Because there's no such thing as too much cheese. Unrolling the braciole of consciousness; shaping the meatball of life. Because everything is funny; you just need to view it from the proper angle. Good for cats. Made in Poland. Because everything is like a hat. You know how those gorillas can be... Very unforgiving.

Monday, February 28, 2005

The stinky balloons. One of the best treasures ever to leave Castle 1526 and come to our humble abode. The bags when given to me looked, ancient. Something was very wrong about them. The descriptions on the front of the bags only added to my anxiety about product liability problems. Funny Shapes?!? Ok, this was explained by the crinkle cut french fry looking balloon with the Jackson Pollack design. This was the one that got to me. One of the bags declared that the balloons were "irregular". How can a balloon be irregular? Pretty much its only function is to be inflated. If it cannot inflate, then pretty much it is broken. Irregular is not really an option for balloons.

The balloons were stink. I believed they smelled like a crematorium. Not that I have ever smelled one--it just seems like one would smell like. John told me,matter of factly, they smelled of rubber going bad. I'll admit, I didn't know rubber went bad. Would my car tires eventually stink like that if I left them in Vito's liquor storage cabinet? The other interesting thing was just how much rubber has gone bad on John that he knew that stink.

Besides being stink, the balloons were a hazard. Maybe Joseph a/k/a "Airport Guy" and Vito in a Vodka induced haze believed that these balloons inflated, but everyone we attempted to inflate exploded. The first one I attempted, a crinkle cut french fry styled one, exploded and sent balloon sharpnel almost into my eye. Further attempts were equally unsuccessful. The one I was able to inflate could not be tied as the rubber ripped when knots were attempted.

Equally hazardous was my seating location at the Hair Salon. As I quietly sat getting my hair cut and not sharing any deep dark family secrets, the woman next to me decided she would share this with anyone in listening range: "My sister had babies. Once the babies were born her breasts sagged like those African women's. So she went and got breast implants. She got her husband to pay for them and then she left him and he didnt even get to use them."
I was astounded. All I could think was if that lady's sister was able to hear this, there would be scissors through the lady. Maybe it's me, but I never feel an urge to share highly personal information about relatives to my hair stylist and anyone else that happens to be in ear shot.