Travel & Lifestyle Freelance Writer | Market Research Consultant
I just had to move my seat at the coffee shop because the sunlight reflecting off of an SUV in the parking lot was blinding me.
I figured the potential for a tan wasn’t worth the lasting effects on my vision.
Sigh.
I love summer, and I love Boulder, and I love coffee shops.
Oh how I hope I can earn money with this freelancing thing …
So I’ve never been a huge fan of “chatting” on-line. I didn’t have the Internet when AOL was huge. I never really got into AIM. And I’m not on Facebook long enough to have any sort of conversation.
And let’s be honest … far too often it’s some random person who you haven’t spoken with since high school (and who you didn’t really like in high school) who’s apt to “chat” you.
But today, sitting in a Boulder coffee shop, Cafè Sole, next to two great friends, I made excellent use of the G-Chat function of G-mail.
See, somebody nearby smelled. BADLY.
So obviously, it would have been rude to say something along the lines of “Holy crap, what’s that rancid stench?” Or, “For crying out loud, who’s wearing onion-flavored deodorant?”
Enter G-Chat’s functionality. We were able to mock, laugh and deride whichever individual sitting near us hadn’t showered in a month. All in a (relatively) silent manner.
Actually, both ladies thought I should use my investigative journalism skills to figure who the culprit was. But what publication would run the story?
Obviously … The Onion.
Happy Earth Day everyone!
Have you gotten into the festivities yet by planting a tree or recycling something?
One thoughtful group of fraternity brothers at the University of Colorado was kind enough to hand out free coffee and hot chocolate. The vessel in which the liquid was being offered: Styrofoam!
Sigh. Really, guys? You do realize that’s going to go rot in a landfill for the next 873 years, right?
Working on a pretty interesting story right now about the University of Colorado’s Green Labs program for the Daily Camera.
Unfortunately, everyone and their brother that I want to talk with is attending the Campus Sustainability Awards.
Congratulations to all of the winners, but please hustle your Earth-saving buns back to your desks. I need to talk to you!
Sigh. What are the freakin’ odds?
In Boulder, where fitness reigns and spandex-clad could-be models strut, veggie chips are a favorite.
I know you’re busy right now–we all are (Why do you think I just got done cleaning my bathroom and vacuuming my room? Two words: procrastination strategies.), but take a second and Google “veggie chips.” Here, I’ll help you out: click THIS.
It’s amazing! So many different brands of these dehydrated impersonations of something healthy.
Leave it to Americans to take a food group virtually calorie-less, inject some some air and a load of fat, slap on a label that reads “Veggie,” and call a product nutritional.
Oh dear …
Women living in Boulder have undoubtedly noticed the signs hanging on the backs of bathroom stall doors everywhere, always in prime view while peeing.
“Don’t flush your feminine products down the toilet as this causes clogging, etc., etc., blah, blah, blah.”
That’s old news.
What I find interesting–I’m debating about whether or not to start a spreadsheet in order to compile my data more formally–is the vast assortment of clip art that tends to go along with this particular admonition.
Sometimes it’s one of those female symbols … you know, the one with the circle and the arrow pointing out of it. If this is the case it will be, without fail, in some putrid shade of pink that’s supposed to be womanly, but mostly just makes me throw up a little bit in my mouth.
Other times it will be the standard “no” symbol, that vivid red circle with the line through it. You can use your own imagination regarding what additional clip art object is inserted into the center of said circle.
Last night, however, at CU’s Mackey Auditorium, I saw a decal new to my well trained eye: a hand with four fingers curled into a fist, while the index finger stood up straight. There were little squiggles off to the sides giving the obvious impression that the finger was moving back and forth in a blatant “Do not do this or I will send you to the moon” kind of indication.
They’re definitely getting points on my spreadsheet for creativity.
But what I found especially interesting was the unmistakable gender of that wagging finger: male.
“Odd,” I thought.
Mike, however, pointed out that it was likely to be a man who would be doing the unclogging.
Despite all of my feminist tendencies, I have to relent: Touché.