I had just come home from a 12-hour shift. My kids weren't eating, my wife was hating her life because of that, the dog had just eaten one of the kid's sausages, and I saw a spider. A BIGGGGG fucking spider about the size of Rhode Island, smoking, and listening to rap. Needless to say, knocking on my door in a sing-song kind of way, thinking it would be a light-hearted attempt at establishing rapport probably wasn't in this guy's best interest. Especially at 9AM, at my address, at this moment. Did you get all that? Essentially, it was a bad idea, a wrong idea. He couldn't be more wrong if he decided to dry hump a lamp shade at Walmart. Just....well, bad idea.
For starters, who usually comes knockin' at 9AM on a weekday? Missionaries, mostly. "I am here to talk about Jesus." OK, shoot. "Well it all started when Joseph Smith peered inside a gopher hole and the Angel Moroni gave him a golden Trapper Keepe..." **SLAM** At least, that has been my experience. If you are Mormon and you just got offended, I won't apologize for religious expression. You have your God and I have mine, and if I hear one more time they are the same, I might go Davidian. I am getting off track. I hate it when that happens. It seems I can never sta...OMG LOOK AT THE BOUNCY BALL!
Last year, I had some guy come by, winded from hauling his cankles around my apartment complex, asking if he could demonstrate a shampooer, one room, free. Sure, I said. Why not. The living room looked like it was part of Pamplona. He said he would be right back. He shows up with a Kirby. This guy was good. He had a great personality. In fact, I was sold on him alone, and sure enough the Kirby was as delivered. Cleanest carpet this side of Lady Gaga. He claimed to have won a trip to Denver with this sale. It took about 90 minutes, his boss came in and played Wii with my kids. It was almost like we were a family. Of course, even though he took my number because he said he and his wife were moving here after the trip, I haven't heard from him. In fact, he probably threw it away right after, just selling me the vacuum. My point is he sold me. He sold me the vacuum, he sold me the attachments, he sold me the possibly phone call down the road. He earned the sale.
I guess I should state that when this guy told me he was doing a demonstration, he handed me a pamphlet that said, in no more words than this "FREE CARPET CLEANING, TODAY ONLY, ONE-ROOM." Here was this 6'4 300lb black man stating he was going to clean my carpet for free. I guess in reality, he could have been casing the joint, which would be fine because I needed a lot of shit gone since were moving soon. When he came in, his first words were, "nice TV." Fuck.
I used to love hearing from telemarketers. I used to point out to them that their script sucked worse than Gigli and that the best advice I could give them is to develop a stutter and then a fictitious family so that pity would warrant a possible 20% increase in sales. I used to mock these poor bastards. They didn't stand a chance. A lot like this tool bag standing at my door. As I side-stepped the 70 pound menace known as Gus and held him at bay with one foot, all I got was "HI," and the flyer. Before he even started in I said, I'm not interested. Why not? Well for starters, your tie is a clip on, and the shirt needs to find an iron worse than a cheeseburger needs to find an Olsen twin. Your slacks either (A) aren't yours or (B) were hemmed by Hellen Keller. White socks and black dress pants don't work, ever. Your diastema can hold Kim Kardashian's ass. The last time your hair saw a comb, let alone shampoo was Y2K. Two words, your teeth are more yellow than a Lemonhead. If that isn't enough, I already have a Kirby. I don't need another one. You are one-year too late and I can't even tell you how many chromosomes. I start to close the door.
"Well, how did you know I was selling a Kirby?" Your marketing department blows more than Jenna Jameson. This is the same flyer that was given to me last year, when I bought my Kirby. There is that, and you are....well, you, standing here at 9AM and you don't have Jesus on the pamphlet so that kind of narrows it down, you jack wagon. "Well, how old is it? You might want to have a backup in case something goes wrong." Seriously? This is what is going to make me keep the door open? It's guaranteed for life, nutjob. If anything ever breaks I can take it to the Kirby store and get a brand new one. Why would I want to spend more money on a backup? You need to try harder than this. Why not try, do you need more shampoo? I have some in the van of felons that can't find employment elsewhere. How about, sorry for my appearance, I just flew in from Afghanistan. You could try, sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you would like me to mow your grass and clean out your gutters? No means no, craftsman.
