Can anyone guess how many pennies I’ve stashed in this apple cider jug since college? (As opposed to just throwing them away like someone I know.) I’ll give you a hint: it’s about 600 more than the free Change Express counter at our local Chevy Chase bank can handle before it breaks. The machine locked up and started shooting copper out like the loosest slot machine in all of NOVA. Nonplussed, we trekked to another Chevy Chase with our remaining $6 in pennies and steins of silver.
And we broke that one too.
But not before the G got hit on by a bank manager who should have been paying attention to me, the non-account holding lowlife who was busting his machine. On the plus side, though, when he did waddle over and unclear the jam I got to see the innards of the device. And while it has a coin return for the uncountable foreign currency and wooden nickels in the front, it also has a secret compartment for the truly undesirable jetsam. Things the Coin Exchange can’t handle:
- Paper clips
- Watch batteries
- American flag lapel pins
- Pennies flattened on a return trip to DC from the Jersey Shore at the Maryland House
- What appeared to be a piece of coral
Speaking of the shore…
The G drove all the way to Skanksville Beach today before she realized she didn’t have her ID or credit cards. She’s on her way back now and she’s pissed. If you see her car, I’d advise not looking directly at it or you may catch on fire from all the cartoon anger lines coming off her head. I’m on my way to meet her halfway and will probably miss M. Doughty. Alas.
And finally CS. You have until midnight tomorrow to produce a certain confection.