1. I love baseball with a passion.
2. I never played Little League.
3. I have moved 28 times in the last 25 years.
4. I’ve been working for the same company for 24 years.
5. I’ve been playing the guitar for 25 years.
6. I’ve only been good at it for the past 5 years.
7. I can’t sing very well.
8. I’ve been told I laugh like Precious Pup.
9. “Precious Pup” was not very masculine. Continue reading “100 Things About Me”
I’ve been working on my list of “100 Things”; something most bloggers do eventually. While working on it today though, I recalled an incident from early childhood that was very funny but somehow sad at the same time.
When I was in the first grade, one day after lunch, several of us were walking along the sides of a very large sand box filled with about a foot and a half of rain water. I saw a girl I was fond of walking past and I yelled out, “Hey Suzy, watch this!” and proceeded to jump into the middle of the water on my knees. Everyone was dumbfounded. They all had the same expression on their faces, the one that said, “What the hell is wrong with you? Seriously dude.” The silence then turned to laughter and instead of showing my embarrassment, I began laughing with them. After a little while, I kind of liked the attention I was getting (early class clown training). Continue reading “Red Stirrup Pants”
Since I started driving a new car I’ve been very conscious of where I park. I am in that phase where you park ten miles away from everything to avoid door dings. Doesn’t it just torque your jaw when you’ve walked the whole ten miles back with those plastic grocery bags ripping through your knuckles only to find some moron has parked his piece of crap Chevy Cavalier right next to yours. Continue reading “Mini Parking”
Long day included over 4 hours at my second job at the Flight School. Watched the Braves come from behind to beat the Astros then started packing for our weekend trip to Sea World. We’re having “Dinner with Shamu”. I have this mental image of a big giant fish sitting at a little table drinking from a cup while holding his pinky fin out. I’m pretty sure killer whales can’t talk, so how’s he gonna ask us where we’re from and did we have a nice trip? Oh well, he’s done this a million times, I’m sure he has the small talk covered. What do you bet he’s a steak eater?
“We will never stop thinking about new ways to harm our country and our people.”
— George W. Bush August 5, 2004.
School has started again and with it; traffic. Since I was clearly going to be late for work anyway, I decided to stop at Starbucks and splurge. I apparently wasn’t the only one late today because Starbucks was empty. This glaring fact didn’t stop the cashier from asking me what name to write on the cup though. I supplied the requested information, but I really wanted to say “how about ‘ONLY CUSTOMER’ you moron!” I think from now on when I am asked that question, I’m gonna start giving them long Arab names with no vowels.
So my Palm Pilot finally came back. You will recall from an earlier blog that I dropped something on it and shattered the glass. I sent it to Palm and for 125.00 they promptly sent me a reconditioned one. One problem. I sent them an m515 and they sent me a reconditioned m505. They look identical except for the screen brightness. The m515 is much brighter. HEY, excuse me, am I boring you here? Pay attention, this is important stuff! Not EVERYTHING is funny. So anyway I called them up, bitched them out, and sent it back. They in turn sent me a reconditioned m515. Well, actually, it’s still an m505. It just has a m515 case. This thing is dim as hell and the cases are identical so how would I, a poor, ignorant consumer, know any better.
I guess I could keep sending it back and making them pay shipping until they do the right thing, but by then they will have upgraded 4 more times and nothing will run on it anyway. So I’ve decided to spare myself further anguish and just cower like the beaten consumer dog that I am. I know, I know; I’m letting down my fellow man and helping empower big business. I am sorry. I just can’t face another trip to the john without my Freecell…
Storms a comin’. We bettah head back to dah haaba. Hurricane Frances is headed straight to Atlanta. Yeah right. My friend John in Daytona tells me most hurricanes are really non-existent, created by a conspiring group of meteorologists who are compensated nicely by Home Depot to increase plywood sales.
And speaking of hurricanes, why do all those news stations have to send people down to the beach to report. I realize all the traffic is heading away from, and not to the beach, and the backdrop of big waves is very dramatic, but what a waste of time and money. If I’m an up and coming news source, I’m gonna use file footage. Whether it’s Miami today, or Cape Hatteras (they love to go there) ten years ago, it’s the same wet moron standing in front of big waves telling us about hurricanes while his comb-over whips all the way off camera. They all look the same to me.