I can't remember your name.
"Good morning, my friend, is it the usual today?"
God I wish I could remember your name.
How can I remember how many splenda packets you want in your iced coffee and not remember your name?
Someone once told me I should get into politics. The idea appealed: start somewhere small, have some kind of effect on society, do more than just bitch about things on facebook. But, more practical issues aside, something huge tanked that idea: I can't remember names.
I certainly remember faces. Voices. Every other characteristic. But--like birthdays--names elude me unless they're drilled into my head multiple times a week. It took me a month to learn all my coworkers' names at my first location, and I only had eight coworkers.
Strange things, memories. I can remember any Simpsons quote from seasons 1-9 without hesitation, recall a song entirely from one or two notes, and picture in perfect, flawless clarity every slight and embarrassment I suffered during high school. But if we're at a party, I can't tell you off the top of my head what that longtime family friend's name is, even if they've been to every party we've thrown for five years. Because it'd be too mortifying to ask.
Scripts and lyrics are easy. You can keep checking them as often as you like until you get them right. But people? Tell a person you don't remember their name after hearing it once and you're That Guy from then on.
Fat-tailed sheep! And a holiday totally dedicated to slaughteri---err, sacrificing them. A handy way to respect your religion's traditions while also obtaining metric assloads of meat and wool.
Now I want to see a bunch of sheep bleating from a car trunk on I-94. First one to do it and take a picture gets a free car interior detailing! I'll just wait for the submissions to roll in.