i love that i have to go to menswear to find a shirt a human being in the world would wear and then when i do it takes me .5 seconds to find it. I love that
me: i need a plain black t shirt
target women’s section: would you like to have a giant scoop neck that would definitely like completely show at least one of your boobs. would you, an adult woman, like to wear a crop top? would you like to look like a human piñata. BLACK? I think you mean jewel tones babey!
target men’s section: yeah sure. it’s the first thing you see as you walk into the shirt aisle. have a good one
Women’s section: would you like a shirt made out of tissue paper that costs $34.99??
Men’s section: here’s 25 normal tshirts for a quarter
So my grandmother and I went into town today to hit up the Walmart for corn meal. She warned me that a lot of brands mix a little wheat flour in, so we’d have to check the ingredients. Since Deacon doesn’t have any experience with corn meal, I figured I’d give him a little test and have him check the bags before we looked at the ingredients. He alerted to every bag on the shelf.
My grandmother thought this was the Best. Thing. Ever. She was so delighted to have him alert and then she’d look at the bag and say “yes! he’s right! check the next one!” (video is him checking the second to last one on the shelf). Because of this we gathered quite a crowd of spectators, one of which was a store employee, who ran a few aisles over and brought back a bag of gluten-free cornbread muffin mix for him to check. He said it was safe, at which point everyone watching collectively lost their shit. You would have thought we’d just won the Stanley cup. Strangers were hugging. It was unreal.
So afterward I held an impromptu Q&A session since none of them had ever seen a service dog before, and then a police officer who was watching told me all about the Malinois their force had, and even got choked up talking about the dog’s passing last year.
Since getting home, my grandmother has proudly told this story to every single person that called the house this afternoon (she’s a very popular lady), whether it be family members, quilting friends, or the preacher, one of which responded, delighted, that her daughter had already heard the story from her husband who was doing the grocery shopping that morning.
Today I learned that Van Halen have that rider in their contract about “a bowl of M&Ms with all the brown ones removed” in order to know at a glance if the promoter read the entire contract. And the reason they do THAT is because they once had a stage collapse because a promoter hadn’t read the proper way to set up all the specific technical stuff.
So if the band goes in the dressing room or catering and sees brown M&Ms, they know they have to double-check the stage setup for safety.
I heard about this on Freakonomics Radio. Turns out the bit about no brown M&Ms is HUGE, in BIG font, bold, underlined and quotated like they’re on the Group W Bench.
The band was all, “We have fifty-pound lights hanging over our heads and fire being shot out of cannons. We had to know whether they read our safety regs so we didn’t flamebroil any roadies.”
interesting how this has become a meme in the music industry about divas. i’ve always heard jokes that amount to “this stuck up celebrity hates the green gummy bears!! they’re refusing to perform just for that???” and its reading stuff like this that i realise how that joke might have come about. people get grumpy that the band refuses to play but cant admit its because THEY’RE incompetent, so they make it all about the M&Ms. another example of artists using a creative method to ensure they have a perfectly reasonable request fulfilled that is then bastardised by lazy people who wanna make money off them.
Idk Clarice, maybe we’re just tired, and life is uncertain, and we like the idea of a stable husband with a steady job and a big dog and his own place away from all the loud, shapeshifting-kink party gods.
The Chaos Bitches 