Seeking Booty

There's a little candy store in the lobby of the building I work in. I go down there a lot, instead of to the vending machine on our floor, because I almost never have change or anything smaller than a $20 bill on me. Plus, there's a better selection and less junk. I'll usually get yogurt and apple juice for breakfast, or Cheerios for an afternoon snack. (I'm trying to ween myself off potato chips, but I still crave crunchy stuff. I just realized that my diet sounds like an infant's.)

The owner is an older Indian man. I don't know his name, but he recognizes me every time I come in and always says, "Hello, my dear." I feel bad for him sometimes, because he doesn't seem to have too many other customers. Occasionally, I bring my co-worker Mikey down with me, just to drum up some business. Once when I was out sick, Mike went down there to get a drink by himself and was asked with concern, "Oh, where is your friend?"

One day I discovered Pirate's Booty over in the chip section. I love Pirate's Booty; I can't even tell you how much. So I must have seemed pretty excited while paying for my purchase, and this must have made an impression on my new friend. After that, every time I came down and didn't get Pirate's Booty, he would smile and ask, "No Pirate Booty today?" Just picture that said in an Indian accent. It was so adorable I wanted to hug him.

A few days ago, I went down there, walked over to my usual rack, and realized there was no Pirate's Booty left. Before I even had a chance to scan the shelf for a replacement snack, he was apologizing and promising that he had ordered more "for me." I had to reassure him about 3 or 4 times that it was ok, I didn't need it, I could just get something else.

The next day I was starting to doze off at my desk, so I went down to get some M&Ms, figuring chocolate would help keep me awake. The chocolate stuff is nowhere near the chips, so I wasn't even walking in that direction, when he again apologized for the lack of Pirate's Booty. "No, it's ok," I laughed, "I just need some chocolate today." He assured me again that a delivery would be coming in soon.

So this morning, I got in a few minutes early and went down to the store to get a banana. And, lo and behold: Pirate's Booty, back in stock. "See, I told you there would be more," he said as soon as I walked in the door. He sounded kind of proud of himself, and also kind of relieved. Again, I just wanted to hug him. Poor guy.

"Thank you so much!" I smiled, and grabbed a bag, even though I hadn't really been planning to.

I just couldn't spoil his day like that.

Scattered Thoughts On The 2010 Miss America Pageant (Continued)

This dance number is the most awkward thing ever.

I hate when they say "YOUR Miss Wisconsin!" I'm not from Wisconsin. You're not "my" anything. I don't want you.

Jesus! New Jersey scared the crap out of me.

Some of these girls sound really bitchy — "No, I CAN'T see Russia from my house," "Yes, security IS tighter here than at the White House state dinner," "The only state where you have the FREEDOM to be smart" — stop trying to be political. I don't care what they call it nowadays, it's a damn beauty pageant.

Miss Nevada's "World Series/Pokerface" line: WIN.

"Taylor-Treat-and-I-love-sweets!" needs to shut the fuck up right now.

For Christ's sake, Kelly, the girl's in a state of shock and has 3 minutes to glue her ass into a bikini — stop trying to interview her!

Jesus! Miss Colorado is 8 feet tall.

Dancer, singer, singer, singer, dancer, singer, singer, pianist, singer, singer. Why do we never get to see a chick Jello-wrestle or rock a drum solo or solve a Rubik's cube for their talent? Even a violinist would be a nice change of pace.

And of course, Miss Hawaii is going to do the hula. There's no way she tops this:

Last year's Miss Hawaii

Clinton needs to stop talking about how they won't let him into the dressing room. It's getting creepy.

Dang, these gowns are hideous. Get these chicks on Project Runway STAT!

Oh good! Here comes the really uncomfortable part!

Jesus! What the hell is Louisiana wearing?

God, this is like when they make the Victoria's Secret models talk.

YES!!! Mario Lopez: "What must you be thinking right now?" Miss D.C.: "Hurry up." LMAO!

New Mexico's on quaaludes.

I guess I'm rooting for California.

...so of course, she comes in second.

Annnnnd Virginia takes the pot.

Aww, her mom is crying. I can totally picture her shouting "My baby is Miss America!" just like Danielle crying "I'm a Cover Girl, mommy!" when she won Top Model.

...even though her baby looks like a beaded banana.
[Special thanks to Astra for that great line.]

I'm "Special"

Why are bananas the only fruits that taste better when they're not ripe?

UPDATE: And why can't I ever spell the word "bananas" without singing it à la Gwen Stefani's "Hollaback Girl"? I just did it again, right there.

Things That Make Me Uncomfortable

The phrase "making love."

People who blow their nose really thoroughly in public.

Co-workers who insist on carrying on a conversation while you're in adjacent bathroom stalls.

Eating a banana in front of someone.

Subway missionaries — not the crazy ones who scream about burning in Hell (they're fun to toy with), but the ones who just stand there, silently holding up pamphlets and smiling beatifically.

When someone in my party asks the waitress a lot of questions before ordering.

Those toilet paper commercials with the cartoon bears.

Picturing Tiger Woods having sex with anyone.

When people sitting next to me on the train are reading books with titles like "Healing Through The Catholic Mass."

Turning down those kids who go door-to-door selling candy or magazine subscriptions to help them "get an education" or "stay off the streets."

When you ask someone where they were the other day and instead of just answering "I was sick," they explain in detail the consistency of the phlegm they were coughing up or their 24-hour bout of diarrhea.

The word "diarrhea."

Interacting with anyone in a position of authority.

Hamsters.

Funerals.

Dating.