assorted rants, creative writing, dogs, gratuitous self pity, misanthropy

Dog Doo, Tea Bagging, Dingbats and Family Annoyances

only chick

I’ve never been much for political correctness, but my boobs aren’t speaking to you, bubba.

I’ve always had a sort of loathing for meetings/seminars/workshops in which the facilitator requires the participants to wear name tags.  At least a name tag like this could have served a practical purpose in a few of those sort of events.  I appreciate my anonymity, and hide behind it whenever I can.   I never had the choice of a cute HK tag to wear, even as the only chick at most of the automotive functions (there still aren’t very many female parts or service managers in car dealerships) I’ve attended.

I really don’t give two shits in a high wind if some stranger from Moose Dick, Alaska, who I will never see again, remembers my boobs, or my name.  I’d rather he forget them both.  Unless he’s hot, and there are exactly -0- hot guys on the planet who have ever bothered to drool on my shirt.

I’ve considered it a plus when the boob-oglers had teeth and hair.

Of course now that I’m older, the kinds of guys who would be ogling my cleavage (providing their vision is still good enough) have gotten even more scary than they used to be.

Some older guys are hot.  Unfortunately they were hot when they were younger too, and they ignored me then, too.  I was a kegger when I was 21, and that has not improved with age.  I am not one of the beautiful people, and usually that doesn’t bother me much.

tbagI guess if you’re that dumb, you deserve to be removed from the gene pool.

Today I’m sounding pretty misandrist (which is unusual for me, because I generally like men and get along better with them than with other women) and I’m sure it has to do with Jerry.  He did go and work out last night which I am proud of him for.  I just hope he isn’t too disheartened to find out that he can’t keep up with me.  I can bench press more than he can.  But in all fairness I quit smoking over 10 years ago, I don’t drink, and I’ve been working out already pretty consistently for the past 3 years.  He’s 12 years older than me, still smokes like a freight train, considers beer a food group, and lifts weights 12 ounces at a time.  That mindset apparently doesn’t do jack for your upper body strength.

Jerry can be a horrible dingbat at times and he displayed that today.  I really hate any family member calling me at work unless it’s something important.  Usually it’s dumb shit that can wait.  Unless someone is in the hospital or dead, or by some Miracle of God I’ve come into some serious money, I really don’t want to hear about it.  I have to talk to enough people and hear about enough problems while I’m at work without listening to anyone’s tirade about this that or the other thing that I can’t remedy until later anyway.  Jerry calls me with stupid shit (pun intended) such as “Sheena had the shits all over the floor.”

poopYes, Jerry, clean it up!  With your bare hands!  Why not?

So then I get to dread cleaning up congealed diarrheal dog shit for all the rest of the day.  Thanks, Jerry, for being the shit monitor.  How about YOU cleaning it up every once in awhile?  Jerry’s really good about pointing out the (blessedly rare) dog or cat accidents, but then he claims that “I can’t clean it up, because I’ll puke.”  Granted, I have a very limited sense of smell, but I can see, and I can feel, and I can be weird about germs, so what makes you think cleaning up shit is less gross for me, Captain Oblivious?

Mom is just as bad. She will call me with some (usually) imagined crisis (usually involving Steve-o, Sophie, or one of my nephews)  that I can’t do a damned thing about, only to find out later that she was making yet another mountain out of another molehill.  Steve-o is 21.  If he decides he wants to hang out with his buddies, or whatever, it’s not a Federal case.  As far as how he is raising his daughter, he and her mother seem to be doing a good job. Barring neglect or abuse, I will not intervene with their parenting. I had a hell of enough time raising my own offspring to be butting in on how others raise theirs.

happy yr home

As far as parenting my nephews, apparently she doesn’t have the courage to approach my sisters every time she thinks they’ve stepped outside their bounds.  In reality, my sisters are much stricter with my nephews than I ever was with Steve-o.  Unless they are doing illegal things or egregiously immoral things, it is none of my business and my sisters are responsible for correcting them anyway.

