President Bush uses Little Richard as translator
Now I can't decide if I want to vote for a different party in the fall, change my car insurance company, or make a big family dinner. Damn decisions!
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
My job gives me bus butt
It is currently 5:05 pm EDT on Wednesday September 20th 2006. I am on hold with MetLife, waiting to ask a representative about a patient's claim. I have been on hold for 4 minutes, listening to the same horrible "smooth jazz" guitar riff over and over again, interrupted only by a cloying voice telling me how I can do things online and get paid automatically and never have to call MetLife again. Of course, we DO file electronically, and I have to call them all the time to get them to fix mistakes. But here is the thing, after I go through the phone prompt dance (I want to choke that bastard on there), I am put on hold with an opening caveat of "we are experienceing higher than normal call volume, so your wait may be longer than usual". Well, for the better part of the last 3 years I have been calling MetLife off and on to get information (and to get them to fix there mistakes), and EVERY time I have called them, I have gotten that warning.
So that tells me that either
1) Metlife is really a popular insurance (those Snoopy commercials must REALLY pay off) and they need to hire some more people, or...
2) MetLife sucks.
I'm going with option 2.
Also, since I started entering this, someone answered the phone. I was expecting someone with a Hindi accent, since a lot of call centers are now in Pakistan and India, and I expected MelLife to be no different. Well imagine my surprise when "Jim" answered, because he sounds, for lack of a better description, like a Swede with a hairlip. Not the easiest guy to communicate with.
God but I need a drink.
So that tells me that either
1) Metlife is really a popular insurance (those Snoopy commercials must REALLY pay off) and they need to hire some more people, or...
2) MetLife sucks.
I'm going with option 2.
Also, since I started entering this, someone answered the phone. I was expecting someone with a Hindi accent, since a lot of call centers are now in Pakistan and India, and I expected MelLife to be no different. Well imagine my surprise when "Jim" answered, because he sounds, for lack of a better description, like a Swede with a hairlip. Not the easiest guy to communicate with.
God but I need a drink.
Two steps forward, two steps back
A good bit of time ago I brought up an issue of what I called "casual racism" regarding comments made to me by someone here at the hospital. Not my usual fare, but I felt like it needed to be addressed. Now I have another issue stuck in repeat mode in my head.
I was sitting in my cubicle (kind of like right now) surfing the internet instead of working (kind of like right now), when I heard some of the Hens along with a couple of surface dwellers (anyone NOT in the basement) talking about (among other things) the television show Nip/Tuck. They riffed off of that into another show (I believe it was Charmed) that had the same actor on both. One of the surface dwellers was commenting on how handsome one particular actor was.
Let me say right now that I don't have any kind of problem with that. It could be an issue, or maybe a double standard in another office, to talk about the attractiveness of someone (methinks that in this case, due to overcompensation to show sensitivity and avoid harassment suits, men commenting on the "hotness" of women is less accepted than women doing the same about men, at least in mixed company in the office. If any of you can say otherwise, please feel free to do so). Down here, as long as it is kept clean (no mention of "gazongas" or "sweater puppies" or the like), men can say that they think a woman is attractive and vice versa. But this wasn't the problem.
Here is where it went bad for me. The surface dweller than said that she was told by her mother not to date outside her race, but that she could imagine closing her eyes and pretending he was black (like her). And I couldn't help but think that if I had said the same thing there would be a firestorm of shit and meetings and sensitivity training up to and including termination.
Am I overreacting, or no? I wish I was, but I cannot help but think that if a white male says he was taught by his parents not to date outside his race he is going to be invited to appear on Jerry Springer, but a black woman saying it means that it is okay, and in fact, all the Hens stood there laughing at it.
I will add that I know the surface dweller who said it. I have talked to her and hung out with her here at the hospital on multiple occasions. We have eaten together, along with others who joined us for meals at the cafeteria. I have no problem with her and have never sensed any hint of prejudice from her. But now I am not so sure I want to hang out with her anymore. Because now I have that image in the back of my head and it will be tough to get it out.
I was sitting in my cubicle (kind of like right now) surfing the internet instead of working (kind of like right now), when I heard some of the Hens along with a couple of surface dwellers (anyone NOT in the basement) talking about (among other things) the television show Nip/Tuck. They riffed off of that into another show (I believe it was Charmed) that had the same actor on both. One of the surface dwellers was commenting on how handsome one particular actor was.
Let me say right now that I don't have any kind of problem with that. It could be an issue, or maybe a double standard in another office, to talk about the attractiveness of someone (methinks that in this case, due to overcompensation to show sensitivity and avoid harassment suits, men commenting on the "hotness" of women is less accepted than women doing the same about men, at least in mixed company in the office. If any of you can say otherwise, please feel free to do so). Down here, as long as it is kept clean (no mention of "gazongas" or "sweater puppies" or the like), men can say that they think a woman is attractive and vice versa. But this wasn't the problem.
Here is where it went bad for me. The surface dweller than said that she was told by her mother not to date outside her race, but that she could imagine closing her eyes and pretending he was black (like her). And I couldn't help but think that if I had said the same thing there would be a firestorm of shit and meetings and sensitivity training up to and including termination.
