Talk of the Town Ernie Anderson
The Sound of Seasoning
Went to Trader Joe’s in Portland this weekend, against my will as always. Every time I go into that store, I can’t get that stupid Simon and Garfunkel song out of my head. You know, the one where they sing that line over and over about parsley, sage, rosemary and Trader Joe’s 21 Seasoning Salute. Total ear worm, that.
How much for the Twizzlers?
I’m just going to be frank about it: I don’t think we’ll ever have peace in this world until we can sort out this whole dollar store fraud. I mean, the Dollar Tree is a true dollar store in that you can pay for your loot with just a single dollar, even if you now have to throw in some loose change, as well. But the Dollar General? Family Dollar? Imposters. Impersonators. Infiltrators. It’s like we’re in a dollar store cold war and something has got to be done.
My apologies…
for that rant. I’m still bitter that the Family Dollar wants NINE BUCKS for a stupid pair of sunglasses. That’s $4.50 per eye!
The future is now
You know what makes me feel like the future has finally arrive? It’s not artificial intelligence, quantum computers or any of that virtual reality goofiness. To me, it’s lights with sensors on them. To me, THAT is the future we’ve all been waiting for. When I walk into my backyard, lights go on to acknowledge my presence. In closets and cabinets all over the house, my presence is detected and the lights switch on as if in obeisance. I even have sensor lights on my toilet, which is just grand. Makes me feel super important, like I’m somebody of note aboard the Starship Enterprise and not some peon like… I dunno, Chekov.
I mean, really REALLY nervous
The other night, I described somebody as “nervous as a chair in a cat full of rocking rooms.” And I wasn’t even drunk! I then laughed so hard at my own blunder, I think I pulled something. And people wonder why I don’t like to speak in public.
Call me Blossom
I feel bad for the flowers this time of year. You take some little daffodil who, seeing that it’s hit 65 degrees three days running, decides to pop his dainty head out into the world for the first time after the long, cold winter. Hooray, says the daffodil! Happy times are here again! Next day, it drops down to 35 again and bam! The daffodil is withered, sad and broken beyond repair. That’s right, chums. I am the daffodil in this story.
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