Musings on everyday happenings.
Anyone ever vacuum and then wonder how the cat(s) can possibly still have any hair left on their body? I’m asking, you know, for a friend. Yeah. A friend.
I mean, I’m just saying, I feel like if I had the right laboratory equipment, I could have a whole other cat with the hair that ends up in my vacuum every day.
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I wouldn’t consider myself an extremely superstitious person, but I’d be lying if I didn’t believe in bits and pieces. I don’t know whether walking under a ladder is really bad luck or not, but for some reason I just find myself avoiding it whenever the situation arises. I mean, if Looney Tunes has taught me anything, it’s to avoid ladders. And anvils.
Another famous superstition in regards to luck refers to the misfortune that will befall anyone who breaks a mirror. Not your short term misfortune either. We’re talking 7 years of nothing but bad luck. Just thinking about how expensive mirrors were during the time this superstition was likely conceived can help shed a bit of light on its origins. If I were a mother back then, I’d definitely say things like that to my kids if they were horseplaying around with expensive fragile items.
“Hey, get away from that mirror! If you break that you’ll have 7 years of bad luck, you know!”
Then in my head, “ha, that’ll teach those little whippersnappers to play ball in the house.”
They say that a broken clock or a cracked crystal on a pocket watch or wristwatch is also believed to be a bad sign. Not surprisingly, these are also very expensive items that are as old as the superstitions themselves. The story even goes on to say that a broken watch symbolizes failure to progress in one’s work. Which would make sense… cause you’d be late to work and all sorts of bad luck would no doubt ensue. So again, the origins of such superstitions somewhat make sense. Some superstitions about luck aren’t as easily explained though.
Tell me if you’ve ever heard this one. Originating somewhere in the UK, it’s believed that by saying “rabbit” right after you wake up on the first day of the month, you’ll bring yourself good luck for the next 30 or so days. No matter how you say it; rabbit-rabbit, rabbits, white rabbit, run rabbit run, etc., it’s supposed to work.
What about knocking on wood? Another dumb superstition that I find myself doing from time to time. Okay fine, often. Do I necessarily believe in it? I have no idea, but at risk of jinxing myself, it’s easier to just tap on the table just in case. There are two big theories behind this one. One is that pagans believe spirits live in trees, so it was kind of used as a nod to them, for lack of better words. The other theory comes from Britain and mentions a popular children’s game called “Tiggy-touch-wood,” where the only way you were “safe” from the other children chasing you was when you were touching a piece of wood. Could the whole concept of knocking on wood for luck have really stemmed from a kid’s game? I wouldn’t be surprised. Though I favor the tree spirits myself.
From blowing out birthday candles, lucky horseshoes, throwing salt over your shoulder, breaking wishbones, and even picking up pennies (not tails up, that’s bad luck!), superstitions on luck abound. It’s hard to keep up with them all, and sometimes I just think people are having me on with some of these tales.
A bird pooping on you is supposed to be good luck. I know, I know, but it’s true. Or so I’m told. I don’t believe it. And I’ll tell you why. A bird pooped on my hand the other day. There I was, minding my own business, walking around the neighborhood, trying to get some air and exercise, and a bird decided to just poop on my hand. Cause, you know. That’s what I’m here for. Oh look, my friend said, a bird pooped on your hand! You’ll have good luck! No, Sharon, I have germs. Germs are what I have. You’re so lucky! No, I’m not lucky, I’m disgusted. And for your information, there was no luck to be had here. No luck at all. I mean, I guess it could’ve been worse. It could’ve been my head. Or my face as I turned it upward to see what the hell that freakin’ bird was doing. Maybe the bird just had bad aim. Maybe that’s where the good luck came in.
So, yeah. Superstitions stink.
Stardate 20220505 – Time: Thursday Night Hell
I’m not much of a people person and those close to me know this. Even those not so close to me know this. So at the last minute when two of my friends that I made plans with for a random Thursday night said they were bringing some other friends that I never met along, that little anxiety-riddled part of my brain quickly looked for a way out of the ordeal. I seriously considered buying a plane ticket to anywhere that was not here and simply starting a new life under an assumed name.
But alas, moments later I found myself in the back of an SUV that I’d never ridden in before on my way to dinner at a place I had never eaten at before. Oh yes, I said to myself. This is hell. I’m in hell.
Everyone was going on and on and having a great time, and there I was, just trying to survive the outing long enough to get back home to the safety of my tea, favorite book, cheesy TV, and my cats, and wondering what the hell was I thinking to ever go out in the first place. I mean, it seemed like a good idea at the time. But then, doesn’t it always? And it’s not. It’s never a good idea.
Oh, here comes the waiter. “Can I get you ladies anything else this evening?”
Me screaming in my head: “Just the check, thanks.”
My mouth: “oh, that lava cake looks good.”
Me in my head: “Damn my weakness for sweets. Ah the hell with it. What’s 10 more minutes in hell anyway, right? At least there’s cake.”
How cool is this!? I just had to share. It’s perfect activewear for an introvert. That party getting too loud? Zip that sucker up. Coworkers getting on your nerves? Zip it! Anytime that life is getting to be a bit much, just disappear into a world of froggy fashion.
If you don’t see me for a while… well, you know. Zip, zip baby.
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With Monday right on our heels, I thought I would once again share some helpful advice. And should you take it, well… that’s on you.
Work from home tip #5,632…
Blowing on the tequila in your Doctor Who TARDIS mug will convince your Zoom meeting colleagues that your coffee is hot.
Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk. I’m here all week.
Quick question for you folks…
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To all my friends, Happy Easter and Happy Passover! I hope the holiday, however you spend it, brings you peace and the love of good friends and family. As for me, I think I’ve zoomed past the sugar rush and am headed for a candied crash. Let’s hope the marshmallow Peeps soften my fall.