Now go away before I release the Cracken.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Adversity
I can't believe how much we bitch about things. This nation is only a couple hundred years old. We forget that sometimes, I think. Two-hundred years ago, a trip from New York to Los Angeles took a couple of years. Six people would leave, and nine would arrive, a couple of those as infants. Now, it takes a few hours. I can't remember the comedian that said this, but he told a story about how he was sitting in a plane,flying from L.A. to New York and he was sitting next to someone who was complaing about the wireless Internet connection not working. YOU ARE SITTING IN A CHAIR....IN THE SKY! For fuck sake, stop complaining. Same thing with cell phones. If there is no instant gratification, IE, your message doesn't go through right away, just wait. It's going to space, for the love of God, give it a minute. We have indoor plumbing. People used to shit in a hole and used plants to clean up as best they could. People used to get syphillus and die (or any other simple bacteria strains for that matter). Now we can cure these things with a simple dose or 5 of antibiotics. So, stop with the whining already.
I think as a society, we are in the phase of "what's in it for me." I know this is not news. We have been here for some time. We are sue happy. Stick it to anyone you can, as long as it isn't me. We are surprised when we get stuck. WHY MEEEEEEEE? Karma, that's why. Help your fellow man. Do things for others instead of yourself. Give, freely, of your time and energy. It will be repaid. Eventually, when its time. Maybe not YOUR time, but IN time it will be. Patience. Find it, have it, hold onto it, and then teach it. Pay it forward. It might happen to you some day, or it might not. However, it isn't a requirement that it is repaid. That doesn't mean you shouldn't do it any way. STOP BEING SELFISH! Service for others. Isn't that why we are here anyway?
If you don't like something, change it. People seem so shocked with being in a rut. Shift your thinking. Move, wobble, change the momentum, both of where you are going and how you get there. Surprisingly enough, you will get where you want to be. But repeating something in the hopes the outcome will be different defines insanity, does it not? I think there is enough crazy in the world. There is also too much whining about not having, not being able to, wishing and hoping that one day....what? We all say these things, think these things and wonder how someone else got where they are. Persistence. Two mice fall into a vat of cream. One mouse stopped trying to get out and quickly drowned. The other mouse kept fighting and, sure enough, climbed out of the butter to safety (Catch Me If You Can reference) Never give up. Never stop trying to be better. The world will eat you alive. You are owed nothing. We all have the same 24 hours in a day. How will you spend yours?
The consequences faced by many are a direct result from choices made. Choices are a constant. I don't like teeter totters. I never have. Up and down, up and down, a lot like the swings in life. Living for tomorrow, or living for yesterday. Choose. Pick one and stick with it, but don't tell me "I remember when." I don't think Hiroshima, Nagasaki, the Sioux, South Africa, Germany, Poland or NASA like to live in the past. Move on, move forward. Life is best viewed through the windshield, not the rear view mirror. It's OK to visit where you have been, but live for where you are going. Learn, adapt, overcome.
God brings men into deep waters, not to drown them, but to cleanse them. ~John Aughey
I think as a society, we are in the phase of "what's in it for me." I know this is not news. We have been here for some time. We are sue happy. Stick it to anyone you can, as long as it isn't me. We are surprised when we get stuck. WHY MEEEEEEEE? Karma, that's why. Help your fellow man. Do things for others instead of yourself. Give, freely, of your time and energy. It will be repaid. Eventually, when its time. Maybe not YOUR time, but IN time it will be. Patience. Find it, have it, hold onto it, and then teach it. Pay it forward. It might happen to you some day, or it might not. However, it isn't a requirement that it is repaid. That doesn't mean you shouldn't do it any way. STOP BEING SELFISH! Service for others. Isn't that why we are here anyway?
