Category Archives: Ooooookay

You never know what you’ll find.

Several years ago, the appearance of a Goodwill donation truck in the local commuter lot prompted a running gag in our family. The truck sat there in plain sight of the interstate indefinitely. Might even still be there. I don’t know. We moved a few months ago. After donating 40% of our belongings to Goodwill, actually.

Anyway…Every time Merkin and BratzBasher drove past, they’d speculate on what sort of items might be dropped off there. After spotting a volunteer sitting in the back of the truck one day, they had a little story going about poor Henry, an elderly man whose wife decided he didn’t match the furniture anymore. Poor Henry was left to await collection in the back of the Goodwill trailer. Why do I mention this? Because it turns out that there is a surprising amount of leeway in what you can donate to Goodwill.*

I dropped BB off at college this morning and spent a little time wandering the local Goodwill. You never know what bizarre things you might find, and I sometimes send photos of funny discoveries to BB for her to look at between classes. Last week, it was a 4-ft-tall chili pepper plushy with a mustachioed grin and a sombrero. This morning, I was so stunned by my discovery that I forgot to take a photo. I’m sure y’all will understand why. It was sitting on the top shelf of an end-of-aisle display featuring decorative knick-knacks. It looked like a large, white, ceramic egg (about 6″ tall). I turned it around to see if there was any sort of picture or design on it. Maybe it was an Easter decoration? It was completely unadorned, but it seemed oddly heavy, so possibly a bookend? I hefted it up off the shelf to confirm that it was definitely heavier than a hollow, ceramic egg should be. That’s when I noticed the plug on the bottom. It looked like what you see on piggy banks. It didn’t rattle*, so there were definitely no coins inside. What the heck is in this thing?

Any guesses? I hadn’t a clue myself, so I wiggled the plug out and peeked inside. Oh My Lanta. It was a plastic bag filled with ash. As ridiculously unbelievable as it seemed, there was no doubt in my mind that I had discovered an urn. An occupied urn. I cast about for an employee and found an older woman stocking the shelves. “Ahem. Excuse me, ma’am? Are you aware what this is?”

The woman gave me that I-just-work-here look and said, “People donate stuff, and we sell it.”

“Um…this is an urn. And it’s full.”

Her eyes got really big. “No. You can’t be serious. Are you sure?”

I unplugged it again and showed her the inside.

“Good Lord! Who on earth donates somebody’s remains?”

I suggested that the donor most likely had no idea what the object was. She reluctantly took it from me and half-jokingly wondered if she should take it home and bury the pour soul in her backyard before she came to her senses and announced she would take it up front to the manager. I honestly have no idea what happened to it after that, but I do think it more likely the ashes belong to someone’s deceased pet.

Of course, I immediately texted Merkin, who told me not to buy it. Then I texted another friend who wondered what sort of person you’d have to be to get donated to Goodwill — or what sort of haunting would be suitable for someone who would donate a person to Goodwill. When I relayed all of this to BB after she finished classes for the day, her immediate response was, “I’m sorry, Henry, but you just don’t match the furniture anymore.” I can’t fault her for that since I was thinking the exact same thing. Though, the egg was never decorated. It could’ve matched pretty much any decor. No excuse, really.

*Actually, there’s just a really good chance that what you donate won’t immediately be recognized as inappropriate.

**Yes, I did shake it, but of course I felt bad about that later when I realized what it was. Not that I could have done any damage, but it seemed disrespectful.

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Correct me if I’m wrong, but…

I saw this sticker on a car while out and about today:

save_a_life_spay_neuter_stickerFirst of all, I’d like to point out that I’m all in favor of spaying and neutering your pets to prevent unwanted pet progeny. The bottom line on this sticker is a great message; however (and I admit I’m nit picking here), I’m having a little difficulty with the accuracy of the first three words at the top. Whose life are we saving by spaying or neutering our pets? Theirs? Ours? No. I believe the idea is that the act of spaying or neutering will prevent innocent, unwanted kitties and puppies from being killed — whether in shelters or the harsh life of the streets. How are we preventing this murder? By preventing the kitties and puppies from ever being born. Shouldn’t we be saying, “Prevent a Life So We Don’t Have to Kill It”?

