Today I am scatterbrained, so I will just blurt out a few random things to satisfy my own ridiculously strong urge to blog:

* I wish I could see that old late-80s commercial for Cracklin' Oat Bran cereal again. I thought of it today for some reason and was fondly giggling about the husband and wife's dialogue in that commercial. Remember? It went something like this:

Wife: "Did you eat all the Cracklin' Oat Bran?"
Husband: "No... I thought YOU did!"
Wife: "I thought YOU did!"
Husband: "No, but the box IS empty (shows empty box). SOMEONE ate all the Cracklin' Oat Bran!"
Wife: "I did not eat all the Cracklin' Oat Bran!!"

I love thinking about how escalated their argument could have gotten. They would have first stood up, screaming till their faces turned purple; then the shoving would start... then someone would grab the box and begin beating the other one with it... then a chair gets picked up and swung into the other person... and one throws the other across the room... you hear glass shattering; the dog starts barking...all while the screams got louder and more insistent: I DID NOT EAT ALL THE FUCKIN' CRACKLIN' OAT BRAN!!!

* I just watched as a guy walking along the sidewalk outside gave directions to someone who pulled up in their car. The guy was pointing off to his left, very vehemently. Why do we always feel the need to use our hands to show directions? Why is pointing going to help all that much? Chances are the guy already said, "You have to turn around and go back through the two stopsigns". Just the fact that he SAID "turn around" should be clue enough for what the driver needs to do. I don't think the driver really needs to see the exaggerated pointing and all that. It's overkill. But we all do it when we give directions.

* Yesterday as I was driving home down the 101, going about 70 MPH, the driver in the lane in front of me suddenly applies his brakes. I am forced to jam my foot down and pray like hell that no one is tailgating me at that moment-- luckily, no one was as I skidded down to about 18 MPH. We are driving in the middle lane on a freeway, and he just brakes. I get closer to him, and I can clearly see him holding up a cell phone and DIALING a number. He was braking so he could dial better. I honked about three times and flipped him off. What the hell would make a person do something like this?

Probably--and this is just a guess-- his wife ate all the Cracklin' Oat Bran that morning, so he was operating on a new, low level of dumb. You need oats for smarts.