At least use your windshield wipers, dude

On a brisk fall day, just a couple of weeks ago, I was out for work. The temperatures dropped pretty low for us up here for a few evenings, so a lot of the birds are doing their thang and heading to warmer climates. I came across a car I'd seen months and months before and this time had to take a picture.

It was parked on a street that only had one tree near the actual pavement for many blocks. You can actually see it in the background of the photo. The car was parked in roughly the same spot last time...not exactly. So it had definitely been driven. I guess they could park it under some sort of berry tree at work...

All I'm saying is that this person has clearly given up on life.

Ewww.

Must be November 6th

Because this is the only candy left at the office.

Top 10 Reasons an Economic Crisis Actually Sort of Rules

10. It will be a lot better for the environment when no one can afford to drive or power their houses.

9. Everyone will remember what it's like to be in college again, when they had no money. (and getting drunk is still pretty cheap!)

8. We have a LOT of guns!

7. When the electricity is shut off, more fireside chats.

6. When the phone is shut off, no more political phone calls or telemarketers.

5. Time to read all the classic novels that I never wanted to when the cable is shut off.

4. We'll all start to trim down with all of the walking and not-eating we'll be doing.

3. Everything looks better by candlelight.

2. I have 3 cars, 2 of which are paid off, which means I've got places to sleep!

1. I like Raemen Noodles!

An Open Letter to Gabriel Brother's

Dear Gabriel Brother's,

First off, I just want to say that I truly appreciate your low prices on modern designer clothing. I do have one small issue, though. I don't think that I'm alone here when I say that I believe with all of my heart that $4 is too much to charge for a bedazzled Y2K t-shirt. It is nearly 9 years beyond being relevant - regardless of the fact that it is partially composed of silk.

I promise this was taken today. On a rack of several.

Love you,
Rex Burner


PS - If you want us to call you "Gabe's" because you think that's hipper, why didn't you name yourself that to begin with? I'm not my mom and I'm not calling Gabriel Brother's "Gabe's" just like I'm not calling JC Penney "Penney's". It's only fair.

I Wish I had my Camera

I was driving home from Ikea today during rush hour. I was zoned out a little bit waiting for a long line of cars so that the truck in front of me could turn left.

The guy in the big rig in front of me hopped out because, I presume, he'd dropped something out the window. That's when I took note of his truck.

Where the license plate was supposed to be was a white license plate-sized piece of paper. On the top it said "(lost tag)" underneath that was the license plate number, and under that "Ohio". Somehow I'd forgotten both my camera and my cell phone so the event was unable to be documented. After lamenting my inability to share this sight, I noticed that the same information was written on the back door of the truck in black marker.

It's times like these I'm embarrassed to be a mid-westerner.

What the French toast?

Is it considered lucky to have unfertilized twins in your French toast? You know, like a four leaf clover but with two yolks?

Those two at the bottom came out of the same egg. I stuck a fork in to scramble them and double checked...they were totally attached.

My Childhood Home

Lately....the past couple of months...I've been thinking a lot about the house I grew up in.

I'm not sure why. Maybe it's the fact that my brother got married again or that my dad is living in Canada at the moment. I pretty recently was tattooed with a design by my friend Julie with a memorial for my cousin who died, so perhaps I'm just reflecting. Maybe I just have growing up on the brain. Simpler times with no mortgage, no marriage, no responsibilities, and no money to count.

Being a real estate agent, I check to see if my childhood home is on the market with a relative frequency. I'd love to see what the inside looks like and if it went on the market I'd probably try to convince The Mister to buy it.

I wonder if the new family kept that horrible wallpaper I had in my bedroom. It must have been a nursery when we moved in. My room was too much of a wreck for me to ever let my dad in to paint it a suitable color for young girl (not a baby). I hope they didn't pull up the pink tiles my dad put down one-by-one in the upstairs bathroom. I remember laying on the floor, carpet tickling my nose, watching him put them down. He forgot that he had even done it until I reminded him at dinner a few weeks ago. The early 90's was a time where my dad felt comfortable with pink tile, I guess. The bathroom downstairs had a blue toilet and blue sink. The mirror that hung above the sink was in this awful gold frame. All of that was there when we moved in and there when we moved out. He even painted the downstairs of our bi-level blue and put a blue wash on the trim. In my adult mind, I assume this was to minimize the impact of the blue bathroom fixtures. Or maybe offset that, ah, stylish paneling?

The fireplace was the worst! There was this wooden eagle permanently glued onto the brick above the rough-hewn mantle. Once, when I was probably 8 or 10, I was standing on the hearth, just fooling around, and got a good grip on that eagle's foot and broke it right off. As much as my parents hated the thing, they just glued the foot right back on.

When we moved out, I was 14 I guess. Old enough to be happy to say goodbye to my 10x10 room for a teenage palace at our new house, but still old enough to be sad to leave the place that I had done most of my growing up in.

I've driven by a few times in the last 10+ years. They painted the garage door a much darker color. I noticed that the pink blinds were no longer in my bedroom, the blue not hanging in my brother's window either. The tree I planted in the side yard on arbor day, that was once a twig, is now a huge strong monster.

My stomach turned a little when I saw the garage door up and packed with boxes of junk to the ceiling.

Dad never would have let it get that way.

They chopped back the bushes I used as a club house and played in.

It's terribly embarrassing to admit that I teared up a little when I saw that the fence is falling down in the back yard. That fence was perfect when we lived there. It had to be to keep the dog in.

He died about 6 years ago...I guess that's what was so sad about that fence. I begged my dad for that dog.

But hey, they built a shed in the back - at least it looks nice.

Last time I drove by, one of my neighborhood friends was walking down the street with her two kids, I guess they were around 6 and a 3 or so. That was an odd feeling.

In my profession, I'm dealing with buying and selling houses everyday. I talk all the time about how silly it is for people to get emotional about a house. It's just sticks and bricks, we like to say. It's money in exchange for a place to lay your head at night. I whole-heartedly believe it every time I say it. A child's home though...growing up. Now that seems different. I spent nearly all of my formative years there. I helped raise our first puppy in that house. I stayed up drinking Kool-Aid and playing video games until Arsenio Hall came on in that house. (preferably in a tent, under a couch cushion fort, or on the pull-out couch bed) I cried about my first broken heart in that bedroom. I spent every summer on a new Slip-N-Slide in the backyard. I spent my entire elementary and junior high career with that stupid baby wallpaper and yellow stove and blue toilet.

I know not everyone has the privilege of staying in one place most of their lives. Of those who do, I wonder how they feel about the house they grew up in. I wonder how I'll feel 50 years from now about it.