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Showing posts from May, 2011

Rain of Shame

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We all know that things happen to me that don't happen to other people (evidence here , here , and here ).  It may or may not have to do with the fact that I'm always walking or riding the bus somewhere.  The following story involves both.  One time, years ago, I was walking to the bus stop from my apartment.  It was a well-populated bus stop just north of Dupont Circle.  As was often the case, I was running late and the bus was just about to pull away as I rushed up. I reached into my purse to pull out my SmarTrip card as the bus driver stopped and opened the doors.  As I dug in to get my card, in a way that would only happen to me, my hand caught on something, and I whipped out a nearly-full (but already opened) box of tampons.  In slow motion, as is always the case with these things, they flew into the air, raining down feminine protection on my head.  It was at that exact moment that all 63 people on the bus turned their heads to the window to see what was going on.  Peop

To Catch a Mockingbird

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The other day while I was at work, WH called to inform me of a rogue crow who had gotten himself into a little trouble over at his parents' building.  It seems that the little guy (I'm assuming it was male, but feel free to reassign the gender in your reading of this tale) had gotten himself wedged in between a window and where the laundry room was.  He was being dutifully watched by two of his crow pals, who were squawking up a storm.  This went on for a day or so, watched carefully by WH's mother.  Finally, they could take it no more so WH went to building management to see if someone might help free the bird.  They would not.  This prompted a call to Animal Control , who couldn't indicate when they might arrive, so WH took matters into his own hands. He took a broom and went down to save the little fella. The little bird was freed, all the while under the watchful eye of his two crow buddies.  By this point, Animal Control had arrived and informed WH that the buddi

A Case of Mistaken Identity

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I was out for drinks earlier this week and my sister relayed a story to me that is too good not to share.  As I've mentioned, I had (and am still getting over, if we're to be honest) Royal Wedding Fever last week.  It seems that I was not alone, because as my sister was cutting a client's hair (she's a hairdresser-duh) last Saturday the topic came up.  And this is where the story gets good. The client, a young woman of about 24, was talking about the fashions (and the hats, oh the hats!).  Tongues were already wagging about Princess Beatrice's ridiculous chapeau.   Here's how it happened: Princess Beatrice via Jezebel Client: So I saw Fergie's daughters at the wedding. Sister: Oh yeah?  I heard about their hats.  After a little more conversation about the hats, the conversation turned back to Fergie.  Client:  Isn't Fergie too young to have kids that age? Sister:  I don't think so.  She must be close to 50 by now. Client:  Really?  W