I think I've figured out why old people drive so slow. And walk slow, for that matter. I was driving down 95 last night. It was raining and everyone knows that Mustangs suck in the rain. Must’ve been doing around 65 mph and the back end of the car veered a bit to the left. I easily compensated for the skid because I’ve come to expect it, but it got me to thinking about how close we all are to death. Of course, older people are closer to that thin division between life and death. That milky membrane that separates this world with the next. They’re nearer to it so they can see it more clearly. And, baby, they don’t like what they see. The point is, and I do have one, this is why they’re more cautious. This is why they drive so damn slow. They’re not happy with the images from the other side. And, if we were smart, we’d heed that warning. We may not be able to see across that line just yet, but we should listen to those who can.
So, THAT’s why that big ass Buick is doing 25 mph on the parkway. THAT’s why the 131 year old woman is shuffling along in the supermarket, blocking your way to the canned peas. They’re cautious because they’re mortified with what lies beyond that boundary. Their fear should be a lesson to us all.
They should still get out of the fucking left lane.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Froggies
Dear Daniel:
So I’m out skimming the pool yesterday after work. Lately, little baby frogs by the boat load have been jumping into the pool. I don’t know where they’re coming from or who told them that we’re open for business but we’ve had a sudden influx of them. It’s very sad because they jump in without the slightest idea of how to jump out. Or perhaps they all get together and decide to conduct a mass suicide, I just don’t know. Every afternoon I find them all floating, face up, dead, like only frogs can be...with their little feet pointing skyward looking for the great giant frog in the sky. Yesterday, there were six of them, drowned and pale...but...alas, there was one little tiny baby hanging onto the shallow end rope, very much alive. I could hardly believe my eyes...there he was holding on for dear life, surrounded by his dead buddies...his tiny little feet wrapped around the rope. I have no idea how long he was holding on but judging by the death all around him, it was a long time. I got the net and tried to fish him out. At first, he fought me...would not tear his claws away from the rope. But, I spoke softly to him (I actually did) and prodded him into the net. I shook the net out over the grass and damned if he didn’t hop right off. It was a beautiful moment. I saved his little, slimy life. And the moral of the story? No matter how small and ugly you may be, if you hang on long enough...someone may just throw you a life line. The end.
So I’m out skimming the pool yesterday after work. Lately, little baby frogs by the boat load have been jumping into the pool. I don’t know where they’re coming from or who told them that we’re open for business but we’ve had a sudden influx of them. It’s very sad because they jump in without the slightest idea of how to jump out. Or perhaps they all get together and decide to conduct a mass suicide, I just don’t know. Every afternoon I find them all floating, face up, dead, like only frogs can be...with their little feet pointing skyward looking for the great giant frog in the sky. Yesterday, there were six of them, drowned and pale...but...alas, there was one little tiny baby hanging onto the shallow end rope, very much alive. I could hardly believe my eyes...there he was holding on for dear life, surrounded by his dead buddies...his tiny little feet wrapped around the rope. I have no idea how long he was holding on but judging by the death all around him, it was a long time. I got the net and tried to fish him out. At first, he fought me...would not tear his claws away from the rope. But, I spoke softly to him (I actually did) and prodded him into the net. I shook the net out over the grass and damned if he didn’t hop right off. It was a beautiful moment. I saved his little, slimy life. And the moral of the story? No matter how small and ugly you may be, if you hang on long enough...someone may just throw you a life line. The end.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Home Sweet Home
Dear Daniel:
So you're wife is currently on unemployment...and she's upset about being at home? I WANT to be home…I YEARN to be home…I FANTASIZE about being home. Home is where the heart is…home is good…what’s not to love? Obviously I’m going to have to EXPLAIN to you what is so WONDERFUL about being home…
· Sleeping until 10 AM.
· Waking up with ick in your eyes but no one can see it so you leave it there
· Eating something for breakfast that is NOT a granola bar
· Not having to schedule a bowel movement around other office personnel because there’s only one potty
· Being able to fart and blow nose loudly
· Not having to blow, straighten, or curl your hair every day. Shaving your head if you so desire
· No makeup…ever
· Not having to coordinate outfits by day/season
· No rush hour traffic with assholes who tailgate
· No idle chit chat with office mates because, really…who cares??
