Blog number 502******* 28 March 2011
Sometimes the parking lot at the post office is very crowded. At such times there are cars arriving and leaving. Many a time I have started backing out and a car looking for a parking place down the way will honk at me. "I'm coming by. Stop backing up."
Why can't the guy just stop and wait for me to back out and then we can both continue on our merry way? 'cause he or she is still in the two year old stage, that's why. "Me first and me only."
A couple of days ago the lot was really crowded and I waited for one to back out, went forward a few feet, another one backing out, I wait. Coupla cars down, another backing out and then another and then I hear a horn behind me. This guy/girl has urgent business and I am blocking him/her from his/her assignment to save the world and all its populace. Brubaker!
So today I am backing out at the post office and this guy/girl coming up behind stops and waits for me. I am shocked! I think this is the very first time in eight years here visiting this post office that someone has done this. That he/she did not honk at me and continue on. Thinking about it, I guess I should be glad that they even honk.
Anyway, I back out and I reach the street and a big white pickup pulls up alongside, to turn to the left. I am turning right. Now usually when this happens, I have to keep edging out into the street so that I can see around him/her. Usually he or she then pulls further ahead, which causes me to do the same until we are both in the middle of the street. OK. I exaggerated a little there.
I wait for him (I can see the driver) to edge forward like they always do, but surprise, surprise, he backs up! The only reason I can see for him to do this is so that I can see around him. In 65 years of driving, I have never had this happen to me.
First someone waits for me to back out, and then this guy backs up so I can see around him. Two unselfish caring people in the space of two minutes. The Resurrection can't be far off.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Friday, March 25, 2011
FIRE DOWN BELOW
Blog number 500 ******* 25 March 2011
This time, after I put out the fire on my pants leg, I went around the house to the Aloe plant, cut a piece off and rubbed the juice on the burn.
I get smarter every day.
This time, after I put out the fire on my pants leg, I went around the house to the Aloe plant, cut a piece off and rubbed the juice on the burn.
I get smarter every day.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
WARNING. THIS IS A RANT
Blog number 499 ******* 23 March 2011
Several weeks ago we (my wife) called the Arizona Republic paper to cancel our subscription. Since then a man has called, waking me up from a deep sleep, to say that they can renew our subscription at a lower price. I said,"no." He asked why.
I replied, "Because there isn't any news in it and it is mostly a whole bunch of ads and every time I load up my recycling bin with nothing but his newspapers, I feel guilty."
He say ok.
Then a couple of days later a lady called with the same story, waking me up again, and I told her my same story. I also told her that a man had called earlier and she said that she would take me off her list. I said good.
So yesterday I got a call, same story, only this time from a machine. I hung up on it. Then just now I get another call, probably from the same machine, right? This time I listened to its spiel and it said that I didn't have to respond to that call, but if I wanted to speak to them, I could call...and it gave me their phone number.
Now what really irked me was my old bugaboo, stupidity. If I wanted to call them, wouldn't I already have done so? Huh? Huh?
And then yesterday we went to Phoenix and they are putting in another freeway and we ordinarily turn off on Chandler Blvd. So we come up on the road work and there is a big sign "Chandler Blvd. Exit Only." "Oh, good," I thought. At least that's open.
My wife, darling that she is, said, "we better turn off on Pecos Road. Chandler is closed."
"No it isn't, I say. That sign said, "Chandler Blvd. Exit Only."
Then another big sign came up. "Chandler Blvd. Exit Only."
I say, "see?" And we stay in that lane.
Then another big sign came up. "Chandler Blvd. Exit Only."
Then Chandler Blvd. Exit came up and it was closed.
We had to change lanes.
Wound up in Iowa.
No we didn't. That's a lie.
I do that sometimes.
Drives my wife crazy.
That's why I do it.
It's either her or me.
Dum de dum dum
Several weeks ago we (my wife) called the Arizona Republic paper to cancel our subscription. Since then a man has called, waking me up from a deep sleep, to say that they can renew our subscription at a lower price. I said,"no." He asked why.
I replied, "Because there isn't any news in it and it is mostly a whole bunch of ads and every time I load up my recycling bin with nothing but his newspapers, I feel guilty."
He say ok.
Then a couple of days later a lady called with the same story, waking me up again, and I told her my same story. I also told her that a man had called earlier and she said that she would take me off her list. I said good.
So yesterday I got a call, same story, only this time from a machine. I hung up on it. Then just now I get another call, probably from the same machine, right? This time I listened to its spiel and it said that I didn't have to respond to that call, but if I wanted to speak to them, I could call...and it gave me their phone number.
Now what really irked me was my old bugaboo, stupidity. If I wanted to call them, wouldn't I already have done so? Huh? Huh?
And then yesterday we went to Phoenix and they are putting in another freeway and we ordinarily turn off on Chandler Blvd. So we come up on the road work and there is a big sign "Chandler Blvd. Exit Only." "Oh, good," I thought. At least that's open.
My wife, darling that she is, said, "we better turn off on Pecos Road. Chandler is closed."
