Skittles.

Today I am going to blog about the age old question that everyone always thinks about: Do skittles have a taste?

I was at my friend's house the other day and we were discussing the matter of Movie Theater foods. My friend noted that she could NOT eat skittles or m&m's in the movie theater, because it was dark and she could never tell what colors she was eating. She noted that she only liked the green m&m's and that she couldn't stand the taste of purple skittles!

After telling her that I never really paid any attention to what colors I ate or how they differed in taste, I decided to test her. I told her to close her eyes as I pulled out a skittle. I anxiously put it in her hand and watched as she popped it in her mouth. Can you guess what color I gave her? If the taste didn't give the color away I was sure that my unstopping giggles would. I was glad when they didn't.

"Green?" She guessed. "Red? Yellow?"

I laughed and told her that it was purple. Obviously, her complete dislike for purple skittles was completely ....there's a word, it means 'it's all in your head'.

After testing her, her husband noted that he could tell the difference. So, we tested him. The results were incredible! As soon as his wife tossed a skittle into his mouth he knew what color it was. It was so cool! I was like, "Wow, do it again!"

Anyway, it was really funny! I guess the answer to the question is: it depends on who you are. For someone like me, skittles and m&m's all taste the same. I mean. That is. They taste the same as themselves. Not that an m&m tastes anything like a skittle. At least I can tell THAT difference.

Just A Note.

In life it seems likely that at least one of the thirty-two-thousand, eight-hundred, some odd mornings in which you awake is bound to be completely and utterly wrong. The reasons are hardly known and the cures are even less. But what can one do but live? Wake up. Get ready for what seems to be the same day re-played. Eat breakfast. Go to work and close your mouth of every complaint. Keep them inside until you are met with one of those rare once-in-a-life-time afternoons when you have nothing to do where you can go out where the world is quiet and have a good long cry. It doesn't cure anything. But it helps.

Today has been one such day for me. Everything has gone wrong. I would take the opportunity for one of those rare afternoons, but alas, it has not come my way. With two jobs it is rare indeed. I don't know what to do to fix it. Or that it can even be fixed. Just as long as I know that there will be a tomorrow, even if it's the same crummy tomorrow as it was today, and even if these crummy tomorrows end up being a whole week of crummy yesterdays, at least I will know that somewhere down the road, it will end. That they won't last forever. That not every day, not every weekend, and not every time I get out of bed will turn out bad. Just as long as I know that, just as long as it's somewhere in the back of mind, I can last. It won't be easy. But I can last.

Thought for Food.

I love asking questions! My favorite questions usually evolve around the first meetings of a couple, or the dating-process, and lately "how did he propose?" sorts of questions.

I'm the sort of person who, when a couple says that their first date forty-some-odd years ago was dinner and a movie, I want to know what movie they watched. Or if a couple mentions that, thirty years ago, they celebrated their first anniversary by going dancing, I like to know what kind of shoes she wore. And if someone mentions that they're reading a book that I have previously read I always ask what part their at. As if it really matters. I feel like questions, or rather, answers to questions are my brain's dessert.

Last year when I was working in Lee's Summit at Subway, I came in to work once and was told the story of how we got robbed at gun point the night before. Turns out that a young man had come in, ordered a sandwich and when he got to the counter to pay, he pulled a gun on my co-worker and demanded all the money. I was lucky enough to have asked for that particular night off, due to an extra credit assignment for my Geography class. And do you know what was the very first question I asked? "...What kind of sandwich was it?" I mean really? Did that matter? Absolutely not!

But somewhere, deep inside, I must have felt that knowing what kind of sandwich it was would give me some sort of bearing, or, a window to the robber's soul. As if all the robbers who got a ham sandwich only carried knives and the one's who got a meatball sandwich only carried guns. As if.

I guess I can't exactly say why I like asking questions. Often times I think it is because it allows me to see into a person's mind even if it's just for a few moments. See how the gears in their brain really work. What their thought process is. What sort of personality they have.

I guess the point I'm trying to make is: if I were to have any superpower in the world, I'd like to be able to read people's minds. I find that when I ask people too many questions they get suspicious, either that or they wonder why in the world I want to know all these random things. Or they just lie. Either way, I think it would be cool to read people's minds. At will anyway. I wouldn't want to read people's minds all the time. That would be weird.

Getting Gas.

So, I get off work, drive home, realize my tank is empty and stop at the only gas station in Pierce City. It's eleven o'clock at night and I'm praying that the gas-station is still open. I get out of my car walk over to the pump and I hear the intercom turn on. "Sorry, we're closed." Oh brilliant! I get back in my car and pull out of the lot.

As I'm pulling out I notice the police car sitting in front of me on the other side of the street. I hadn't bothered to turn on my blinker and that was the only thing I can think of as I watch the police car. As I pass I glance back in my rear-view mirror. One of my greatest nightmares has come true. The police car is following me. It isn't long before the blue and red lights turn on. I pull over, heart pounding, and slip out my diver's license. This has never happened to me before. I really have no idea what I'm doing.

I wait, and within seconds the officer is next to my car with a flashlight. "You don't have your headlights on," he says. My first thoughts are 'Yes they are. Why can I see the road?' But then I realize that I really don't have them on and that the only way I can see the road is because I'm in town. "Oh," I say, flipping them on, "Thanks!" The officer laughs and states that I would have noticed when I got out of town and he even commented on how I smelt (which was like pizza). Anyway... that's about it.

Story of My Grandparents.

This is one of my favorite stories!

Bored.

I want to blog. But. I can't think of anything to blog about.

...I cut my toe on a new raiser last night and bled all over the bathroom, but that's not very exciting. ...I went to work today. And yesterday. I went to Springfield yesterday and visited my siblings. I ate french toast for breakfast this morning. I'm in the process of cleaning my room. I'm reading this really weird book called "The Wish List".

Are you bored yet? I am.