Am I overreacting, or no? I wish I was, but I cannot help but think that if a white male says he was taught by his parents not to date outside his race he is going to be invited to appear on Jerry Springer, but a black woman saying it means that it is okay, and in fact, all the Hens stood there laughing at it.
I will add that I know the surface dweller who said it. I have talked to her and hung out with her here at the hospital on multiple occasions. We have eaten together, along with others who joined us for meals at the cafeteria. I have no problem with her and have never sensed any hint of prejudice from her. But now I am not so sure I want to hang out with her anymore. Because now I have that image in the back of my head and it will be tough to get it out.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Free tickets that cost me $1100/poking the squeegee
Before delving into the muck that is my post today, I need to give a few "shout outs" (look who is down in the hizzy!)...
To the Ronettes - keep reading girls. You hold a special place in my heart, and the more you gush about me around Wifey, the more she has to think that someone else in this world might actually WANT me, so it tempers her otherwise usually justified anger.
To Wifey - 4 days until 1 year. You know, it seems like just yesterday you were yelling at me for something I forgot to do in planning for the wedding. Someday soon, it will be something I forgot to do for the kids. Sunrise, sunset...
To Fineous Reese - brother man, keep with the posting. You are finding gold in them thar hills.
To Psycho/Just Me - as you noted, we too are approaching a full year together. However, you don't put out, so Wifey is still the star of my world. Besides, I could never go by just an initial.
To anyone else who reads this site enough to have any idea what the hell I am talking about - how the hell are YE?
Okay, now to the issues at hand. First and foremost, yes it is true. On September 18th, Wifey and I will be celebrating our 1st Anniversary. 365 1/4 days of not living in sin. I would like to find out what the over/under was in the "How long until she kills him or leaves him" pool. I want to know if I still haev a chance of winning. And just in case Wifey is wondering, even though I didn't know the spread, I still took the over. THAT should definitely show my level of dedication to this relationship.
Last month, my good friend Starcrossed Scottish Lass (if you knew her history you would understand. For now, she will be known as Starcrossed) called me with free tickets to go see Jimmy Buffett at the Datsun Pavillion (as always, they don't pay, they don't get play. But if you know which car company changed their name from Datsun to their current moniker, you know where I mean. If not, look here). She had tickets for Wifey AND me, and all she asked is that I drive. Well I told her no problem. However, a problem did arise. The concert was during that stretch here in the middle of the Eastern Seaboard when the temperature was hovering in the mid 90's with nasty humidity. Getting to Datsun requires one to merge into a line with 20,000 other cars and wait an incredibly long time to get through a light at a major intersection, where the cars are bumper to bumper for miles on end. During this forced "Bridge over the River Kwai" style march, my car began to overheat. So during this stretch, I had to turn the heat on full blast in order to keep my engine from exploding. Well, apparently it did some damage to my radiator, which has gotten worse over the last month and a half, to the tune of a new radiator and new hoses and new coolant and the whole 9 yards. Total cost with labor (cough cough RIPOFF!!!!!) was $1099.00. Cheeseburger in Paradise my ASS! Son of a son of a BITCH! Mother mother FUCKER! (if you haven't seen Club Dread, do so before flaming me for those nasty words).
I bet shit like that doesn't happen to someone going to a Michael Buble concert. I bet there aren't even Michael Buble concerts. I need to get some lunch. My mind is going off the tracks a bit.
Now to poking the squeegee. While at job deux last Saturday, I ran into an old professor of mine. He was one of those professors who really helped me out in class and in life, and we have kept in semi-sporadic touch for the last (oh GOD I'm old) just shy of 10 years. For the last couple of years he has had me come into his comedy class and help thestudents, and it is something I have thoroughly enjoyed. So when I saw him walking about the Cd aisle, I went up to say hi. As we were talking, I went to point at something behind me. As I did, I flet my finger hit something, so I immediately turned to see what I might have done. I saw a man with a big squeegee in his cart, and I had accidentally poked it with my finger. I apologized, but the man was completely unconcerned about the non incident and kept moving. That is when I turned to the prof and told him "I just poked a man in the squeegee". It wasn't until I said it out loud that I realized the absolute bizareness of the statement. And now my overriding goal is how to work "I just poked a man in the Squeegee" into everyday conversation.
finally, Wifey is going in for some knee surgery on the 29th (2 weeks from tomorrow), so make sure you keep her spirits up hen you see her. I'll keep raising things at home.
HOO-AAAAHHHHH!
BSR
To the Ronettes - keep reading girls. You hold a special place in my heart, and the more you gush about me around Wifey, the more she has to think that someone else in this world might actually WANT me, so it tempers her otherwise usually justified anger.
To Wifey - 4 days until 1 year. You know, it seems like just yesterday you were yelling at me for something I forgot to do in planning for the wedding. Someday soon, it will be something I forgot to do for the kids. Sunrise, sunset...
To Fineous Reese - brother man, keep with the posting. You are finding gold in them thar hills.
