The Junk Drawer

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Greetings from Bag Land! Some of you have been wondering how our beloved plastic bag is doing stuck in the tree outside my building. Here you go!

There has been little movement since it first landed there 111 days ago. I do check on it every day, despite having moved to a new office in my building. I’m only one floor away from my old office, so don’t worry, I can still see it whenever I’m curious.

About a month ago, I had two opportunities to try and get the bag out. Once when window washers were cleaning windows, using a vehicle that had an expandable ladder that might have reached the bag. Then later, some workmen were putting up outdoor tents for an event. The machine they used would have easily reached the top of this tree.

I declined to ask the men for assistance for three reasons: 1) I didn’t want to be known as the crazy lady who cares about a stupid bag, 2) They had more important work to do, and 3) A couple people whose opinions I sought said I should let the bag come out naturally, especially since there is a contest involved.

New readers may want to catch up on the bag story. This is where it made its first appearance. Here’s the story about how the bag got there. And this post was an update that includes video.

Among those who entered my little contest, 14 of you are still in the running. However, many guessed dates this summer, so your chances of winning are growing slimmer and slimmer.

Let me ask everyone now: If I get another opportunity to get the bag out, should I take it? 

Like this post? Toss me a vote for the funniest blog at Humor-Blogs.com!

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I’ve just discovered a most excellent site that made me react the same way I did when I discovered chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream:

Why didn’t someone think of this sooner?

The site, called Blogtations, is chock full of quotations taken from some really outstanding blogs. The site owner, a self-described quote addict, scours blogs looking for quotable material and posts a handful every Monday (and sometimes Friday). One of her fans called it “Like Bartlett’s, only bloggy.” She also takes recommendations, so go ahead and submit some of your favorite quotes from your favorite blogs. You might make someone’s day.

A word of warning: The site is addictive. The quotes are so high-quality, you’ll find yourself saying “Just one more.” And then you’ll keep reading. And miss meetings. And be late for dinner. The only problem with me having read everything in her archives is now I have to wait a week for new material. Crap!

What’s more is that I’ve been introduced to some fantastic blogs and felt a little annoyed that I hadn’t found them before. Where have all these great blogs been hiding?

Blogtations is the blogosphere’s best kept secret. But hopefully not for long! Head on over and check it out.

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It’s official. I’m going to hell.

You may notice a new graphic in my sidebar for the BlogHer network. On approach for The Junk Drawer’s first birthday, I’ve considered ways to earn some cash to offset the costs associated with blogging.

I was recently accepted by BlogHer, and with it comes an opportunity to make some money on the side.

Don’t think for a second that I didn’t stress over this decision, especially because I have said publicly I would never put ads on this blog. That’s right. Never put ads on this blog.

During the last few months, I’ve been having a conversation with two opposing people in my head: Conflicted Me, who hates to go back on her word, and Sensible Me, who would like to earn enough money from blogging to buy a pizza and a beer every now and then.

Here’s how things went in my head:

Conflicted Me: So you said you’d never put ads on the blog. You’re a big, stinking liar. What gives?

Sensible Me: Yeah, I said it. What I never wanted were ads that leapt off the page in the middle of posts and annoyed people.

Conflicted Me: But you did it anyway.

Sensible Me: Well, not exactly. The BlogHer folks give you ads to put up over on the side that don’t scream at you. The ads come from well-known companies that I can get behind. It was really Google AdSense ads I didn’t want on my blog. I worried I’d get ads for Preparation H for all the times I discuss my butt.

Conflicted Me: But you always thought your blog would be purer if you kept ads off it.

Sensible Me: I did, but then I considered how much time I put into writing stories that entertain others.

Conflicted Me: You think this is entertaining?

Sensible Me: Shut up.

Conflicted Me: You once said your day job pays the bills, but blogging makes you rich. Did you really mean rich, as in a millionaire?

Sensible Me: No, stupid. I meant that it gave me an outlet to write for the masses. To hopefully give others something to chuckle about for five minutes during the day. It’s my passion.

Conflicted Me: But that didn’t mean you had to get paid for it, did it?

Sensible Me: No, but it started sounding like a viable option when Dave put it to me this way: “If you got your book published, you’d expect to be paid, right? So why are you giving away book material, one page at a time, for free?”

Conflicted Me: You think this stuff is book quality?

Sensible Me: Listen, jerk. I never said this was book quality or that I could ever actually publish a book. But it seems to me if I’m putting as much effort into the blog as I’d put into a book, then maybe it’s not a half-bad idea to get a little spare change along the way.

Conflicted Me: I bother you, don’t I?

Sensible Me: Yes, you do. Now could you get out of my head and let me be?

Conflicted Me: Sure, but have you thought about how your readers will feel about ads on your blog? Aren’t you worried they’ll go find someone else to read?