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Mobile prayer and baptisms are a thing. Did you know that? I did not. However, there is a mobile prayer and baptism RV and trailer that sets up shop most weekends in the parking lot of the local strip mall in my town. So, it’s gotta be a thing, right? It’s not every weekend though. Perhaps they have other locations they visit as well. An evangelical tour of sorts. Now, I’m not going to judge anyone for their beliefs… okay fine, maybe I do judge a little. Listen, don’t roll your eyes at me, I’m doing the best I can here! But seriously, does this type of proselytizing really work? I mean, do they see a lot of foot traffic in these pop-up prayer shops?
The gentleman who was apparently in charge of the “mobile prayer” today was using a microphone attached to a bullhorn to garner attention, singing and preaching his heart out about fire and brimstone and eternal damnation. So you get a show whether you want it or not, when all you’re trying to do is go about your business at the Dollar General Store. But I come back to the same question, is this successful? Do people look at this RV with its accompanying trailer and say, you know what I need today? A baptism.
To me, it looks like an obvious (to the audience anyway) trick you’d find in a horror movie where they trap the teenagers who are just a little bit too curious for their own good and then sell their organs on the black market in a gruesome plot twist.
I’m not a church-going person, but even if I were, I’d be hesitant to enter an RV and a makeshift trailer with only one way in and one way out and no windows, no matter how badly I needed to confess or save my God forsaken soul. I’d be more afraid of becoming yet another statistic in the missing persons’ department.
I’ll just stick with Hell, thank you very much. After all, I have a special place waiting for me there.
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I know I’ve talked about online dating and Craigslist a few times before, but I couldn’t let this new opportunity go by without saying at least something. Let’s just take a look at Liam here… wait, my fault, Severin. Because he wants to be called Severin. Be still my heart. Seriously though, I don’t know about the rest of you women out there, but when a guy introduces himself and insists that you call him some strange nickname that is in no way a variation of his regular name, it comes across as kind of … odd. Hi, I’m Steven but you can call me Spider-Man. I think this approach worked better in the 50s when you’d come across some greaser named Ace, Scarface, or Ponyboy, and the next thing you know you’re wearing a leather jacket and riding on the back of a motorcycle. But that’s a different post for a different day. Back to Woman-Slayer Severin here who had his Friday night all planned out to the tee. Severin’s big Movie Night! Co-starring some skinny short girl! Hey, I don’t make the rules. Severin does.
Did a grown man write this ad? Perhaps a teenager? I don’t know what to think here. If it weren’t for the clear misogyny, I might’ve been on unlucky Liam’s, I mean, Severin’s side but instead, I’m left standing here feeling like I just read an ad that should be titled, desperate times call for desperate measures.
Speaking of Severin. I couldn’t figure out if he was referencing some fictional character in his preferred name, like from a book or anime or something so I did a little research. Well, I typed the name into Google at least and came up with nothing substantial. However, I was instantly reminded of Severus Snape from the Harry Potter series and Severin is a masculine given name derived from the Latin word severus meaning severe, serious, strict. Hmm, maybe there is something in a name after all? A little look into the mind of this lady killer perhaps?
Serious question though, are there women out there that would respond positively to this ad? And by positively, I mean would you give him the time of day, let alone trust this post? Twitter is having a ball with this poor sod, but after publicly placing an ad like this, I’m not too sure what he expected. Well, I guess he expected a short skinny girl that was in the market to catch a vampire-themed superhero movie with a stranger that prefers to use a fictitious name at 9:15 p.m. at the Veranda Luxe Cinema. And now here I am, sometime later, and I can’t help but wonder if it worked. To be honest, If the archaic language he apparently uses to try and be cute isn’t enough of a red flag, perhaps his description of the perfect woman (or rather, the imperfect woman) or the, I’m waiting, line at the end will prompt you to say, no thanks! No thick or tall girls, really? I almost felt bad for you Mr. Severin. Almost. And unfortunately for you, almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.
There’s someone for everyone, as they say, and perhaps the same holds true for ol’ Severin here. Love can be very strange as we all know. After all, someone even had the heart to marry Charles Manson while he was in prison, so there is little doubt that there is someone for everyone no matter how high their freak flag waves.
But can you just imagine him telling the story to his kids about how he met their mother? We met at the movies. Well, um, on the way to the movies. Okay, fine, I put up an ad looking for a woman who wasn’t too tall or too fat who might be down to watch Morbius in IMAX on Craigslist and the rest was history. Real love at first sight kind of stuff, right? Maybe I should get some sort of trademark or copyright on this love story before Hallmark blows the roof off this thing.
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I had to run errands today and while I was driving through the parking lot of my local shopping center, I saw a family, with kids in tow, crossing the aisle to go into the local buffet place. Now why they were going to (presumably) eat at a buffet in this day and age is beyond me, but that’s not the point of the story. The dad in this little family unit was carrying an obviously sleeping child draped across his chest, head resting on the man’s shoulder…not really an infant, but too young to be considered a toddler. It was an adorable scene with the standard cute as a button child all bundled up in a little baby parka (with a hood no less!) and little baby boots.
And it got me thinking. That’s the life, isn’t it? I mean, to be a child again wouldn’t be so horrible. At least, in this scenario. You have minimal worries, oh sure, sometimes life can get frustrating, especially when you can’t open the milk by yourself, but generally speaking, no worries. You just play and eat and throw temper tantrums and best of all, you can just sleep whenever you want to and get carried around everywhere for free, like to the aforementioned buffet. Then when you wake up from your slumber, you may not know how you got to wherever it is you find yourself, but there’s food!
Musings from a Tangled Mind 