I was shopping in a department store when a guy sidled up to me. We shall call him Creeper, for reasons that will soon become obvious.

Creeper: “Excuse me, honey, how much is this [item]?”

Me: *Glances at the big, obvious sign.* “The sign says [price].”

Creeper: “Really? That’s it? Maybe I’ll grab two at that price!”

Me: “Go for it.”

Creeper: “No problem for me! I make good money as a personal trainer.”

Me: *Eye roll.* “Good for you.”

Creeper: “Would you believe that I’m single?”

Me: “I’m not.”

Creeper: “Your boyfriend doesn’t have to know. I could show you a better time, anyway.”

EWW! I actually had to suppress a full-body shudder.

Me: “I doubt it. And I’m a better person than that.”

Creeper: “Psssh! Well, SOMEBODY thinks pretty highly of themselves!”

Me: “Yeah, you do, for some weird reason.”

Creeper: *Instantly angry.* “Excuse me? Excuse me?! I want your manager! You can’t talk to customers like that!”

Me: “I just did. And I don’t even work here.”

Creeper: *Deflating slightly.* “Uh, you don’t?”

Me: “Nope.”

The creeper walked away, looking like the wind had been taken out of his sails. I was left feeling horrified that creeping on an employee had been his entire purpose, and he had no idea how to handle someone who could snark back at him.

Some friends and I are relaxing in the back garden during a hot summer afternoon. I can’t remember what started this conversation, but it led me to say:

Me: “It’s the best thing since sliced bread.”

Friend: “Ugh. I hate that expression. It makes no sense.”

Me: “Best thing since sliced bread? Why?”

Friend: “I refuse to believe that the invention of bread predates knives.”

Other Friend: “What are you on about?”

Friend: “The expression implies that when bread was invented, there existed no means to slice it. So early man was just, what, walking around with giant bricks of bread all the time biting into it like a block of cheese?”

Me: “Well, I think I learned this in the British Museum, but the earliest bread was unleavened flatbread, so it was more like a wrap than a traditional loaf.”

Other Friend: “Also, I remember looking at bread found in Egyptian ruins, and they were like rolls, or something. The kind of thing you’d rip open and dip into a nice hummus or taramasalata.”

Friend: “Oh… well, I still hate the expression.”

Me: “Also… what are you doing biting into blocks of cheese?”

Friend: “…Anyway, what were you saying?”

We all laughed and moved on.

BTW, this is just a basic recollection of the conversation that happened. It’s not trying to be a history lesson, so if we got the history of bread wildly wrong, remember that if you come at me in the comments.

I have an interesting habit of taking naps or lying on the floor. It can be carpet, hard floor, or a rug, if it is clean enough, and I have a pillow, I will make myself comfortable. My housemates, who are a bit older and didn’t have the same influences I did, have come to terms with it over the past couple of years I have lived with them. We also have four cats.

I lay down to get some shut-eye in our living room, as I didn’t have a good sleep last night. I woke up to one of my housemates giggling, standing near me. Still groggy, I asked what was up. They told me to stay still for a second.

They apparently had snapped a picture of me, sleeping on the floor, surrounded by all four cats, also spread out in the same area. All of the cats were sleeping belly-up, the way cats do, and I was sleeping on my back.

…I guess you can say I took a Cat Nap?

The story, Would Rather Be A Buzzkill Than A Bearkill, reminded me that wildlife does not need to be large to mess you up for good. 

Years ago, as tourist season was ending, my father found himself getting a coffee in a famous terrace overlooking the sea. A young kitchen hand was taking advantage of the slow day to fish from the parapet of the terrace. At some point, the sinker dipped, and the boy started pulling up a small, ugly brown fish. My father immediately recognized it for a Greater Weever, a species with poisonous spines on its back, and rushed towards the boy.

Father: “Wait, wait! Don’t…”

Kitchen Hand: “What the f*** do you want, old—AHAAAAAAAAAH!”

The boy was still reeling in the fish as he was replying to my father, and as soon as the fish sensed being grabbed, it had raised its spikes and done its thing.

Father: “Now you know what the f*** I wanted.”

The best remedy against Greater Weever poison is hot water. The best prevention is wearing reef shoes and not manhandling unknown fish!

A few weeks ago, I was driving my parents back from an appointment. We were on a two-lane road, and I was comfortably doing the speed limit. Ten minutes into our drive, I looked in the rearview mirror and saw a truck tailgating me.

You know those vehicles that, when you see them, you immediately know the owner is compensating for something? This was one of those vehicles.

It was a pickup that looked like its frame had been lifted farther away from the wheels (I’m not a car person, so I’m not sure how to explain it). My dad, while not impressed either, had me slow down so Mr. Compensation Truck could pass. I grumbled but relented.

Maybe this is just because I’m a new driver, but I don’t get why I need to let the tailgaters pass me. They shouldn’t have been following that closely to begin with! Anyway.

Mr. Compensation Truck passed me and continued into the distance. I could still see him. For the following half-mile, I watched him get stuck at every red light we came to.

I’m not usually a believer in karma, but that was quite satisfying to see.