My apologies if you are an animal lover/animal rights activist/anyone who is offended by talk of killing puppies/kitties. I’m just bugged by weird things like inaccurate bumper sticker statements.


NOTE TO SELF: Pizza at 2:00 AM is never a good idea.

I had a seriously crazy dream last night involving:

  • an old high school boyfriend
  • Neil Diamond
  • toe rings
  • a de-aged brother-in-law
  • high school marching band

I can’t even begin to explain all of it, but I will say that Neil Diamond had taken a page out of Jane Seymour’s book and started his own line of jewelry called “Diamond Love”, and the father of a friend of mine had surprised his wife with His/Her toe rings from this collection for their wedding anniversary.

It was sausage pizza, by the way. That always seems to be the riskiest topping for midnight pizza snacks.


Things that make you say, “Really?”

Our neighbor held up traffic while walking her dog today.  Apparently, she couldn’t get out of the way because her dog was doing its business in the middle of the street.  On a positive note, she did pick up after it.  On an even more positive note, it wasn’t my lawn.  (That would be our other neighbors’ dog.)


This shouldn’t bother me as much as it does.

Okay, you know those mechanical gorillas that businesses put out in front to attract customers?  And you know how sometimes they dress the gorilla up to make it more eye-catching?  That can have some unfortunate consequences, in my opinion.

There is a local business that I drive by just about every day.  They have a gorilla.  Months ago, they added a day-glo yellow vest (the kind construction workers wear).  That was fine.  It was when they added the pink tutu that things got a little weird.  You see, the gorilla doesn’t have any hips.  The tutu started slipping down just a couple of days after it appeared.  A couple of weeks ago, the tutu had arrived at a place rather low down on said gorilla,  and I can’t help thinking it looks…hmm…how shall I put this?  The gorilla appears to be exhibiting inappropriate behavior.  It’s like it’s flashing passing traffic.

I know this shouldn’t bother me.  It’s a gorilla.  Gorillas don’t even wear tutus.  It isn’t even an anatomically correct gorilla.  It does bug me, though.  Am I crazy?  And no, I will not provide a picture.


Thank you for that valuable ft information.?

You won’t get the title if you don’t read the entire post.  I recommend reading it aloud for maximum enjoyment.  Without further ado, here is what I found in my spam queue:

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You’re welcome.


This one’s a doozy.

I had a crazy dream last night.  I’m sure you’d love to hear all about it.

So my oldest sister put together a circus — sort of a family reunion celebration, except that the family had to work in the circus instead of enjoy it.  I had the worst job.  I was in charge of all the sound for the circus.  From opening to closing, I controlled the sounds, the music, all of the audio.  I even did the animal sounds, although there were real animals who could’ve made the sounds.  This is a lot of work, so Big Sis ordered a contraption built to help me manage it all.  It was made from plywood, various bungee cords, and an old stationary bicycle.  I had to pedal the bike to power the machine.  All afternoon/evening.  Everyone else got breaks in between their acts.  I was really put out, as you can imagine.

Anyway…there were other parts to this dream that are not so clear, but still interesting– including the fact that nobody remembered to pack any extra socks to wear (except me).  One of the most bizarre side plots was the orchestra.  (My contraption only signaled them when to play.  It didn’t produce actual music.)  The musicians were all Charlton Heston clones.  It gets better.  They were various ages because each year, they’d make a new clone for each instrument in the orchestra.  Each generation of clones had a day job — such as policeman, accountant, whatever — though why they couldn’t make money as the Charlton Heston Clone Orchestra baffled me.

Weird, huh?