So, this post was going to be an in depth analysis on "The 12 Days of Christmas" after a little girl shattered that glass for me and made me realize it is basically a song about a man who like to give birds away as gifts. I wrote the post. I was long. And it was super funny. You should feel really disappointed that you will never get to read it, because it didn't save. I was on day 11 when it just shut down. So that was fun for me. Maybe I'll try again, but right now I am taking as a sign the universe deemed it unfunny. If the universe decides to re-deem it funny, it can send it to my inbox.
Is it too much to ask for the auto save to do what its title suggest it does? Save in an automatic fashion? I could go on a really long rant about it, but I won't. Because we all know how much I respect machines and fear their imminent rise to power. I forgive you MacBook.
so here is another, other, musing:
I have spent the past few weeks surrounded by people. They are everywhere I go. I find myself trying to swim through oceans of slow, foreign speaking humans who have taken the city by storm. But its like one of those storms that is always raging and there is no end in sight. I made the mistake of walking through Times Square the other day. At night. The other day, at night. So, the other night. Anyways, being in Times Square is like being in a sea of people trying to locate the bathroom in a restaurant they have never been to before. When you stand up from your seat, look around, walk the direction you think you should be going, stop, look around again, walk back the way you came, turn around, turn in a full circle, walk three paces to your left, bump into a waiter, knocking dishes to the ground and then sheepishly asking for directions. Its like that, but everybody in the universe is there, doing it all at once, and the joke is, there is no bathroom! Times Square is the destination! I don't know what these people are looking for!
And what makes it worse is, I'm short. Like, tall people try to walk over me, short. And people are always like "It must be so nice to be so petite." or "You are so tiny and adorable." or "You are so lucky, you never have to worry about dating a guy who is shorter that you because the only people shorter than you are children and little people." Which, yeah, sure, those are all true I guess. But here are some things you don't think about:
1) My face and your elbow? Same height. Where does your elbow end up when you turn around suddenly? In my face.
2) That stuff thats molding on the top of my fridge? Yeah, I don't know if thats even a thing because I can't see up there.
3) Clothing stores clothes racks.
4) No one can see me behind the registers I work behind. Or that car. Or that shelf. Or that bush. Or that sign. Or that other human.
5) I end up with my face in peoples armpits on the subway.
6) When you walk up the stairs in front of me, its full on ass-in-face.
That one is the worst. Every single day I walk up the stairs at the subway station and its just 12 to 23 steps in butt in face time. Its unavoidable. So everyday when you are getting dressed and you want to know if your butt looks okay in those jeans? Well, I am the person to ask, because I see my fair share and can make a comparison.
But there is the one revenge we short people have against the tall people of the world. And that is found on a rainy day. Umbrellas. An umbrella over my head, is an umbrella coming straight at your neck. So beware. Be wary. Be watchful. Short people will accidentally and unknowingly behead you all.
Also short people make convincing elves, seeing as three different kids told me that they know I am a real elf because I look like one.
And just so you all get your Santaland fix, here is the cuter exchange I had today:
"Did you see Santa?"
"YES I DID!"
"Was it awesome?"
"It was the BEST moment of my whole life I have had so far."
"It was!? Wow. What did you tell Santa you wanted for Christmas."
"I didn't say nothing because I couldn't talk because I was FLABBERGASTED."
"Ohmygoodness."
The dad: "Don't ask him to tell you what it means. He is four, but insists that this is the only way to describe how he is feeling."
Also, I met a girl who asked Santa for a dragon. So it looks like the big guy has two of those to deliver this year. :)
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