WWYD

OK.

Two series have passed with me spoutin’ off deep, heartfelt lessons like “God Made Zumba” and pouring solid advice like “Judge a Book by Its Cover“ down like rain.

So now it’s your turn.

It’s time for YOU to share your deep well of knowledge with me.

At least for today. (And potentially every Monday going forward, should you do your job right or should I not change my mind. Hey, it’s my blog. I’m the boss)

So here’s the dealy-yo (I am highly regretting using that expression but it flowed from my brain to my fingers before I could stop it and integrity begs me to leave it there instead of editing it away. So, you’re welcome, or I’m sorry. Or both):

I’m going to give you two scenarios. One will require you to answer the question, “Mean or Funny?” and the other will beg the question, “What would You Do?”

So please do lend me thine ear:

1. Mean or Funny?

Here’s the sitch. (Again, I don’t know why I am writing like a Hannah Montana fan, but its late and I’ve had a lot of sugar and I can’t be held responsible for any and all abbreviations henceforth).

There we are at a restaurant. Minding our own business (aka eating, laughing, loving). It’s a group of about 7 or 8. It is the end of the meal and the busboy comes to refill our waters. We notice that he has 4 uniquely-placed tattoos; two on his wrists and two on the backs of his triceps. But they all look almost identical. And tribal. One of our friends says, “Hey, your tattoos look cool, what do they mean?”

And this is where the debate comes in.

Starting with his left hand he points to all 4 of them and says what they mean;

Left wrist

Right wrist

Left tricep

Right tricep

Essentially he does the macarena.

Seriously. So before I can control myself I say, “And they also let you do the macarena every time you explain them.”

Cue: laughter. Cue: him smiling and blushing. Cue: me not sure if I’m a monster or if I am just playful!

So. What’s the verdict: Mean or Funny?

2. WWYD

Walking into church this morning I stumbled upon a folded one dollar bill. Being the frugal freak that I am I didn’t hesitate a millisecond before swiftly scooping it up (at which point I looked around frantically either for a booby trap that would sweep me into a net and have me hanging upside down from a tree or a camera crew from a reality show). When neither appeared, and after my roommates were done teasing me for being a cheapskate, I had a crisis of conscience: should I have picked it up or left it for someone? Did I steal a little kid’s offering money? Should I thus deposit it in the offering basket? Should I use it to tip the barista jar? Should I stop being  a spaz and realize it’s just a dollar and doesn’t matter?

So tell me, what would YOU do?

I look forward to your judgement (Mean or Funny?) and advice (WWYD?)

Oddly,

LR

Listening to: Lady A knock it out of the ball park at the ACM’s tonight! Yay Hillary!

On my mind: What my next job will be once the malaria campaign ends.