Clearly, there is a need for people to get their hands on miniature sunglasses even if it means pet rodents will have to wear them. Perhaps I am being told something and there is a not-very-lucrative side job for me wheeling and dealing tiny eyewear.
This time my desire to help procure shrunken shades got me “God blessed.” Good deed of 2011 taken care of. I can cruise unhelpfully through the next nine months now.
People misspell Garanimals quite frequently. Whether you type garanimal or garnimal, 98% of the content is about those matching clothes for children that I had no idea still existed and possibly only do at Walmart.
Did I ever tell you about the time I got an email merely asking “Can you help me locate a place to purchase the sunglasses that is on the piece of fruit in the drink picture on your website?” (Ok, I did) A weaker person would delete the shit out of that (I get orders for shovels now and again and those go straight to the trash) but I knew exactly what the online stranger was talking about and my strong sense of duty (and library background) compelled me to find those tiny plastic shades.
The best part was the follow-up (for real–I saved the email): “I don’t get that kind of response from people who are friends. Again, thanks for your kindness.”
So there. That was my good deed for 2009. Last year I came up empty and so far in 2011, my do-gooding has been lacking. I want to be the Michael Landon character in Highway to Heaven of chain restaurant needs.
What can I (barely) help you with? Sorry, I still don’t know who makes chart to show how to make garnimals at cheeseburger in paradise.
I don’t give much thought to wine lists in chain restaurants, though at a white tablecloth joint like Bonefish Grill (I mean that literally, not metaphorically, though on my last visit they’d stopped using tablecloths) I will order a glass or two even if the rest of the diners are drinking Diet Coke in glass tumblers. Bonefish also has inexpensive martinis with blue cheese-stuffed olives, but that is getting off track…
“Can you help me locate a place to purchase the sunglasses that is on the piece of fruit in the drink picture on your website?”
While this plea, important enough to send directly through email, seems nonsensical and vague on the surface, I immediately knew what the searcher was looking for. Unfortunately, I have no clue where Cheeseburger in Paradise obtains the miniature eyewear for their “garnimals” (not to be confused with garanimals).
Which isn’t to say there’s not a bevy of shrunken sunglasses available online:
Collars4Shirts.com not only hawks sunglasses pins for zebra t-shirts, they showcase a photo of garnimals. Bingo. They are also a premier source for dickeys.
That’s a bit heady. And I didn’t attend an intellectually rigorous college (obviously) so this is no time and place for deep deconstructing. But according to Jean Baudrillard (via Wikipedia, of course) a simulacrum is no mere copy of the real, “but becomes truth in its own right: the hyperreal.” Sounds like the Olive Garden I know. So, uh, Tuscan all the way!
Before doing whatever it is you do on a Memorial Day weekend, take a second (a minute would be too long) to ponder these recent celebrity food queries that have sadly led strangers to my site. Sad, because I'm of no help.
dose zack efron like steak and apples blended?
Levar burton wasabi
Personally, I have no opinion on whether Disney stars like eating baby food (though, apparently, he has indulged in a meat-fruit shake) but any mention of Geordi La Forge brings a smile to my face. I bet the man likes wasabi. @levarburton has 534,036 followers on Twitter, maybe I should just ask him how he feels about the spicy root.
If the youngster in question actually used the word sammies, he (I feel like it’s a he) got off easy with a mere suspension. I would hope that Saturday school was also involved somehow, but then that would just lead to poignant Breakfast Club moments and the opportunity to share fancy sammies with his newfound acquaintances that turned out to have more in common with him than he ever realized.
Uh, if the searcher used normal people words like sandwiches, they would've found the real story. Yes, it was a he, and the precious hand held meals involved mozzarella, Roma tomatoes, olive tapenade, zucchini, Provolone cheese and pesto (not all in one sammie). Maybe if you time traveled to 1990 that would be "fancy," though I do understand that's quite a step up from Hot Pockets and Bagel Bites.
Who knew there was a market for two California public library staff (the librarian in me must point out that one is by a librarian while the other is by a library assistant. This is a serious distinction to some, particularly in the public and academic spheres, because it’s the difference between a couple years of your life, tens of thousands of dollars and the resulting misunderstood master degree and underpaid, unappreciated job and just having an underpaid, unappreciated job) memoirs in four months? Or ever?
I must now put together my proposal for an enlightening creative nonfiction masterpiece from the perspective of someone who was born in California but hasn’t resided on the west coast for a decade and worked in a public library for nearly three years in the mid-‘90s and never intends to work with the public ever again.
It will be titled Overdue? Fine: Tardy Tales From a Long-Suferring Librarian Who Doesn't Work in a Library and will be utterly gripping. You won’t be able to put that shit down.