Foam sweet foam...

So I'm really pleased that foam soap has become more prevalent in today's bathrooms. I find myself becoming a bigger and bigger fan of the foam soap each and every time I use it. I love it so much that I dare say I think foam soap should be mandatory in ALL public bathrooms. Yes, I realize that would be a hard thing to keep up with, going around making sure all bathrooms contained foam soap, but hey, maybe that would create new jobs and in this economy couldn't we use some new jobs? I would be more than happy to have my job title be "Foam Soap Monitor" and I betcha I'm not the only one. Sure, the pay would suck, but I'd get to use foam soap as my job...how tits would that be?

One of my first exposures to foam soap came when The Joyous One purchased her weight in coconut-scented foam hand soap from Bath & Body Works. It smelled so friggin good, I wanted to Pina Colada it w/ some rum and sip it while sitting on my balcony, imagining I was somewhere exotic, like Tahiti, or Des Moines. It smelled so friggin good that I would sometimes use it to wash all the way up my arms, then I would sniff my arms and hands every 10 or 15 minutes. Sure, that looked weird to passers-by, but what did I care when I was in coconut heaven? Sadly, The Joyous One now develops hives when the word "coconut" is uttered within 10 feet of her, so our days of coconut scented foam hand soaps are over. But that's okay, coconut isn't the only delicious foam soap on the market. And delicious scents aren't the only reason to love foam soaps.

This afternoon, as I chewed innocently on a pen at work, I noticed something wet looking and blue all over my right hand. It was blue ink from my pen that I inadvertently exploded whilst chewing on it, and it got all over my hand...plus on my face...not a lot on my face, but noticeable. I pulled off my headset and headed for the bathroom, unfortunately running into my work-building crush on the way. So embarrassing. I walked in, pushed on the dispenser and smiled as a perfect vanilla soft-serve of foam soap swirled into my palm. I stole a look at myself in the mirror and noticed that a piece of my hair was doing a weird sticking-up-woop-woop thing, it kind of looked like the St. Louis Arch. Not wanting anyone else to see the "woop woop"(I can't believe my work-building crush saw not only the ink on my face, but the woop-woop-do. What luck!), I decided to use my non-soaped hand to fix the offensive hairdo...offensive because I hate St. Louis due to the Cardinals. Anyrival, it took a little bit of time to fix because the chunk that was "wooping" was tangled with another chunk, so I had to unwind the chunks, plus I was using one hand which doubled my work, and it was 'ol Lefty that I was using, not my power hand so that slowed me down even more. Anyjericurl, when I finished untangling, I went to finish the wash-job on my hands and saw that the soft-serve coil hadn't moved an inch. I realized at that moment that had I been using a liquid soap, it most definitely would have traveled down the creases in my hand and onto the floor, or the counter, or my flip-flopped-foot. But thanks to the form-keeping bubbles of the foam soap, I didn't have to worry about any messes other than the ink all over me, and my hot-mess hair. And that is something to be thankful for.

Delicious scents, cute soft-serve plops, better washing coverage, these are just some of the things a foam soap brings to the bathroom counter. Add those to the awesome "squeeoush" sound the foam soap makes when being dispensed from it's container and you have not only the best smelling, best washing soap in the biz, but also the most entertaining. Next time you use a foam soap, I want you all to think about how much better you life is because of it, and say "thank you"...to the soap.

99 Luftballons...

So today while coming home on the Green Line after Jessica's birthday breakfast(Happy Birthday!), I saw a wayward balloon floating around in the neighborhood of the United Center. In the past, that kind of sighting would make me sad, because seeing a balloon all by itself in the air usually meant that some poor kid was standing on the ground, missing their balloon. I would think about the circumstances that led to the loss. Were they horsing around with some other kid and their shenanigans caused the string to slip out of their grasp? Did their parent tie the string too loosely around their wrist, leading to balloon escapage? Did they spot something shiny on the ground, and in their haste to reach for it, let go of the balloon? Was that kid just standing there, staring up at the balloon, tears streaming down their chubby kid cheeks? Those were the things I used to think about when I would spot a rogue balloon bobbing and weaving in the wind. Today though, I thought about something different. I thought about how that balloon was going to have a great adventure, and maybe, just maybe, some little kid on the ground had wished it well, unclenched their tiny fist, and let their balloon go, smiling and waving until it was out of sight.

My only mention of MJ's Memorial...

At first, I wasn't sure how I felt about John Mayer playing an instrumental version of "Human Nature", but then I was happy about it...because that meant I could sing it myself without John steppin all over my vocals.

Rest well, Michael. May you have the peace in death that no one would give you in life.

Wherefore art thou, caterpillar?