Sensible Me: Yes, but I’m willing to take the risk that maybe, just maybe, they could see the ads as an indirect way to put some dough in my pocket, and they’ll still feel enriched by reading something I wrote.

Conflicted Me: You’re really full of yourself, aren’t you?

Sensible Me: I’ve had about enough of you.

Conflicted Me: OK, but don’t come crying to me when all your readers leave and all you’ll have to celebrate your blog’s birthday is a cake and party hats with no one to pass them out to.

Sensible Me: Bite me. And you’re not invited! So there!

Conflicted Me: Suit yourself. I’m leaving. But we still have to discuss that $1 jar of mayo you forgot to pay for at the store last week. That’ll keep us up at night and you know it.

Note: While I did say yes to ads on my blog, I do have a little template tweaking to do. I plan to have two sidebars on the right, instead of just one so that the ads and other things can run on the right, while my other graphics will appear as before on the left.

And don’t worry. My face will stay right where it is. I know that’s the real reason you all come here.

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These are trying times. Kathy has no words. A whopping ten drafts in her queue and nothing worthy of posting.

I think if I don’t post something today, nothing will ever get posted again, the Junk Drawer will close shop and you guys will loiter outside wondering what the hell happened.

I have to get something on the page to kick start me out of this funk I’m in.

Come back in a couple days if this post bores you to tears. I’m about to tell you about my weekend:

1. I fell asleep on the couch at 5PM yesterday and awoke at 8PM thinking it was the next day already. I slept hard. I even had full, movie-length dreams. In one of them, I was standing in a reception line at a political function, holding hands with Henry Kissinger. Discuss.

2. I worked all day Saturday, brought a lunch, but ate it before 10AM. So the rest of the day I took from the other junk drawer in my life and gave myself a headache, a stomachache and left work on such a sugar high I don’t remember how I got home.

3. My husband cleaned the bathrooms, God bless him, but broke the toilet seat off one of the toilets. How is this possible? Broke an entire toilet seat off its hinges? Men, if you’re going to help clean the house, don’t do it in the manner you would, say, play football. Cleaning a toilet needn’t be a race nor a destructive act. It just needs to be wiped down — gently.

4. In the process of preparing to send DrowseyMonkey her prize magnet for having the fattest head, I got sidetracked researching whether I can mail it with U.S. postage or if I have to take it to the post office to get international postage put on it. I tried Googling for the answer to this simple question, but could not find a satisfactory one. I’m too embarrassed to ask Drowsey, so I’ll just head to the post office tomorrow where I’m sure a clerk there will tell me what a moron I am.

5. I didn’t have the energy to fix something that’s been bugging me for a month. Our wall clock is stuck at 4 o’clock. We don’t know why because the batteries are fine. The pendulum below the clock face continues to swing to and fro. I meant to check on why it’s malfunctioning, but now I’m getting really used to it being 4 o’clock all the time. Four happens to be my favorite number, so I’m keeping it.

6. Since I took such a long nap yesterday, I couldn’t get to sleep until midnight last night. But my body always, always gets up between 4AM-5AM, which means I’m running on fumes right now. I’m sorry. This is the kind of post you get on fumes.

Forgive me for having to post such lame material, but this was the prescription for funkitis and it had to be done. Pray I’m funkless tomorrow.

Night.

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Just when you thought you knew everything about me, I give you Kathy by the Numbers. Don’t worry, there’s no math involved and you won’t be quizzed at the end!

Position in birth order: 5

Number of years it took me to get my bachelor’s degree: 12

Courses I took in my last year: 12

Number of gray hairs that earned me: 2, 539

How many years I’ve been with my current employer: 23

Number of different jobs I’ve held in that time: 5

Cups of coffee I drink per day: 3

Number of times per week I forget a reheated cup in the microwave: 2

Years married: 15

Years together: 23

Number of houses or apartments I’ve lived in: 7

Greatest number of hot dogs I’ve eaten in one sitting: 6

Times I’ve ridden on a motorcycle: 1

Prayers I said while doing it: 47

Number of pets I had as a child: 1

Years my parents have been married: 62

Percent of married couples who make it this long in the U.S.: <5 

Miles I drive to work: 8

Months I’ve been blogging: 11

Letters in my maiden name: 12

Weeks it took to learn to write it as a kindergartner without a visual aid: 4

Number of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches I’ve eaten: 0

Miles to nearest airport: 3

Number of planes that fly directly over my house per day: 75

Invention ideas I had that I never acted on: 2

Number of them I saw go to market without me: 1

Years I was a cheerleader: 2

Number of keys on my keychain: 9

Times I’ve won the lottery or a raffle: 4

Number of times a trip to Paris was the prize: 1

Magnets on my refrigerator: 11

Number of picture frames on display in my house with the picture that came with it still in the frame: 1

Height in inches: 64

Weight in pounds: Get serious

Books I’d finish per month before blogging: 2

Books I finish now: 0

Hours of sleep I get per night: 6.5

Naps I take on the weekend: 2

Number of times I got my head stuck in a fence: 1

Average number of times my family reminds me of this per year: 4

Number of times I’ve skied: 1

People I knocked down in the process: 2

Number of nieces I have: 2

Years they are apart in age: 25

Traffic tickets I’ve received: 3

Number I talked myself out of: 1

Times I’ve tried ending this list: 3

Shut up already!

