Squeak’s Squeals

The kids, the Neanderthal and I went out to the local Chinese Buffet for dinner tonight. The kids love the seafood and we love that they can eat their body weight in shrimp without being left penniless.

Anyway, about half way through our meal, another family was seated on the opposite end of our section (that horrible, nasty place where we smokers go to dine in seclusion, quarantined from the rest of the customers, as if we carry airborne flesh-eating diseases). This family had with them a rambunctious little boy - he looked to be about 2 years old - with big blue eyes and a mop of ultra curly blond hair. Cute as hell, he was.

We dined away and finished our meals. I popped into the restroom to relieve myself (as ALWAYS happens immediately following Chinese food). I was staring at the floor when the hair on my neck stood up - you know that feeling you get when you’re being watched? That ‘Damn, I need a shower!’ kind of feeling? Yeah. I had it.

I looked up and my gaze was met by none other than one big blue eye topped by curly blond hair at roughly 2.5 feet above the floor. That cute little perv just peeped me!

You can peep at Humor-Blogs.com. And no one will call you a perv.

I discovered the strangest occupation yesterday. We were driving along, minding our own business, when I noticed the license plate holder of the car in front of us. It said “Basket Consultant”.

What exactly IS a basket consultant? Is it like a sidewalk therapist? Or is it more like a sofa whisperer? How does one consult baskets? Are there a lot of baskets in need of consulting? Do the baskets pay well or do you work for weaving lessons?

Who NEEDS basket consulting?

“Hmm… should I get the red and green basket on clearance for a buck or the white one that’s not on sale?”

Simple. Buy the cheap one. If your life is teetering on this decision, you need a 12-step program.

“But.. what should go IN the basket?”

Anything you want. It’s a BASKET. Filling it with dirty towels isn’t going to hurt its feelings. If you toss it in the back of the closet (like I do), it’s not going to plot revenge on the next four generations of your family.

“This part here. Yeah, that there’s called the ‘handle’. You pick it up there. And that part there, that’s the real meat of the basket. That’s where you put yer stuff.”

“But what stuff do I put there? How do I know if my basket will be happy with my choices?”

“Well, in that part there, you can put anythin’ you want. You can fill er with candy or nicknacks or them there fancy little bathroom soaps, you know, them ones that looks like flowers or seashells or little puppy dogs. I sure love a perdy basket full of them fancy little soaps.”

Seriously, when was the last time you heard this conversation?

“What do you want to be when you grow up, Susie?”

“I wanna be a BASKET CONSULTANT!”

Yeah… didn’t think you had. It has never happened. Now if you’ll excuse me, somewhere around here I have some chocolate that kind of resembles fancy little bathroom soaps…..

Find your new basket at Humor-Blogs.com.