The past is sometimes a lie
Last week I needed to renew my registration, walked into a California Department of Motor Vehicles office carrying prepared paperwork I'd downloaded, took a number, and 16 minutes later I was done. I thought of calling an ambulance to meet me and my aneurysm outside, but I survived.
Once, in Massachusetts, I spent seven hours at a DMV. Once, in New York, I spent six hours at a DMV, doing the same thing that took me 16 minutes last week.
This morning I went to a gas station with three banks of double-sided filling islands. Only the island I'd parked near (x) had no number. I quickly looked at the visible numbers as I approached the cashier. It looked like this:
 I asked the cashier if I could have $20 on (x=Pump 7).
In seventh grade I was confident that I would never use algebra in everyday life. And I am still correct; if that were an algebra problem, I would be credited $20 at the nonexistent Pump 6 and 1/9.
Instead, I used analogies. Thanks again, tenth grade English teacher Sheila Hallissy! First you taught me Antony's Funeral Oration, now you're saving me cash on gas!
See also: Stopping by Brutus on a Snowy EveningLabels: abstractions, california, education, los angeles, massachusetts
Time machine
Whenever I buy something at Costco, it is a pleasant reminder that there is so much left to do. "This product will see me through a lot of changes," I think solemnly.
That is how I felt when I bought a 40-oz. bottle of Kirkland Signature Shampoo recently, which I began using today. How long will it last me? I can guarantee that the Fetus to Be Named Later will have arrived by the time the last coconut/petroleum squirt has been dispensed from the bottle's black pump nozzle.
It is not lost on me that that is also the way babies are born.
As Tot #2 will transform from an inboard to an outboard, magma to lava neonate, so too does each depression of the shampoo pump bring forth something heretofore only supposed, hinted at.
The world around the bottle of Kirkland Signature Shampoo will change, and so will I. I may cut my hair or grow my beard. The amount of shampoo I use daily could change, too. Luckily, the convenient pump dispenser is well-suited to potential changes in my mane's needs.
It pleases me to know that this weapons-grade bottle of hair product is proof of the existence of Time, and undeniable evidence that I control my own mortality.
Previously: Costco 1975; Walt Churro
Labels: abstractions, commerce
|



Below is the only pornographic image you will find on this site. Sorry, I can't be all things to all people.

The
links below may, and often do, contain objectionable material. Go ahead.
Wreck your life.
|