Okay, so clearly I'm having some trouble with blogging consistency. I'm a busy gal, juggling many roles and careers, it seems. Not the least of which is seeing my book to completion, so you all will have some lengthier Ilene Angel writing to amuse yourselves with and hold in your hands, in addition to the virtual relationship we've been maintaining for a year and a half now.
So I was sitting in the local diner that my father frequents on a daily basis, looking at the ads on the paper place mat, when I noticed an ad for Overeaters Anonymous. Just then an obese man wearing shorts with his butt crack showing waddled by. Is it just me or does anyone else find irony like this in their everyday lives? I switched my fries to a vegetable order and decided that life is indeed equal parts comedy and tragedy.
That brings me to my flip flops. Yes, I'm all about the segue. I found a pair of the most comfortable flip flops ever. They're made by Clarks. Now in the great flip flop discussion that most people could care less about, I land of the side of those of us who partake in the odd little sandal wearing. So I went on line to see if I could find a second pair, yes, I was looking for a back up pair of flip flops. I landed on Amazon.com, which is not an uncommon occurrence for me. Lo and behold, they had them in my size.
As good marketing skills would advise, Amazon has a habit of suggesting other items you might like based on your past purchases. So there I sat, reading "Customers who purchased this item also bought..." and there it was: two other pairs of flip flops and a Karl Rove memoir. This disturbed me.
I did a double take...right before wondering what my shoe tastes had to do with Karl Rove. Mr. Rove, or Satan's brother, as I affectionately refer to hm on occasion, is not one of my favorite people. But according to Amazon, at least one other person wearing my flip flops has purchased Rove's book.
I am about to leave for Florida, and as I walk the oil covered beaches of the Gulf, I will be looking for someone, someone very specific. Maybe she'll be nestled under an umbrella with sunglasses on. Maybe she'll be sporting a bikini. Lord knows I won't be. Whoever she is, she will be wearing Clark's flip flops like mine and holding a Karl Rove book. That's how I'll know my fellow shopper.
Maybe I'll stop and ask her how she likes the book...or the shoes, or Obama. Maybe I'll just keep on walking. It is, after all, a vacation.
Wherever your summer plans take you, thanks for stopping by and spending a couple of minutes with me.
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