I apologized, and wondered exactly why I had thought that he did. “I don’t work here,” he said with evident annoyance. I didn’t know where to find it, though, so I asked a guy in short sleeves in his middle 30s with a company badge on his belt if he knew where the hydrogen peroxide was. She had texted me at work, asking if I might go to Walgreens and get some so she can lighten the hues of her dye job and look a little less like a Brave cosplayer, and I’d said sure. So I just gave her the hydrogen peroxide. I was tempted to enter Dad Mode and talk about how the movie version really softened the character - Tevye had something of an edge in other versions, and I have one from the Smithsonian Lost Treasures if you’d like to see it, and also Tool was a brand of smoker’s toothpaste - but thought better of it. She calls up the Gwen Stefani version, which seems thin and petty. Tevye does the deedle needle didle didle dum bit, and she says okay it is the same song. Really? This? I called up “Fiddler on the Roof” on YouTube, and she laughed as Topol spoke to God, or the cameraman in the barn rafters. If I had to say something more, it would concern coming home after work, and finding Daughter - who now has flaming red hair, thanks to a salon gift certificate and an imaginative interpretation by the stylist of her request - singing “if I were a rich man.” I asked her how she knew that song, and she said c’mon, it’s by Gwen Stefani. I doubt anyone cares either way humor me. From now on Thursdays will have a big canned feature that’s where I pile the Misc, instead of doling it out. That concludes today’s Bleat! Now, on to the canned features. If you’re still screeching like that after a few centuries you need to dial back the drama. Well, not the long damned, but the newly damned. The windshield wipers make the most horrid screech, because it’s too cold to shoot washer fluid, so the wipers go back and forth dry three times, shrieking like the damned.
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