To Psycho/Just Me - as you noted, we too are approaching a full year together. However, you don't put out, so Wifey is still the star of my world. Besides, I could never go by just an initial.
To anyone else who reads this site enough to have any idea what the hell I am talking about - how the hell are YE?
Okay, now to the issues at hand. First and foremost, yes it is true. On September 18th, Wifey and I will be celebrating our 1st Anniversary. 365 1/4 days of not living in sin. I would like to find out what the over/under was in the "How long until she kills him or leaves him" pool. I want to know if I still haev a chance of winning. And just in case Wifey is wondering, even though I didn't know the spread, I still took the over. THAT should definitely show my level of dedication to this relationship.
Last month, my good friend Starcrossed Scottish Lass (if you knew her history you would understand. For now, she will be known as Starcrossed) called me with free tickets to go see Jimmy Buffett at the Datsun Pavillion (as always, they don't pay, they don't get play. But if you know which car company changed their name from Datsun to their current moniker, you know where I mean. If not, look here). She had tickets for Wifey AND me, and all she asked is that I drive. Well I told her no problem. However, a problem did arise. The concert was during that stretch here in the middle of the Eastern Seaboard when the temperature was hovering in the mid 90's with nasty humidity. Getting to Datsun requires one to merge into a line with 20,000 other cars and wait an incredibly long time to get through a light at a major intersection, where the cars are bumper to bumper for miles on end. During this forced "Bridge over the River Kwai" style march, my car began to overheat. So during this stretch, I had to turn the heat on full blast in order to keep my engine from exploding. Well, apparently it did some damage to my radiator, which has gotten worse over the last month and a half, to the tune of a new radiator and new hoses and new coolant and the whole 9 yards. Total cost with labor (cough cough RIPOFF!!!!!) was $1099.00. Cheeseburger in Paradise my ASS! Son of a son of a BITCH! Mother mother FUCKER! (if you haven't seen Club Dread, do so before flaming me for those nasty words).
I bet shit like that doesn't happen to someone going to a Michael Buble concert. I bet there aren't even Michael Buble concerts. I need to get some lunch. My mind is going off the tracks a bit.
Now to poking the squeegee. While at job deux last Saturday, I ran into an old professor of mine. He was one of those professors who really helped me out in class and in life, and we have kept in semi-sporadic touch for the last (oh GOD I'm old) just shy of 10 years. For the last couple of years he has had me come into his comedy class and help thestudents, and it is something I have thoroughly enjoyed. So when I saw him walking about the Cd aisle, I went up to say hi. As we were talking, I went to point at something behind me. As I did, I flet my finger hit something, so I immediately turned to see what I might have done. I saw a man with a big squeegee in his cart, and I had accidentally poked it with my finger. I apologized, but the man was completely unconcerned about the non incident and kept moving. That is when I turned to the prof and told him "I just poked a man in the squeegee". It wasn't until I said it out loud that I realized the absolute bizareness of the statement. And now my overriding goal is how to work "I just poked a man in the Squeegee" into everyday conversation.
finally, Wifey is going in for some knee surgery on the 29th (2 weeks from tomorrow), so make sure you keep her spirits up hen you see her. I'll keep raising things at home.
HOO-AAAAHHHHH!
BSR
Friday, September 08, 2006
Things that make me giggle
As I have recently mentioned, I am suffering through second hand insomnia. In fact, right now I feel like I am dragging more ass than a cadre of baboons with itchy butts. However, I still am keen to notice the absurd, like something I saw on the way into work this morning.
As I was driving on Belair Road, I stopped at a light and an MTA bus pulled up next to me. I looked over at it and saw the billboard on the side. It was a Hooters billboard (yes I have been known to frequent Hooters, but I swear I only eat there for the articles). The billboard in question was positioned in such a place that as I looked over, I saw 3 ample sets of torso with no faces to distract me with any other place to focus. No distracting eyes or smiles to look at. Just 6 lovely breasts covered in a thin sheet of white cloth with an owl on there somewhere. This was all well and good, and definitely it was a pleasant momentary distraction from the inanity that is morning traffic, stuck in the midst of a group of people who, like you, have no desire to get where they are going. But this is what got me. On each wonderful mammary was a hand print, as if someone had just finished changing their oil by hand and walked up to the bus, putting an open hand print right smack dab in the center of the pleasure zone.
Part of me thought that the bus was pulled over somewhere by the police, and 3 criminals caught red (and dirty) handed were forced to exit the bus, and then forced to put their hands in preparation for a search by said police. Maybe their hands went there accidentally, maybe they realized it was the closest they would get to touching ANY female breasts, either 2 or 3 dimensional, and they decided to cop one last feel before they became the object of someone else's dirty hand explorations.
Have a happy weekend everyone. I am going to find time to nap, even if I have to stay up all night to do it. That'll teach me!