“Mother” does not start with “s.”  She is his grandmother, but the no-smother clause works with grandparents as well.   She might be Catholic, but, Steve-o’s not.  (See the video clip from Monty Python’s Meaning of Life on Protestantism which is pretty funny.) Though I may not approve of fornication, I also know that a.) he’s going to, and b.) if he’s going to, using a rubber is a pretty good idea.  He already has one offspring that we know about.

old-lady-with-naughty-ooooooh-look“Oooh, what are you doing with condoms!”

I only wish Jerry had been calling to bitch about something as trivial as dog shit.  Apparently he failed to understand what I meant, on numerous occasions, when I said I was cancelling a very expensive automatic recurring withdrawal from my checking account (i.e. that I could no longer pay for his life insurance, etc. that had been coming out of my checking account, and that he swore up and down, “yeah, I’ll pay you for it” but never did.)  Apparently (oh lucky freaking me) dumb-ass answered the home phone when he was home at lunch, which is only really there for phone solicitors and other people I don’t want to talk to.  So the insurance people were wondering why we had cancelled, etc. (and those people are annoying as shit when they call because they get a spiff on every policy they convince you not to cancel) so, not remembering I said I was cancelling the EFT, he proceeded to call me at work and give me a nasty little tirade about it.

pretendidiotJust because I’m used to irrational tirades doesn’t mean I enjoy them.

Joy.

I know I shouldn’t let him take financial advantage of me, (and I’m done with subsidizing these ridiculously overpriced insurance policies) but I will have hell to pay for it.  I’m not looking forward to that at all.

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assorted rants, historical interest, misanthropy

Playing Devil’s Advocate, a Perfect World #656, and My Little Dystopia

red guy buttwalkThe Red Guy from Cow and Chicken

I have to admit I like cartoons a little bit too much, especially the late 80’s-90’s cartoons like Cow and Chicken, Dexter’s Laboratory, Two Stupid Dogs, Ren and Stimpy and Johnny Bravo (you can still catch these late at night on Boomerang from time to time.)  The artwork is simple and mostly computer-generated (as is pretty much all animation these days) but the story lines are blessedly twisted and a little bit unexpected.

I watch TV or go to movies for one of two reasons.  One is to learn something, which is why I enjoy documentaries and nature shows.  I’ve probably spent more time watching documentaries on WWII than the actual war lasted, which is a sort of sad commentary on just how much I live life vicariously.  The other reason I watch TV or go to movies is because I want to laugh.  I enjoy World’s Dumbest and 1000 Ways to Die because they’re not only educational but funny in a twisted way.

I stopped caring a LONG time ago about dippy celebrities (I could care less about the Kardashians and who they’re currently landing in bed with) and drippy lame pop stars.

kardashian_sistersThey may be brunettes, but they’re still no-talent dingbats.  However, their handlers are doing something right.  They’re dingbats with more money than I’ll ever see.

In the 80s we had some good pop (though there was a fair share of really bad pop music then as well) and some really awesome rock and metal.  Rock and metal have been long since been overtaken by rap, which pretty much sucks. Country has always sucked, but today it is a just bit less sucky than it once was.  I can’t understand or get much into techno either.  That stuff sounds like the soundtrack for a cheap porn movie.   Today it pretty much ALL sucks, unless it’s new material from an older artist such as Neal Schon.  Yes I really do enjoy The Callingand most of his other solo stuff too, although if you want to try it out- a caution.   Schon’s solo stuff is nothing like Journey.  The Calling is jazz fusion instrumental music that’s generally only going to appeal to musicians.  Guitar players and anyone trained in any of the disciplines of classical music will appreciate this stuff, but to assume it will be popular with the masses is sort of like expecting Billy Joe Jim Bob to get into La Bohème.  It’s not going to happen.

In a perfect world, all the men would be buff. And they would all be wearing Spandex pants, like these:

pantsMan pants- but ONLY for the buff.

Of course, since most men are not this buff, baggy jeans or sweatpants will have to do.

Jerry so far has actually gone to the Y, but has only checked out the equipment. So far he has not dared to don the sweatpants or to actually use any of the workout equipment.  I’m hoping to get him to that point tonight, now that he’s seen that all the other 50-something men there are wearing plain old dollar store sweatpants and t-shirts and even those awful Velcro tennis shoes.  He will fit right in that fashion parade.

