On a Wednesday. It's one of those weeks.
1. (This one's a tinch... naughty/nasty/inappropriate. You might want to skip it.)
A little while ago I was leaving a comment at a Blogger blog that required word verification in order to weed out spambots. The idea, of course, is that the squiggly letters interfere with optical character recognition, which effectively makes the bots go "durrr...". They are also supposed to be random letters, but occasionally they almost seem to make a word.
This time the word was "coozflif".
It probably says something about the state of my filthy, filthy mind but that random assembly of letters seems borderline pornographic. Like it could be a standard word used in the porn industry.
For example, it would be the perfect job title for a female porn star's fluffer* if they actually needed such a thing.
"Hey Bob! I heard you got hired on as Vikki Vixen's coozflif! Is that a sweet job or WHAT?!"
"Well, to be honest it doesn't pay much but it's all you can eat and as easy as chewing gum."
If I ever see another random word that is better than "coozflif", like, say, "assmonkey", I will be sure to take a screenshot for you. I don't know why I didn't today, other than to say my brain is sleepy.
On the drive home from work yesterday I passed a homemade garage sale sign that was marginally attached to a stop sign. I say marginally because it had slipped all the way down and was partially obscured by weeds and grass.
As I sat at that corner, waiting for a bus and the cars that were backed up behind it to pass, I was just staring at the sign. It was a typical handmade marker-on-cardboard sign. That wasn't anything special.
What WAS special though was the feeling that passed over me. I had never really felt such a feeling before. Suddenly I had a huge desire to put my car in park, hop out, run over to the sign and add the letter "B" to it, making it a "Garbage Sale".
There was enough space between the letters.
I had a Sharpie in the car.
Nobody was waiting behind me.
Yet I refrained. I thought of how the seller would feel when she returned to collect her sign.
"I sure thought turnout would have been better. Oh well, perhaps next week. Hey. WTF?! 'Garbage Sale'?! No freakin' wonder!" and then the crying and raging would begin about how, if only that comedian with the Sharpie hadn't passed by, she might have finally sold dusty, old Grandma.
Sure, it would have been funny, but mean and petty. And normally I'm not mean, so I really have no idea why the urge came to me.
Actually, in thinking about it, it would have probably gone unnoticed since it was a Tuesday. How many people have garage sales on Tuesdays? Likely the sign was leftover from Friday, which would explain it's ground-bound location.
Still, the urge to vandalize concerns me. Have any of you felt an almost unstoppable urge to deface something? If so, tell us about it.
* Not sure what a fluffer is? I recommend a Wikipedia search. It's very informative.