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I’m not a huge fan of the blog meme, but this one I liked. I stole it from my pal Ferd, who stole it from someone else. We’re all thieves, really. But in a good way.

The Mosaic Picture Meme

Originally from Bud who changed the rules slightly.

The Concept:

This Meme is all about the Mosaic Collage that you are about to build by answering the questions in this meme by using pictures! First what we changed: The meme we stole required the use of programs that you needed to register to use. So it was tied to you downloading two programs (and learning them…) Here we do the same meme, the exact same way, but leave you to your own resources. We also simplified the rules to allow a bit more creative (and speed!). So here we go:

1. Type your answer to each of the questions below into Google Image Search or same type of search engine for pictures.

2. Using only the first page of results, pick one image. You can’t search forever for a certain image.

3. Copy and paste each in any program that you can post the pictures in a mosaic pattern. You can post them 3 X 4 or 4 X 3. We used Microsoft Paint below.

The questions:

1. What is your first name?… Kathy

2. What is your favorite food?… BLT. The more B, the better.

3. What high school did you go to?… Notre Dame, Green Pond, Bethlehem, PA. It’s where I encountered a new set of horrors after the ones I suffered in grade school.

4. What is your favorite color? … Maroon

5. Who is your celebrity crush?… Will Lyman, television and stage actor, and also the voice of PBS’ Frontline. I’m in love with his smooth, sultry voice. My husband is not allowed to talk when Will is speaking. He may use sign language in an emergency, say, if our house is burning down. But he may not talk to me.

6. What is your favorite drink?… Apple juice. I drink water almost exclusively, but when I splurge, it’s apple juice. What a flavor blast!

7. What is your dream vacation?… Without reservation, Paris, France. Our trip there in 2004 ruined us for any other vacation we’ve taken. Nothing else compares.

8. What is your favorite dessert?… Magic Cookie Bars. I make these for student assistants I hire to help on our team at work. One student ate a whole batch himself and asked if I put crack in them. Beware. They’re addictive.

9. What do you want to be when you grow up?… A writer.

10. What do you love most in life?… My husband, Dave. And, as you might guess, he’s a saint for putting up with me all these years.

11. What is one word that describes you?… Peculiar, but you knew that already.

12. What is your blog name?… The Junk Drawer

So there you have it! I’m not inclined to thrust a meme on others, so feel free to tag yourself if you’re interested.

UPDATE: Because the images used in my mosaic were taken from Google Images, I should properly credit the sources. In order from left to right:

Kathy, BLT, Maroon, Junk Drawer, Notre Dame Green Pond, Will Lyman, Apple Juice,  Paris, Magic Cookie Bars, Writer, Peculiar, My Husband Dave

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The Junk Drawer is branching out. Not only are readers submitting photos of Food That Looks Like Stuff, now we have Stuff That Looks Like Stuff!

One of my dear, faithful readers, Babs of Beetle’s Memories ‘n Ramblings sent me this fluff of wool that she removed from a pair of slipper socks. She says when she set it aside, this little cutie revealed itself.

Click to enlarge

Now, here’s the question: What exactly does it look like to you? I see a moose. Babs sees “an elephant’s back half and a head with huge ears.  It might be carrying something on its back.”

I’m sorry, folks. Not only do you need to look for food that resembles something. You’re going to have to examine everything you come in contact with during the day. You didn’t have anything better to do with your time, did you?

Babs, thank you for your submission! I’ll send you a Junk Drawer magnet if you’d like one.

And check out Babs’ other blogs if you’re looking for some new, fun places to visit:

The Cream Team: “A place for people interested in the arts & entertainment.”

Beetle’s Photos: Some stunning and beautiful nature and animal photos.

Simplycats: “My Beautiful Cats - Past and Present.”

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I’m paying reparations today for a picture I posted yesterday with a story about poo. I thought I’d try to erase that foul image in your heads with a pretty picture of a planter I assembled a few years ago.

When you care to plant the very best.

Oh, and this is what the same planter looks like this year after completely ignoring it and using it as a garbage can. Hey, I never said I had a green thumb. And you all know how lazy I am. Is it any surprise it looks like this?

When you just don’t care anymore.

And just when I thought I might be OK with my laziness, I find this post by my friend Jeff from View From the Cloud. He wanted to replace a swinging bench out in his backyard.

