I was so prepared to write about funny things I saw on our trip to Pennsylvania, and I EVEN TOOK NOTES, DAMMIT! Scribbling some sort of probably unintelligible nonsense while driving! I do know where the notes are, but the pictures I took while driving (is there some sort of law against that? because I took a lot of them. maybe you saw me? that flash-thing in your rear-view mirror? that was not a UFO, that was me.) can’t be uploaded to the computer and then to Flickr and then here, because, I. Can’t. Find. The. (Insert expletive here) Cord. Thingie. That. Connects. The. Camera. To. The. Computer.
It’s….somewhere. In a box.
So.
Instead, I was remembering the other day some TV show or movie or probably some of each, it’s a common theme I think, where a hip-ish couple finds themselves on a cruise maybe or some other situation where they think they will never see those people ever again, so they pretend to be someone else. Making up entirely new lives for themselves.
I have always wanted to try this.
So, we decided, Michael and I, to have a look at the unsold models of the incredibly cheaply-built townhomes one of which we are glad NOT to be a proud owner of, and somehow I had the bright idea of being one of Those Couples. So we made a very (I thought) plausible story explaining why we might be in the neighborhood yet why as well (oh I was so clever) we probably weren’t all that serious, at least not yet, about buying, since we didn’t even know where we’d be living, but we were definitely from Colorado, and (I panicked here) we even used our real names.
The models? Small, cheap, about what we expected, and absolutely gave us no ideas about furniture placement or even if they expect us all to go out and buy completely Liliputian furniture judging by the extremely small and very unworkable living rooms. So it was no help at all, but did satisfy my curiosity, which has been plaguing me since we moved here.
End of story?
But wait.
This morning, the sales guy, whose name we of course cannot remember, walked past Michael sunning himself (read: smoking) on the porch, carrying some balloons up to the main road to tie to a sign to attract attention and presumably eventually lure and trap some desperate idiot who can’t tell a plumb wall if it fell over on him and who cares not whether all the wall paint soaked into the drywall and dried in streaks and that the kitchen cabinets won’t even hold a standard dinner plate, AND that there is no storage at all, not even a measly cheap medicine cabinet, in the bathrooms. So Sales Guy, who must have looked quite asinine carrying balloons when he looks more at home with a beer and remote in front of a wide-screen football orgy, said hello to Michael.
And called him by name.
We’re so busted.
technorati tags: lies, things you do while driving
Recent Comments