Marketing Mishaps, Part Deux

I saw a sign on the back of a truck tonight that was attempting to advertise employment opportunities at the trucking company. It had a white stripe that was labeled — yes, actually labeled — "The Road to Success." Branching off the road to success was another line labeled "Exit to [Trucking Company Whose Name I Don't Remember]." I understand the intent of this sign; however, what this sign actually says is that once you accept employment at [Trucking Company], you are no longer on the road to success.


On a similar note, during the three days it took me to compile my previous post I thought of a fact I wanted to include, but forgot it before I reached a computer. A friend reminded me of it tonight, and I think it is a message too important to leave unspoken: electronic toys that say "I love you" are unholy perversions of nature. As such, they horrify me. No child of mine will ever own one.

Tagged

I got tagged. By Dan. And he lured me out of my apartment so he could do it without me knowing.

The Rules:

1. I have to post these rules before I give you the facts.
2. Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
3. People who are tagged need to write their own blog (about their eight things) and post these rules. (**if you’re a non-blogger, you can email them!)
4. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
5. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

And now, the news:

1. I have really bad ankles. They are very loose, and have a habit of giving out at extremely inopportune times, often causing me to fall flat on the floor for no apparent reason. However, an ironic side effect of this is that I practically never injure them. A few weeks ago I rolled my right ankle while bowling, ending up flat on my face as usual (though I still managed to get 8 pins down). My leg hurt for a week, not because of any injury to my ankle, but because I apparently rolled it far enough to pull a muscle in my calf.
2. I eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in exactly eleven bites.
3. I find great enjoyment in the ridiculous and irreverent in nearly all areas of life. For example, ranked highly among the most entertaining gifts I have ever been given are a bass fishing action figure (the ultimate physical embodiment of an oxymoron), and a plastic pig (given to me on Valentine's day) that, for lack of a better way to describe it, poops jelly beans — chocolate flavored. Both currently sit in a place of honor atop my desk.
4. I am a spectacularly deep sleeper. When I am deciding what time to set my alarm, I have to allow for the time it will take for me to wake up after it starts to go off. I also have to keep it at least four feet away from my bed, so that I am forced to get out of bed to shut it off. This is because I have, on at least one occasion, turned off my alarm, engaged in a conversation with my roommate, reset my alarm for a different time and turned it back on, and then laid back down — all without waking up.
5. I can cross each of my eyes independently.
6. I am strongly in favor of abolishing the penny. Pennies, much like the weights underneath my bed, are worthless pieces of metal that I pay for but which do me absolutely no good because I always forget to use them.
7. Despite my name apparently meaning "God's gift," I have never been on a date.
8. I know exactly one joke that is funny and I can't even tell it, because telling it properly involves more theatrics than I am usually capable of engaging in.

I am running out of blogging friends who have not been tagged already, but I will tag Sean, Amber, Trey, Sarah, Rob, Amy, Jonathan (not me), and Max.

Ambiguity

Learn to broaden your horizons, day by day.

Thus read the "fortune" in my so-called fortune cookie tonight. I find it rather ambiguous. Am I to be daily learning to broaden my horizons, or is daily broadening my horizons the skill I am to be fostering? The first sounds repetitive, the second merely redundant. In either case, it is phrased in the imperative; if I am to be receiving orders from a pastry, is unambiguity too much to ask in return? On the other hand, it is at least readable, unlike this rather marvelously (and memorably) dysfunctional fortune I received several years ago:

You will be happy be receipt of good news.