BSR
As I was driving on Belair Road, I stopped at a light and an MTA bus pulled up next to me. I looked over at it and saw the billboard on the side. It was a Hooters billboard (yes I have been known to frequent Hooters, but I swear I only eat there for the articles). The billboard in question was positioned in such a place that as I looked over, I saw 3 ample sets of torso with no faces to distract me with any other place to focus. No distracting eyes or smiles to look at. Just 6 lovely breasts covered in a thin sheet of white cloth with an owl on there somewhere. This was all well and good, and definitely it was a pleasant momentary distraction from the inanity that is morning traffic, stuck in the midst of a group of people who, like you, have no desire to get where they are going. But this is what got me. On each wonderful mammary was a hand print, as if someone had just finished changing their oil by hand and walked up to the bus, putting an open hand print right smack dab in the center of the pleasure zone.
Part of me thought that the bus was pulled over somewhere by the police, and 3 criminals caught red (and dirty) handed were forced to exit the bus, and then forced to put their hands in preparation for a search by said police. Maybe their hands went there accidentally, maybe they realized it was the closest they would get to touching ANY female breasts, either 2 or 3 dimensional, and they decided to cop one last feel before they became the object of someone else's dirty hand explorations.
Have a happy weekend everyone. I am going to find time to nap, even if I have to stay up all night to do it. That'll teach me!
BSR
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
DAMN but I am getting old
I was just on hold with Carefirst Blue Cross Blue Shield. While holding they play helpful medical thoughts (men 50 or over need yearly prostate exams so don't be embarassed, drink more water, Wifey wants to make passionate love to BSR tonight. You know, the usual). In between they play the standard muzak.
Just now I heard "Fly to the Angels" by Slaughter.
Yup. Slaughter. Muzak.
I am going to go cry now.
Just now I heard "Fly to the Angels" by Slaughter.
Yup. Slaughter. Muzak.
I am going to go cry now.
Holiday Locusts and teen pregnancy
WHAT?!?!? Don't worry, all will be explained in due time.
Before I begin, a quick note on Wifey. She is on some serious meds designed to help her get over once and for all her problems with ear infections, which she has been susceptible to ever since she had a BAD bout of bronchitis a while ago. She is getting better, and that is good. The medicines have some interesting side effects. That is neither good nor bad, it just is. A couple of nights ago Wifey karate chopped me in the sternum around 4:15 am or so. That was bad. Last night she decided to dream that she was a rabbit running from something, as my right knee found out when she began kicking. That was also bad. As her ears unclog, her nose runs a lot. This causes her to have to blow her nose. At 3 am. Loudly. I know that any suffering that I am currently experiencing is nothing compared to what she is going through getting better. That didn't make my knee feel better this morning, but I am aware of the reality of the situation. The long and short of it is I will not be getting any real sleep for probably another 2 weeks or so, and I might be more than a little bruised/fractured/hospitalized/dead by then. So if you can pray for me I would appreciate it. And if you could make sure I have enough coffee to get me through my secondary medication induced insomnia I would appreciate that too.
It was a long weekend, in more ways than one. We have already discussed the spousal abuse, now let us look at the activities.
I had to work Saturday night. In case you didn't know/forgot/don't live around here, it rained Saturday. A lot. This led to a strange occurrence. There are two things that bring people out to the stores, weather and sales. Be it the "OH GOD IT IS GOING TO POSSIBLY MAYBE FLURRY IN A WEEK AND A HALF" milk/bread/toilet paper throngs or the "if it is listed in a circular than it HAS to be a bargain" (BTW - a lot of things listed in circulars are not on sale. If you see "As Advertised" next to an item, it is probably the same price it was the week before, and will be the week after. A lot of "no rain check" items are this way. They don't want you to know that you aren't getting a deal. It is more like an induced inventory liquidation or a "I bet they will want to but fans now that summer is here. Put them in the ad" thing. If it says "Price Cut", or something similar, it is on sale), these two things will bring out the people in droves. So if you combine the "Labor Day Weekend SAVE-TACULAR" people with the rain driving people out to the stores like it drives the earthworms out of the ground, it was hectic.
Sunday was actually pretty relaxing, as I was off of both jobs and had a cookout to go to. So that was a more than decent day. But Monday...
I also had to work Monday night. Since it was time and a half, I was cool with it, even though I dreaded going in. I was pleasantly surprised at the lack of shoppers. It was definintely busy, but it seemed that most people had gotten their shopping done Friday-Sunday, and were content to actually relax on this particular federally mandated holiday. My bosses at Target were both working an early shift, so they both left a little after 4. All seemed okay, until about 5:30. THAT is when IT happened.
The first bus pulled up. Followed by a second one. Then a third. Full of college kids living on campus or near campus from Loyola College. And they swarmed in as the busses left. Within minutes the cart well was decimated and we knew it was only a matter of time until they descended on the cash registers. I immediately went on high alert, expecting the worst. Luckily Loyola College is filled with rich kids whose parents can afford a school like Loyola, so theivery was at a minimum. A couple of DVD's and CD's, but compared to the heaving throng of people, it wasn't that bad.
As they were slowly moving through the registers and trickling out, I went outside to do a little crowd control. They were starting to block up the entrance and exit, and other guests could not get in or out. I saw the busses coming back and breathed a sigh of relief. But I shouldn't have, because as the busses got closer I realized that they were still full of people. For a brief moment I thought it was people they picked up from other local stores, but then I remembered that Loyola kids won't shop at WalMart (because they don't have to), and there was no way THAT many students needed bath gels from Bed Bath and Beyond. And the busses were getting closer...
