One of These Things is Not Like the Other

This.  This is what I’m faced with immediately upon entering my neighborhood grocery store. Most of you will likely scoff and say, oh, big deal! So what!? What are we even looking at?? But perhaps a few of you will at least somewhat understand why this blemish on an otherwise perfectly corresponding floor throws me off my stride every time I go food shopping.

I understand accidents happen and tiles get damaged. Why not make a design? Even a simple square or something? Especially if you chose a tile that had a nice, peppy design rather than trying to match the tile already in place…and dismally failing, might I add.

I mean, it is the only odd tile in a veritable sea of like-colored tiles. And what’s worse, the banana table is RIGHT THERE. See it!? It could be moved over ever so slightly to cover up the oddball tile. But no. The powers that be just leave the offending thing there. Out in the open. Taunting me.


tile at acme_1


tile at acme_2

Importance of Spell Check

So, this corner mart is in my hometown. Not far from the house where I grew up actually.  I’m just so proud of my old neighborhood and what it’s become. Now I’m not normally one to go around policing everyone’s spelling or grammar, but seriously!? Come on people, get your act together. The sign’s been there at least two years. All I can think of is this: Has no one brought it to the store owner’s attention? Surely there are less socially awkward people than me out there who are brave enough to come forward and let him or her know. Or is it a purposeful thing? Is it some kind of secret code? And if it is, for what exactly? Bad spellers anonymous?

As it is, every time my daughter and I visit my parents, we point to it and smile, our individual, internal spell checkers on alert and for some reason, amused.




Really, Betty Crocker?

So I saw these at the grocery store yesterday. Maple Bacon Cookies. And if that’s not bad enough, there is Maple Bacon Icing to go on the Maple Bacon Cookies. No, I didn’t buy any. Is this what we’ve come to folks? I guess they’re a “thing,” because otherwise they wouldn’t be at the grocery store, right? Displayed prominently on the outer aisle no less. But I just can’t imagine that they’re actually good.  At least I’m not willing to try.  I know, I know, I always tell my kids…try something at least once before passing judgement.  But in this case, I vehemently choose not to practice what I preach.


maple bacon cookie mix





Facial Cues

So I posted this pic the other day.  It was pretty self-explanatory.  But I thought I would expand on it anyway.

One thing I am certain about in life is that you will never—and I mean never—be flipping through TV channels one day and say to whoever else in the room with you, “Hey, isn’t that Wendy on the World Series of Poker?” Nope. Not going to happen. Not because I despise gambling or can’t count cards. Even if I could use some mental wizardry to tip the odds in my favor, I’d never make it that a far in a tournament because my poker face is HORRIBLE.

It’s taken years and years of careful thought and dedication but I’ve gotten somewhat passable at biting my tongue even when internally I’m screaming to stand on my soap box and say something that may ruffle feathers. Sometimes it’s not a soap box I want to stand on. Sometimes I just want to say something as simple as, “what the hell!?” Or “are you that stupid!?”  I have to say, it’s not always easy to hold my tongue, and I’m not even always successful, but I do try.

My face? Well, that, I’m discovering, is even worse to control. I’ve graduated beyond the simple act of rolling my eyes when I hear something I don’t like. That’s elementary level and I think I have a little more class than that. Whatever contortions my face does make (be it lip pursing, brow furrowing, teeth clenching, cheek puckering, nostril flaring, or any combination of these) it’s enough of a cue that something isn’t quite right and I’ve actually had people stop talking, in mid-sentence, and say, “Okay, whaat!?”  They can obviously see that whatever is coming out of their mouth is troubling me, hence their frustrated question.  Which I find quite ironic because it’s just that ridiculous thing coming out of their mouth that makes me want to ask them, “WTF are you trying to say!!??”

Turns out I don’t have to say that anymore. You’ve heard of the RBF (aka Resting Bitch Face). I have what I have now dubbed the WTF Face. It’s been forged from years of sitting through endless, boring meetings at an old job where snappy Construction Managers, who happened to be cutting their teeth on the present job in question, would be spewing verbal diarrhea all over the place on some project they really knew nothing about, and the countless number of boring lectures I’ve had to sit through in past job positions. I remember it being very difficult not to say something that might be taken as rude (but in truth was just saying what was on everyone else’s mind). So instead of saying something, my face did all the speaking for me.

The workplace isn’t the only place I have been caught working on my wicked WTF Face. Driving hasn’t helped nor has just following people down the aisle in the supermarket. I know I must be making some pretty vehement faces there. If anyone reading this has been to the grocery store lately you know what I mean. It can’t just be me.

I guess I don’t have to worry about my uber-honest facial expressions that much. They only come up when I’m on the road, running errands, interacting with people, you know, pretty much in general. Besides those times I’m a total model of tranquility. Just ask my pets.


smart mouth

Retro Vending Machine

So apparently these were a “thing” back in the ’50s and ’60s and could be found in office breakrooms back in the day.   Is it just me or do these really need to make a comeback?  It would definitely make the work day a hell of a lot more interesting and the week would go by a lot faster, that’s for sure.


Photo: Ron Case / Getty Images / Life Magazine ( — Automatic Whiskey, 1960 ~ At the Second Automatic Vending Exhibition in London, a woman helps herself to a vending machine-mixed whisky and soda.