And after the party, it's the hotel lobby

I packed more than I could reasonably handle, so I opted to check my baggage curbside.

An enthusiastic Southwest employee (let's call him "Bob") approached me in line.

"Right this way, sir. How many bags are you checking? Can I see some identification? I'll be right back."

While Bob checked me in, I decided to fill out a tag for my carry-on duffel bag. I had barely written my name down when Bob returned.

"Okay, you're all set. Here's your boarding pass and your license back. I'll deal with your bags."

"Thanks."

I returned my driver license to its proper wallet slit and continued filling out the baggage tag. Bob, meanwhile, stayed put, smiling hesitantly.

"Oh. Am I supposed to tip for curbside check?" I thought. "Gaaaaay! I hope I have some ones in my wallet."

As I reached into my left pocket, I heard Bob mutter, "That's it."

Two dollars poorer, I resumed filling out the tag. Bob, however, refused to leave.

"Go away! I gave you money already!" I thought.

"You want to go to Gate B8. [pause] Gate B8 is that way. You want to go that way. [pause] That's the way to Gate B8."

Note that I was sitting at the time.


Every time I return home, my mother's first concern is plucking my eyebrows.

"Good eyebrows equal good luck."

Today, she tried a method that involved rubbing my eyebrows with a chalky cosmetic bar of "Silver Snow Bear" (Chinese-to-English translation) and then uprooting hairs with floss.

It didn't work.


The 'X-Men' Comics vs. 'X-Men: The Last Stand'
X-Men: The Dumbest Stand

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