Give til it hurts
Now that Christmas is over, we can talk about the flop sweat panic of last-minute shopping. You know what I mean. It’s Christmas Eve and you still haven’t found the right gift for that special someone. So, you’re in Walgreens at 10 after 11 p.m. and in your desperation, every single thing on every single shelf starts to look like a potential gift. “Say, do you suppose she’d like a shoe horn? An, oh look! Who doesn’t need a toilet plunger and an economy box of corn pads!” When you’re in that state, you have no choice but to go with quantity over quality and the results can be . . . Well. Good thing the lady loves you, right? Ha! Just kidding. You’ll be single by the new year.
What’d you call me?
The other day, I had that stupid Grinch song stuck in my head and everywhere I went, I continued singing it under my breath. There are lines in that song that you don’t want to be muttering in a crowded store. The guy at the smoke shop thought I was calling HIM a “bad banana” and over at the hardware store, I got the stink eye from an old guy who apparently didn’t cotton to being referred to as “cuddly as a cactus.” I think it was the bit about the 39-and-a-half-foot pole, though, that got me thrown out of the Jiffy Lube.
Fire at the pot store
A fire at a Lewiston cannabis store was likely caused by potting soil spontaneously bursting into flames. Great. Another little something to worry about in the new year. With my wife maintaining an estimated 75,000 plants around here, one of them is bound to catch fire and set my drum set ablaze. Anyone know a good divorce lawyer?
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