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assorted rants, dogs, misanthropy, miscellaneous drivel

Cats and Dogs, the Natty Impaired, and Physical Fitness

petting chartI love this chart, because for the most part, it’s true.

Most dogs are not terribly body sensitive.  Sheena is a bit head-shy, but I think that’s because she’s deaf, which means she’s highly reliant upon what she sees and she doesn’t want anything to obstruct her vision.  Lilo is extremely body sensitive (don’t even try to touch her feet or tail without giving fair warning) for a dog, but she’s an exception rather than a rule.  Clara must think she’s a cat, because she adores having her butt scratched as much if not more than a typical cat.

Isabel and Jezebel (the two black cats, and the oldest and youngest) are cling-on cats.  They love attention, seek it out, and can’t get enough physical closeness, petting, cuddling, etc.  Fanny (the behemoth silver tabby and white) and F.B. (Fluffy Butt, the tortoiseshell Angora) are both more selective about who they want attention from, for how long, and when.  They have their moments of wanting attention, but they also have their moments of being downright anti-social.  Especially Fanny.

jezebel isabelMe (Isabel- right) and Mini-me (Jezebel- left)

Jezebel is not going to be a terribly large cat.  Isabel is very small for an adult cat (just over 5#) and Fanny was bigger than her by the time Fanny was three months old.  Jezebel is about 18 weeks old at this point and is maybe 2 1/2- 3#.  Jezebel will likely grow and fill out a bit after she’s spayed, but I doubt if it will be by much.  Isabel’s spayed too.  Cats do most of their growing before their adult teeth come in.  Jezebel already has her adult incisors and canine teeth (yes, cats are carnivores and therefore they possess four elongated canine teeth, like all other carnivores) and it likely won’t be long before she gets the premolars and molars too.  An interesting (nerd alert) aside- a cat is actually more of a true carnivore than a dog, because a cat is an obligatory carnivore that requires meat in their diet to survive, whilst dogs can survive without meat in their diet.  Cats cannot manufacture their own taurine, which is an essential amino acid that has to do with vision and regulating heart beat.  Dogs (and humans) can manufacture their own taurine, but cats can only get taurine from meat in their diet.

Vegans beware- put your cat on a vegan diet and it will soon go blind and then die- so don’t impose your meatless lifestyle on your cat.   Or on me for that matter.  I may not need meat to live, but I sure do like it.

snickersF.B. is a beautiful cat, but she despises cameras.  I was lucky to get this one.

F.B. is probably the quietest and most unobtrusive of my cats.  She likes attention if it’s one-on-one, and she loves to just chill with the other cats. For the most part she sits back and observes, and sleeps.

fanny2Fanny was aptly named.  That’s what I get for listening to Queen.

Fanny is huge.  17# for a female cat is big.  She has big bones, and she has big meat on the big bones also, which is ironic because Isabel and Jezebel- each- eat more than she does.  They are tiny and svelte, yet they are eating machines.  Fanny is a fussy eater who eats only a very few things, (for instance Fanny refuses Vienna sausages, which the other cats adore) and she slowly and methodically chews each bite.  I feel for Fanny and her metabolism.    She also has a bit of a jealousy complex and an attitude.  She was not at all happy about Jezebel coming in and taking her position as the young petulant indulged one, even though Fanny’s four years old and should be over it by now.

claranlilo1Clara and Lilo have always been close.  Sometimes Lilo will get into Clara’s crate with her.

Clara (top) and Lilo (bottom) have been close ever since we got them.  Clara had been with us a few months when we got Lilo, and they are only a few months apart in age.  Even now that they’re older (Clara’s 10, Lilo’s 9) they still occasionally play tug of war with their toys and play-fight with each other.

tugofwar3They still enjoy this, even though Clara’s bigger and usually wins.

sheena311Sheena is well, Sheena.  She is her own dog.

Sheena’s part Husky.  Sheena has a number of flaws that are consistent with inbreeding- severe hip dysplasia, deafness, gross motor deficits (may or may not be related to HD) and she’s downright goofy.  Maybe some of her cognitive deficiencies are related to the fact that she used to live at the Tetanus Farm which was also a puppy mill and (suspected) meth lab.  There’s a reason why it’s a bad idea to procreate with first degree relatives, and that applies to dogs as well as humans.  But Sheena’s endearing in her own weird way.  I have a soft spot for rejects and misfits.  That must explain Jerry.  A warning to women: if a guy’s 38, straight, and never married, there is a good reason why.