So he built one just by looking at a picture of one he liked. I hang my big, fat lazy head in shame.

Why, Jeff? Why must you torment me?

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Today we have the first ever Food That Looks Like Stuff submission from my sister, Ann of the Shampoo Bag.

I give you, The Muffin Man.

Do you know the muffin man?

These little blueberry guys are given out to post-surgical patients where Ann works. I’m guessing it’s so they get a quick energy boost after not having eaten prior to surgery.

This reminds me of the last time I tried and failed to donate blood. I have hard-to-find veins and, try as they might, the folks trying to get blood from me just couldn’t do it. I left the chair disappointed, and wanted to leave, but they require you to sit down in the refreshments area and have cookies and juice.

I shamefully ate my snacks, glancing around at those who actually bled for their food, thinking I had no business eating my allotment of Vienna fingers. It was the only time in my life I felt guilty shoveling fistfuls of cookies in my pie hole.

* Advanced apologies to anyone who clicks that photo caption and has the song in their heads the rest of the day.

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Dearest sister Ann,

I know we share the same dentist, but I didn’t know you had an appointment with him yesterday. I also didn’t know you told him we auditioned for The Amazing Race.

Yeah, well, I had an appointment for a cleaning with him today.

Here’s how our conversation went, if you can call it that:

Dr. M.: So, I hear you hung out with your sister this weekend.

Me: (mouth pried open, jaw aching, sucky thing hanging out of my mouth) Uh?

Dr. M.: You’re trying out for The Amazing Race!

Me: Aaggh, yah.

Dr. M.: I think it’s great you’re doing this! Most people just say they’re going to try something wild like that.

Me: Mm-hmm.

Dr. M.: So how’s that work?

Me: Wewwl, oo fiwl ow aa abblicashun and mayg a vieeodabe.

Dr. M.: No, I mean, how do you run the race?

Me: Oh, wewwl, oo run fum sheckpoin do sheckpoin doing crachzie dasks ‘n puzzlesh tying do bead all da uddu teamsh bag do da sheckpoin.

Dr. M.: That’s nuts!

Me: Wewwl, we yike do shink we can do ut.

Dr. M.: That sounds like a friend of mine who’s training for a triathalon. You have to be kind of crazy for that, but I really admire her.

Me: Aag, shash grade!

Dr. M.: Do you think you have a chance to get on?

Me: Bobbabby nod.

Dr. M.: Well, I still think it’s awesome you’re trying.

Me: Shanks.

Dr. M.: You have a cavity. Spit. Rinse.

Thanks a lot, Ann, for giving Dr. M. something to talk to me about while I’m at my most incoherent. It was so much fun for me.

Sincerely,

Your mumbling, drooling, cavity-head sister.

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I wrote on Monday that my sister Ann and I planned to audition for a spot on the reality show The Amazing Race.

With visions of stardom dancing in our heads, we drove to Lancaster, PA early Saturday to take our spot in line for the craziest thing we’ve done in our lives.

Finding the Place

Getting there was a breeze, thanks to Ann’s Garmin GPS, which gave us spot-on directions to the park where the audition was held. Problem was, there were no signs pointing us to the audition spot. We drove aimlessly for ten minutes, imagining if we were picked for the race, we’d be doing a lot of the same: driving around and around not finding anything.

Eventually, we spotted pairs of people walking toward a bandshell near the park’s entrance. We crash-landed the car, stuck our Amazing Race Pass in the window, and headed over to where a half dozen people had collected themselves.

You Slept Where?

Upon arrival, we chatted up other teams and marveled at how far some people traveled to get there. One team came from Rochester, NY and slept in their car in the park (!!!). Another sister team came in from their respective homes: one from California, the other from New York City. A brother/sister pair flew in from Florida and Georgia, respectively.

We thought our 1.5 hour trip was the shortest, until we met another team who rolled out of bed an hour before and drove five minutes to the park. The locals weren’t allowed to complain about anything.

Biding Our Time

The two-hour wait went fast because everybody in line was fun, friendly and excited to be there. What puzzled us was that only about 80 people showed up by start time. Ann and I expected 500 or more.

At one point, a dog belonging to one team ran up to me and started barking its blessed head off. I remembered what you guys advised me to do when this happens, and held out my arm and yelled “Stop!” Twice. Didn’t work. The dog kept barking until its owner came to retrieve it. Home, Lancaster, anywhere. Dogs apparently hate me.

An hour into the wait, a woman running the event instructed everyone who parked in the regular lot to move their cars to an area designated for a barbecue being held far away in another section of the park.

Everyone who had to move a car, including Ann, groaned as they grabbed their car keys. But as they returned from moving their cars, those of us still in line cheered them on back to imaginary checkpoint mats, just like we’d do on the race.

