It works better if you read the title in the SNL "Deep Thoughts" announcer voice:
So in the bathrooms at work, I discovered one stall has a big sticker on the toilet paper-holder of a puppy that says "You did it!" I went back to that stall every time I had to pee because it made me feel accomplished
When you have worked out on your lunch break to such a degree that you are gasping for air like a beached tuna and can't talk, you discover just how awkward miming "where did you put my juice?" can be...
When I work in the babysitting room, the ancient old woman I work with has certain typical old lady habits, such as peeing frequently and telling me the same story over and over again. Except these stories are incredibly deranged and racist and she tells me them completely unprovoked, as if instead of playing with a baby and not engaging her in conversation at all, I had looked her in the eye and said, "Please tell me about the time 'those Haitians' robbed your daughter's yard sale? Or how when 'the minorities' cook things in your condo it smells like 'a tenement house'?"
She once started a story with these words, out of nowhere just like always: "I have a granddaughter. Adopted. My daughter adopted her. She's a bit retarded. And I said 'don't adopt this retarded baby, the mother did dope, she did crack, you can't handle this' but she did it anyway."
The rest of the story involved her granddaughter falling in love with a man who went to prison for "touching little boys"
My mom works at the community center/gym/whatever the hell as well. She was getting back from her lunch break today and exiting her parked car when she heard a mew. Being a crazy cat lady, she investigated further and found that the mew was coming from the car next to her. To be more specific, it was coming from under the engine, where a kitten was inexplicably trapped.
Yeah process that one for a moment.
So the security guard, a terrifyingly deadly looking Israeli woman who apparently is also a crazy cat lady, leaps into action while my mom locates the car's owner. The owner, it turns out, does not have a cat and is extremely perplexed at the kitten in his undercarriage. The kitten was TINY, covered in engine filth and terrified but otherwise ok. We all held it and made kitty noises and became extremely filthy as a result. I mean this cat was just covered in gunge, who knows what color it actually was. So we made it a little kitty bed and got it water and even though my mom and I were in love with it, my dad would burst into a homicidal rage if we brought another cat into the house but thankfully another girl who works the front desk with me and also shares my name (shrug) decided to keep it. Yay!
On the way home from work I had to stop and get gas. While filling up I noticed a stamp-thingy on the side that said the pump was approved by the State Department of Agriculture and Consumer Services and that this man was named Charles Bronson.
Finally, on a slightly unrelated note. I really want to write a movie that would entail a scene where one the main characters bursts out of giant birthday cake yelling "The Swedish hooker is a BOMB!!" Just thought I'd share that with you
Anyways, this is Sugary Cynic reminding you that life is random, and also full of kittens and racist old ladies. Mostly. 'Night!