Isn't it Ironic?

Remember that old Alanis Morisette song, Ironic?

"...It's like 10,000 spoons when all you need is a knife...."

I saw something just as ironic the other day and found myself wishing I had my camera with me so I could take a picture and show it to you.

Isn't that sad?

Not the sharing with you part, because we learned in Kindergarten that sharing is good. But the part about seeing something and my first thought being "I should blog this."

Anyway, Chickster and I made a morning "stay at home Mommy" run to Target. We bought essential things like disposable bibs for Chickster for a trip we're taking and a cute pair of shoes for me. Not necessarily for said trip, but a must-have, just the same.

We were loading ourselves into the ol' gas-guzzling Xterra (yes, I love it, and no it's really not that bad on gas) when I noticed the car parked beside me.

It was gleaming. Brand new. The tires weren't even dirty - it was that fresh off the lot. Black. Shiny. Pristine. So sparkly, in fact, that the sun glinting off the "Hybrid" emblem nearly blinded me.

And not that I was looking, but I saw something in the back seat that made me do a cartoon quality double take.

Are you ready?

Sitting in the back seat of this brand spanking new Toyota Camry Hybrid was: a styrofoam ice chest.

I'll let that soak in a little bit.

Yeah, the same styrofoam ice chest that you buy at the bait shop. And while bored out of your mind sitting on the boat waiting for a fish to bite, you pick tiny little styrofoam dots off and flick them in the water.

The same styrofoam ice chest that your grandmother carries in the back of her car even though large chunks have been gouged out of it because "you never know when it might come in handy."

The same styrofoam ice chest that will (gasp!) take a bagillion years to decompose in a landfill somewhere because YOU, fancy pants hybrid owner, spent all your money on a stinking hybrid car and can't afford a real ice chest.

I on the other hand, drive an evil SUV and buy disposable bibs for my kid. Hey, at least I'm consistent.