Chips, dip and glimpse of your future

First there were Tupperware parties. Then came Mary Kay, candles and jewelry made from recycled material in Africa.

I've admittedly been to my fair share (because hey, there's always food, usually alcohol and a slim chance that you might walk away with some free stuff).

There's also a good chance that you won't be able to afford anything there.

Myself, I'm a resale and clearance rack shopper. I'm broke and used to being broke and don't usually succumb to "this is a must-have item" pitches. But that doesn't make the purchasing period of the evening any easier.

Typically, when my cohorts begin pulling out their checkbooks and filling out order forms, I'll make myself busy with the chips and dip - or become suddenly intrigued by a hanging plant or ceramic animal in another room.

But I'm not a total cheap skate. I've purchased an essential item or two - take the beer bread mix from last year. The sales pitch, "just add one 12-ounce beer, stir and bake" was all I needed to hear.

Unfortunately I failed to take into consideration that even simplistic directions like "just add one beer and stir" would still produce an inedible, rectangular disaster in my kitchen. Who screws up a two-ingredient recipe? I do.

But this weekend was the the most blasphemous of all get-togethers: the psychic party. The set-up is similar to its party cousins, only instead of walking out with a knock-off purse or a $150 tourmaline ring, you go home with your future…theoretically.

It's okay to laugh. Despite the efforts of Montel Williams and prime time TV dramas, psychics haven't been able to kick their "for entertainment purposes only" status in the mainstream. But I like entertainment. And who am I to say this psychic doesn't have the power of foresight? Open mind, open mind, open mind.

So I enter the room and take a seat at the table with madam psychic. Greetings are exchanged and, somehow, we begin discussing how I dyed my hair jet black and used to iron it (yes, with an iron iron) back in high school. Then she begins.

Psychic: "You don't say much. But what you say has meaning."

[Um, was she not just listening?]

Me: "Actually, I talk a great deal."

Psychic: "Well, what you say is important. You don't just talk."

Me: "Actually, that's not true at all. I can spend an hour critiquing a Dunkin' Donuts commercial and that's not very important."

Psychic: "Yes, but you're not prone to babbeling."

This is right about the time my open mind completely closed up. She really couldn't have been any more off the mark. Thus, everything after that was met with a smile, a nod and a mental "riiiiiiight."

But hey, if I DO change careers, become a flight attendant, meet a freakishly tall guy on a plane, marry him and move to Michigan, well, I guess I'll just have to live with that.

Words mean different things when spoken near a porta-potty

Otherwise harmless phrases take on entirely new -- and malodorous -- meanings depending on where you're standing when you hear them.

If you were, say, standing next to a gas pump and someone called out, "It's full," you'd understand it as an innocuous acknowledgement that someone has a full tank of gas or oil or whatever.

If you were standing outside a grocery store near a Salvation Army donation bucket and an elderly woman looked into the pot and exclaimed, "It's full!" you might be impressed with the monetary collection (but you'd still try to shove a dollar in anyway so you could say you helped).

But if you were at Baystock, apprehensively standing in a line for a porta-potty (acutely aware now of the downside to hanging out in the beer garden all evening) and a gentleman six people ahead of you steps out of the portable toilet and says"Um, yeah, it's full"...well, the phrase has entirely new implications.

If you were a guy, you might excuse yourself from the line in search of the nearest moderately dark corner (or just urinate off the pier next to the ice truck, as one man did).

If you were a girl, you might muse that holding it another hour wouldn't be completely impossible - and if you should pee your pants, would it really be THAT bad? You'd also come to understand why contraptions like the "Freshette" were developed.

I was moderately fortunate -- my line wasn't headed toward the "full" toilet. Even still, I wasn't optimistic. Any hope that did remain, however, was quashed when the woman in front of me stepped out of the porta-potty, kindy held the door and said, "Good luck."

I survived. My shoes, however, won't talk to me anymore.

Other things you don't want to hear in close proximity to a porta-potty:

"Oh my God."
"I've never seen anything like it."
"What IS that?"
"Somebody here today is apparently very ill."

Roadside Maine: Mmm, lobsers

Drive Forest Ave. much? If so, this parked truck and its fine sign may look familiar to you.

Not being one to pay attention to the road while I'm driving, I've stared this sign down repeatedly. But it wasn't until my most recent rendezvous down 302 that it really caught my attention. "What? Does that sign say 'losers'?"

No, that was low self-esteem talking. But then, what's a 'lobser'?

Perhaps you highly attune sign readers out there noticed the misspelling (or is it...?) right away. But it reminded me of an e-mail forward I've gotten at least a half-dozen times -- the one that shows how the human brain can gloss over misspellings as long as the first and last letters are in the right spot.

Prvonig, ocne agian, taht proepr spleling is oevrrtaed.

He's the silent type - and I dig that

The beach can be a scary place.

You'd think it'd be relaxing - reclining in the sand, listening to the methodic rumble of the waves. Maybe knocking down another couple of pages from that 99 cent novel you've been reading for the past two years.

Then a shout distracts you from your book/gossip magazine/nap and you look up to find yourself uncomfortably close to a heavy-set Canadian in an ultra-thin Speedo.

I imagine hikers who come across a bear in the woods experience the same mixed feelings of distress and amazement as such a beach vision incites: You spot the meandering creature and hold deathly still - not even breathing - for fear you may catch its attention. You're frightened, to be sure, but can't get yourself to stop looking. Finally, when it has moved far enough away - is just a speck in the distance - you turn to your cohorts and exclaim, "Did you SEE that?"

But sometimes you meet the eyes of something much less frightening. Sometimes, when you're innocently scanning the beach, you may see that there's a fellow watching you. He's smiling, so you smile back, and then you get shy and look away. But inevitably you look again and he's still staring and smiling. So you go over and introduce yourself and he doesn't say anything. He's shy, too, you think, which is, like, so adorable.

So you talk to him awhile and he's such a good listener and he never interrupts and you think, "This guy is so perfect!" You find a pen somewhere and write your number on his arm and say, "Call me" or something lame like that and when you get back to your spot on the beach you take a picture with your camera phone so you can show your friends this awesome guy you just met who might actually be "The One."

Seen Jesus lately? Me neither.

Early this morning I caught a news story about another image-of-Jesus spotting. This time, the face of Jesus appeared in Forest, Va. after a paint can was lifted off a garage floor.

You're jealous, right? Well fret not, you can buy it for yourself on eBay.

The paint-stain Jesus reminded me of the Virgin Mary Grilled Cheese that GoldenPalace.com purchased a few years ago for $28,000.

So I walked into work this morning chock-full of optimism. Maybe those e-mails my grandmother keeps forwarding are right, and Jesus is everywhere. My eyes were peeled, ready, awaiting my first image-of-Jesus-where-you-wouldn't-expect-it spotting.

And then, there it was!

Wait, isn't that the kangaroo from the Aussie Hair Products commercials?

I guess it wasn't meant to be. But for anyone who has a severe hankering to have his/her own Jesus, Mary or Oprah on toast, CoolToast.com let's you create your own. (If you try this, be sure to click "Mohammad" and "Lohan".)