Three more busfuls of students got off the busses. About 1 and 1/2 worth of students got on the busses. The busses left. And yes, they had another trip to make, another full load of humanity. At one point, I am pretty sure that the Towson Target could have shot right past Annapolis into third place as Maryland's most populated city. And I am fairly confident that it could have challenged Frederick for #2 overall. And afterwards, around 9 o'clock, when they were finally gone, it was eerily quiet in the store.
I did a round to inspect the carnage, fully expecting to have to call FEMA and ask for federal relief. All in all it wasn't too bad. The "grocery area" was all but a ghost town. Chips and pretzels, cereal, soda, candy...all gone. A lot of smaller furniture was sold. Table lamps, bookshelves and the like. If you need sheets or towels, don't come to my store until Wednesday, because otherwise you ain't gonna have a whole lot of choices. And don't even THINK about anything for the bathroom...
Soap
Shampoo
Makeup
Toothpaste
Toothbrushes
...Really anything hygiene. And of course, condoms. There were about 6 boxes of condoms left. I like to think that the majority of them were bought by wishful thinking freshman, who were buying 24 packs like they were going to actually need them. And they will sit in the corner of their dorm room, and on Friday they will look wistfully at them before they go meet their friends at the Quad for a night of walking about the mall looking at the girls they want to use them on.
However, come what may (pun intended), I do take a certain sense of comfort knowing that my tax dollars will not be spent on Baby Greyhounds, at least not until the Spring semester.
GO TIGERS!
Before I begin, a quick note on Wifey. She is on some serious meds designed to help her get over once and for all her problems with ear infections, which she has been susceptible to ever since she had a BAD bout of bronchitis a while ago. She is getting better, and that is good. The medicines have some interesting side effects. That is neither good nor bad, it just is. A couple of nights ago Wifey karate chopped me in the sternum around 4:15 am or so. That was bad. Last night she decided to dream that she was a rabbit running from something, as my right knee found out when she began kicking. That was also bad. As her ears unclog, her nose runs a lot. This causes her to have to blow her nose. At 3 am. Loudly. I know that any suffering that I am currently experiencing is nothing compared to what she is going through getting better. That didn't make my knee feel better this morning, but I am aware of the reality of the situation. The long and short of it is I will not be getting any real sleep for probably another 2 weeks or so, and I might be more than a little bruised/fractured/hospitalized/dead by then. So if you can pray for me I would appreciate it. And if you could make sure I have enough coffee to get me through my secondary medication induced insomnia I would appreciate that too.
It was a long weekend, in more ways than one. We have already discussed the spousal abuse, now let us look at the activities.
I had to work Saturday night. In case you didn't know/forgot/don't live around here, it rained Saturday. A lot. This led to a strange occurrence. There are two things that bring people out to the stores, weather and sales. Be it the "OH GOD IT IS GOING TO POSSIBLY MAYBE FLURRY IN A WEEK AND A HALF" milk/bread/toilet paper throngs or the "if it is listed in a circular than it HAS to be a bargain" (BTW - a lot of things listed in circulars are not on sale. If you see "As Advertised" next to an item, it is probably the same price it was the week before, and will be the week after. A lot of "no rain check" items are this way. They don't want you to know that you aren't getting a deal. It is more like an induced inventory liquidation or a "I bet they will want to but fans now that summer is here. Put them in the ad" thing. If it says "Price Cut", or something similar, it is on sale), these two things will bring out the people in droves. So if you combine the "Labor Day Weekend SAVE-TACULAR" people with the rain driving people out to the stores like it drives the earthworms out of the ground, it was hectic.
Sunday was actually pretty relaxing, as I was off of both jobs and had a cookout to go to. So that was a more than decent day. But Monday...
I also had to work Monday night. Since it was time and a half, I was cool with it, even though I dreaded going in. I was pleasantly surprised at the lack of shoppers. It was definintely busy, but it seemed that most people had gotten their shopping done Friday-Sunday, and were content to actually relax on this particular federally mandated holiday. My bosses at Target were both working an early shift, so they both left a little after 4. All seemed okay, until about 5:30. THAT is when IT happened.
The first bus pulled up. Followed by a second one. Then a third. Full of college kids living on campus or near campus from Loyola College. And they swarmed in as the busses left. Within minutes the cart well was decimated and we knew it was only a matter of time until they descended on the cash registers. I immediately went on high alert, expecting the worst. Luckily Loyola College is filled with rich kids whose parents can afford a school like Loyola, so theivery was at a minimum. A couple of DVD's and CD's, but compared to the heaving throng of people, it wasn't that bad.
As they were slowly moving through the registers and trickling out, I went outside to do a little crowd control. They were starting to block up the entrance and exit, and other guests could not get in or out. I saw the busses coming back and breathed a sigh of relief. But I shouldn't have, because as the busses got closer I realized that they were still full of people. For a brief moment I thought it was people they picked up from other local stores, but then I remembered that Loyola kids won't shop at WalMart (because they don't have to), and there was no way THAT many students needed bath gels from Bed Bath and Beyond. And the busses were getting closer...