If you don't like something, change it. People seem so shocked with being in a rut. Shift your thinking. Move, wobble, change the momentum, both of where you are going and how you get there. Surprisingly enough, you will get where you want to be. But repeating something in the hopes the outcome will be different defines insanity, does it not? I think there is enough crazy in the world. There is also too much whining about not having, not being able to, wishing and hoping that one day....what? We all say these things, think these things and wonder how someone else got where they are. Persistence. Two mice fall into a vat of cream. One mouse stopped trying to get out and quickly drowned. The other mouse kept fighting and, sure enough, climbed out of the butter to safety (Catch Me If You Can reference) Never give up. Never stop trying to be better. The world will eat you alive. You are owed nothing. We all have the same 24 hours in a day. How will you spend yours?
The consequences faced by many are a direct result from choices made. Choices are a constant. I don't like teeter totters. I never have. Up and down, up and down, a lot like the swings in life. Living for tomorrow, or living for yesterday. Choose. Pick one and stick with it, but don't tell me "I remember when." I don't think Hiroshima, Nagasaki, the Sioux, South Africa, Germany, Poland or NASA like to live in the past. Move on, move forward. Life is best viewed through the windshield, not the rear view mirror. It's OK to visit where you have been, but live for where you are going. Learn, adapt, overcome.
God brings men into deep waters, not to drown them, but to cleanse them. ~John Aughey
Sunday, July 11, 2010
There Are No Words....
The People of Walmart dot com is the only 100% accurate website on the entire world wide web. When someone says, "you can't believe everything you see on the Internet," I usually pipe in with that one just to stop the madness. I don't really know where this is going. I may not even post it. But what I saw at Walmart today is something I believe, at least for the safety of anyone who reads this, I must point out so none of you make the same mistake.
I don't know much about women's fashion, or men's for that matter, but I do know that when something fits, you probably shouldn't wear it out in public. Of course, if you are making a trip to Walmart to fill the trough, by all means, wear something 10 sizes too small. Yes, I know your husband finds you sexy. You outweigh him by 150 pounds. If you asked, I am sure he would tell you that you looked great in your shorts, that caused circulatory distress in your lower body, as well as lymph fluid build up between your thighs....or is that a....oh man. "SHOULD I CHANGE?" "Oh no, sweetheart, you look hot in a poncho.....and rope belts are in. I heard that on Project Runway. What's that? Oh I know. Heidi Klum is chubby. But she has had 3 kids. You have 33,000 calories a day, and have never visited Alp de Huez, or the sidewalk. I can't turn off the light honey, that's the sun."
You know those contestants on American Idol who say "my Mom and friends all think I am an awesome singer?" They say that out of respect. Both because family is supposed to build your confidence. Friends are supposed to do that too. As are spouses. However, I believe the saying is, if you think your spouse has a sweat ring around her waist band, it's wise to say something. Sweat will build up wear the mushroom cap rests. Just sayin. I believe I saw a loafer hanging out of there with the initials J.R.H. (yes that is a Hoffa joke).
Oh, and if it looks like you aren't wearing shorts because the upper half hangs a bit low, your shorts are too short, regardless of what your husband says. Gravity tells a strong story. As does the Health Department has authority.
I don't know much about women's fashion, or men's for that matter, but I do know that when something fits, you probably shouldn't wear it out in public. Of course, if you are making a trip to Walmart to fill the trough, by all means, wear something 10 sizes too small. Yes, I know your husband finds you sexy. You outweigh him by 150 pounds. If you asked, I am sure he would tell you that you looked great in your shorts, that caused circulatory distress in your lower body, as well as lymph fluid build up between your thighs....or is that a....oh man. "SHOULD I CHANGE?" "Oh no, sweetheart, you look hot in a poncho.....and rope belts are in. I heard that on Project Runway. What's that? Oh I know. Heidi Klum is chubby. But she has had 3 kids. You have 33,000 calories a day, and have never visited Alp de Huez, or the sidewalk. I can't turn off the light honey, that's the sun."
You know those contestants on American Idol who say "my Mom and friends all think I am an awesome singer?" They say that out of respect. Both because family is supposed to build your confidence. Friends are supposed to do that too. As are spouses. However, I believe the saying is, if you think your spouse has a sweat ring around her waist band, it's wise to say something. Sweat will build up wear the mushroom cap rests. Just sayin. I believe I saw a loafer hanging out of there with the initials J.R.H. (yes that is a Hoffa joke).