Ann came in third out of a dozen people. Way to go, Ann! Maybe we wouldn’t get eliminated after the first leg!

Assessing the Others

While waiting, you can’t help but size up the other teams to see where you stand against them. The brother/sister team, who I could see getting picked for the show, were in excellent shape, gregarious, and attractive. The camera would love them. Another sister team sounded like they’ve been everywhere and seen everything. One is a Rockette, and the other is a roadie for big musical acts. She flies to Norway next week to set up for a Rod Stewart concert. What am I doing next week? Maybe getting an eyebrow wax and haircut. My life runneth over with excitement.

Another team, each wearing matching pink tops and matching pants, were instantly assessed as the “Didn’t Read the Instructions Team” by all of us in line. More than one of us read a tip sheet on preparing for a reality show audition. Wearing matching outfits is tops on the “Don’t Do” list.

One team, dubbed “The Biker Chicks,” was a walking advertisement for Harley-Davidson. Others were seniors. Some were frat boys. And, of course, there was one plastic model-y team. But most were normal, everyday people just like us.

Let’s Go to the Video Tape!

When filming time arrived, we were ushered to a small tent where the camera and lights were set up. The “director” told everyone in line to be as animated as possible, tell why you want to be on the race and why you’d make a great team. You had two minutes to plead your case.

We had a plan, but when the camera’s on you, a whole lot of stuff flies right out of your head and you just hope for the best.

Since we were 4th place in line, we could watch only three other teams go before the camera. On one hand, we wanted to watch more people go ahead of us to see how they handled it. On the other, we were glad to get it behind us quickly.

We noticed the first teams were not very animated and stared straight at the camera. We thought “We can do this, and do it better than them!”

Suddenly, it was our turn. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!  We walked under the tent and were handed microphones and told “Hold these close enough to your mouth, but don’t swallow them, OK?” This made us laugh and loosened us up a bit.

I couldn’t remember everything we said if you held a gun to my head, but we basically told them how we were the “real people” the show was looking for, how we’re not twins, but we’re very twin-like. We practically read each other’s mind and “often (Me:) finish each (Ann:) other’s sentences.” And then we busted a gut laughing.

Ann said we’ve traveled together, gotten very lost, but always find our way to our destination. I said we were in this to entertain the home viewers, who could identify with us. I suppose we rambled on for another twenty seconds, laughing the whole time, and then handed back the microphones.

Even though we didn’t say everything we planned to, we were sure we were animated enough. We often talked to each other, instead of staring dead into the camera. That we engaged each other is perhaps one thing that set us apart from the few who came before us, and maybe a bunch after.

Stellar performance? Hardly. Fun to say we did it? You bet!

That’s Gotta Hurt

One sad note about the brother/sister team. We found out while waiting in line that they’d already made their audition tape at home. We weren’t sure why they showed up at all, since they could have just sent their applications and tape to CBS through the mail. We suspect they thought appearing at an open audition gave them an edge. It didn’t. Instead, I’m sure it gave them a massive headache.

I barely made out what the check-in people told them, but it was either they shouldn’t bother making a new tape, or they couldn’t make a tape if they planned to send in their other one. This meant that they each hopped a plane to the middle of Pennsylvania for no reason whatsoever. Ouch. We pitied them as they walked away, heads hanging low.

Someone Bring Champagne

So what happens now? We wait for the phone call to go to the next round in New York City. Don’t worry. We’re not delusional. Pretty sure it’s not going to happen. But if it does, watch out. It’ll be total pandemonium in The Junk Drawer!

—

Last one over to Humor-Blogs gets eliminated!

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So my sister Ann got this insane idea that we should try out to be contestants on The Amazing Race, a reality show that pits teams of two against each other in a race around the world. Prize if you win? One million smackaroos.

Teams compete by performing weird and difficult tasks while making their way to pit stops along the worldwide route. Contestants have to fly, drive or take a train or bus on their own throughout the race. If you’re the last team to arrive at a pit stop, you get the ax.

You must be able to manage your time, follow clue directions, do crazy physical and mental stunts, and find places you’ve never been before.

We can do none of these things.

And that’s our “hook” for getting picked at an open audition being held this weekend in Lancaster, Pa. Our shtick will be “We suck! We’ll be eliminated at the first pit stop, but our pathetic attempt to get there will entertain your viewers. You want us. You need us!”

As proof of our horrendous planning and traveling skills, Ann and I spent a good amount of time trying to decide if we should drive two hours to the audition the night before and stay at a hotel, or just leave really early Saturday morning and pray we get a good spot in line.

Keep in mind, teams on the show are given what seems like nine seconds to make their travel plans. Our planning took us four days and we changed our minds three times during the process. Hotel the night before, drive that morning, hotel the night before, drive that morning.

Do you think it has anything to do with our travel preferences?

