you half-expect them to punch a timeclock after the encounter. It was oddly soothing. It was a perfect moment.

oh my, the things we learn about each other
On the way home from work I was relating the story of the Bully and the Dork to my partner. He thought it was funny. Then told me he was not only a Safety Dork, but a Lieutenant, making him King Dork of his elementary school. I’m not sure what to do with this information, so I’m sharing it with you.

There’s yet another youth leadership conference in town and the place is awash with teenaged Future Fascists of America trying to cover their Extreme Suburban Shiny Whiteness with baggy Tommy clothes and painfully awkward slang.

I was observing a herd of them (mostly male) jabbering about the evils of welfare, their “a child not a choice” buttons gleaming on their tastefully scuffed backpacks. One kid walks up to the herd and says “WhazzupHomeDogs?” His homedogs replied that they were “Just Chillin Like Villains.” I was able to keep a straight face through the whole exchange…almost. I caught the eye of one of the maintenance guys and had to practically race around to the side of the building before we both got a hernia laughing. I know it’s sad, but it was also indescribably absurd.

(edited a few minutes later)

I’d like to add that the presence of all these smug and immature boys has reminded me of one of their traits which is like nails on a chalkboard to me. Three times today (read: since 10 a.m.) I’ve heard (three different) little boys (okay, I’m getting old, they must be between 14 and 17) point out that something is an oxymoron, simply so that they can then state that they know how to pronouce oxymoron correctly (i.e., not as oxy-moron). You used it correctly in a sentence, consequently you do not need to then point out that you can pronounce it correctly by stating the incorrect pronounciation for the express purpose of then stating the correct one.

It’s odd to hear it so many times in one day, but probably odder still that this little statement annoys the snot out of me so much. Always has, always will, in all likelihood. It’s just one of those tics that insecure boys (usually it’s boys, anyway) have that they(hopefully) will grow out of because it’s pretentious and really not especially interesting or impressive. Thankfully, most of them do. Do not ever get me started on adults who still engage in this kind of lookatmelookatme behavior. Ever.

I didn’t actually have bile for breakfast today, it just seems like it here. I’ll be heading off to pop open a very good bottle of wine, prop up my feet and finish American Gods very soon. You may now return to your regularly scheduled program.

Whoever put the word lifestyle into general usage should be shot, or at minimum punished severely.

We willfully packed ourselves in amongst the other sardines at the uber-fashionable bar while we waited for a table at the adjoining uber-fashionable restaurant. We didn’t know all this time we were being hip, we just like being able to walk home from places where we drink a lot, but it turns out we have been engaging in fashionable behavior for at least a year. Forgive us, we knew not what we were doing. I also had a moment of pause when we did get our table and I finally realized who our usual waiter reminds me of. Tyler Durden. Fight Club fans understand it is not a good thing for your waiter to remind you of Tyler Durden.

Anyway, our favorite bit of shouted conversation while we were still at the bar consisted of an overstuffed yuppie explaining something to his companions. He kept saying “we’re trying to duplicate our lifestyle here.” What exactly did that mean? And did he mean right there at the bar? He said it numerous times, each time more fervently than the last. I was slightly disappointed when the hostess came from next door to get us, but only slightly. The whole situation was getting ominous to me. Or maybe I was simply getting tipsy.