Today begins Jerry’s fitness program.  He’s the one who wanted a membership at the Y and actually gave me money to pay for it.  This is almost scary in a way.  I can’t imagine Jerry in work out clothes, on a treadmill or elliptical, or lifting any sort of weight over 12 ounces.

He will be so disappointed when he discovers the only fluids available at the Y are water, diet soda and fruit juice, and there are no beer holders on the cardio machines.  But I will be happy if he at least goes and gives it a try.

On the other hand, I am anxiously looking forward to enjoying the indoor pool, being able to swim laps starting at 5:30 in the morning, and being able to work out on the ellipticals. Swimming and elliptical machines are two modes of exercise that allow me to get the cardio and strength training I need without destroying my joints even more than they are already.  The Y also has nice showers, so if I choose to go there to work out before work instead of working out at home, I can actually swim laps, do some cardio, and then shower and go to work from there. Nice.

jerry richard simmons

Hopefully he won’t think this is what I mean by “work out clothes.”

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assorted rants, creative writing, gratuitous self pity, historical interest, misanthropy, political commentary

Dissent is My 1st Amendment Right, Freezing, and the Agony of Hat-Head

mourningobama1-21

dissentCreepy, I know. But I did do what I said I was going to.  I even wore a black bra and black underwear, should the inquiring mind want to know.

My reasons for wearing all-black mourning clothes in protest of the second inauguration of the Worst President in American History?

1. Voter fraud.  If the past election had been honest, i.e. only eligible voters voting, and eligible voters only voting once, yesterday’s events would have been very different, and far happier.

2. Obama is the absolute worst president this country has seen in its 236 year history, for a laundry list of reasons: a.) wiping his pompous ass with our Constitution, b.) refusing to submit to proper background checks to prove his eligibility to hold public office, c.) his active support of terrorist harboring nations, d.) he advocates the murder of the unborn, e.) he is imposing his faux imperial will upon the people of this country (see also letter a.) against our consent.

Perhaps if Obama had won “fair and square” I wouldn’t be quite so pissed off.  However, I find it curious that more than 100% of the registered voters in a few Cuyahoga County precincts ALL voted for Obama.  I find it fishy that the Democrats were bussing non-citizens to the early voting center right here in Columbus, so they could vote multiple times on multiple days using nothing more than a utility bill (even though you need not be an American citizen or a resident of Ohio to have utilities in your name) for ID.   I find it even more peculiar that Obama failed to win any state that requires a photo ID to vote.  What’s even worse is that so-called Republicans (including the Ohio attorney general and the Ohio secretary of state) refuse to investigate these egregious and widespread frauds and refuse to speak out against them.  Methinks they are afraid of rocking the boat, or of getting a visit from the union thugs that rule over Cuyahoga County.

obama race cardI’m tired of people using his race to excuse his ineptitude- and his dishonesty.

The 2012 election was a travesty and a joke and no one will do anything about it.  Obama might as well just have declared himself king yesterday.  The sad thing is that I wouldn’t put it past him to do exactly that.

What are you boys afraid of? Sometimes standing up for the right thing means pissing a few people off.   I learned a long time ago I don’t give a rat’s ass who I please as long as I can live with myself.   Just because I disagree with Obama’s policies and I can see that he is a Marxist, a liar and a cheater does not make me a racist.  It makes me someone who sees Obama for who he really is- a petty despot hell bent on destroying America.  I don’t care if he is black, white, green, gay, straight or furry.  He’s dishonest and he’s wrong.   He may hide behind the façade of being black (in reality, his mother was white) to avoid scrutiny, but at the end of the day, failing to speak out against him is giving evil a free pass.

offended yodaTact never was my strong suit, but there are times when the truth has to trump tact.