Three more busfuls of students got off the busses. About 1 and 1/2 worth of students got on the busses. The busses left. And yes, they had another trip to make, another full load of humanity. At one point, I am pretty sure that the Towson Target could have shot right past Annapolis into third place as Maryland's most populated city. And I am fairly confident that it could have challenged Frederick for #2 overall. And afterwards, around 9 o'clock, when they were finally gone, it was eerily quiet in the store.
I did a round to inspect the carnage, fully expecting to have to call FEMA and ask for federal relief. All in all it wasn't too bad. The "grocery area" was all but a ghost town. Chips and pretzels, cereal, soda, candy...all gone. A lot of smaller furniture was sold. Table lamps, bookshelves and the like. If you need sheets or towels, don't come to my store until Wednesday, because otherwise you ain't gonna have a whole lot of choices. And don't even THINK about anything for the bathroom...
Soap
Shampoo
Makeup
Toothpaste
Toothbrushes
...Really anything hygiene. And of course, condoms. There were about 6 boxes of condoms left. I like to think that the majority of them were bought by wishful thinking freshman, who were buying 24 packs like they were going to actually need them. And they will sit in the corner of their dorm room, and on Friday they will look wistfully at them before they go meet their friends at the Quad for a night of walking about the mall looking at the girls they want to use them on.
However, come what may (pun intended), I do take a certain sense of comfort knowing that my tax dollars will not be spent on Baby Greyhounds, at least not until the Spring semester.
GO TIGERS!
Saturday, September 02, 2006
Petey Greene - How to Eat Watermelon
I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS EXISTS.
This man was a civil rights activist in the 1970's. And this aired on WDCA, a local Washington DC UHF station.
This is utterly unbelievable. I'll put it this way...imagine it is 1977 and Garrett Morris was the one speaking. It would be about 12:30 Saturday night/Sunday morning. You can totally see it, can't you?
I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS EXISTS.
This man was a civil rights activist in the 1970's. And this aired on WDCA, a local Washington DC UHF station.
This is utterly unbelievable. I'll put it this way...imagine it is 1977 and Garrett Morris was the one speaking. It would be about 12:30 Saturday night/Sunday morning. You can totally see it, can't you?
Apache
Without a doubt.
No question.
GREATEST.
MUSIC.
VIDEO.
EVER.
This cannot be disputed. I defy you to find a better one. Yes, I said "defy". I say that because I know it is impossible. I have just watched this 7 straight times and I STILL ma in awe of its horribleness. How did MTV choose the Buggles over this, themes of the songs be damned! At the VERY least this should have been the 2nd video shown, and the 1st put into heavy rotation. Hell, it should STILL be in heavy rotation! I gotta go. It's time to watch it again.
Without a doubt.
No question.
GREATEST.
MUSIC.
VIDEO.
EVER.
This cannot be disputed. I defy you to find a better one. Yes, I said "defy". I say that because I know it is impossible. I have just watched this 7 straight times and I STILL ma in awe of its horribleness. How did MTV choose the Buggles over this, themes of the songs be damned! At the VERY least this should have been the 2nd video shown, and the 1st put into heavy rotation. Hell, it should STILL be in heavy rotation! I gotta go. It's time to watch it again.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
The Eternal Battle
Recently I finally took the last required step of manhood. I switched to boxers.
When man (and in this case I am being penis-centric, not universal) is born, he wears diapers. After diapers come Underoos (SPIDER-MAN!!!!!!!!!!). Next come briefs.
The briefs stage can last for a long time. Some men never fully grow out of them. Some even go so far as to move to bikini briefs and banana hammocks. And that is just wrong, unless you have the physique of an underwear model and are packing more than a derringer in your holster. Thankfully I never fell completely under the spell of briefs, as I found the greatest hybrid creation ever...
THE BOXER BRIEF
Yes, the comfort of a boxer, the support of a brief. At this point, I thought I had completed my underwear journey. But that was not to be.
Wifey has been after me for some amount of time to update my underwear. I will admit that some of my undershirts have some holes in them, but the BBs were running fine TYVM. However, as I walked the hallowed halls of Target day after day (after day after day...) I kept seeing the big BTS underwear display (don't try to comprehend it. Don't. Just agree that it exists and move on from there), and I kept seeing boxers in my size (not as common as I would hope). Last week they went on sale, so I broke down and bought a pack (and immediately went to the office to try them on, praying there would be no major call for security while I stood in the middle of the camera room putting underwear on, on top of underwear, while my pants hung over the back of a chair). I found them to be very comfortable, and it was not as hard to get used to the "freeing" aspect of the boxers as I thought it would be. I don't feel as if I am going "Commando", but I might be in the National Guard. The biggest adjustment is that sometimes I have to adjust when I sit, since I am no longer "2 Ball(s) in the side pocket".
