Travel & Lifestyle Freelance Writer | Market Research Consultant
About two years ago I promised myself that I would never again buy chapstick.
After acquiring another six free sticks of SPF-ed lip balm thanks to Boulder’s annual Bike to Work Day (my favorite holiday), I hereby renew that promise:
I, Courtney Holden, aspiring professional journalista, hereby promise, once again to, from hereafter, never
again purchase a product that coats my lips.
/s/ Courtney Holden
(I’d sign here, but I can’t figure out how to change my font to something in cursive.:
Have you ever noticed that there’s an direct warning on a box of Q-Tips not to insert them into your ear canal?
I believe there are many oddities wrapped into this single fact.
First of all: Who would have thought that a docile container of cotton-covered sticks no longer than my index finger would need a caution label.
But other than that, let’s examine methods of ear wax removal.
Now I remember hearing stories about my Grandpa Gene, and how he used scissors to dig out that amber substance. To me, sticking something sharp and pointy with cutting as a generally accepted reason for usage into an orifice that must lead somehow into or close to one’s brain seems like a bad idea.
Sticking a soft, fluffy, fits-into-my-ear-like-a-glove item into that same hole … well, it just seems natural.
Warning or no warning … I’m going in for the wax. And I’m using a Q-Tip to do it.
I’m really have no idea what about this spot made my neighbor think it might be a good place to park:
Need more proof that text messaging is a passive-aggressive form of communication?
Here’s a for-instance for you.
Consider Mike who opted to warn with his roommate textually, instead of verbally, last night about the sprinkler system around their new apartment.
That choice resulted William’s disturbance this morning around 5 a.m. by a stream of water and what I can only imagine was a hurried exit from his hammock.
OK, today’s “Challenge of the Day” is to think of one self-defining scenario you’ve walked through in the past week.
For example: I accepted a friend’s offering of some cherries on Sunday (I love free stuff); brought them to work on Monday (I avoid eating out, but need snacks); disposed of the single molded cherry on Tuesday (I try to eat healthfully); saved the rest to eat until Wednesday (I always leave the best for last) and then, while writing an article (I’m a multi-tasker), happily munched on the fruit assuming that even the ones that tasted a bit off probably won’t make me sick (I’m an optimistic risk-taker).
OK, your turn.