Today also marks a sad anniversary- 40 years of Roe v. Wade.  Another testament that just because something is legal does not make it right.  The Supreme Court also decided the Dred Scott case, which was as fundamentally wrong when it was decided as it is today.

mourningOn a different note, this is one of those days when Central Ohio is too far north for human habitation.  Today’s high was 15°, which is cold even for me.  I know it’s colder in places like Cleveland and Detroit (both of which are places I have no real desire to visit again) but it’s pretty damned cold here too, and windy to boot.  Target, of course, has lots of brand new swim attire on display, should anyone be able to find any body of water thawed out enough to swim in.

polar bear swimDo what you want, but personally I think this is downright nuts.

When it is this cold and windy I find it necessary to wear a hat.  I like hats, but when I put a hat on it’s got to stay on the rest of the day unless I have the opportunity to re-do my hair.  So I’m wearing a hat today- the same black aviator hat I wore yesterday.  When the farking wind chill is 20° below and the various HVAC systems I encounter in a day are doing good to keep the temperature in the 50s in this kind of cold, the hat stays on.  Don’t like it?  Bite me.

black hatHey, it’s warm!

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assorted rants, creative writing, gratuitous self pity, historical interest, misanthropy, political commentary

My “Best” Self, Time Keeping in the Post-Apocalyptic World, and Other Questions No One Asks But Me

watch

I forgot my watch today.  That is rather vexing, even though I can make the argument that the habit of wearing a timekeeper on one’s person is rather archaic and quaint. I very seldom forget to wear a watch.  It became habit when I was in elementary school (way before the days of smart phones or computers) because it was necessary for me to know the time, 1.) when I went home for lunch and had to be back at school, so I didn’t screw around too long on the way back (I don’t know of any elementary schools today that let kids leave for lunch, but that was a different time) and 2.) if Grandma was going to pick me up after school, I would know she would be there at exactly 3:00, and that I had better be right out front next to the oak tree and not messing about on the playground.

vintage timex

The watch I wore from the time I was 9 years old until I was in college was a wind-up Timex (good luck finding one of those, but I still have it, and it still works.)  Today I generally wear a Timex digital watch (I have a few) or the really nice Fossil analog watch (talk about archaic, though this one does have a battery) I reserve for non-casual occasions.  I don’t know why I hang on to that rather dated custom- there’s a freaking clock in the car for heaven’s sake, not to mention on the cell phone and on the computer screen.  If I really need to know what time it is that bad, the current time is everywhere.

The impulse to always have a watch on reminds me of “Rainman’s” obsession to always buy underwear at K-Mart.  Not everyone on the autistic spectrum is OCD, (and I’m not) but I do remember as a kid I did NOT like having my schedule or routine changed at all, unless I was the one changing things.    I still don’t like other people screwing up my itinerary, but the older I get, I tend to be a lot more flexible.

It really doesn’t matter in the broad scheme of things, but people like me tend to get hung up on some really weird shit sometimes.   Perhaps it is a lame attempt for me to maintain some sort of continuity in an increasingly unpredictable world.

This country may be going to hell in a handbasket as the new Louis and Marie strut about as if they are royalty, as they stomp on the Constitution, squander taxpayers’ money, take their Hawaiian vacations and pontificate from their ivory tower, but at least I’ll know what time it is.   I can even set the chronometer, should I need to call 911 and want to know how long the cops take to get there.

Louis and MarieI couldn’t help it.  This reference to B.O. and Moochelle as the new Louis and Marie was too much NOT to share.  Sad thing is, this is NOT France.

Since I am painfully aware of not having a watch on my wrist, the thought came to mind, when would it really be imperative to have a watch on to know what time it is?  After the apocalypse- when there are no more computers or cell phones or cars?

At that point, when my immediate surrounding area resembles something out of Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome, who would give a rat’s ass about the time?  It would always be half-past ass whupping time, right?

There is a politically correct phrase I’ve heard that teachers use to “encourage” the children they teach, and for the most part I loathe it: “Be your best self today.”

WTF?

Can I be my shitty self tomorrow?

best selfThis is about as far as the “best self” train is going to go today.

I’m sorry, but the way I grew up was that it was either tow the line or get a boot up your ass.  I think that’s part of the problem with kids today, that parents and teachers are afraid to challenge them.  I can think positive all day and blow sunshine out my poop chute, but unless I actually do something positive it really doesn’t matter, does it?

r lee ermeyKids today need less mollycoddling and more boot camp.