Oh, and if it looks like you aren't wearing shorts because the upper half hangs a bit low, your shorts are too short, regardless of what your husband says. Gravity tells a strong story. As does the Health Department has authority.
Wednesday, July 07, 2010
No Playing at 9:30PM
When we had a our garage sale a few weeks ago, there was a lady that came over to rifle through our stuff. In tow, she had her daughter, shy as the day is long. Now, I can remember being 7. I was a complete ham. I don't think I was ever the type to hide behind a thunder thigh. However, my wife insisted on making conversation thinking it would be in our best interest to make sure Peyton had a friend in the neighborhood. Being the cynical one, my first reaction was that this mother would treat our house like a pawn shop and let her daughter come over whenever she had a trick coming by. My wife insisted that she was sure this lady was not like that. No? You go to bed before the sun goes down. I want to see our neighborhood at night. She has a red porch light. She talks like Steven Wright. She has the mental capacity of a gnat and full lips. Do the math.
About 9:30PM last night, the doorbell rang. Now, I was working, and heard the story from my wife, but I believe it went about like this.
(Gus barks, wife stirs wondering if she actually dreamt that)
(wife gets up, Gus barks again just as an added nuisance)
(wife opens door, there is neighbor's daughter) Can Peyton play?
Wife says no, she is sleeping, maybe tomorrow. (door closes)
This was handled all wrong. It's like a choose your own adventure book. You buy one for $5 you might as well get use out of all the pages. My wife just went from page 1 to back cover. Boooorrrriiinnnnggggggg. Let's try this...
(I get up, see darkness, Gus barks) Shut up Gus! (dog cowers)
(unlock door. See potential homeless girl standing there) Can Peyton play?
Eli: Seriously? It's fucking dark out. What were you going to play? Steal the Bose?
girl: Huh?
Eli: Why are you not in bed? Reading? Listening to Kid Bop on your iPod. Petting Fluffy, playing with Barbies, bathing, or something other than ringing a doorbell at 9:30 at night?
girl: (stares blankly)
Eli: Is your Mom home? Got a John coming by?
girl: Who's John?
Eli: Not John..."a" John. Nevermind. My daughter is asleep as most 7-year olds are at 930 at night.
girl: but it's the summer
Eli: No shit. You know what you should do? Go get your reproductive organs removed. Yes, please do that. That statement right there says that 3 months out of the year, the copial Olympics occur at your house. First one to get burning urination gets the gold. Am I right? When you begin to bleed for 5 days and not die, you will then have a baby....because it's summer. Fuck sleeping....let's go have random sex. Right? Leave my daughter out of it, OK? She sleeps at night time Dr. Draco.
girl: OK (turns to leave)
Eli: wait....(girl turns to face me, smiling thinking I was going to change my mind) Take these.
girl: what are these?
Eli: Condoms. Have two. One for you later in life..although probably not much later, and one for your Mom so you don't happen again.
girl: but...(door closes)
I like my way better. However, I will miss my wife when she goes to Heaven and, well, I don't. There is a cost for certain types of humor....
About 9:30PM last night, the doorbell rang. Now, I was working, and heard the story from my wife, but I believe it went about like this.
(wife opens door, there is neighbor's daughter) Can Peyton play?
Wife says no, she is sleeping, maybe tomorrow. (door closes)
This was handled all wrong. It's like a choose your own adventure book. You buy one for $5 you might as well get use out of all the pages. My wife just went from page 1 to back cover. Boooorrrriiinnnnggggggg. Let's try this...
(unlock door. See potential homeless girl standing there) Can Peyton play?
Eli: Seriously? It's fucking dark out. What were you going to play? Steal the Bose?
girl: Huh?
Eli: Why are you not in bed? Reading? Listening to Kid Bop on your iPod. Petting Fluffy, playing with Barbies, bathing, or something other than ringing a doorbell at 9:30 at night?
girl: (stares blankly)
Eli: Is your Mom home? Got a John coming by?
girl: Who's John?