1. I wanted in-room Internet access so I could keep up with email and my blog.

2. She wanted an onsite restaurant so we could be sure to get food in the morning. A continental breakfast won’t cut it.

3. I didn’t want to drag all my toiletries with me overnight. Instead I just wanted to shower up Saturday morning, hop in the car and go.

4. She is not a morning person. She’d prefer beaming herself to the destination.

5. I have a hard time falling asleep in strange places.

6. She didn’t want to get lost getting from the hotel to the audition location.

For the uninitiated, these are basically the opposite of all the requirements for the race. Oh, and did I mention we’re both directionally-challenged? Even with her GPS, we’re not sure we’ll get there. We know we wouldn’t stand a chance actually running the race. Getting to the audition will be challenging enough.

I’ll be blogging about our mini-adventure upon our return. That is, unless they pick us for the race and tell me I’m forbidden to write about it.

You never know. If you’ve been to The Junk Drawer before, you know crazier things have happened to me.

It could happen. Right? Right?

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The daughter of one of my husband’s cousins is getting married in July. Her bridal shower is next weekend and I got my hands on her registry code for Bed, Bath & Beyond. An online review of the couple’s selections reveals two things:

1. The couple will never have occasion to use half the stuff they requested.

2. People who’ve already fulfilled the purchase of some items are stupid, insane or both.

Why? Because these are the things they bought the happy couple:

	B. Smith 3-Tier Swivel Buffet Server My prediction: Relegated first to closet, then to basement, then to yard sale. Suitable alternative: None. This item is ridiculous.
	Oxo 3-Piece Ice Bucket Set My prediction: Kitchen cabinet, then basement, then yard sale. Suitable alternative: “The ice is in the freezer. Help yourself.”
	Krups 4-Slice Waffle Maker My prediction: Exactly one novelty use, then yard sale. Suitable alternative: Perkins
	Pizza Baking Set My prediction: “Who put this in the registry? When’s the next yard sale?” Suitable alternative: Domino’s.
	Alderwood Bread Box My prediction: Firewood. Suitable alternative: Um? The bag the bread came in?

Honestly, I think the people who help couples choose items for their registry are evil. After the couple picks practical items like towels, dishes and silverware, they start suggesting things the couple won’t have room for and will never, ever use.

Dave and I have done well in 15 years of marriage with the inexpensive, sensible Corelle dinner plates and bowls we got as a gift. They cost someone 20% of the price of fancier dinnerware we received and we use them more often.

I brought the cheap silverware from my single days into our married household and when we needed more, guess where I got them? From my sister Marlene’s stash of wedding gifts she had in her attic that she never used. From 1972.

For the married folks here, what kinds of things did you get for your wedding that you never used? Did you sell them? Give them away? Are they still in your basement? It’s yard sale season, you know. Maybe it’s time to liquidate?

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For those following the Plastic Bag Adventure, I thought I’d update you with a picture today. I want you to know I’ll do anything for you guys.

I stood on the roof of my building to get a closer shot. Yes, there is a wall that kept me from falling to my death, but that didn’t make me feel any safer up there. I stopped taking pictures when my legs got weak.

Wal-mart Bag: Stuck 47 days and counting

I went a step further and filmed it flapping in the wind. It’s a breezy day here in Eastern Pennsylvania, but that doesn’t seem to be helping our little friend get out of its branchy clutches.

Some of you are out of the running for the contest. I’m sorry, but I warned you it would be a while. I’m still guessing November, 2009, and it wouldn’t surprise me if it took longer than that. Good luck to whoever’s still in the game!

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I received a great little item for the Food That Looks Like Stuff collection this weekend. This devilish tomato comes to us from Carla at blah blah blah Blogolicious. She says:

Here’s a picture of a tomato that grew in our garden a few years ago.  We of course adorned it with necessary facial expression.

I don’t know what it is about tomatoes that makes a person want to draw on them, but I did it myself to Weeble Tomato Guy, who was second to appear in the collection.

Anyone who sends me a food that makes the cut receives a Junk Drawer magnet! So please look carefully at your food before you scarf it down. There might be a prize in it for you!

Lycopersicon esculentum diabolus

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I haven’t had many brushes with fame. In fact, only two. Once when Mary Hart of Entertainment Tonight was on our campus at work interviewing Lee Iacocca, she drifted into my building looking for the ladies room.

I was coming down the stairs and was shocked by the woman standing before me. Wearing an exquisite deep blue business suit, perfectly made-up and not a hair out of place, she looked like Miss America.

She asked where the restrooms were and I pointed down the hall. Didn’t say a word. Didn’t get a picture. Just helped her empty her bladder.

The more important brush with fame is that I married a movie star, my husband Dave. Ok, ok. Not a star, per se. But he did appear for about 10 seconds in the 1978 TV miniseries, The Dain Curse. That’s him in his movie costume. He appeared as an extra, an officer handling crowd control in a scene outside a courthouse.

