OK, so I haven't felt like blogging, or doing that much with the computer in general lately, so I haven't posted in a long time. Sue me. That's a figure of speech Limpy. Besides, it probably wouldn't be worth the drive to Indiana to get my stuff. We could drink though. I haven't kept up with anyone else's blog either so don't feel like I've been just ignoring you. I'm an equal opportunity shunner.
What got me to post something? A little conversation I overheard at the Factory Card and Party Outlet yesterday. I'm standing at the ginormous card rack looking for some decent (or indecent) birthday cards and there's this lady (mid 40's?) and her two kids (about 10 years old or so) looking next to me. Every once in a while one of the kids will pull a card off the display and say, "How about this one Mom?" During one such episode this happens:
Kid: showing his mother a card with a lady looking into a crystal ball on the front. How about this one mom?
Mom: No way am I buying a card with a fortune teller on it.
Kid: What's a fortune teller mom?
Mom: Something of the devil.
End of conversation.
How can you just leave me and your kid hanging like that? And after all the time I spent talking to Miss Cleo. She never once mentioned her affiliation with Satan. Go figure.
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5 comments:
Sounds like Bobby Boucher's mama from The Waterboy. Them fortune tellers are the devil!
lk: Ain't they though? I can never see nuthin' in them crystal balls. Clearly the Dark Lord is behind it. I'll have to ask him about it during the eternity I'll be spending with him.
It's late, I just got back from a long drive staying awake listening to loud and obnoxious music from my youth, and all I could think of when I read the setup is
"Some balls are held for charity
And some for fancy dress..."
I guess that particular mom wouldn't like that connotation any better...
"but when balls are held for pleasure they'rethe ones that I like best"
No, probably not.
frank & limpy: If I happen to see her at the card store again I'll ask. Although I have a feeling it won't lead to any pleasurable ball holding for anyone. But you never know. Even religious nut-jobs get the urge fondle a hairy sack once in a while don't they?
Maybe I'll just get my cards at Target from now on.
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