· Having good workouts every day and getting in the best shape of your life
· Reading a novel in the middle of the day
· Watching Maury and Jerry to see what middle America is up to
· Chatting with the mailman who you’ve never actually SEEN
· Reacquainting yourself with soaps
· Computer games at 11 AM or 1 PM or 3 PM or all frigging day
· Cooking good meals with favorite recipes again
· Showering is optional
· Finally getting all the loose pictures into scrapbooks and then hanging yourself because you’re actually “scrapbooking”
· Getting a PUPPY
· Writing the book you’ve always wanted to write
· Watching an American Idol until the end because you don’t have to get to sleep early
· Drinking two glasses of wine every night if you are so inclined
· Going to bed at 2 AM just because you can
Any questions?
So you're wife is currently on unemployment...and she's upset about being at home? I WANT to be home…I YEARN to be home…I FANTASIZE about being home. Home is where the heart is…home is good…what’s not to love? Obviously I’m going to have to EXPLAIN to you what is so WONDERFUL about being home…
· Sleeping until 10 AM.
· Waking up with ick in your eyes but no one can see it so you leave it there
· Eating something for breakfast that is NOT a granola bar
· Not having to schedule a bowel movement around other office personnel because there’s only one potty
· Being able to fart and blow nose loudly
· Not having to blow, straighten, or curl your hair every day. Shaving your head if you so desire
· No makeup…ever
· Not having to coordinate outfits by day/season
· No rush hour traffic with assholes who tailgate
· No idle chit chat with office mates because, really…who cares??
· Having good workouts every day and getting in the best shape of your life
· Reading a novel in the middle of the day
· Watching Maury and Jerry to see what middle America is up to
· Chatting with the mailman who you’ve never actually SEEN
· Reacquainting yourself with soaps
· Computer games at 11 AM or 1 PM or 3 PM or all frigging day
· Cooking good meals with favorite recipes again
· Showering is optional
· Finally getting all the loose pictures into scrapbooks and then hanging yourself because you’re actually “scrapbooking”
· Getting a PUPPY
· Writing the book you’ve always wanted to write
· Watching an American Idol until the end because you don’t have to get to sleep early
· Drinking two glasses of wine every night if you are so inclined
· Going to bed at 2 AM just because you can
Any questions?
Swine Flu
Dear Daniel:
My daughter thinks she has the swine flu. In an effort to validate her concerns, I sent her the following email...
Have you been in contact with pigs?
Did those pigs have stuffy noses?
Were they lethargic piggies?
Have you been to Mexico lately?
Have you been to Mexico EVER?
Do you know anyone who’s been to Mexico lately?
Do you wear a sombrero?
Have you been to St. Francis Prep high school? I’ve been to St. Francis Prep High School. It’s a very nice school except for all the children dropping dead from playing with the sick piggies.
Do you have a fever?
Is it high enough to rival one of my hot flashes?
Do you like midgets?
If you answered yes to more than two of these questions, please contact your health care advisor. Leave me out of it. Thank you.
My daughter thinks she has the swine flu. In an effort to validate her concerns, I sent her the following email...
Have you been in contact with pigs?
Did those pigs have stuffy noses?
Were they lethargic piggies?
Have you been to Mexico lately?
Have you been to Mexico EVER?
Do you know anyone who’s been to Mexico lately?
Do you wear a sombrero?
Have you been to St. Francis Prep high school? I’ve been to St. Francis Prep High School. It’s a very nice school except for all the children dropping dead from playing with the sick piggies.
Do you have a fever?
Is it high enough to rival one of my hot flashes?
Do you like midgets?
If you answered yes to more than two of these questions, please contact your health care advisor. Leave me out of it. Thank you.
Keyz
Dear Daniel:
One day I said to David, "play me a song on the piano". Normal people would've plugged in the keyboard and played. David had to:
1. Research music software programs to put on his computer
2. Pay hundreds of dollars to purchase software
3. Wait for software to arrive
4. Upon arrival, install software into computer
5. Computer crashes after 10 hour download
6. Reinstall software
7. Computer crashes after 15 hour download
8. Take apart computer to find out why software will not load
9. Call geeky friends to analyze why software is failing
10. Call software company for further advise
11. Put software company on speed dial
12. Return software
13. Wait for new software
14. Install new software and spend 103 hours waiting for it to load
15. Partially loads but then crashes
16. Call software company and conference them in with geeky friends
17. All parties reach a consensus in a nerd orgy
18. Reinstall software and spend 5609 hours waiting for it to load
19. It successfully loads!
20. Read the 700 page manual
21. Send email that he was ready to play to girl, who used to give a shit
I'm no longer interested in him playing me a song.
