My dad just tried to tell me the joke again. He forgot he told it to me already. This time it went like this.
Musician 1: Did you hear that Bob died?
Musician 2: Really? What did he die from?
Musician 1: I don’t know. It wasn’t serious.
He also told me that the key to the punchline is the word wasn’t. Obviously it was serious otherwise he wouldn’t have died.
My father told me that he told the guy that’s remolding the kitchen this joke this morning and he laughed right away. He knows a funny joke when he hears one.
I still don’t know what makes this a musicians’ joke.
My dad just called me to tell me a joke. “This is a musicians joke, so you might not get it,” he said. After retelling the joke to me several times, he finally remembered the punchline. He thought it was incredibly funny, but I still don’t get it. Here it is:
Musician 1: Did you hear that Bob died?
Musician 2: Really? What’d he die of?
Musician 1: Something serious.
We’re all familiar with the supercenter, those ridiculously large stores that stock anything and everything you can possibly imagine. I’ve never been a fan of these monstrosities.
When I was in college, I went to my first supercenter. They weren’t called that at the time. It was called Harry’s. I’d been shopping at Harry’s for about a year before I realized that they sold groceries there. I’d been going to the store for my clothing needs, completely ignorant of the frozen food section that lay hidden behind the men’s clothing. Sometimes I’m not very observant so I never noticed the people in line behind me with carts full of groceries.
I’d gone to Harry’s with a friend to buy a t-shirt. After a few minutes of sifting through piles of shirts, she said, “I want to buy some apples.”
I thought she meant that after we’d paid for our shirts she wanted to go to the grocery store. That’s not what she meant at all. She walked to the back of the store. There was a whole grocery store back there! Not a few food items, it was an entire grocery store with canned goods and produce and frozen foods.
My friend walked purposefully to the produce section and started picking through a pile of red apples. I was immediately repulsed. “You’re going to eat those?” I asked.
“What else would I do with them?” she laughed.
I just couldn’t get over it. How could you trust food from a store that sells bras? I just couldn’t do it. Clothes and food shouldn’t be sold side by side. I know it’s supposed to be convenient, but it just doesn’t feel right. I never shopped for anything at Harry’s again.
In the UK they have hypermarts. A hypermart is an impossibly large store that never has what I need in stock. I can’t figure out how they have so much and so little at the same time. I tried to buy a bar of soap at one the other day and they only had five choices. How can that be? The store lasts for miles and they only have five different kinds of soap!
If you can’t find something in your local hypermart don’t bother asking the staff because they’re about as lost in the place as you are. One day I went there to buy an umbrella and had to ask four staff members before anyone could tell me anything helpful at all.
I don’t frequent hypermarts because I still have a problem with buying food and clothing in the same place. If I went to them more often I’d probably start to like them. For now I’m all right with letting others have the convenience of one-stop shopping all to themselves.
I hold a special place in my heart for earthworms. I don’t know why, but I can’t pass an earthworm in distress without coming to its aid. When I see their wriggling bodies on the sidewalk I carefully pick them up and place them in the dirt. That’s what I usually do, but it’s not what I did today.
Yesterday, when I walked to the grocery store, I rescued a particularly fat earthworm that had somehow found it’s way to the middle of the sidewalk. “Ah, look,” I said to my husband before stopping to pick it up and place it in the grass. I felt like I was doing my good deed for the day. I saved another earthworm.
Today when I walked home from th store, I saw an earthworm the exact same size and shape as the one from the previous day in the exact same spot. Seeing it there made me feel annoyed, so I stepped over it and kept walking. I thought, if it is the same worm from yesterday, it must want to be there.
I have to admit that for the rest of the walk home I felt guilty about not stopping to help my slimy friend. What if he wasn’t the same earthworm? I even considered going back to help it but didn’t. I wonder if someone else helped it.
I forgot to write a post last week. Can you believe it? I don’t know how that happened.
My parents made a special day trip to Ikea on the 4th of July. My father was so excited to tell me about it. He doesn’t realize that after our struggle to find affordable furniture when we first moved here I’ve had just about enough of Ikea.
According to my father the highlight of Ikea was the cinnamon bun he ate there. “I like that place. I wouldn’t mind going back. That cinnamon bun was good too. I’m gonna get another one of those.” As long as he can get sweets at a place he likes it there.
My sister went to Ikea with them and bought a rug and throw pillows for her living room. My dad had this to say about that. “You should see here living room. It looks so cute with the new rug and pillows. She’s got that house looking so cute.”
My dad comes back from Ikea and now “cute” is a regular word in his vocabulary to describe interior design. He must be quoting my sister. I don’t think he’d say something like that on his own.