Fast-forward 30 years, he still remembers his encounters with the leads in the movie. Not anything remarkable, mostly glimpses of them walking around the set. But he did say hello to James Coburn, who was pacing around reciting lines to himself.

What that means for me is that whenever we see a movie where one of those actors appeared, I get “I worked with him,” or “I worked with her.” We have a little chuckle over his “acting days” and I think to myself Well, you worked with an actor, but I married one!

So does anyone have more interesting brushes with fame to share? Please tell me you did more than show someone the way to the bathroom.

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Everybody’s famous at Humor-Blogs.com.

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Back in March I introduced a Junk Drawer logo created with a tool called Spell with Flickr. Just type in your letters and it generates a logo based on images it grabs from Flickr OneLetter.

It’s a very cool tool, but something about it bothered me. The letters it grabs from Flickr are likely copyrighted photos and I didn’t want to violate copyright.

Chances are none of the photographers would notice I’ve used their letters in my logo, but that didn’t make it any less illegal. Since I also plan to use the logo on merchandise, the copyright issue became even more important.

So what’d I do? I grabbed my camera, took my own pictures and now the logo is all mine! I would have been done weeks ago, but I was on a hunt for the elusive Perfect K, which I managed to get last weekend. Thank you, Karl Ehmer Quality Meats!

I want to thank my uber-talented colleague, Jason Slipp, for creating this new logo out of the million letters I sent him. The poor guy.

Conversations during the design phase went like this:

Jason: So how do you like the latest version I sent you?

Me: I found a new E last night. It’s a great E. I don’t like the E in Drawer, can you put the new one in The, and the old one in Drawer? And I don’t like the K. I need a new K. This one’s too thin. And I’m worried about having two brick backgrounds with the U and the D.

Oh, and look at how many uppercase letters I have! There should be more lowercase and I’m not sure if I love the first R in Drawer, but it’s kinda cool with the circle around it. Oh wait, I do like the first E. Can you put it back the way it was?

Jason: You’re killing me, woman.

For the record, he was paid for his services, but probably not enough for the torture I put him through.

It was a chore getting this thing finished, but pretty fun, too. For weeks on end, I’d be driving along and a great letter would pop out at me. Pull over, take the shot, send it to Jason, tweak the logo.

It’ll adorn the comments section and stuff I’ve created on Zazzle for purchase or to hand out as blog contest prizes. Eventually, it’ll appear at the top of the blog once I get my theme perfected.

Another big Thank You goes to JD of the I Do Things So You Don’t Have To blog, who slogged all over her town looking for letters for me. She sent me half a dozen signs and one of them made the cut. JD, your wonderful right-corner R takes its place in blog history!

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In other Junk Drawer news, if you’re following the progress of the plastic bag in the tree, it’s still there, and it’s still driving me nuts. Check out the Plastic Bag Tracker box above my picture in the sidebar, updated daily.

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Trust me. This post title will make some sense in a minute.

We’ve got something new for the Food That Looks Like Stuff collection. This little guy was discovered in a pack of chicken fingers from Wegman’s in Bethlehem, Pa.

Taken on the whole, this looks like a sleeping dog to me. I’ve decided it’s a Basset Hound, though sadly, front legless.

Because I like to get second opinions when I’m not sure I’ve got a food that looks like something, I sent it to my sister Ann to examine. Here’s her response:

Is that God’s face on the right?! Or Zeus?  Full head of hair and full longish beard?!  OMG!

Do you see the face?

Taking a poll. Who thinks it’s a dog and who thinks it’s God/Zeus? Who thinks we’re seeing things?

Sleeping Basset Hound-God-Zeus Chicken Finger

Addendum, 4/29: OK, folks. Here’s where I see the face. Please don’t mock my graphic design skills. I have none.

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There are two numbers I’m obsessed with: One, my weight, which never makes me happy. And, two, the amount of readers who’ve subscribed to my blog’s feed. Smiles all around. I’ve finally cracked the 100 mark!

Actually, I have three separate feed counts that total almost 150, but I don’t count the older feeds because I’m not sure there are active readers behind those numbers. I’m only eying the current feed, which sits nicely at 103.

I want to take a moment to thank everyone who subscribes to the Junk Drawer, or who comes in from a bookmark. Thanks also go to those who added me to their blogrolls. I appreciate the links that lead people here.

I’ve said on more than one occasion that it’s really my readers who make my blog what it is today. Yes, I write this thing, but something amazing happens when I click the Publish button. A party breaks out in the comments section.

People have asked me how I achieve such a high number of comments each post. Honestly, I don’t know the formula, but I know dumb luck is a big part of it. Somehow I’ve attracted the right mix of people who leave the funniest comments after every visit.

