I don't think there is a man or woman alive who does not realize that if one washes the car after two weeks without rain, weeks that leave the Cutlass Supreme looking like it just came back from being driven across the Sahara, it will rain like all-get-out that very afternoon.
And I don't think there is a man or woman who knows what "like all-get-out" means. Does it mean that everyone has to leave? Same with "to beat the band." Which band is being beaten? I hope it's A Flock Of Seagulls, for crying out loud.
Other laws: if you order a pizza with pepperoni on one side and anchovies on the other, you're guaranteed that no one wants a slice from the anchovy side.
All hardware stores reek of fertilizer. Even if they don't sell fertilizer, it smells like they do.
And of course, when you need a red light as you drive along so you can pull up your socks or retrieve something you dropped on the floor of the car, you will see nothing but green from here to Cleveland. It never fails.
And I have another new one to add. I use one of those shaving razors to whittle away the stubble, and now and then I get a cartridge (the kind with like 5 blades) that lasts and lasts. I mean, day after day, off come the whiskers, and I can also use it to remove paint or old wallpaper in between shaves. It doesn't matter. Those blades are good to go many many times.
And then - this never fails - the end comes, as it must for us all, and I eject that old cartridge and toss it, replacing it with a brand-clean, brand-new shiny new one, whose blades glisten in the morning sun as I lather up the old melon and prepare to make myself presentable.
And the new one will cut me within the first week! Every time! I wind up calling it Stevie, because it Nicks me.
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