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Sings and Symbols: 2.14.05

First of all, today when I pulled into a parking space at le job, I saw this bumper sticker:

My other ride is your mom.

It was like Cupid was directing me into the space with the airport runway glow sticks. Awwwww…too sweet.

But speaking of direction, you have heard before my musings on the belly of the corporate beast, however this does beat all: Were you aware that the total price of a Venti Iced Chai and a Venti Iced Coffee at Starbucks is $6.66???!!??? There has got to be something to that, someone, somewhere is telling me something, about what I’m not entirely sure, but that is ALL KINDS OF Exorcist-head-spinning freaky.

So this weekend, the leetle sister closed the nuptial deal, sealed her fate, etc. It was a lovely and touching ceremony (and I’m really not kidding). With the exception of my mother’s inexplicably poor social skills, I’d say the evening went off without a hitch. The only downer happened yesterday when, in the hectic haste of clearing out of the bridal suite at the hotel, my sister and the hubs left behind their ornately hand-decorated Joowish wedding contract, which is signed in a kind of arcanely beautiful ritual just prior to the actual wedding. Now, my interest in formal religious activity pretty much begins and ends with The Diet of Worms (because…oh c’mon), but when the hotel cleaning staff reappeared with the, did I mention, rather large (suitable for framing) document and held out to the new happy couple the crushed, stained post-dumped-in-the-dumpster rendition, well…it was really, really sad. Leetle sister was beside herself and even her new ball and chain had to swallow back some tears. Overly efficient cleaning staff, cultural illiteracy, carelessness on the happy couple’s part—all conspired to bring a happy, happy weekend to a rather poopy end.

As for me, if any of you need a toast written or delivered, contact me immediately. I’ve found my calling.

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