Eli: Not John..."a" John. Nevermind. My daughter is asleep as most 7-year olds are at 930 at night.
girl: but it's the summer
Eli: No shit. You know what you should do? Go get your reproductive organs removed. Yes, please do that. That statement right there says that 3 months out of the year, the copial Olympics occur at your house. First one to get burning urination gets the gold. Am I right? When you begin to bleed for 5 days and not die, you will then have a baby....because it's summer. Fuck sleeping....let's go have random sex. Right? Leave my daughter out of it, OK? She sleeps at night time Dr. Draco.
girl: OK (turns to leave)
Eli: wait....(girl turns to face me, smiling thinking I was going to change my mind) Take these.
girl: what are these?
Eli: Condoms. Have two. One for you later in life..although probably not much later, and one for your Mom so you don't happen again.
girl: but...(door closes)
I like my way better. However, I will miss my wife when she goes to Heaven and, well, I don't. There is a cost for certain types of humor....
Tuesday, July 06, 2010
I'm Not Discriminating, I Hate You Equally
My wife and I are in the process of hiring someone to take my son to and from school this fall and provide after school care. Realizing that I am going to be commuting to Toppenish just about every day, or buried in a book any day I am NOT commuting, and also realizing that it would cost about $1000 to have him go elsewhere, the nanny search had begun.
My wife posted an ad on craigslist searching for someone to provide the above services at $400 a month. I expected, well, an epic fail since craigslist doesn't provide much except for moving boxes and chlamydia. Yet, to my surprise she had several responses, and resumes, and follow up emails, none of which promised $300,000,000 in US DOLLARS with providing a DNA sample. Shocked, I remained hopeful that someone would be willing to do the impossible. There was one person in particular that sticks out, and not in a good way. She was pregnant, and was discarded right away since (A) she was due when school started and (B) my kids would not be a priority no matter how much she claimed otherwise. Frankly, that's the way it should be. My wife and I both figured stating those facts, "best of luck, but we are excluding you just from our past experiences with pregnant/new mothers and their ability to do the job." Was that enough? Nope. She felt discriminated against. She felt like we should not disregard her qualifications because she is having a baby just about the time she needs to start. I wanted to email her back, but my wife said no. I had to say SOMETHING. I was going to explode. YAY FOR BLOGS!
I hate clowns. Pennywise from 'It' pretty much fucked up my life as far as clowns go. Sorry Ronald McDonald, but I will not sit on the bench with you, no matter how inanimate you are. I hate spiders, so Charlotte can kiss my ass too. The Colonel is creepy and reminds me of a pedophile. I don't look at watermelon the same after I ate it as a kid while incubating a stomach virus and promptly threw up the watermelon. Not the watermelons fault, but tell that to my memory of seeing the watermelon seeds floating around in the toilet next to the bile. The list can go on, but I think you get my point. Past experiences have made a few things in my life unbearable. Putting up with stupid is just one more thing that is hard to stomach. So having someone feel excluded because they want to breed rather than have a career is asinine. Yes, its your choice to stay open like 7-11, just like its mine to disregard your interest in being our nanny for the same reason.
Now she claims that she always keeps promises and won't be like those other people. Whatever. So, Nostradamus, when you look into the crystal ball and the birth happens, tell me, will my son BE in school already, and who the fuck will pick him up? Just so you know, every birth is different, as are the complications that can accompany said birth. What is your uterus falls on the floor and you bleed out? Then what? What if there are complications and you are in the hospital for a few days? Sorry, but I can't come into work because I had a stroke from pushing this watermelon out of my nostril. Baby has pink eye. Baby is shitting swords so I can't make it. Yes your husband is home and can take care of the baby, making it possible for you to come to my house and care for my kids. This begs the question, what is you get post-partem depression and kill my children? Does he work? If he doesn't work, I can tell you from experience these little people cost bucks to care for and $400 doesn't cover much.
So many questions that need answers but frankly, we don't want to deal with them, so we kindly parted ways, via the Internet. I don't know her story and it doesn't really matter. I am sure she will find another happy opportunity via craigslist. Until then, best of luck. About the only thing I DO know after all of this is that spiders still suck.
