Out and about, running errands and everywhere I turn, I see something that makes me want to do a mini-rant, starting with this good news - our local fast food restaurant is NOW HIPING. I'm not sure how many other restaurants are hiping, but I'm glad to see that this one is; it might be at the forefront of the whole hiping movement.
No, the picture above is not Photoshopped in any way (just cropped!). I'm going to take a wild guess that this was supposed to say "now hiring."
Everyone makes mistakes; I find one or more typos AFTER I post, almost daily! But when you have a full crew, three shifts of employees, managers and a line of customers in drive-up that are facing the sign, surely someone has mentioned it. Hire or hip someone to fix the sign.
|Holy Cow, what is this?|
Just when I thought I'd seen every creepy bug in the world, this thing falls on my shirt and made me do the most spastic disco-meets-the-stroll dance, all while slapping my own shirt. My neighbors saw that, people.
And I'm still obsessing: what is the world is this??? And why is it University of Tennessee Vols orange? Is this a science project that flew off campus and landed in my yard?
He probably has brothers and sisters out there in my yard, waiting to pounce. I WILL dance the dance again, if necessary.
|Oh, Wine Yoke, you are ridiculous.|
Someone messed up. Just that fact that you are having a glass of wine does raise your street cred above anyone laying on the park bench with a bottle of Wild Turkey. Purchase this item with the intent of using it and you might as well ask the park bench person to scoot over. Most likely, he won't want to be seen with you. Wine Yoke is ridiculous.
Note that the label shows a guy eating his delightful party crudites and hors d'oeurvres and basking in the knowledge that he is having The Ultimate HANDS FREE Wine Experience. Classy.
|"Fill 'er up? Sure, Mom, no problem."|
I don't care what anyone says; this picture illustrates the very best thing about having a teenager who is learning to drive. I may never have to pump gas again, or at least for a long, long time. Between my very polite Hubzam, and Gonzo's willingness to do anything I ask if it involves driving, I'm in the sweet spot.
|My new butter dish is perfect.|
I don't want to use a lot of butter, but when I have to use it - I want real butter, and the good stuff. I'm talking Plugra or Kerrygold. That golden slap of fatty diary heaven is given the same treatment as caviar (the good stuff!).
Grocery store debates are a regular occurrence with Hubzam and I. Hubzam always tells me that all butter is the same, and it doesn't matter which one I get. Okay; let me get the one I want, right?
He will point to some tub of soft spread and inform me that it is best. Fine; I buy it.
Then everyone uses the top shelf Cherdo butter, and when I finally want to partake of it's golden lottery of goodness, it's gone.
My custom butter dish fixed that. I snub the tub.