I hate it when my aim is off. On the other hand, my shoulder hair will have great volume and shine!

There’s a hobo standing outside my building, handing out coupons. Normally people just take the coupon and move on, but this guy is *really* *excited* about them – he’s ambushing people when they get close, and presenting the coupon with a flourish. When he’s turned down, he cries and wails saying “WHY WON’T ANYONE TAKE MY COUPONS?! WHYYYYY?!” He is a melodramatic hobo, to be sure. I think his approach and hobo-manner is frightening some people off, because the coupon is a pretty decent one – buy a sub at Quiznos and get a free combo upgrade. They’re attempting to lure customers in, because a fancy new place opened up next door. OOH – what if the new place gets their own Coupon Hobo?! There could be Hobo Wars right outside my office! The action! The adventure! The startling aromas and secret hobo spices! Awesome.

When Shan and I were at Target (which is endlessly fascinating to us Canadians) last Saturday, I bought a cute little top with crazy embroidery and sparkles. It’s from their Woodstock collection, which is marketed to those who haven’t the faintest idea what Woodstock is. As I was paying for my exciting American goods, the checkout lady went on a friendly rant – all the clothes are wrong because Woodstock happened in 1967, not 1969. She knows this because she got married in 1969, and her husband went to Woodstock in 1967, before they met. Everything that says Woodstock happened in 1969 is wrong, including the cute pink shirt I was buying. It’s too bad that the entire universe has the date mixed up, but at least she could set ME straight. I dodged a bullet there – how embarrassing, thinking that Woodstock happened in 1969 when it was really in 1967.