It's that time again. Here are the most recent award winners.
In the category of "keep your prejudices to yourself" the winner is: lady at the fabric store. I was having my fabric cut when a rather rambunctious child (who also happens to be in my ward) decided to play with the take-a-number machine. The cut counter lady sharply told him to stop it. As she continued to cut my fabric her monologue evolved from the general "how's your day" to "children should keep their hands to themselves" to "the neighbor kids torment my dog." I was about to say that was too bad about her dog when she continued her rant that made me skip cocking my eyebrow because they disappeared into my hairline. It went something like this: "Those two little Hispanic kids just won't leave my dog alone. He growls whenever he sees them. I tell you, those Hispanic people must have a specific smell because my dog growls whenever one of them walks by. He'll start up and I'll think it's one of those kids and get up to tell them to go away, but then it's just the mailman. He's Hispanic, you know..." I was too stunned to say anything at first, then I didn't say anything for fear she would think I agreed and continue.
In the category of "too proud of his car" the winner is: random customer. He and his friend came about 20 minutes before the store opened and, when told it would be a while before we could help them, proceeded to stay at the door and fog up the glass with their breath. They got bored of that after a few minutes and drove away in their car. Apparently the body shape and the Mustang emblem on the fascia are not sufficient to recognize what car he drives. Very helpfully, he had a horsey with flames for feet painted on both sides of the car. Just in case we were confused. The custom painting on the sides is forgivable, but the racing stripes of white, orange, and purple across the top are not. I think the painted horse is trying to run away from the bad color combination. Nature is the only thing that can make those colors look good together.
In the category of "don't make snap judgements" the winner is: me. Lest ye believe that I think I don't make at least my fair share of exceedingly stupid choices, I have to give myself this award. Background: the People on the Other Corner are a little unsavory and not always nice. My favorite was when we were driving home and their new puppy ran into the street. We stopped so as to avoid hitting the puppy. Then they flipped us off and cursed at us. I still haven't figured out why we deserved that. Anyway, a few nights ago we were heading out for a movie. Eric opened my door to let me in. As I leaned over to unlock his door I saw him walking toward the dark figures of the People on the Corner. I knew it was them because I could see the glowing bit of cigarette. They generally deposit those cigarette butts on our sidewalk. I waited in the pitch black car for two minutes before I started getting suspicious. Were they drunk and chatting him up? Were they asking for money (we had one neighbor try to sell us his girlfriend's humidifier because "the baby needs diapers." He actually needed drug money)? Were they going to take his money? At one point Eric jumped backwards and my heart nearly stopped. I started going through escape scenarios and realized I had no keys with me to get in the house and call police if anything happened. If they just wanted to knife him they would have done it already. No! They want me to get out because I'm a witness. If I get out and go over there they'll knife both of us. As long as I stay in the car they won't do anything to Eric. At this point the voice in my head told me I was being highly irrational and I should get out of the car and see what's going on before my imagination ran away with me. More. I got out of the car and walked over to find Eric, a random man, and three missionaries. The reality was that one of the elders had just crashed his bike and they had asked Eric if he had any medical training. I didn't hear them call him over. By the time I got there the missionary was being attended to by someone who knew what he was doing. The cigarette was the reflection of light on one of their bike helmets. Oops. The missionary (in his very first day in the field) ended up being just fine. We retrieved our tube of IcyHot and gave it to him to help with the soreness we anticipated for his second day in the field. We went to our movie and I remained sheepish for the rest of the night.