There is one major adjustment, however, that I am still trying to adapt to. I don't plan on switching back, but at the same time I am not ready to bleach the living hell out of the old boys and turn them into rags just yet. What is that adjustment you ask? It is this: the boxers have a button in the front to hold the flap closed. After 30+ years (remember, there was no issue involved with diapers) of moving the fold over flaps to their respective sides in order to free the beast to do it's duty, it is difficult (I wanted to say it was hard, but that would make most of you laugh like Beavis and Butthead, and I am trying to make a point here) to remember that I need to undo a button first. My body is trained to recognize the zipper going down as "5 seconds from launch", and now I am delaying it to 8 seconds, but at the 4 second mark. If that sounds complicated/convoluted, it is. But 30+ years of training are hard to just ignore. Especially since the button sits up higher than the flaps were on the old reliables. So my hands automatically go to where there is solid material. Long story short, I have not pissed myself, but I am not saying it is impossible, especially if I get drunk anytime soon (and yes, we are going to a Labor Day party. I might pack spares).
And in case you are wondering why I don't just leave it unbuttoned, I have thought about that. But there are two issues...
1) it doesn't feel wholesome/American. It sounds like something the terrorists would do.
2) if the thought of it distracts me, imagine what the ACTION would do.
And now you know...THE ETERNAL STRUGGLE
When man (and in this case I am being penis-centric, not universal) is born, he wears diapers. After diapers come Underoos (SPIDER-MAN!!!!!!!!!!). Next come briefs.
The briefs stage can last for a long time. Some men never fully grow out of them. Some even go so far as to move to bikini briefs and banana hammocks. And that is just wrong, unless you have the physique of an underwear model and are packing more than a derringer in your holster. Thankfully I never fell completely under the spell of briefs, as I found the greatest hybrid creation ever...
THE BOXER BRIEF
Yes, the comfort of a boxer, the support of a brief. At this point, I thought I had completed my underwear journey. But that was not to be.
Wifey has been after me for some amount of time to update my underwear. I will admit that some of my undershirts have some holes in them, but the BBs were running fine TYVM. However, as I walked the hallowed halls of Target day after day (after day after day...) I kept seeing the big BTS underwear display (don't try to comprehend it. Don't. Just agree that it exists and move on from there), and I kept seeing boxers in my size (not as common as I would hope). Last week they went on sale, so I broke down and bought a pack (and immediately went to the office to try them on, praying there would be no major call for security while I stood in the middle of the camera room putting underwear on, on top of underwear, while my pants hung over the back of a chair). I found them to be very comfortable, and it was not as hard to get used to the
There is one major adjustment, however, that I am still trying to adapt to. I don't plan on switching back, but at the same time I am not ready to bleach the living hell out of the old boys and turn them into rags just yet. What is that adjustment you ask? It is this: the boxers have a button in the front to hold the flap closed. After 30+ years (remember, there was no issue involved with diapers) of moving the fold over flaps to their respective sides in order to free the beast to do it's duty, it is difficult (I wanted to say it was hard, but that would make most of you laugh like Beavis and Butthead, and I am trying to make a point here) to remember that I need to undo a button first. My body is trained to recognize the zipper going down as "5 seconds from launch", and now I am delaying it to 8 seconds, but at the 4 second mark. If that sounds complicated/convoluted, it is. But 30+ years of training are hard to just ignore. Especially since the button sits up higher than the flaps were on the old reliables. So my hands automatically go to where there is solid material. Long story short, I have not pissed myself, but I am not saying it is impossible, especially if I get drunk anytime soon (and yes, we are going to a Labor Day party. I might pack spares).
And in case you are wondering why I don't just leave it unbuttoned, I have thought about that. But there are two issues...
1) it doesn't feel wholesome/American. It sounds like something the terrorists would do.
2) if the thought of it distracts me, imagine what the ACTION would do.
And now you know...THE ETERNAL STRUGGLE
If I was a woman or a gay man I would feel really inspired right now
The first song to play on Wifey's alarm clock this morning? "I'm Every Woman", and it was exactly when the chorus was kicking in. For the briefest of moments I felt like Kevin Kline in In and Out when he was listening to the record on how to be a man but ended up prancing around the room to "Macho Man".
But that feeling passed quickly.
But that feeling passed quickly.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
The reason that today will be a bizarre posting day
There are certain things, some would call them signs. Omens portending of the fate of a day, or even an action. Not as dramatic or life altering as a burning bush or raining frogs, but still something that could easily be interpreted as God telling you something that you should heed. This morning I had my own little "Beware the Ides of March", my own Oracle telling me that I was destined to kill my father and marry my mother and my life story would be used by some Austrian guy with cigar fetish and his own mother issues (I don't actually have any mother OR father issues. My court ordered therapy at age 14 after being busted for petty shoplifting - I tried to steal the "Batdance" cassette single on a dare, which just being caught with that in your possession should have been punishment enough in my humble opinion - proved that I was not Oedipal, nor was I gay. Those were the focal points of Mindy's (how the hell do I still remember her name?) psychoanalysis. That and that I was repressing anger. And at age 14 I could have told her all of that and saved my parents some money and myself some time lying on a couch talking to a pregnant woman about my life as a zygote during the regression therapy).
