I should not be allowed to dress myself

Today’s earworm, and its source

Set the Way-Back Machine to today, 06:50ish.

I’m waiting at the 4th & Pike bus stop for the Sound Transit 545 to Redmond. I’m holding my freshly prepared (and still a smidge too hot to drink) small skinny vanilla latte from the Seattle’s Best down the street, watching the traffic roll past.

A good many vehicles pass that location in the usually five or six minutes I have to wait for the 545. Fair number of buses, many private vehicles and business trucks/vans/whatever.

One truck catches my eye. Smallish tanker truck, it looks like the type that might deliver heating oil in the suburbs. The company name emblazoned on its side:


In no way remarkable, no idea why it catches my eye.

So then my brain goes into overdrive in something like the following sequence of thoughts, which probably requires all of 10 seconds start to finish:

  1. I wonder what they sell.
  2. I should look them up when I get to work.1
  3. Commodities. Oil, grain, coal, copper, ....
  4. “Commodity” and “commode” are similar words. Same root? I should check that.2
  5. “Commode”—toilet.
  6. Toilet—potty.
  7. “Get off the pot” hee hee.
  8. BAM earworm of “Beauty School Dropout” from Grease.
  9. Dammit!

  1. No idea why I didn’t just whip out my iPhone right at that moment.
  2. Yes.