The One I Couldn't Remember!

While telling a tangential story to my friend Frazzle B, I remembered the last interesting thing. Now I can sleep well. Here you have it.

JB, the girl of lasagna infamy, started a rather intense conversation before ward prayer that she obviously felt compelled to finish right after ward prayer. I, however, was conveniently stowed away in the bedroom of my neighbor's house that we call Narnia (and have for years, predating the recent Chronicles craze) because the door is located at the back of someone's closet area. I was in there with the lights out trying to get the weak, stolen wireless signal from someone in "Ivy House" (sorry, whoever you are). I heard the door open behind me, and assuming it was one of the neighbors, I just ignored them. Then I heard the delicate voice of a female saying, "Limon?" I turned around but could not see her face.

"Announce yourself!" I screamed. Just kidding. That would be weird.

The odd part about this bedroom is that it has become a storage closet for the unused mattresses in the house. Since the occupancy dropped from eleven to six this last summer, there are a lot of unused mattresses. In fact, in order to get to the far side of the room, you have to jimmy yourself between two of them, then shuffle sideways while trying not to fall over.

Interesting. So here I am, breaking the honor code in a dark, secluded room, and the only thing that physically keeps me and my late night visitor from falling rapturously into each other's arms is a myriad of mattresses, a bevy of boxsprings, yea, a flood of frames. It might be the first time that a mattress has protected someone's chastity. Interesting.

Isn't It Interesting?

I have had a few experiences recently that have reminded me that life has a seemingly endless supply of ironic moments ripe for the proverbial picking by astute observers. It reminds me of the time I saw the Carpenter's Guild building. It was made entirely of beautiful marble.

I Hate Money!

Singing Girl has her own car. She lives in a very expensive condo. She pretty much buys whatever she wants. Her parents still pay for her insurance. She just got a large engagement ring. She is a pretty materialistic girl. After describing the post-wedding financial "burdens," she screams, "I hate money. I really do." Interesting. A girl who is in the top 5 percent of all the world's consumers has such a loathing for the very thing that provides her luxuriously care-free life. Interesting.



That Car is in the Way!

My new roommate moved in with his diesel-powered Ford F350, the immense presence of which has been a slight inconvenience for the rest of the residents. My neighbor has the hatchback Aspire, which has trouble clearing a thimble. There are only two places in the lot, which holds 16 cars for 13 people, where the F350 can rest its weary pistons. (These two places include one where it covers two spots and one where it covers three.) The Aspire has been in one of those spots for the last week, still covered in snow.










Yesterday F350 Dude knocked on my door. "Dude, do you know whose little white car that is?" I responded in the affirmative. "Cause he has to move that. Right now I am parked in the middle of the lot, and no one can get out." Interesting. The man who moves in with the truck the size of the greater metropolitan area of Cincinnati complains about the longtime resident who owns one of the tiniest cars I have seen on the road since Steve Urkel's converted laundry basket. Interesting.


The One I Can't Remember

I know there is one more I wanted to share, but I can't think of it for the life of me. Feel free to fill in your experiences until I can remember.

When Words Betray Stupidity

Sometimes our tongues get the best of us. Here is a brief recap of the malapropisms, slips of the tongue, and just plain stupidity that I have encountered.

Today:

History Buff: My husband likes most people that are nice to him. I tend to expect more of my friends--I need to like them and they need to have the same standards. I guess I am just more spectacle of new people.

Yesterday:

The Girl from the Other Side of the Cubicle Wall who Drives Me Insane with Her Incessant Chattering: So you know how theaters in Utah are trying to ban the new movie Broadback Mountain [no, not "Brokeback Mountain"]? Well it just doesn't make any sense that a movie like that would be banned from theaters because the characters are gay when there are other movies that are much worse. Like the new movie Hostile [pronounced with the long i as in "Hoss-style" rather than "Hostel"]. It has the worst violence that this guy on the radio had ever seen, yet no one is trying to ban that from theaters.

From the summer in DC:

The Bantha to wcl: I don't like calimari. They're just covered with all those little testicles.

From senior year:

The Blond Girl: I have a lot of respect for Hannukans.
Limon: You mean Jews?
TBG: Sure.

Limon [yes, even I]: When I went to see my obstetrician--
AP English Class: Your what?
Limon: I mean my optometrist. For my eyes. Never mind.

Conclusion:

So I guess you can't judge a mouth by a single word. Or at least I hope you won't. It takes at least two. (Sorry, The Girl from the Other Side of the Cubicle Wall who Drives Me Insane with Her Incessant Chattering, but you've exceeded your limit.)