Yes, a sign from the heavens came down and rained upon me during the nascent beginnings of my morning commute today. Literally. A bird shit on my sleeve. Right on the edge of it, just barely missing my arm. And as I reached for the last napkin in the car to wipe it off as best as I could (Wifey burned through the rest blowing her nose. She has been stuffed up since what seems like when Bush had a positive approval rating, but she went to the doctor yesterday and hopefully things will be getting better), I couldn't help but think that God (or if He was too busy, one of his gophers. I like to think that God delegates minor tasks to his boys, and saves his concentration for big things that require attention, like helping keep the peace during the cease fire and stuff) was telling me that maybe the best place for me today would be home. Or at least I should stay indoors. If it had actually gotten on my skin, I would be home right now, getting out of the shower and making a fresh pot of coffee and calling my boss (and also the OM for the office I am assigned to) and telling them that I simply cannot come in, no reason, using one of my personal "Use'em or Lose'em" days and I will speak to them in the morning.
But I am here, and the trauma that I have gone through (not to mention it is a "JJ" Day, another reason I thought long and hard about not being in THIS particular zip code) has caused me to feel like posting any random thing that makes me giggle or otherwise distracts me. Like the Saget video you just watched (you didn't watch it yet? SHAME ON YOU! Watch it now and then come back) and so on. The Joey Lawrence thing is just a continuation from yesterday, but I am glad I got it to work. In the grand scheme of things, the Mario Lopez and Jerry Springer pics are superfluous now. But Jerry does look good all tarted up. He should think of keeping the puffy shirt look.
Yes, a sign from the heavens came down and rained upon me during the nascent beginnings of my morning commute today. Literally. A bird shit on my sleeve. Right on the edge of it, just barely missing my arm. And as I reached for the last napkin in the car to wipe it off as best as I could (Wifey burned through the rest blowing her nose. She has been stuffed up since what seems like when Bush had a positive approval rating, but she went to the doctor yesterday and hopefully things will be getting better), I couldn't help but think that God (or if He was too busy, one of his gophers. I like to think that God delegates minor tasks to his boys, and saves his concentration for big things that require attention, like helping keep the peace during the cease fire and stuff) was telling me that maybe the best place for me today would be home. Or at least I should stay indoors. If it had actually gotten on my skin, I would be home right now, getting out of the shower and making a fresh pot of coffee and calling my boss (and also the OM for the office I am assigned to) and telling them that I simply cannot come in, no reason, using one of my personal "Use'em or Lose'em" days and I will speak to them in the morning.
But I am here, and the trauma that I have gone through (not to mention it is a "JJ" Day, another reason I thought long and hard about not being in THIS particular zip code) has caused me to feel like posting any random thing that makes me giggle or otherwise distracts me. Like the Saget video you just watched (you didn't watch it yet? SHAME ON YOU! Watch it now and then come back) and so on. The Joey Lawrence thing is just a continuation from yesterday, but I am glad I got it to work. In the grand scheme of things, the Mario Lopez and Jerry Springer pics are superfluous now. But Jerry does look good all tarted up. He should think of keeping the puffy shirt look.
Joey Lawrence - Nothin' my love can't fix
When you watch this, you will learn a few things. One: Joel Lawrence is either from or is a huge fan of the professional sports teams of Philadelphia. 2: Joel Lawrence is the greatest football player who ever lived. He actually threw a touchdown to himself, and later got an interception while playing defense. It's like he's Chuck Bednarik, only prettier. 3: He likes chicks on roller skates. 4: Sleeveless, unbuttoned flannel shirts are teh awesome. 5: the set designer for the Fresh Prince of Bel Air is a close personal friend of his.
I want to learn how to do that shoulder walk/elephant strut thing he does. Apparently it can score you major chicks, especially ones who like to play ring around the rosie and wear flannel either as a shirt or as a backwards apron/ass cape.
When you watch this, you will learn a few things. One: Joel Lawrence is either from or is a huge fan of the professional sports teams of Philadelphia. 2: Joel Lawrence is the greatest football player who ever lived. He actually threw a touchdown to himself, and later got an interception while playing defense. It's like he's Chuck Bednarik, only prettier. 3: He likes chicks on roller skates. 4: Sleeveless, unbuttoned flannel shirts are teh awesome. 5: the set designer for the Fresh Prince of Bel Air is a close personal friend of his.
I want to learn how to do that shoulder walk/elephant strut thing he does. Apparently it can score you major chicks, especially ones who like to play ring around the rosie and wear flannel either as a shirt or as a backwards apron/ass cape.
Joey Lawrence is NOT Bob the Builder
apparently there IS something his love can't fix. Male pattern baldness.
Bob the Builder-can he fix it?
Bob the Builder-YES HE CAN!
This is what happens to your brain when you have yourng nieces/nephews. I can only imagine that it will be 10 times worse when Wifey and I have kids of our own. I am sure that there will be Wiggles and Raffi CD's where my Who and Styx Greatest Hits collections are in my truck. And then you will weep for me without even knowing why.
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