- What's with all the different flavours of catfood? There's rabbit and venison and lamb and beef and fish and various combinations of all. There's casserole style, strip style, chunky homecooked and minced. Do our cats really have that finely developed sense of taste?
After all, they eat native wildlife and rodents and lizards rand birds raw; all without marinades or sauces.. I don't think they really can appreciate the subtle nuances of flavour. Hell, mine even eats dental floss, which doesn't denote to me a true gourmet underneath the fur. (Unless it's the cat equivalent of an after dinner mint?)
And if the cats can't say "Bingo! You've hit on just the right juxtaposition of rabbit and venison, ideally complemented by the gelee surrounds", then who does quality control the catfood, and has the communication skills to pass on the results? Enthusiastic mewing is always welcome but hardly practical or definitive.
I wonder how much a catfood taster would get paid. I would so do that job if it was enough money. Like say, double the amount of money I am getting now with one fifth of the workload. I would even create new recipes!
- Why don't they have special supermarket lines for the grumpy and curmudgeonly (ie me)?
I don't want some chatty checkout chick gushing platitudes at me all the time. Sure, it's great customer service and a lovely smile goes a long way but there are time when I just don't feel like having a nice day. iI want to brood and gloom and avoid all eye contact and that appears to be the time that I always get an enthusiastic and delightful person. I feel so bad that I can't respond in kind.
Which is why I suggest a special lane, sort of like the eight items or less one. The sign above would say "basic verbal transactions only; no extra stuff asked for or given". Instead of that usual badge "Hi, my name is Bubbles!!!!!!!!!", it would simply state the first name and underneath that the slogan "I won't be perky".
I would actually tip if I could find something like that.
- There is an amazing sign on the road I travel on every day, on my way to the first winery. It is huge, right on top of an industrial factory and takes up the whole side of the building. Yellow and black, very eyecatching, it asks the personal question "Impotence problems?",in friendly, bold, large font.
And underneath the exhortation to not suffer, the plea:
"Call 1800 HARD".
I point it out to my passengers every day, regardless of whether or not they are the type to appreciate it, just because it cracks me up. I love me a good sign. My favourite in the whole wide world, which I've posted about elsewhere, is the full size road sign on the Mitchell Plateau in the Kimberley, a destination which requires much fording of rivers and dirt and mud windy slow tracks to even get to.
It simply says (and trust me, its a lot funnier when you've been driving for 14 hours and you are not at your destination):
"Are we there yet?"
Right in the middle of nowhere. I used to share that glory with my passengers and if they ever demurred about getting off the bus and taking a photograph it really pissed me off. So I would take the extra long way around to camp, adding another half an hour onto our arrival time.
- I am so enjoying exhusband's change of workplaces. He has taken a job (management) with the biggest local seafood supplier in our fair city. Instead of going to work, he is now fishmongering. And I can work the seafood context into an awful lot of seemingly innocent conversations. Like "something smells fishy to me", "you seem a bit crabby today", "my, how your mussels have grown!".
He's never mentioned it to me but I know that it irritates him a lot. It makes me laugh so much.