I realize my writing will never win a Pulitzer prize.  Or any other kind of prize.  But I don’t care.  I’m not sure anything can top what happened last week after I wrote the bit about the Wienermobile.  I received a comment (now attached to that post) from a very special source:

The Wienermobile!

Yes, friends, I have corresponded with the Wienermobile (or more accurately, a caretaker thereof).  Turns out that there is (of course) a blog dedicated to the traveling adventures of the various Wienermobiles.  When I entered information about the Wienermobile photo in my blog, apparently my blog software notified the Wienermobile blog that I was making reference to the Wienermobile, so somebody checked my blog out and left a comment.  I realize this interaction has more to do with software package features than me having any kind of meaningful association with the Wienermobile, but I don’t care.  I may never get interviewed by Larry King, but my blog has been acknowledged by the Wienermobile.  Can Mark Twain say the same?  (No.  For many reasons).

As if that weren’t exciting enough, today was the day of my bi-monthly haircut.  After the excitement of moving the part in my hair from the center to the side in 1990, all has been quiet along the haircut front.  Sure, my forehead’s getting slightly larger and a few gray hairs are infiltrating, but all in all it’s been an unremarkable couple of decades haircut-wise.  Until recently.

The lady who cuts my hair has begun trimming my eyebrows.  This didn’t happen in college.  Having eyebrows raging out of control makes me feel like (and thus want to act like) this guy:

Oscar

To make matters worse, I was never a big Oscar the Grouch fan as a child, even though I loved Sesame Street.  I am a Bert guy.  He’s more of a cynic than a grouch.  Plus, being rather angular, I resemble Bert more than Oscar physically, at least when my eyebrow(s) are trimmed.

But more interesting than the haircut (which I know is fascinating enough) is what I saw afterward.  Next door to the barbershop is one of those “Instant Cash Advance” places.  I think what you do there is write them a check for, say, $115 and they give you $100 cash and promise not to process the check for maybe a week.  At least that’s how I assume those places work.  But what was really interesting was the sign on the door of this establishment:

“No cash kept onsite”

Now that’s a revelation.  They don’t keep cash at a business whose only product is, well, cash.  “Cash” is in the name of the store.  I’m just flush with questions about this.

1.  Have any would-be customers seen that sign and departed to go to a cash advance place that does keep cash around?

2.  Is this sign a simple ruse to ward off robbers who aren’t smart enough to realize there MUST be cash inside a cash advance store?  If so, do the proprietors really think somebody that unaware would even read the sign in the first place?

3. Maybe we are to assume the sign applies to non-business hours.  Robbers should not bother breaking it at night because no cash will be found. They should just jump the poor guy who locks the door because, obviously, he must be carrying all the cash off the premises.

4. Or maybe part of the appeal of these places is that you have to go on a scavenger hunt to obtain your cash.  For example, if you write them the check for $115 they will tell you to go to a drive-thru window of a specified restaurant and show the clerk a photo of yourself with, say, a Wal-Mart greeter.  Having thus established your bona fides the clerk will tell you the name of an obscure Russian novel in the local library where you can find your $100 cash.  Prosperity and fun wrapped into one transaction, with no cash onsite.

I thought about going in to ask about the sign, but was just too uneasy about the ambiguity to even set foot in there.  As Oscar would say, I decided to scram.