Sophie's Choice: So, how was your week?

Whimsical moment alert: Drove down 3rd Ave last Friday evening, noticing how dark clouds held sway to the north while the sun shone soft rays over Colville Valley and streamers of steam lazily unfurled over the trees. Just for a few moments, everything was perfect. I was struck by how fleeting it all is, and how that shelf life only serves to make things and people more beautiful. A co-worker lost her cousin that day, very unexpectedly and tragically. Meanwhile, my brother and his loathsomely hot fiancé were wed in Hawaii that day as well, and are now husband and wife (I prefer to think I am gaining a sister instead of losing one). How the world keeps on turning. The line with which I was greeted with upon leaving the gas station last Wednesday: "Hey, you! In the red dress with the #$!& and hips!"
 Now there's a sure-fire strategy with which to ensure your virginity, you feckless gully toad.Did we watch the same movie? One of my favorite movies is 1983’s Scarface. That in itself is nothing to report, but I was thinking how it amuses me to no end the amount of wannabe gangsters who idolize Tony Montana as if he were the grenade launching Cuban Dr. Phil. Did you not see the part where he dies in a hail of gunfire after he has pushed away or killed everyone who has ever cared about him? Or did you get the Little Golden Books version of the movie where he lives happily ever after making tiny cocaine snow men with his baby mamas?Presenting: Simultaneously horrendous and humorous texting mistakes: 
 Brother: When you get a chance, check out Epic Rape Battles of History. It's hilarious! 
Me: Um, isn't that Epic Rap Battles of History? 
Brother: Oh. Yes, RAP.Look at it this way: I can’t help but think that if people put as much time into paying attention where they bought their clothes and household goods as they did declaring on Facebook a boycott of Casey Anthony's supposed book and movie deal, child labor would be a thing of the past.How to unintentionally take your father to the edge of death: Dad: So how's the writing going? Working on any freelance? Me: I'm working on a few different angles. 
 Dad: What's your big project? Me: I'm trying for a spot in Playboy. 
 Me: I mean I'm going to submit a short fiction story. Pardon me; I just realized how that sounded. 
 Dad: “Oh, thank God.”