A purveyor of meat snacks has released a breakfast sausage version of their product and they are promoting it on grocery store shelves paired with orange juice. The sign carries the cringe-worthy headline “Meat the Day.”
As website owners have been trying to find the right mix of content – or words that people would actually want to read – for their shopping sites, I encountered an example of this going in the other direction. I saw an in-store display of online content in the teen section of a department store. These short, helpful articles added to the shopping experience, and ideally convinced customers to buy the nearby products.
A single state official has had little luck finding a date online. It seems that her desires do not align with her matches. All they want to do is cuddle and walk on the beach. Apparently she is looking for more than hand holding. “If that’s all I wanted to do, I’d get a dog and a metal detector.”
We went to an escape room and had to solve a mystery in one hour. We were looking for pirate treasure. There were three very different kinds of brains in the room, and my daughter was the most adept at seeing the patterns and applying them. We did not complete the task. We managed to get one magic box with a key inside away.
I never really knew what a pedicure was. I thought it was focused on your toenails. Thanks to my girlfriend and a rainy day at the beach, I got my first pedicure. I had no idea that it involved removing the dead skin from my calloused feet. And now they are smooth. Very smooth.
Whenever someone utters some profanity – almost always words we have heard before – and follows it by “pardon my French,” my first thought is that what they said is not French. Sometimes I even say that. This is not just something that bugs me, but I wanted to know where it came from. It seems to have evolved from a general animosity between the English and the French. The context for this expression is that anything coarse or vulgar is French. But it makes no sense that Americans say this.
I came across a podcast with a name that someone thought was overly clever. It was from a Chamber of Commerce and someone was proud of their slightly punny name. There was one problem. They sacrificed meaning for the joke. A podcast is about sharing information to a broader audience than might otherwise hear from you. And what did they call it? The Echo Chamber.
A woman in Arizona broke into a stranger’s house and was standing in the kitchen. Naked. Cooking. She thought she had broken into her boyfriend’s house. She was unsure which was his house, as they had only met a few days before at the Circle K. She was pretty sure his name was Mike.
I started another version of this blog 12 years ago. It has been on various platforms and on various domains. It is filled with missing photos and broken links, because on a personal blog with nearly 1500 posts, it is just not worth tracking all that stuff down and fixing it. Most of the recent posts have limited outside links and images, so I won’t have to worry about this kind of thing 12 years from now.
A couple of years ago I made my birthday private on social media because I no longer wanted to participate in the birthday industrial complex driven by social media. Consequently, that means that I only get a handful of birthday calls and texts from people who don’t need a reminder that today is my birthday. But the number of commercial messages has increased. My dentist, my insurance company, my university, an app I’ve never used, and even an airline have sent birthday messages. There is even a Google doodle on the search page with a birthday graphic and alt text that says, Happy Birthday Jeff, when you roll over the graphic with your mouse. I guess I can’t avoid the birthday wishes in the digital world.