Good morning and welcome to Summit Up, the world’s only daily column walking around with the tags still on our clothes.
At least we could be. You see, no one’s telling us. We think we got them all, but you can’t be sure.
We went shopping over the weekend. After 15 years of hard use, the wardrobe needed some refreshing. That’s what our friends were telling us anyway.
It’s one thing if someone you don’t know tells you your clothes are out-of-style and threadbare – we chalk it (and the prevalence of middle finger-flashing, parents fighting at kids’ sports events and the popularity of bands like Limp Bizkit) up to the ever-improving civility of the industrialized world. But it’s another thing when those you trust tell you you look like a bum. Hey, we thought that was the “in” thing.
So, we felt pretty good the other day when we put on our brand new pair of jeans and a new shirt. Of course, we were a little late getting out of the house. That’s because you can’t buy an item of clothing these days that doesn’t have four tags, six stickers, eight pins and two pieces of tissue paper hidden somewhere in its folds. We had to spend a little more time than expected dealing with that.
And then we didn’t even deal with all of it. We’re romping all over Summit Up Land doing the things we do (sniffing yogurt for freshness at the grocery store, playing chicken with the kids at the school crosswalks, getting our elected officials riled up with talk of recall elections and bringing Ahhhnold to Summit Up Land to run for office, etc.) and everybody’s looking at us.
“Hey, we must look good in our new clothes,” we were thinking. But it wasn’t until we got to the Corporate Suites that a true friend pointed out we still had one BIG sticker running down our butt.
“Oh, so that’s what people were looking at,” we realized.
Granted, this isn’t as serious as having your zipper down or a big green monster hanging from your nose and no one telling you, but it doesn’t make you feel good.
Kind of makes you wonder how many stop signs you rolled through or whether or not you turned off the oven.
Here’s to paying attention.
One more reason to learn to change your own oil: A caller contacted us Saturday noting that whatever the grease monkeys put in your car when you have the oil changed should not be red.
This caller realized this after she’d already driven out of town to start vacation. The oil change place (here in Summit Up Land, mind you) first denied it, then found the whole barrel of oil was contaminated, and still refused to refund her money.
But that’s not nearly as bad as this Scum Alert!! Scum Alert!!
Jim in Dillon called to say he was walking home on Tenderfoot about 2:30 a.m. Thursday when he was hit by a blue four-door car. Jim’s already reported this to the police, and we hope they can track somebody down. Jim said, yes, he was a little intoxicated, but he wasn’t walking in the middle of the street or anything. Now his sciatic nerve is bothering him, and he’s hoping he can get healed up by the time the season starts.
As anyone who’s ever seen a horror film knows, bad things happen to drivers who hit people.
Eric Scott, a magnanimous White Sox fan in Heeney, had this message for our readers who are baseball fans.
“Being a White Sox fan, this is a little bit hard to say but, “Congrats! to all the Cub fans in Summit Up Land.’ They’ve won their division, let’s hope they make the most of it!”
We had a Scum Alert! a couple weeks ago from Matt, “The Bowl Troll.” Some punk stole Matt’s bike, which had a lot of sentimental value, and we won’t go into it all, but he got his bike back.
“The scum who stole it happened to ride it to the skate park,” Matt said. “When I began to yell at him, he got off and walked away. So we had a happy ending. I got my bike back.”
Karma works in mysterious ways, folks.
For those who aren’t clear on the etiquette for catching a bus, a slightly disgruntled Dan has this advice:
“Oscar the Grouch presents the word of the day: BUS STOP. A bus stop is where the bus stops to pick up and let off passengers. If you are not at a bus stop, do not expect a bus to stop and pick you up, or let you off. If you are at a bus stop, and a bus approaches, don’t just sit there like a sackful of muddy doorknobs!
“If you do not want to ride the bus, please wave the bus on, or nod your head in a negative manner! This will be greatly appreciated by the driver and all the people aboard the bus who do not wish to waste their time while you sit there in a stupor! SHEEESH!”
It’s Thursday, as if we needed to tell you that. Tell us what we need to be told at firstname.lastname@example.org, fax at (970) 668-0755 or just record the crunching of leaves on the voicemail at (970) 668-3998, ext. 237.
We’re out looking for pumpkins …
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