My wife posted an ad on craigslist searching for someone to provide the above services at $400 a month. I expected, well, an epic fail since craigslist doesn't provide much except for moving boxes and chlamydia. Yet, to my surprise she had several responses, and resumes, and follow up emails, none of which promised $300,000,000 in US DOLLARS with providing a DNA sample. Shocked, I remained hopeful that someone would be willing to do the impossible. There was one person in particular that sticks out, and not in a good way. She was pregnant, and was discarded right away since (A) she was due when school started and (B) my kids would not be a priority no matter how much she claimed otherwise. Frankly, that's the way it should be. My wife and I both figured stating those facts, "best of luck, but we are excluding you just from our past experiences with pregnant/new mothers and their ability to do the job." Was that enough? Nope. She felt discriminated against. She felt like we should not disregard her qualifications because she is having a baby just about the time she needs to start. I wanted to email her back, but my wife said no. I had to say SOMETHING. I was going to explode. YAY FOR BLOGS!
I hate clowns. Pennywise from 'It' pretty much fucked up my life as far as clowns go. Sorry Ronald McDonald, but I will not sit on the bench with you, no matter how inanimate you are. I hate spiders, so Charlotte can kiss my ass too. The Colonel is creepy and reminds me of a pedophile. I don't look at watermelon the same after I ate it as a kid while incubating a stomach virus and promptly threw up the watermelon. Not the watermelons fault, but tell that to my memory of seeing the watermelon seeds floating around in the toilet next to the bile. The list can go on, but I think you get my point. Past experiences have made a few things in my life unbearable. Putting up with stupid is just one more thing that is hard to stomach. So having someone feel excluded because they want to breed rather than have a career is asinine. Yes, its your choice to stay open like 7-11, just like its mine to disregard your interest in being our nanny for the same reason.
Now she claims that she always keeps promises and won't be like those other people. Whatever. So, Nostradamus, when you look into the crystal ball and the birth happens, tell me, will my son BE in school already, and who the fuck will pick him up? Just so you know, every birth is different, as are the complications that can accompany said birth. What is your uterus falls on the floor and you bleed out? Then what? What if there are complications and you are in the hospital for a few days? Sorry, but I can't come into work because I had a stroke from pushing this watermelon out of my nostril. Baby has pink eye. Baby is shitting swords so I can't make it. Yes your husband is home and can take care of the baby, making it possible for you to come to my house and care for my kids. This begs the question, what is you get post-partem depression and kill my children? Does he work? If he doesn't work, I can tell you from experience these little people cost bucks to care for and $400 doesn't cover much.
So many questions that need answers but frankly, we don't want to deal with them, so we kindly parted ways, via the Internet. I don't know her story and it doesn't really matter. I am sure she will find another happy opportunity via craigslist. Until then, best of luck. About the only thing I DO know after all of this is that spiders still suck.
Monday, July 05, 2010
Garage Sale
I am not sure I have ever written about neighborhood garage sales. I may have, but I am too lazy to go back and look it up. Frankly, the computer I am using is about 12 words behind when I am typing. So, it is very similar to watching the teletype machine at Quantico. That, and I did not get obese by being proactive. I hate change.
Recently, we had a garage sale. Slowly but surely, I have whittled down the personal withholdings down to something quite managable. My kids hate it because my wife and I allow them to participate in contributing to the garage sale by going through their toys and games and setting some aside for the sale. To say there is some resistance is like saying Hiroshima was just a small gas leak. They want to keep everything. Forget it might make some other kid happy. My primary motivation for getting rid of MatchBox cars is that I am tired of having to wait half the day for the creases in my son's face to dissapear. When he sleeps on a few cars, they always seem to find strange places on the body that leave marks strategically placed in all the wrong areas. I am afraid to take him out in public or I might get arrested for child abuse when, in all reality, he just has too much shit.
When we lay things out in the driveway, it's amazing to me the way people stroll around looking and browsing. I wonder what goes through their head when they see a ski mask, some rope, nunchucks and a case of mace all grouped together labeled "must go together." A lady came up with the book, "The Greatest Salesman in the World" and asked how much it was. I replied "fifty cents." Whoa, she said, and threw her eyebrows up like the sun. She put the book back. What the fuck? It's a $12.00 book. What's worse is that she probably would haver paid with a $20 bill.
