The following enlightening conversation between a cashier and a bagger was overheard at the grocery store last night.
Cashier: I’d like a pet armadillo
Bagger: I’d want a penguin.
Cashier: A penguin?! That’s ridiculous. That’s like wanting a pet moose. By the way, have you ever eaten moose? It’s tasty. My friend shot one and we all had moose burgers.
Bagger: Your friend shot a moose? Where was he, like, the Amazon?
If I dwelled on this much longer I might be really sad, so I’ll just leave it here at simply amused.
Another thing that might be really pathetic if dwelled upon, but is funny as a quick anecdote is the time last month when I fell on the train.
Let me set the stage for you. It’s 7:30ish am on a VERY rainy (i.e. monsoon) morning. I arrive at the train station and proceed to the ticket kiosk to purchase round trip fare to LA (where I had training that day). I’m not expecting my train for another 10-15 minutes. Again it’s pouring. The rain had apparently delayed the morning trains and as I’m approaching the ticket kiosk the earlier train arrives. Still needing to purchase my ticket, I still don’t expect to make this one. I buy my ticket and start walking over to the platform. The train is still there. I get closer. The train is still there. I’m three feet away and thinking, “I’m actually going to make this train!” when the doors start to close...instinctively, I leap my six-month pregnant self forward, shoving my open umbrella through the closing doors and barely, BARELY make it inside where I then lose my footing. My legs fly up, I twist sideways and come down hard on my right hip/butt cheek. In the nano-second that followed I (a) try not to pay heed to the train car full of gasping commuters, (b) struggle to make sure my skirt is still covering what it should, (c) jump up before the car attendant can reach me, and (d) retreat to the first empty seat available. Once seated, I try to gather my senses and decide that the injury to my pride is probably greater than the one to my hip. I then start laughing maniacally, further disturbing the morning commuters who are careful to avoid making eye contact with me.
When all was said and done, my umbrella was the only real casualty (besides my pride). Its handle was bent at a full 90 degree angle, which then snapped when I tried to straighten it. RIP, Umbrella. RIP, Pride.
Luckily, I live in Southern CA where one can normally function just fine without either of those things.