One day I said to David, "play me a song on the piano". Normal people would've plugged in the keyboard and played. David had to:
1. Research music software programs to put on his computer
2. Pay hundreds of dollars to purchase software
3. Wait for software to arrive
4. Upon arrival, install software into computer
5. Computer crashes after 10 hour download
6. Reinstall software
7. Computer crashes after 15 hour download
8. Take apart computer to find out why software will not load
9. Call geeky friends to analyze why software is failing
10. Call software company for further advise
11. Put software company on speed dial
12. Return software
13. Wait for new software
14. Install new software and spend 103 hours waiting for it to load
15. Partially loads but then crashes
16. Call software company and conference them in with geeky friends
17. All parties reach a consensus in a nerd orgy
18. Reinstall software and spend 5609 hours waiting for it to load
19. It successfully loads!
20. Read the 700 page manual
21. Send email that he was ready to play to girl, who used to give a shit
I'm no longer interested in him playing me a song.
Ginger/MaryAnn-The Conundrum
Dear Daniel:
I didn’t sleep very well last night. It’s not unusual, nor is it very upsetting any longer…sleep deprivation becomes easier the more practice you have in it. It’s like any other art form.
So I was thinking about the whole Ginger or Mary Ann thing. It’s an interesting comparison, up to much interpretation. But, I feel the choice should be apparent.
Ginger was clearly a slut and a narcissist. Who brings 500 evening gowns on a three hour boat tour? She used her feminine wiles to seduce the male morons on the island. She teased the fat, clueless Skipper into getting her way constantly and made the poor, naïve Professor believe he actually had a fighting chance of getting some loving. She took advantage of the slightly retarded Gilligan at every turn. She didn’t waste much time with Mr. Howell, knowing full well that Mrs. Howell would kick her trampy ass.
On the other hand, Mary Ann was obviously sweet and untarnished. But, one has to wonder how much of a loser has to go on a boat tour all by themselves. Ginger was obviously there to show off, but why would Mary Ann cruise alone? I mean, she couldn’t even get her mother to go with her? What’s that all about? No boyfriend, no friends, no relatives? Gives one pause, doesn’t it?
I think the choice should clearly be neither Ginger nor should it be Mary Ann. Mrs. Howell is the obvious selection! Yes, she’s a bit of a ditz but it doesn’t really seem to bother her. She’s clearly a princess but she embraces her luxurious life style without shame. And, Mr. Howell clearly loves her utterly and completely. That’s always a good indication of character.
Not so much of a conundrum after all, is it?
I didn’t sleep very well last night. It’s not unusual, nor is it very upsetting any longer…sleep deprivation becomes easier the more practice you have in it. It’s like any other art form.
So I was thinking about the whole Ginger or Mary Ann thing. It’s an interesting comparison, up to much interpretation. But, I feel the choice should be apparent.
Ginger was clearly a slut and a narcissist. Who brings 500 evening gowns on a three hour boat tour? She used her feminine wiles to seduce the male morons on the island. She teased the fat, clueless Skipper into getting her way constantly and made the poor, naïve Professor believe he actually had a fighting chance of getting some loving. She took advantage of the slightly retarded Gilligan at every turn. She didn’t waste much time with Mr. Howell, knowing full well that Mrs. Howell would kick her trampy ass.
On the other hand, Mary Ann was obviously sweet and untarnished. But, one has to wonder how much of a loser has to go on a boat tour all by themselves. Ginger was obviously there to show off, but why would Mary Ann cruise alone? I mean, she couldn’t even get her mother to go with her? What’s that all about? No boyfriend, no friends, no relatives? Gives one pause, doesn’t it?
I think the choice should clearly be neither Ginger nor should it be Mary Ann. Mrs. Howell is the obvious selection! Yes, she’s a bit of a ditz but it doesn’t really seem to bother her. She’s clearly a princess but she embraces her luxurious life style without shame. And, Mr. Howell clearly loves her utterly and completely. That’s always a good indication of character.
Not so much of a conundrum after all, is it?
Friday, November 14, 2008
You'll be blind
Dear Daniel:
We receive monthly reports from the company who does training for our members. If you see any of them come in via the US Postal Service, could you please give them to me for now? There are certain legalities involving these grades that require them to be seen only on a NEED TO KNOW basis. If you actually SEE a grade, I'll have to burn out your retinas. Thank you.
We receive monthly reports from the company who does training for our members. If you see any of them come in via the US Postal Service, could you please give them to me for now? There are certain legalities involving these grades that require them to be seen only on a NEED TO KNOW basis. If you actually SEE a grade, I'll have to burn out your retinas. Thank you.
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