You really get to know your neighbors too. Knowing that some of them can't read, I feel safe in posting that we very well could be the smartest people on our block. Yes, sad, I know. One of our neighbors came up and said, "Hello, my name is (blurred out name). I live right across the street." No shit? You mean where you just walked from? Where I see you perched outside chain smoking like a heroin addict, your kids dropping F-bombs while you smoke enough Camels to clear out the Saudis? Is your daughter the one that thinks her brother is a cock sucker and usually at 8AM when I am pulling into my driveway with my kids? Oh, hello. No, we don't have any methodone for sale. My neighborhood is the only place I have ever really lived where I felt I needed to lock my car. The first inclination that I had moved to "da hood" may have been my landlord stating that, although the neighbors look like they may kill you, they will give you the shirt off their back. Really? That's nice, but I really don't want Hepatitis.
There was one gentleman of Asian decent that came by and purchase my exercise ball, a purse and a pair of women's shoes. To me, I thought he was prepping to get his dick removed within the year and we had finally given him the courage to do so. I figure by next summer I will be living next to Ms. Wang(less). I hope to GOD he doesn't come thank me later...or she....whatever.
Recently, we had a garage sale. Slowly but surely, I have whittled down the personal withholdings down to something quite managable. My kids hate it because my wife and I allow them to participate in contributing to the garage sale by going through their toys and games and setting some aside for the sale. To say there is some resistance is like saying Hiroshima was just a small gas leak. They want to keep everything. Forget it might make some other kid happy. My primary motivation for getting rid of MatchBox cars is that I am tired of having to wait half the day for the creases in my son's face to dissapear. When he sleeps on a few cars, they always seem to find strange places on the body that leave marks strategically placed in all the wrong areas. I am afraid to take him out in public or I might get arrested for child abuse when, in all reality, he just has too much shit.
When we lay things out in the driveway, it's amazing to me the way people stroll around looking and browsing. I wonder what goes through their head when they see a ski mask, some rope, nunchucks and a case of mace all grouped together labeled "must go together." A lady came up with the book, "The Greatest Salesman in the World" and asked how much it was. I replied "fifty cents." Whoa, she said, and threw her eyebrows up like the sun. She put the book back. What the fuck? It's a $12.00 book. What's worse is that she probably would haver paid with a $20 bill.
You really get to know your neighbors too. Knowing that some of them can't read, I feel safe in posting that we very well could be the smartest people on our block. Yes, sad, I know. One of our neighbors came up and said, "Hello, my name is (blurred out name). I live right across the street." No shit? You mean where you just walked from? Where I see you perched outside chain smoking like a heroin addict, your kids dropping F-bombs while you smoke enough Camels to clear out the Saudis? Is your daughter the one that thinks her brother is a cock sucker and usually at 8AM when I am pulling into my driveway with my kids? Oh, hello. No, we don't have any methodone for sale. My neighborhood is the only place I have ever really lived where I felt I needed to lock my car. The first inclination that I had moved to "da hood" may have been my landlord stating that, although the neighbors look like they may kill you, they will give you the shirt off their back. Really? That's nice, but I really don't want Hepatitis.
There was one gentleman of Asian decent that came by and purchase my exercise ball, a purse and a pair of women's shoes. To me, I thought he was prepping to get his dick removed within the year and we had finally given him the courage to do so. I figure by next summer I will be living next to Ms. Wang(less). I hope to GOD he doesn't come thank me later...or she....whatever.
Thursday, July 01, 2010
My Daily Bitch
Hard to believe, but it's venting time. Not necessarily about anything in particular, but just a few observational bullet points that have occurred throughout this week that I thought it was worth mentioning.
I witnessed a father (assume it was the father) berating his 4 girls because they were flittering around the store today. I sensed his frustration but could not determine the motivation. These are girls, young girls, I would guess between the ages of 3 and 7. 4 of them....just being girly. Maybe it was the 4 weddings he was not going to be able to pay for since he couldn't afford a razor...or soap. Maybe it was the fact that, brewing in his wife's womb, is girl #5? I somewhat despise the mentality that men continue to fire man gravy until a male child pops out. "I need an heir." An heir to what? Your huge stack of outdated Playboy's? Your vast estate filled with tax liens and non-running vehicles? Instead of the red vines, grab the help wanted sign, or some Trojans...the magnums aren't necessary...they really aren't.
