Yesterday the Guy Who Drives Me Nuts and Whom I Rarely Mention Here brought me a recorder (as in a flutophone). He has a second job at Wal-Mart where they're practically giving them away for the low, low price of 88¢! Why, it's almost enough to make me want to start shopping there!
The recorder is green, obviously very cheaply molded, and has an incredibly nasty plastic smell that gave me a headache when I cut open the package. In retrospect I probably should not have put it into my mouth. It doesn't come apart into three pieces like the higher-quality one my parents paid $12 for when I was taking music class in 6th grade. I can't remember how to play a recorder, but I don't imagine that it would take long for me to re-learn. I don't want to do it at work though (and probably shouldn't), so it's going to have to wait until sometime when I'm at home and bored. I've promised spidermoon77 that I'll learn to play the theme from Blackadder II on it (much to his chagrin, I'm sure).
A few minutes after I wrote that paragraph, somebody ran by causing the recorder to fall down and break. A little model glue will fix it and may even increase its resale value.
Anyway, this afternoon the resident pissed-off and vocal liberal (I'm just pissed-off and liberal) went on a Slurpee run and came back with a "Proud to be an American" button. By itself the button wasn't funny, but it is now that we've adorned it with cutouts of Richard Nixon, Ronald Reagan, Joe McCarthy, and Prezident Bush.
I wonder how long it'll be before someone complains and I have to take it down.
Oh, and on a completely different note, the really attractive teller at my bank whom I've never written about before recognized me and chided me for not setting up the appointment I'd promised to set up. I was at the bank in late January and while she was depositing some cash she talked me into maybe kind considering the possibility of upgrading my checking account. I said yes, okay, I'd think about it, took the brochure, carefully read the fine print (which turned out to be a really good deal) and completely failed to call back because I really don't care. Anyway, she recognized me which made me terribly self-conscious, and I promised -- again -- to call and set up a time to speak with somebody. I left feeling horribly pressured, but in retrospect it was probably the result of being slightly embarrassed by somebody cute. Good sales tactic, that. I mention all of this because a phone number I don't recognize has been calling my cell phone all afternoon. I haven't been answering, and they're not leaving messages. I bet it's the bank.
ADDENDUM: They finally left a message. Yeah, it was the bank.