Observation from a recent trip: the automated announcements at Des Moines Airport are delivered with a British accent. While classy, it seems a poor fit for the locale. Contrast Des Moines with Dallas, where the same announcements come with a hearty Texas twang.
Even though it’s a 100 minute advertisement for the product, I’m pretty sure none of the characters in The Lego Movie ever actually spoke the name “Lego.” I’ll have to see it again just to check but there’s a powerful brand.
There were some teenagers in another part of the gym locker room. They were maybe thirteen or fourteen, old enough to talk like adults but young enough that they still sounded like women. I kept thinking I was in the wrong locker room.
It never occurred to me that Facebook would have a Facebook page. It has things on it like “422,769 people like this.”
I wonder if Mick Jagger ever catches himself humming “Get Off of My Cloud.”
Dear young man with the throat tattoo extending from ear to ear: I can see you have excellent judgement. I’m sure you will never regret that decision. Thank you for keeping exquisite taste on permanent display.
AMC breaks for a commercial halfway through the restaurant scene with Sollozzo. An absolute crime.
We had a hundred Girl Scouts— Brownies, actually— in the park today. I’ve never seen so many pink shoelaces.
We never have to wonder anything any more. Whenever I catch myself thinking, “I wonder…” I then have to say, “Oh, yeah. There is a device somewhere within arm’s reach that will find the answer.” It’s empowering and a little depressing: once I wonder about something I am then obliged to look it up and obliterate the mystery.
The song “No Air” by Jordin Sparks and Chris Brown reminds me of the movie Total Recall. When Sparks sings, “Tell me how I’m supposed to breath with no air,” all I can think of is:
“Come on, Cohaagen… give those people ee-agh!”
The photograph I most regret not taking was this:
I was driving along Interstate 10 in Mississippi several years ago. The night before someone must have driven a car right into a big highway sign. One of the legs was completely mangled and the other was bent. The sign looked like it had come to life, started walking along the shoulder, and then froze mid-step as if the life had gone out of it as suddenly as it appeared. The highway department fixed the sign before I got around to photographing it.
Around the eighth inning of tonight’s dismal game, Lore asked me when last times the Red Sox won the World Series. In 2004 and 2007, I told her.
“And 2004 was the bad one?” she asked, referring to when the unspeakable happened.
“It’s always bad when they win,” I said.
Holy cow. What a crazy baseball game, with the winning run scoring on an interference call. I’ve decided I’m not nuts about either team’s manager. They made a lot of moves I didn’t like tonight, many of which worked out for them just fine anyway. Baseball, being a game of probabilities, has a way of occasionally validating dumb decisions.
I had a baseball game on the television while Lore was studying.
“I like the commercials that play during sports games,” she commented.
“That’s interesting,” I replied, “because those commercials are not made for you.”
“I know but they are always about being strong, being a hero,” she said. “I like the voices.”
My crusty retired neighbor caught me on the way home. “I assume you are not working,” he said. When I confirmed he was sympathetic and went on a tirade about his disapproval of Congress and politics in general, adding, “Twenty-four years as a federal employee and thirteen as a state employee. I can take it without K-Y now.”
“Ah, I’m just venting,” he also said.
I usually think of September as daddy longlegs season. This year it’s also praying mantis season, but especially it’s grasshopper season. Walking on the trails at work they spring in all directions out of my way, dozens flying around with each step. It’s probably how Moses would have felt if the Red Sea was made of grasshoppers.
Whenever I walk through a neighborhood with a lot of barking dogs I think, “Somebody should do something about all those kids stuck in wells.”
Speaking of bad weather, its been a stormy week so Johnson County has been blowing its tornado sirens with wild abandon. A tornado actually touched down near Tiffin on Monday, but our emergency managers don’t limit themselves to warning about actual danger. They blow the sirens for severe thunderstorms, and probably partly cloudy skies, too. The other night at three o’clock in the morning, the siren, which is right across the street, woke us up. I checked the weather and it was just for a severe thunderstorm. In other words, go back to sleep.
There is a Daylight Donuts shop across the street. I noticed they incongruously left the “gh” out of “doughnuts” but not “daylight”. I wonder why. It would have given them a retro-1960s vibe if they were called Da-Lite Donuts.
I have to remember to make minor adjustments to my tour when I have third graders instead of fourth or fifth graders. Pointing out the trundle bed, I asked what kind of bed it is. “A wooden bed!” they said.