"No it isn't, I say. That sign said, "Chandler Blvd. Exit Only."
Then another big sign came up. "Chandler Blvd. Exit Only."
I say, "see?" And we stay in that lane.
Then another big sign came up. "Chandler Blvd. Exit Only."
Then Chandler Blvd. Exit came up and it was closed.
We had to change lanes.
Wound up in Iowa.
No we didn't. That's a lie.
I do that sometimes.
Drives my wife crazy.
That's why I do it.
It's either her or me.
Dum de dum dum
Friday, March 18, 2011
YOU MAKE ME SICK!
Blog number 498 ******* 18 March 2011
My substitute teacher friend told me that yesterday some student stole a bunch of Jolly Rancher candies out of his jacket that was on his chair.
So this morning he told the class that he had put one of the candies in his mouth, but he wasn't feeling so good - that he thinks he might be coming down with something (this was not true) so he put the candy back in its wrapper so that it wouldn't soil his jacket and put it in his pocket.
He then told them that he hoped that whoever took the candies didn't eat the one he had in his mouth with his saliva all over it and he hoped it wouldn't make the person sick.
He said these kids are unbelievably germophobic that, "You should see the looks on their faces for instance, if a trash can is full of paper only, and you put a package of unopened cookies in there, then take it back out. Not a single kid will eat one of the cookies."
This next might not seem like a segue at first, but it is. I was riding the bus in Sacramento, sitting right behind the driver. We were coming up on a traffic light and she said, "Watch this." She pushed a button. Once, twice, three times. "Darn! This is supposed to make the light turn green." She pushed again. And again. Then gave up and we waited at the red light.
At first I thought, '' What a great gadget. She can catch all the green lights." But then I got to thinking, "Why would they give a bus driver the power to control traffic lights? Answer? They wouldn't."
What happened, I am pretty sure, is that someone was playing a prank on her and told her that story and she believed it. Hell, she had me believing it.
My substitute teacher friend told me that yesterday some student stole a bunch of Jolly Rancher candies out of his jacket that was on his chair.
So this morning he told the class that he had put one of the candies in his mouth, but he wasn't feeling so good - that he thinks he might be coming down with something (this was not true) so he put the candy back in its wrapper so that it wouldn't soil his jacket and put it in his pocket.
He then told them that he hoped that whoever took the candies didn't eat the one he had in his mouth with his saliva all over it and he hoped it wouldn't make the person sick.
He said these kids are unbelievably germophobic that, "You should see the looks on their faces for instance, if a trash can is full of paper only, and you put a package of unopened cookies in there, then take it back out. Not a single kid will eat one of the cookies."
This next might not seem like a segue at first, but it is. I was riding the bus in Sacramento, sitting right behind the driver. We were coming up on a traffic light and she said, "Watch this." She pushed a button. Once, twice, three times. "Darn! This is supposed to make the light turn green." She pushed again. And again. Then gave up and we waited at the red light.
At first I thought, '' What a great gadget. She can catch all the green lights." But then I got to thinking, "Why would they give a bus driver the power to control traffic lights? Answer? They wouldn't."
What happened, I am pretty sure, is that someone was playing a prank on her and told her that story and she believed it. Hell, she had me believing it.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
CAN YOU MAKE ME A STAR?
Blog number 497 ******* 09 March 2011
I was watching "The Muse" again last night - that's a funny, funny movie. This movie is well written, good dialog, well acted, good theme, story hangs together.
Albert Brook's character is a screen writer who has writer's block. He hires this muse to give him inspiration. He comes up with a script that everyone raves over, about an aquarium where the fish get sick and the business is going under, but at the end they strike oil, saving the aquarium. Dumb script? You betcha.
In another movie, and I'm sorry but I can't think of the name of the movie nor, right now, can I think of the protagonist's name. In this movie, the guy has won a prestigious award at a film school for a short he made that he is wanting to sell to Hollywood to make into a Hollywood movie.
The Hollywood suits keep changing the story until it no longer resembles the guy's original story, and he also has to replace a lifelong buddy to whom he has promised the lead. And THEN:
He meets this girl who has these friends who have a band and the protagonist makes a video of the group singing this not very good song. The video is of this band playing this bad song dressed up like Pez dispensers marching around. Pretty dumb, huh? But the whole world raves about this terrific video and it gets the guy to be the "goto" guy for making movies.
It's a good movie. I liked it a lot. But I don't understand how people who can make a good movie cannot make a good video - nor as in "The Muse," how people who can make a good movie write such a horrible script. The very same people who made the movie in both cases come off as bad amateurs when doing the exact same thing they did to make those movies. Don't they care? Did they loose their creativeness? Are they trying to make me nuts?
I was watching "The Muse" again last night - that's a funny, funny movie. This movie is well written, good dialog, well acted, good theme, story hangs together.
Albert Brook's character is a screen writer who has writer's block. He hires this muse to give him inspiration. He comes up with a script that everyone raves over, about an aquarium where the fish get sick and the business is going under, but at the end they strike oil, saving the aquarium. Dumb script? You betcha.
