My last post was Sunday afternoon. By yesterday morning (Monday) I found myself thinking, "I have nothing to write about. There is absolutely nothing funny or interesting to share on my blog." Oh silly me. Oh me of such little faith. All I needed to do was let the day progress in its natural way and let the humor come to me. I've started to notice that my three failsafe topics (and perhaps this is kind of sad) are my kid, the grocery store and Google search queries.
I often go to the grocery store on my lunch hour so I don't have to do it after work with a kid in tow. There is a small Kroger just two blocks down from my office. I've written before about the weird produce clerk who is a little TOO friendly to me; I think he may be mentally unhinged. There's another produce guy who works there but I generally try to avoid him because he always looks angry. In his defense, he's actually been nice to me when I've needed help (like "Are there any more McIntosh apples in the back?"). Yesterday I sent this text:
I've included a gif of Homey (or Homie-- I saw both spellings online) so you have a visual reference. By the way, this is the first time I've ever uploaded a gif before. It only took like seven attempts. If it's not working for you, I'm sorry. It looks OK on my end.
At the end of my purchase, the register spit out a bunch of coupons. I've written about the fact that Kroger, like many stores, uses targeted marketing based on your buying habits. That's great a lot of the time. I buy cage-free eggs whenever possible. "Here's a coupon for cage-free eggs!" We eat a lot of Greek yogurt. "Here are coupons for Greek yogurt!". Lately something has changed and Kroger now seems to think I'm an elderly person. I've been getting coupons for things like denture adhesive and incontinence pads. I've joked that I'm going to start buying things like beer and condoms in mass quantities to change my marketing profile. I sent this text:
I don't want to devote my entire blog to funny shit my kid says, but I swear I probably could. If I ever run dry on comedy material, all I need to do is sit down with him for ten minutes and I guarantee you that I'll have something to write about. This was the first thing he told me when he got off the school bus yesterday:
Some of my best conversations with my son occur during his bathtime. Maybe he lets his guard down because he's naked and vulnerable? Hard to say. In any case, if I want the real story about something I wait and ask when he's in the tub.
OK, I feel a little bad about calling a six or seven year old a hussy. Maybe she has older brothers. I asked my son, "Did she say this out loud for everyone on the bus to hear?" He said no-- just to him. So yeah-- yet another example that much of my son's real education takes place on the school bus and not in the school room.
I hope you aren't bored when I write about my Google search queries. They amuse me greatly. I like to check every few days or so just to see what's new. For my website, it seems like the search terms are 80-90% sexual in nature. I'm not sure if that's a reflection on me or if it's typical for Google in general. Some of the search terms are just vile and perverted. Here are some new ones that made me laugh:
- the few the proud the naked (I forget-- which branch of the armed services is this?)
- i love being naked, i wish we were all naked all the time (Obviously you haven't seen some of the people I work with.)
- what does santa claus look like (I feel sorry for you that you had to google this.)
- santas porn girls (no-No-NO-- must not imagine Santa having sexual relations with young women. It's so wrong in every possible way.)
- tampon stories (Really? Is this an actual genre? Do I even want to know?)
- the voyeurs rhubarb rhubarb rar (My personal favorite. It's so insane. It's like "Take the most random words, include a word that's not really a word, and put them together". This would be an awesome spy code though. For example, let's say you are a spy (for the good guys of course). You get a message to meet in a park: "Your contact will approach you wearing a black fedora. You will say to him: 'the voyeurs rhubard rhubard rar'. You must say this phrase exactly. Your country is depending on you". If it was me, while I was waiting I would probably start thinking something like, "What is the correct pronunciation of that last word? Is it pronounced 'rawr'? Or like 'rare'? Is it a typo? Am I going to screw up this job on a technicality? Who the fuck made up this stupid phrase?" NOTE-- this is completly hypothetical. I'm not a spy. I'm just IMAGINING what a spy would be thinking. That's all.