Last night I decided to try a new dry cleaner near my home. After greeting me, the young woman behind the counter asked me if my clothes were for dry cleaning or laundry. I replied “dry cleaning only,” and stood there while she took down my contact information. Then she asked if I wanted my clothes starched.

“I thought you could starch laundry, but not dry cleaning” I replied, a little confused. “These clothes are to be dry cleaned.” Hopefully, I added “But if you are able to add starch to…”

She cut me off.

“Ugh! Are sure you want dry cleaning? Because now I have to void the whole ticket. See, this ticket is for laundry, and this is for dry cleaning, and you can’t mix them up.” She wandered off to find a supervisor.

I stood there looking for the candid camera stashed in the fake trees.

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Today, while I was in our staff meeting, I had trouble keeping my mind on office things. Perhaps it was the proximity to Thanksgiving, or the fact that I had a big plate of turkey, mashed potatoes and stuffing in the dwarf-sized office fridge waiting for me after our meeting, but I began to wonder: if the guy who came up with the Turducken was from another country, what would that meat cocktail have been made of?

Not that I think I’d ever eat one of these, American or otherwise, but the idea of an Aussie-styled version just seems that much more wrong.

And then there’s this site, with example after example of regrettable food choices: this is why you’re fat.