Posts archive for: August, 2007
  • Two things that really shouldn't be combined.

    Cruising the aisles of Wal-Mart again in search of a bottle of juice, I happened upon an interesting concept in the clothing department. Why I was in the clothing department I have no idea--perhaps I believed that the racks of coats had treasure troves of Sobe concealed in their depths.

    In any case, I was aimlessly wandering in the underwear aisle, hopelessly lost, making plans to ration the stale cheese cracker crumbs that inexplicably turn up in the pockets in my jeans, when I saw something that took my mind off my troubles.

    There was a pack of underwear, in an atrociously garish pink, that proudly proclaimed, "Doubles as a pencil case!" A moment's confusion as to how one encased pencils in skimpy underclothes led me to the belief that the package itself was the pencil case, reinforced by the fact that it had a zipper shaped like a pencil.

    I contemplated this item with much confusion, as I could not think of a single object I keep in my pencil case that I would keep nestled within a sheath of princess-themed panties. Highlighters, for instance, have an irksome habit of throwing their caps in the air spontaneously, and as my highlighters are yellow, it would have the appearance of a very unfortunate accident occurring. The red marking pen would not even be worth consideration.

    Moving on to the wooden pencil, there is a distinct possibility for considerable pain, as small splinters of wood could easily get lodged in the most tiresome places. Mechanical pencils fall by the wayside with essentially the same argument. My miniature stapler, that goes off without warning at times, I shall pass over without comment.

    At this point, my sister caught up with me, and I rejoiced. I would not have to resort to eating fingernail clippings after all. Before we left for civilization once more, I showed her the package. I rhapsodized on the dangers of the common pencil. I waxed lyrical on the atrocities a misplaced staple could do. She looked at me oddly, and then made the revolutionary comment that the intent might have been to remove the underclothes before adding the pencils.

    AotA signing off.

  • The joys of shopping for school supplies.

    In my family, shopping for school supplies is not done in a day. Whenever I point out the fact that it could very easily be completed in a few hours, I am told, ":Well, Rome wasn't built in a day!" This saying I accept in peace, as building Rome is, in my estimation, of an equivalent difficulty to getting my parents to acquire school supplies.

    The Great School Supply Extravaganza (GSSE) begins, generally, about a week before school. This is the point at which the idle talk about getting school supplies someday, perhaps next month, subsides and the siren song of "School starts in a week! Why didn't you remind us!" begins.

    After all the screaming and bemoaning ends, we finally get around to purchasing school supplies. By now, it's Wednesday, and school starts the next Monday.

    The GSSE begins by deciding to head off to Wal-Mart. Easy, yes? As it turns out, it is not easy. Before my mother is in a fit state to go anywhere, she first needs to make a list of every conceivable item that I might ever need in my school career. I wait through notebooks, lined paper, binders, pencil cases, and Post-It notes. However, when we get to index card holders and small stapler sets, I stop her before she gets in the range of accordion notebooks and hourly planners.

    Having made the list, we set off at last. However, before getting out of the driveway, my mother utters a shriek. This shriek seems to indicate world wars, pillars of flame, and Armageddon. Already making plans to evacuate my game systems, I ask, tremblingly, what the problem is.

    As it happens, she had left her cell phone in the house.

    We go through the same thing for the list, the keys, and the wallet before finally leaving. As we arrive at Wal-Mart and walk in the door, my mother remembers that she left the list in the car.

    5 minutes later, we finally enter the confines of the store. We head for the school section, which is in the middle of the store. Always. It can also be found by the horde of vicious people around it, those who MUST have the last package of highlighters.

    Getting the cases for the flashcards proved easy, as did the obtaining of highlighters, Post-It notes, and other such items. However, there then arose the notebook problem.

    My mother's idea was to get a notebook for each subject; an admirable idea. However, when I pointed out that each notebook she had chosen was a 3-subject notebook, things got rather heated.

    I pointed out that, as I was not to my knowledge taking 21 subjects, this was unnecessary expense. She retorted with the comment that each notebook was so small that I would easily use them all up. I noted that, as I had a binderful of notepaper, there waqs no worry about that. Her response was to pick up a 5-subject notebook and add it to the pile.

    After that had been settled thusly, there came the search for a suitable backpack. I will gloss over the details of the hideous pink-and-blue object which my mother was determined to get, and shall merely note that, at long last, we ended up with the black roller backpack that I carry.

    This concluded Wednesday's adventures, leaving time for the stuff to gather a fine sample of dust.

    After a break to reassimilate our forces, we went off for clothes on Saturday. Our first shop was at the shoe store, where I decided on my pair within 5 minutes and then waited half an hour for my sister to make up her mind whether she wanted brown or black shoes. The Mary Janes we shall pass over utterly.

    We then ventured over to Macy's. In clothes, my mother's taste and mine differ utterly. She favored the shapely, polka-dotted stripper outfits, while I favored the formless T-shirt. The attempt to get me in skirts was really unspeakable. We eventually compromised with a few normal T-shirts and a few shirts that have cleavage down to my belly button. The fact that I have a pair of pants with 6 lovely deep pockets, however, makes up for the whole experience.

    Sunday was the day for getting the things that really should have been obtained a long time ago, such as a ruler for me and a planner for my sister. This is the most frenetic day of all. It is also the day when my mom swore to return the clothes that did not fit well.

    Today, Wednesday, is the day that I bought the stuff that I need for my class, including a planner, markers, and more Post-It notes. (Whoever absconded with my pack, I would really love to have it back.) My mom has still not returned the clothes. She has, however, added the backpack to the list of returning items, as the strap has snapped off within 2 days.

    AotA signing off.

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