Walmart and Biker Dudes

The funniest things seem to happen to me, I mean you, at Walmart.

Imagine you go with your mom to Walmart to pick up some last minute things before you head up to girls camp. You tell her you need to go to the men's hat section to get a hat big enough to fit on your huge noggin. She says she'll be in the food section.

You find the hats. They are all for sports teams. You don't know anything about sports teams. Why would any team pick a pair of socks to be their mascot anyway? You stand there trying to find something that won't make you look like too much of a poser.

A short, stalky, bald biker looking dude with a long gnarly goatee comes up to the side of you.

He says, "The first thought that came to my mind was, 'this must be where all the beautiful people come.'"

You think to yourself, "Yes. They come to Walmart." But you say out loud, "Yep! They hang out in the men's hat section!"

He continues walking away and turns back flashing you a sly smile.

That was weird. You continue in your shopping. About five minutes pass by and you STILL haven't been able to make a decision.

The short, stalky, bald biker looking dude with the long gnarly goatee emerges from the mens socks aisle.

"I missed you," he says, barely above a whisper.

He melts back into the aisle.

"Mother!" you shriek in your mind and take off running. Seriously. You were running.

Hannah Montana and Miley Cyrus

Imagine you are at a Salt Lake Bees game last night. You end up sitting by a boy who has some developmental problems. He’s hilarious. He keeps screaming, “Getcher head in the game!” and “Come on!” He knows more about the sport than you do.

He has a habit of telling every girl he talks to that she looks like Hannah Montana if she is blonde. Or she looks like Miley Cyrus if she is brunette. 

You are a brunette, so he tells you that you would have the best of both worlds if you had a blonde wig, because then you could look like them both. 

You don’t really like Miley Cyrus. She is a little crazy these days. So you tell him that you don’t look like her at all. You just look like yourself. 

He responds, “You are right. You look just like yourself. And you have the right to remain FOXY!”

RIP Mailbox. You have been good to us.

Imagine your house has a three car wide driveway. Your mom’s car is parked in the center spot. You have a cute happy-go-lucky little 16-year-old sister who is glad as can be to have her driver’s license. She is extremely responsible, so your mom trusts her with her car.

Your dad pulls up in his ginormous truck while she is trying to pull out. 

Really, his truck is ginormous. And it’s blocking her vision.

She backs out and finds that the mailbox is somehow underneath the car and she is on the mow strip.

How did that even happen?

The mailbox lays there for a few days. But the best part is, the mail man keeps delivering your mail. 

What a guy.

Dancing Bananas

I have had a request to post a certain story. Here goes. 

Imagine you are in your second semester of your freshman year of college. You go to a university that has 1.3 million students and about 10 parking spaces for said students. So you start your classes as early as possible so you can get a prime parking spot. Like 7.30. Yes. You ARE a smart freshman. After too many months of perfect attendance, you decide to skip your 7.30 math class so you won’t have to be on campus till 9.00. What you don’t realize is that EVERYONE thinks starting class at 9.00 is a good idea. You are no longer feeling like a smart freshman. You get off the freeway exit to find a gi-normous line of stop-and-crawl traffic. The roads are a little slick from the dust storms and rain the night before.

Your anxiety concerning being late starts making your stomach as tight as it’s ever been. At this rate, you are going to be late to class but you will have the buffest abs of your life. You finally reach a little shopping mall that means you are just about there. Traffic picks up. Your stomach relaxes a little. 

And there you see them: two dancing bananas standing on the side of the road just before the traffic light. 

You can’t peel your eyes off of them. They are just too weird. Dancing bananas? You let out a guffaw. 

You turn back to traffic.

But it’s too late. 

You slam on your brakes, but the road is slick and you were looking at the bananas for too long. Your car is a crumpled mess but still drive-able. You pull off to a side street where a young college student jumps out, takes a look at her bumper and says, “Wow, it didn’t do anything to my car! But let me get your information just in case. I have to go to class, I can’t miss it!” 

You give her your info and she takes off. You stare at your car in disbelief. The hood is crunched up to where you can’t see over the top. The headlights have popped out and are swinging sadly off to the sides. You definitely are going to miss class now.

You have to get home. So you unlatch the hood and flatten it out as best as you can. The lights are gonna have to hang out where they’re at. The 1.3 million students are all heading toward the school. But traffic going the other direction is clear. 

You start driving along and come to the first stop light. 

As soon as you stop, the hood flies up. 

You turn to the facing traffic and see fingers pointing straight at you and hear loud ringing laughter. 

Yep, that really just happened.

Your ingenuity comes up with a solution to the problem. You take the drawstring of your hoodie and tie the hood down to the latch.

You make it home without further incident.  

Turns out, your car is totaled.

You decide you really don’t care much for bananas.