And now...
THE ADVENTURES OF JOE AT TARGET AND THE THRIFT STORE.

Part One: Target.
So I got off work the other day and remembered that I had a few things I needed from the grocery store. I didn't have a list (VERY unlike me) but I thought that I could probably remember it once I got there.
How wrong I was. The overwhelming enormity of STUFF at Target is enough to drive any work-weary individual to the very depths of distraction. Or enough to make them forget most of their list. Anyway, I figured that if I couldn't remember it, it wasn't all that important. That left me with the two things I could remember: beer and fabric softener.
There are two things that I find most irksome: clothes that are clean but not soft, and a refridgerator without beer at the end of a long day. So I picked my farbic softener refill (I use the same bottle and recycle the rest!) and then headed to the beer aisle. There I was presented with quite a dilemma. Lately I have been buying very cheap beer. I mean VERY cheap. Like PBR and Old Milwaukee, the kind you can get a 12-pack for $5.50. The kind that tastes like the taste you have in your mouth the morning after having too much of any beer. I am a graduate student supporting myself for all intents and purposes, so cheap beer has been the way to go. But not this time. I broke down and got the Sam Adams Summer Ale. How I love a true, full lager. I didn't go so far as Guinness, but there was a definite break down in the cheap beer buying system.
ANYWAY, when I got up to the checkout, I pulled out my ID, as per normal. I am used to being ID'd and it does not bother me. Well the cash register lady took one look at what I was buying, then took a look at the fact that I was holding my ID, and said, laughing, "I don't need your ID, hon. Only people over 21 would buy just fabric softener and beer." She chuckled a bit more, and I left, realizing that she was probably right.

PART TWO: The Thrift Store
So last night I went to the thrift store to purchase women's clothing that would suffice to pass itself off as being from the 1930s. The reason will com soon. First, the shooting.
So I was outside of the thrift store talking to Jenn when I noticed a car slow down parallel to a few men sitting on some benches outside the store. The men in the car started yelling at the men on the bench, and I was pretty sure that a fight was about to ensue. Just then a man in the car held his arm out the window, there was a loud BANG, and a man near the bench (who was now standing) fell over. The car, after jolting for a moment, sped off. I thought to myself that the man had been shot, so I ran over there.
I found the man clutching his chest and screaming DIOS MIO!!! over and over. I asked if he was Ok and started to try to evaluate the scene. He stopped screaming and just looked at me. Then I noticed that his shirt was quite devoid of any blood and he was definitely not shot. I asked again if he was ok, and he turned and muttered something to his friends in Spanish too fast for me to catch. They then continued staring at me. Thinking back on the situation, I realized that the car had backfired at a most inopportune time, and that the screaming Spanish man had simply been shaken up. That was my cue to leave. I said "Adios" under my breath and called Jenn back to talk more about 1930s women's clothes.
You see, Jenn is going to a wedding this weekend in Arizona, and she has to find a costume for the rehearsal dinner where they are playing out a murder mystery from the 30s. She looked unsuccessfully in Birmingham for some clothes that would work. Since she was strapped for time I volunteered to look at the thrift store in T-town.
When I got there I knew what I was looking for (I had talked to costume expert Liz) so I went to the skirts and blouses. Now looking back I suppose it was a very odd sight to see a skinny white man holding long wool skirts up to himself while trying to hold a blouse up as well. At one point it became too much for one of the workers, and she let out a huge guffaw while saying, "he be tryin on a skirt! Ooooo! Look at 'im in them blouses!" Not wanting to come out on the bottom of this situation, I turned around to her and winked. She stopped laughing and looked very confused.
I found some clothes, purchased them, and left. When I got home I had a Sam Adams Summer Ale, folded some nice soft clothes from the dryer, changed the cat box, and went to sleep.
Adventures.
So if you have gotten this far, I commend you. I don't think I have ever written a post this long with so little actual content.

I hope everyone is well,
Peace,
Joe

Professor Monkey says, Da Peeg has the answer!

Sea Monkey. Majestic. Regal. The answer to the cat / dog debate.

For those of you who voted, Prof. Monkey thanks you. There was no intention on the part of Prof. Monkey to cause any division or cat / dog hating. It was an exercise in pure Monkey Academics, and Da Peeg found the illusive answer.

I will post more later, as I have much to relate about my adventures at the Thrift Store and Target. No really, they were adventures.

I hope everyone is well.
Peace,
Joe

Professor Monkey asks:

"Which is your favorite, and why?"

Please indicate your choice in the handy comments section below.

Peace,
Joe

My oldest brother Will is busy. So busy, in fact, I think he must have gotten a time-turner from Dumbledore.

Joe: "Did you see Will come in?! When did he get here?"

Anyway, I was talking to Will today about a paper he is writing and he told me one of the funnies things I have ever heard.

Ever. Heard.

His paper is on slang, and touches on, among other things, how slang affects school kids who have English as their second language (ESL kids). As you might imagine, much can be lost in translation. Or in the case I am about to relate to you, added.

Will was looking for a funny example of just how mystifying some English slang can be to ESL kids. He's using a magazine that is entirely in slang in his example. One of the adds has a picture of a lady on a cell phone at a golf course with the caption, "Chris on the back nine? Hells yeah." Now there is a website where ESL folks can enter slang into a computer for translation into their language, then back into English to understand what it means. Here's what happens when you use this slang phrase for a Spanish Speaking individual:

SLANG: Chris on the back nine? Hells yeah.
SPANISH: ¿Chris en los nueve traseros? Infiernos sí.
BACK INTO ENGLISH: Chris in the nine buttocks? Infier to us yes.

Sweet sassy molassy I have barely stopped laughing since he called and told me all this.
It has me tripping on very cold stones.

Other than that, I work, then work somewhere else, then work yet again at another place, then sometimes see my girlfriend. Also I have reclaimed my guitar from the ferocious Denny Chimes.

I hope everyone is well.
Peace,
Joe "Chris in the nine buttocks? Infier to us yes." Chandler

Little Belle is a rat. She lives with me.
She also apparently is a ninja.

A ninja capable of amazing feats of escaping and stealing peanut butter. Because if there are objectives of a secret clan of ninja rats, I imagine that escaping cages and eating large amounts of peanut butter would be in their creed.

Because I am tired, I will not delve into the details of how I became privy to the fact that the lab rat who lives with me is trained to accomplish things I once thought were only attributable to Bruce Lee. But she is.

I am relatively busy at this point in the summer. Three jobs and a renewed joy of "reading for pleasure" (an undertaking that involves the use of non-academic printed material) have my days pretty much tapped. I have seen Jenn a few times (hooray!) because she is in Birmingham and my job often brings me there. Well really my car brings me there. But I drive my car. To Birmingham. To work. Then I see Jenn after work. Yes. Tired.

But when I think I have a whole bunch to do I think of all the stuff my brother Will is doing, and what I am doing turns into a pleasant stroll with no amount of work involved. Go Will. Go.

To other things. The Harry Potter movie is awesome. Twice. Go see it. Twice.

Today I watched President Reagan's funeral. He was sworn in to his first term as president two months before I was born. He lived 93 years. Whatever you think about his presidency, the man had a great sense of humor and kept Jelly Beans in the Oval Office. Enough said.

As a final word, watch out if you have any rat-like pets. Your peanut butter supply may be in jeopardy.

I hope everyone is well.
Peace,
Joe