During a birthday party last weekend, my family was sitting around talking about things that go on in The Drawer. We remembered some funny stuff left in the comments and someone said “Huh? What are you talking about?” and another said “Oh my God! You’re not reading the comments? You have to read the comments! It’s a goldmine in there!”

Bottom line, if you’re reading The Junk Drawer, hugs and kisses. If you’re not reading the comments, you must change your ways because you’re missing out on a key element of the blog. You might chuckle at something I’ve written, but you’re going to snort something out your nose if you dig further and read what people dropped in the drawer.

Thanks again, everyone! I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Blogging has been some of the most fun I’ve had in my life, and you’re responsible for that. Toast yourselves and have a great weekend!

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Not that anyone would care, except for Lee, who wanted to know what’s in my real junk drawer — here ya go! Just the usual suspects: batteries and more batteries, scissors and tape, checkbook, address book and a few other things I may or may not ever need again.

I suppose the stupidest thing we have in here is our old doorbell. My husband Dave showed his handyman prowess last summer when he installed a new doorbell. What should we do with the old one? Why, of course! Put it in the junk drawer. You never know if the new one will fail and we won’t have $8 to buy a new one and will have to re-install the old. Um. Yeah.

Every now and then Dave makes us sift through all this junk and clean house. We’re due for another sweep, don’t you think?

So, what’s the dumbest thing you’re holding onto in your drawer?

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Another delicious submission from Heather Simoneau for the Food That Looks Like Stuff gallery. She’s the same reader who brought us Bagel #9.

I believe Heather’s working on an entire Grand Slam Breakfast That Looks Like Stuff. We’d love some bacon next time if you could swing that. Oink.

Part of a Heart-y Breakfast

I’m always happy to post reader submissions. In case you see a food that looks like something, here are my two simple rules:

1. The food must not have been deliberately constructed to resemble stuff. Heather was very clear about the circumstances under which this heart came to be. She insists she only tapped the yolk once or twice after it went in the pan, without any thought as to its food-looking-like-stuff qualities. But then the heart appeared suddenly and she ran for her camera.

I’m glad Heather has her priorities straight. Her kids were starving, but instead she held a photo shoot. That’s the spirit!

2. The object must not display male or female “appendages.” A Junk Drawer reader recently emailed me an X-rated tomato. It took me quite a while to figure out how to tell her I couldn’t accept it on the blog.

I think it’s obvious I have almost no limits for what I’ll put on the blog about myself, but I must use care not to offend naked fruits and vegetables. Can’t be too careful. They may not have thought those pictures taken early in their careers would ever see the light of day. Yeah. Those kinds of pictures.

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As you all know, lots of stuff bothers me. What’s killing me now? This bag.

It got caught in a tree outside my office almost three weeks ago. I can’t help but notice it every time I pass a window that faces it. When I point it out to others, expecting shock horror, I just get “Yeah? It’s a bag in a tree.”

OK, so I’ll admit that I’m the only one in my building who’s bothered by this. I’m going to be seeing it for days, weeks and months to come, so we might as well have some fun with it.  I’ve decided to turn this into a little contest.

If you can guess closest to the day the bag escapes its branchy prison, you’ll win a prize! Simply leave the date in the comments box. You must give an exact date (month, day and year — yes, year, because it could be that long). The prize will be a set of magnets or mousepad with the Junk Drawer logo on it (your choice).

p.s. To my sister, Ann of the Shampoo Bag, the bag is from your favoritist store in the whole wide world! Another reason to hate “The Big W.”

Addendum, 4/18: If you’re interested in knowing how the bag got here, check out the back story over at Midnight Wanderers. Just a warning — it’s heartbreaking.

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Tonight I had to run to the store to pick up a birthday card for my niece. I may be seeing her tomorrow and I didn’t want to come empty handed. Of course it’s last minute, because I haven’t learned to use a calendar yet and things like sending birthday cards on time are the stuff of nightmares for me.

So I’m in the card aisle and I spot a couple standing near the birth announcement section, talking to a store employee. Together they’re trying to find the right card for their needs. I admire the woman’s beautiful white sari, looking so dressed up for a trip to the store. And then there’s me in my stretchy pants. Lovely.

The employee walks away after a few seconds and then I hear it.

“Ma’am?”

Oh, no. They mean me.

I turn around, shaking off the fact that being 40-something makes you a bonafide ma’am, and smile. “Yes?”

“Can you help us find a card for a baptism?” The couple is having a hard time because no cards have the actual word baptism on them and they’re clearly not familiar with certain rites and ceremonies. The woman shows me one card that reads “On your Bat Mitzvah…”

She asks, “What’s a Bat Mitzvah?”

Oh, God. We’re going to have Religions of the World 101, right here in the store.

“Well, it’s for a boy, about the age of 13. It’s a