Now, for the stupidstitious thing that left me with a smackerel feeling of angst. Mancub and I went out for some low key retail therapy. It's unusual for me to indulge in this sort of activity. In typical fashion, I spent the majority on the boy. Target had some cool, vintage looking t-shirts. He selected Captain America and Ghostbusters shirts. I got a hypoallergenic eyeliner (woo! big spender) and stocked up on allergy meds and the like. I'm a maniac! In addition, Mancub got a long awaited haircut. On a Saturday one really takes a risk of getting a timely walk in appointment. Luck was on our side as they got him in right away.
While he was in the chair, I waited. I don't tell the stylist what to do. I haven't for many years. It's his head and I'm confident he won't make outlandish requests. Anyway, I could hear any dialogue taking place. I must say that my child is quite comfortable starting conversations. He's close to 16 and he managed to start up a conversation about the biggest current event: the 2010 Winter Olympics. To the stylist, "So, have you watched any of the Olympics this year? We watched the opening ceremonies and it wasn't without problems, but it was really cool how they lit the torch .... " This exchange went on. The stylist shared her personal account for the Atlanta Summer Olympics where I was eventually brought into the chat. I'm so proud of Mancub for not sitting in silence or babbling about something inane just for the sake of hearing his own voice. He was topical and, I must say, charming. Most 15 year olds I know are not engaging with adults, let alone, their own age range. Hell, most adults wait for someone else to start the banter.
Once our shopping was complete, it was apparent our stomachs wanted attention. I ran down a list of places we could eat and he chose (ugh) Panda Express. It's not bad food, but it most certainly isn't what I would have picked. But that's the risk you take when telling someone it's their call. Let it be noted that he will often tell me we should just go home and make something there. He's learning to be frugal. Plus, he prefers home cooked meals over take out -- unless it's pizza. It was after our dining at Panda Express that my angst struck. The cashier handed us two fortune cookies. As always, I let Mancub pick his first. In the car, we remove the cellophane wrap, split open the cookie ... nothing. MY COOKIE HAD NOTHING IN IT! I looked around thinking it might have fluttered to the floor of the car. NOTHING! Mancub's was rather enticing and it's over my dead body his will come true anytime soon. Pleasures await you by the seashore. And with consideration to where my crush resides, I had to wonder if that wasn't really intended for me, but you take what you're given in life. I was empty handed. What's a girl to do in a situation like this? What else, turn to Facebook and Plurk. Throw out the question and come up with some interesting, if not welcomed responses.
I'm randomly posting the responses in order to protect the contributors who might otherwise not like being exposed for their sunny disposition:
Is it bad luck to have no fortune in a fortune cookie?
- you are able to predict your own future...to whatever you might wish...
- you know exactly what you need without their stupid advice
- it means you get to eat another cookie
- you won't learn your Chinese word or get your lucky numbers!
- they are cheap asses
- It means quality control is not really a priority at the fortune cookie factory.
- Mancub switched cookies on you when you weren't looking
- mechanical error ... nothing wrong with The Riss
- Actually, according to custom, it means you are very special and don't need a fortune at all!
- Perhaps it's a statement about how ridiculous fortunes are. ;)
- Nope! It just means the possibilities for your future are ENDLESS!
- I think I'd view an empty fortune cookie as a blank check!
- No, but it is bad luck to eat one. They taste f&%*kin horrible.