Ponderings

Does anyone else ever wonder what it would be like to open up the vegetable crisper drawer in the fridge and see a small family of albino rats living in there? Not a big family... say three or four "individuals". Okay, here's another scenario: you open up the crisper and you find a small family of regularly-pigmented rats in there. Would your reaction be any different?

That, my friends, is a microcosm of the racism we see in the world right there.

Okay, now forget the rats. Let's say there's a small band of woodland elves living, not in your crisper drawer, but inside the lint trap of the clothes dryer. It doesn't matter what their hair color is, in case you're wondering.

Massage and a Haircut, Two-Bits

Yesterday I had to go get my quarterly haircut. A man cut my hair, but not one of those stereotypical male hair stylists who you assume bats for the other team. No, this guy appeared to by heterosexual (not that there's anything wrong with that). I mean, he dressed sloppily and his hair wasn't combed, for starters.

Anyway. After he was done, he got the blow dryer to blow away the loose hair that had accumulated on my neck and shoulders. While doing so, however, he started massaging my neck. I didn't notice at first, or rather, I was sitting there with my eyes closed thinking, "oooh, that feels so good. How did he know my neck was stiff?". Suddenly, however, it dawned on me: "WTF? Why is he massaging my neck? That can't be proper. It's never happened before."

Of course, I didn't say anything, and truth be told was a bit disappointed when he stopped.