Things That Probably Only I Notice/Care/Think About

Paint ain't
I was going to WalMart and saw a sign on a paint store that I'm sure was printed "PAINT SALE," but a little flap of the sign was blown over, so instead it said "AINT SALE." I don't know why that was so amusing to me. "Sorry, son, you cain't buy no paint here. You saw the sign. Ain't no sale."

Butterfly cards
Upon arriving at Wally World, I was elated to find a package of blank cards that were just imprinted with me-ness. Lavender-rimmed with a lone butterfly in the middle. I almost believe God knew I wanted to buy some blank cards, and He knew what kind of cards I wanted in my heart of hearts, so he aligned a series of events so that I would walk in to Wal Mart and see those cards and buy them with a sense of destiny.

Blowdryer
I have a dilemma. I keep breaking my blowdryer attachment combs, so I constantly buy replacement attachments. I used to have a Vidal Sassoon but I don't anymore. But the only replacement attachments I can find in town that come close to fitting are Vidal Sassoon. But the attachments don't fit exactly right on my blowdryer because they're not the right brand, so they break even more often. So I resolved to give in and just buy a new Vidal Sassoon blowdryer of the right model so that the attachments would fit. But WalMart didn't have any, the brutes. So I went to one of those special stores that has an array of "ethnic hair care" products along with a better variety of blowdryers. The store is run by a polite, efficient Korean lady who usually gives me the hookup with the attachment replacements. But today I walked in and was shocked to see an old, starkly white man manning the register. Seeing him juxtaposed with the entire wall of hair weave packages behind him was mildly amusing. Meanwhile, I eavesdropped on the Spanish conversation of two Hispanic women at the register ahead of me. I thought of the events in World History that allowed my existence, the man's existence, the Korean lady's existence and the Hispanic women's existences to converge in that beauty supply store.

Pimp to punk
Listening to the banal Christian radio station on the way to Panera Bread, I noticed that the word "pimp" is replaced with "punk" in what I guess is the radio version of tobyMac's song "Lose My Soul." (This comes after Mr. Franklin steps up to the mic.) Like, it's a Christian song, but they had to Christianize it even more in order to make it acceptable to a mainstream Christian audience. But, how is a punk more Christian than a pimp?

Panera vs. Starbucks
Upon arriving at Panera, I was excited at the prospect of getting to use my fully stamped card to get a free drink. Each time you buy a drink, you get a stamp on your little card (if you present it, which I always promptly do.) You have to get that puppy stamped eight times before you reach the status of free drinkdom. Then you get a new card and it begins anew. Then I wondered why Panera doesn't seem to have the prestige of Starbucks. It has so many more advantages: the free drink card, free Wi-Fi, and they offer actual food in addition to good coffee. Maybe because the more accessible something is, the less prestige it has. Or rather, the more prohibitive elements surrounding something, the more prestige it has. At Starbucks, you have to pay for Wi-Fi, for example.

(Sigh.) I know that I must enjoy these last few days of wandering musings and enjoy them well. For the day approaches where my brain will once again be held hostage to work.