In another movie, and I'm sorry but I can't think of the name of the movie nor, right now, can I think of the protagonist's name. In this movie, the guy has won a prestigious award at a film school for a short he made that he is wanting to sell to Hollywood to make into a Hollywood movie.
The Hollywood suits keep changing the story until it no longer resembles the guy's original story, and he also has to replace a lifelong buddy to whom he has promised the lead. And THEN:
He meets this girl who has these friends who have a band and the protagonist makes a video of the group singing this not very good song. The video is of this band playing this bad song dressed up like Pez dispensers marching around. Pretty dumb, huh? But the whole world raves about this terrific video and it gets the guy to be the "goto" guy for making movies.
It's a good movie. I liked it a lot. But I don't understand how people who can make a good movie cannot make a good video - nor as in "The Muse," how people who can make a good movie write such a horrible script. The very same people who made the movie in both cases come off as bad amateurs when doing the exact same thing they did to make those movies. Don't they care? Did they loose their creativeness? Are they trying to make me nuts?
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
A PRETTY GIRL IS LIKE A MELODY
Blog number 496 ******* 01 March 2011
A very good friend of mine sent me the following letter which I found interesting and humorous - two of the three tests I use to determine if something is blogworthy or not. I decided it was.
"At jury duty, I was in the quiet reading room. They have a break room, a movie room and a quiet reading room.
This girl came in the room and fully walked past me. Plenty of seats in here. She turned and saw me, backed up and came and sat next to me. Considering she had already passed me, she could have sat at any place near her current standing position. The fact that she decided to back up and come sit next to me I thought was evidence that she liked me.
I was pleased with the compliment, but I am married to a beautiful woman and would never consider anyone else. But, one can still enjoy the moment, no?
As I relayed this experience to a friend at work, and kind of beaming and thinking I must still be attractive, my co-worker explained that I simply looked too weak and harmless to be a threat and so the girl felt safe sitting next to me.
Way to let the air out of my sail!! "
A very good friend of mine sent me the following letter which I found interesting and humorous - two of the three tests I use to determine if something is blogworthy or not. I decided it was.
"At jury duty, I was in the quiet reading room. They have a break room, a movie room and a quiet reading room.
This girl came in the room and fully walked past me. Plenty of seats in here. She turned and saw me, backed up and came and sat next to me. Considering she had already passed me, she could have sat at any place near her current standing position. The fact that she decided to back up and come sit next to me I thought was evidence that she liked me.
I was pleased with the compliment, but I am married to a beautiful woman and would never consider anyone else. But, one can still enjoy the moment, no?
As I relayed this experience to a friend at work, and kind of beaming and thinking I must still be attractive, my co-worker explained that I simply looked too weak and harmless to be a threat and so the girl felt safe sitting next to me.
Way to let the air out of my sail!! "
SPEAKING OF BUNNIES...
Blog number 495 ******* 01 March 2011
Kartr often gets hit on by gays when he is in any coffee house in Sacramento, doing his drawings. To counter these pests, he has devised several ploys in an attempt to deconstruct this nonsense, such as, (1) telling people he is talking to about the "idiots" who try to hit on him and who are oblivious to his rudeness to them, in a voice loud enough that those very same people can hear him, and (B) holding his drawing board in front of their faces so that they cannot stare at him.
Lately he has discovered that if he is wearing headphones, that seems to help to discourage them. The effect of the headphones is both good and bad for Kartr. Good, because no one can legitimately bother him, bad, in that their attention-getting tactics actually gets cranked up a notch.
For instance. Three over-the-toppers were talking loud in their lispy voices, so he headphoned them. Later he took the headphones off to talk to a girl. When she went out doors to smoke, and as Kartr was putting the headphones back on, one of the hopefuls darted over to Kartr, but he was too late. He had them on as the poor soul started saying something about, "Artist!, Artist?"
Kartr just nodded and put his head down, and as the guy gave up and walked away, Kartr heard him say, "Oh well."
They don't like his headphones.
Kartr often gets hit on by gays when he is in any coffee house in Sacramento, doing his drawings. To counter these pests, he has devised several ploys in an attempt to deconstruct this nonsense, such as, (1) telling people he is talking to about the "idiots" who try to hit on him and who are oblivious to his rudeness to them, in a voice loud enough that those very same people can hear him, and (B) holding his drawing board in front of their faces so that they cannot stare at him.
Lately he has discovered that if he is wearing headphones, that seems to help to discourage them. The effect of the headphones is both good and bad for Kartr. Good, because no one can legitimately bother him, bad, in that their attention-getting tactics actually gets cranked up a notch.
For instance. Three over-the-toppers were talking loud in their lispy voices, so he headphoned them. Later he took the headphones off to talk to a girl. When she went out doors to smoke, and as Kartr was putting the headphones back on, one of the hopefuls darted over to Kartr, but he was too late. He had them on as the poor soul started saying something about, "Artist!, Artist?"
Kartr just nodded and put his head down, and as the guy gave up and walked away, Kartr heard him say, "Oh well."
They don't like his headphones.
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