What the Hell Wednesday
Wednesdays are great for Wordless and Wordful posts, but we decided to go a different route and create our own Wednesday fun. We figured what the hell. That’s how we started What The Hell Wednesday. Who are we kidding? That’s pretty much how we decide on almost everything. If you want to play along, grab our button on the sidebar, link up to us in your post and don’t forget to sign in to the linky below. Really, what the hell?
Today I was reading online that they passed new regulations for what visitors can wear to prisons. It said, “No v-necks, no shirts with zippers, no overalls, no see-thru clothing and undergarments must be worn.” What the Hell? Is the lack of undergarments such a problem? I’m guessing it is if they have to put it in a new regulation. Who wouldn’t wear undergarments to a prison? Would you really want to be sitting on those benches and stuff sans undergarments? Besides the other items listed are pretty much common sense. It should just say, “No dressing like a slut, you are visiting a prison, stupid.”
Speaking of what people are wearing. Today I walked to Dunkins’ on my lunch break with my friend. In walks this girl in a black maxi-dress, black fringe sandals, and a bright orange knit hat. Oh and by the way, it was like 80 degrees today. Both my friend and I said, “What the Hell?” at the same time. Did she get dressed and think, “Hmmmm, this outfit needs something, oh I know, my winter bright orange knit hat.” I know it’s NH, but it’s not hunting season anymore, she shouldn’t worry about being mistaken for a deer. I’ve attached a picture below to help with the visual.
A couple of weeks ago we had a new mail carrier at work. The very first time she came in she very dramatically threw her arm and upper body into the counter in front of me and said “I can’t believe it, I forgot your mail at the post office! They can deliver it tomorrow.” Then she paused and said “Or I can go get it and bring it back.”
WTH??!! I said that I would like her to get the mail and bring it back.
“What time do you close?”
“5 pm” and it was just a little bit after 12 when she was laying across my counter.
“Oh, I don’t know. I might not make it back in time but I’ll try.”
I said that would be good. She left and was back in less than 20 minutes. Seriously, I was thinking “you have one job, you’re the mail-person.