So yesterday morning, after parking my car Reggie in his usual spot, I started walking into work, like I do every morning Monday through Friday. Something made me turn to take one last look at Reg, and as I looked at him, I noticed something on the passenger door frame that was fairly large, and seemed a little furry. I thought that it was just a hugeungous drop of bird scat, which Reg and I are both used to since he gets parked under trees a lot. I decided to investigate(yeah, I'm not sure why one would head towards something that they thought was poop, but that's me...I'm disgusting) and as I got closer, I saw that it wasn't the mark of a bird defacing Reg w/ it's defecation, it was a huge, furry caterpillar. I had forgotten all about caterpillars until I spotted that car-crawlin monster.

I decided to get closer, I noticed it's coloring, I noticed how soft it looked, I got even closer so I could find it's eyes and, in the words of the immortal Kylie Minogue, it was love at first sight. This was no monster, this was a beautifully cute caterpillar, with strangely long fur, and a mustache of sorts, with deep black eyes and movements reminiscent of the way a puddle ripples when you touch it. This was no monster, this was my new friend. After staring at it for awhile, I realized I was several minutes late for work, so I broke my stare and hustled into the building. While flip-flopping down the hall, I thought about my caterpillar, baking in the warm sun on the frame of Reggie's door. I got nervous, so I told my boss about the caterpillar and told her I was going to go get him out of the sun so he didn't die. As I approached Reg, there was no sign of the 'pillar. A wave of fear started at my butt and made it up to my stomach before I realized that the 'pillar had already traveled down the passenger door, and was near the bottom of Reggie's body. Apparently Mr. Pillar felt the need to get out of the heat as well. I grabbed a stick and kind of shoved it under the caterpillar like I used to do with my bird Marcus, to see if it would latch on so I could move it to a safer, more lush and shady area. Sure enough, the little bugger jumped right on, clinging to it with it's whole body. I walked over to a patch of bushes and gently placed my caterpillar into the center of it and headed back into work, hoping I would see it again someday.

I thought about the caterpillar for most of the day, I forwarded the picture I took of it to my friends, I wondered what it was doing, I even named it. I named it Buff, because my friend Ellen has this daughter who was a butterfly for Halloween last year, and when asked what she was being for Halloween, she would say "Buhffly" and that just cracked me up. Ellen even made her leave me the cutest voicemail ever..."Ha-ween...I'ma be a buhffly". So as I thought of this caterpillar turning into a butterfly, all I could think of was little Evelyn and her cute little voice saying "buhffly"...so Buff seemed like a good name. Beautiful Buff.

Fast forward to 5pm, quittin time, I headed out to the bushes where I'd left Buff. I saw a bird kind of hanging around, so I ran at it and screamed "Get away from my caterpillar, you bird!". Yeah, I'm real good with the insults. The bird, either scared of me or just wanting to get away from the crazy person, flew away, and I said "that's what I thought"...as the words escaped my lips I saw a woman on the other side of the parking lot staring at me, no doubt wondering who the deuce I was talking to. Anysybil, I peered into the bushes and there was Buff, looking restless as he climbed through the branches. He seemed to be looking for something, food, a place to cocoon, his family, I'm not sure, but it made me nervous. I went back inside to get some caterpillar advice from my co-workers. Not that they're caterpillar experts, they just seem to be more into nature than I am and might know about caterpillars. I asked them if they thought I should try to take Buff back to my house, and maybe put him on the tree that Reg had been parked under. I voiced my worries about Buff, that maybe he wasn't finding the right kind of food, or was looking for his family since he was in a whole new town and didn't know it. They kind of looked at me like I was weird, which is the norm, and said they thought he would be fine. I said "So, I shouldn't put him in a cup, take him to Jewel and Whole Foods with me, then take him back to my house? I should stop worrying?". They said yes, stop worrying, it's a caterpillar. I hung my head, cued up that Charlie Brown tune in my head(you know the one), and shuffled slowly out of the office.

I couldn't find Buff when I left the second time. And he couldn't be found this morning either, although I didn't have a lot of time to spend looking. I might go out in a bit to see if I can find him, but I fear that I've seen the last of Buff. That realization makes me sad, I became fairly attached to that stupid caterpillar in just a day. I thought about him the whole day, I talked about him, I worried about him, I sent proud mama pictures of him, and now that he might be gone, I'm missing him. See, that kind of reaction is why I don't want kids. If I can't handle my emotions regarding a caterpillar, how can I possibly handle the weighty responsibility of a child? No thanks...I'll stick to unnatural attachments to caterpillars, thankyouverymuch.

Boat-tastic...

You know, I really love being on boats. This is something I always know in the back of my mind, but the front of my mind is a bully, and it pushes my nautical love into a corner that I can't always see. But I do, I love being on boats. Anyone with a boat out there, keep this Boaty Boaterson in mind if you need a first mate who doesn't know the first thing about boats, but loves them, and is always good for a humorous quip and a high-five.