Have you ever noticed that, no matter how empty a movie theater is, the crying baby will always sit behind you? Or the popcorn muncher? Or the 6'10 strong man competitor? Or half of the YMCA daycare? "I don't know why my baby is crying. This is usually when he takes his nap." Really? In the backback, and with dolby stereo playing in the background? Is that when he is at his best? You scarfing down popcorn like it is the key to losing baby weight? Half if it raining down on your napping child? Big shock the kid is screaming.
I went into Schuck's the other day. Clerk comes out from around the counter and asks if he could help me find anything. I said no, I was just looking around. He asked me if I was looking for anything in particular. I said I was looking for something unique, for someone special. He said, "A birthday gift?" I said no, anniversary. Clerk says, what kind of car does your wife drive? I said HE drives a Dodge Ram. Kinda got awkward after that.
Orkin man showed up today as my kids and I were leaving for the park. He had left his sprayer on my front porch for 24 hours. He knocks on the door and said he was here for our appointment so he could spray for earwigs. I said we didn't have an appointment. He said, "yeah....you did," with the tone that I was a fucking idiot for not knowing this. Loving confrontation, I said that no, our appointment was NEXT Thursday between 8am and 5pm and that he was just saying it was today because he forgot his sprayer. He said nothing. My kids started to walk out. He said, "want me to spray anyway since I am here? I can lock up for you. I am licensed and bonded and all that stuff." Sure, I said. Just don't steal my 52" 3D/HD Sony Brava and Playstation 3." He laughed...as did I, since I don't have those things but will suck for him when I call his boss tomorrow to say they are missing.
I witnessed a father (assume it was the father) berating his 4 girls because they were flittering around the store today. I sensed his frustration but could not determine the motivation. These are girls, young girls, I would guess between the ages of 3 and 7. 4 of them....just being girly. Maybe it was the 4 weddings he was not going to be able to pay for since he couldn't afford a razor...or soap. Maybe it was the fact that, brewing in his wife's womb, is girl #5? I somewhat despise the mentality that men continue to fire man gravy until a male child pops out. "I need an heir." An heir to what? Your huge stack of outdated Playboy's? Your vast estate filled with tax liens and non-running vehicles? Instead of the red vines, grab the help wanted sign, or some Trojans...the magnums aren't necessary...they really aren't.
Have you ever noticed that, no matter how empty a movie theater is, the crying baby will always sit behind you? Or the popcorn muncher? Or the 6'10 strong man competitor? Or half of the YMCA daycare? "I don't know why my baby is crying. This is usually when he takes his nap." Really? In the backback, and with dolby stereo playing in the background? Is that when he is at his best? You scarfing down popcorn like it is the key to losing baby weight? Half if it raining down on your napping child? Big shock the kid is screaming.
I went into Schuck's the other day. Clerk comes out from around the counter and asks if he could help me find anything. I said no, I was just looking around. He asked me if I was looking for anything in particular. I said I was looking for something unique, for someone special. He said, "A birthday gift?" I said no, anniversary. Clerk says, what kind of car does your wife drive? I said HE drives a Dodge Ram. Kinda got awkward after that.
Orkin man showed up today as my kids and I were leaving for the park. He had left his sprayer on my front porch for 24 hours. He knocks on the door and said he was here for our appointment so he could spray for earwigs. I said we didn't have an appointment. He said, "yeah....you did," with the tone that I was a fucking idiot for not knowing this. Loving confrontation, I said that no, our appointment was NEXT Thursday between 8am and 5pm and that he was just saying it was today because he forgot his sprayer. He said nothing. My kids started to walk out. He said, "want me to spray anyway since I am here? I can lock up for you. I am licensed and bonded and all that stuff." Sure, I said. Just don't steal my 52" 3D/HD Sony Brava and Playstation 3." He laughed...as did I, since I don't have those things but will suck for him when I call his boss tomorrow to say they are missing.
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