(Besides my case of spamalot)
Why does a grown man/woman keep stuffed animals along the back window of his/her car? (Follow-up: why do men wearing hats all turn out to be old, slow drivers?)
Why does every teenager working the register at Panera — anywhere in the country — look at me with the same blank face when I order something?
Why does my son insist on stripping off his shirt every time he goes to the bathroom — a la George Castanza? (Yesterday he admitted to retrieving his sister’s half-eaten sandwich from the top of the garbage, too. Apparently years of watching Seinfeld reruns had seeped into The Ex’s sperm.)
Who is everyone talking to on their cellphones?
Why do men think women are fascinated with, you know, their maleness? (See, I’m breaking the p-word habit.) You know, we’re really not all that fascinated.
Why do I feel an innate need to hoard all of the free napkins in the world? I’m not that messy, but I must grab like 6 napkins with every cup of coffee, probably 12 with every takeout order. (Only a slight exaggeration.) I was going to take a photo of the napkins I have stashed in my desk drawer, but I thought my coworkers would look at me funny. But they wouldn’t think so if there was a nuclear war and they needed one, now would they?
Why exactly did I start this post?