Randomania III

It’s come to my attention that I’ve passed the 100-column threshold. I’m not sure which column was number 100, but I’ll bet it was special. What’s important to me is whether 100 columns is enough to compile into a book. Perhaps I should write to Dave Barry and ask how the whole “making a book out of stuff you’ve already written” thing works. See, I want book money. I’ve got expensive tastes. These Starbucks gingerbread lattes are killing me. Of course, promoting my book is going to be difficult. I never should’ve punched Stedman Graham at the Oak Room. But you know what? He had it coming.

Along with hunting and pecking my way through 80,000 words, I realized that it’s been over a year since I let myself off the linear narrative hook with a random thoughts article. So here you go: the third, semi-annual installment of Randomania.

*High on my list of People I’d Like to Hit with a Big Rock are Hallmark browsers. Most Hallmark stores are filled with pain- fully earnest cards that say things like, “This joyful holiday season, our family wishes you joy and prosperity and joy. We are thinking of you so very much it hurts. We wuv you.” Then there’s a tiny section with cards that offer messages like, “Roses are red, violets are blue. I’m sorry your grandma’s dead, let’s go get a brew.” Those are the ones I like. But if someone’s standing in front of that section, you’re boxed out. I can only pretend to read the sentimental cards for so long. I start giving the offender dirty looks and gradually edge into their personal space. Eventually I’ll reach across and grab a card from directly in front of them, hoping they get the hint. They usually don’t. So I’d like to suggest that Hallmark stores install sensors in the nonsappy card section, like the ones on auto-flush toilets. If the sensor doesn’t detect movement within three minutes, a trap door opens and the card-hoarder falls into a piranha tank. Now that’d be a Hallmark moment.

*How often should you wash your mattress pad? You wash your sheets. You don’t wash your mattress. Somewhere between those poles lies the nebulous land of the mattress pad. I’m thinking maybe once every three rotations of sheets?

*The Dyers were discussing acupuncture at Christmas when my mom brought up a story I’d never heard before: A few years ago my dad’s acupuncturist called to cancel an appointment because one of her friends had been killed by a lion. The deceased made the unfortunate decision to adopt a lion that was being kicked out of a circus because it kept attacking people, and it turned out that this kitty hadn’t changed his mauling ways. So which soothing words did my father use to console his bereaved acupuncturist, whose friend had become Purina Lion Chow? “It’s a jungle out there.” Apparently, acupuncture doesn’t make you more sensitive.

*Almost as satisfying as finding a nicely stained, solid wood dresser for $35 on Craigslist was the fact that someone else wanted it. I got there first. Getting a good deal is even more exciting when there’s the possibility of conflict. I imagined my competitor showing up and both of us running off with drawers, eventually pulling the dresser apart and ending up on The People’s Court screaming at each other. But if my fellow dresser hunter is reading this and is still feeling like he or she missed out on a great deal, don’t worry: you did. HA HA HA.

*So far, the only thing that I’ve found that doesn’t stick to ant-killing glue traps is ants. The area around my toaster oven is regularly covered with ants. An exterminator came and sprayed some chemicals that were supposed to kill the ants within four days, but unless I’m now dealing with undead zombie ants, the stuff didn’t work. The exterminator also left a glue trap under the sink, presumably to catch any ants who decided to migrate the 4,000 ant-miles between the toaster oven and the sink. I tried putting the glue trap on the counter, but the ants just walk around it and go about their anty business. The ants are winning, which, given the brain size disparity here, is like getting beaten at chess by an Atari 2600. I guess I’ll just keep spraying them with Formula 409 and wiping them up with a paper towel. I may have an infestation of scavenging insects and an apartment full of pesticides, but my countertop has never been cleaner. ∂