Now I do like some of the suggestions here, even though the author of the post uses that phrase.  I think I will strike up a conversation with a complete stranger for shits and grins, or do something completely spontaneous just because I can.  Some of her suggestions are a tad bit more challenging, such as telling someone you love how much you love them.  I have emotions- I think- but I’m not very good at sharing them.

loathing

Is it just me, or am I the only one who thinks it to be bad manners to make a take home plate at a funeral wake?  I went to a calling hours and wake last week for a friend of mine whose father had died.   The departed was Irish, and there was plenty of liquor, so it really was a proper Irish wake.  Since we belong to a group of Lutheran church ladies, we had all brought enough chow for three armies too.

Jerry actually had the cojones to ask me if I’d fixed him a plate when I got home.

Granted, there was more than enough food and nobody would have missed it if I would have made Jerry a plate, but if you don’t at least go to the wake and pay your respects to the departed, then what gives you the right to go munching on their chow?

This is the message that action sends: “Gee, sorry about your Dad, too bad I was too busy drinking beer and watching the Big 10 channel to show up for his wake, but can my wife set me up with a doggie bag?”

I know Jerry was raised by wolves, but methinks requesting a doggie bag from a wake is a bit much.

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creative writing, gratuitous self pity, historical interest, misanthropy, theology

Ode to the Crapper, Snake Handlers, and Reality Bites

bigger vehicle winsI had an ’88 VW Fox that was similar to this car, only mine was a 4 door, and I knew better than to run it into a tank.

I am not your friendly neighborhood optimist.  There are times when I wish I could be, but I was the kid who asked the catechism teacher* (*but NOT any of the teachers who were also nuns) where the bathroom is in heaven.  I’m probably the only person on the planet twisted enough to ask that question, but it has a rational foundation.  It’s always wise to know the proximity of the nearest crapper, and as much as I would hope eliminatory functions will not be necessary in the next life, I figure if there’s toilets in church, then the need for commodes might just transcend the Great Beyond.   It would be my luck.

old time crapperThey would probably be cool old-style Victorian era crappers like this one.

There was indoor plumbing in the late Victorian era, but only rich folks had it.  Poor folks had to use the outhouse.  My grandparents didn’t get indoor plumbing until the late 1950’s.  No, I am not that old.  I wasn’t born until the late 1960’s, so I don’t know about their  particular outhouse from personal experience.  The closest I ever got to a real outhouse was having to use the latrines at the Girl Scout Camp and the State Parks and/or Porto Johns.  That was bad enough.

poemI’m glad I don’t have balls.  I do wonder, though, if it’s so nasty, why are you lingering long enough to pull out a Sharpie and make commentary on the Porto-John wall?

For the uninitiated, outhouses may contain snakes, spiders, biting insects such as wasps and hornets, raccoons, mice and possums, or a combination of all of the above.  Non-venomous snakes don’t really phase me.  I have a ball python.  Jerry has a rather tempermental red-tail boa.  But pythons and boas are constrictors.  They can bite you and that’s not fun, but generally a bite from a constrictor will simply leave you with a few puncture wounds- not much worse than a cat scratch.  It’s rare for constrictors that are handled to bite unless they’re hungry and you smell like food.

ball pythonThis is a ball python. Pythons are NON-venomous snakes.  I have one just like it, and I have no problem picking him up.  He eats juvenile rats.

Venomous snakes are quite another matter.  I pretty much know what the “harmless” snakes, such as garter snakes, ball pythons, boas, rat snakes, etc. look like.  Rattlesnakes and copperheads are NOT snakes to be handled unless you know what the hell you’re doing, and even those people get bit rather often and sometimes die from it.

snake handler church

Perhaps I shouldn’t mock the snake handlers, but I think the Lord gives out something called “discernment,” and He would rather see people use that to avoid doing dangerous things, instead of people doing irrational things that increase the chances of them earning their Darwin Awards.

The thing I never really understood about snake handling is how is it any different from any other risky behavior?  Did Jesus tell people to get drunk and drive, or to run with scissors?  It just doesn’t make much sense.  Thankfully the snake handling tradition is obscure and it takes its origin from the long ending of the Gospel of Mark, that does not occur in all of the original manuscripts:

“And these signs will accompany those who believe: by using my name they will cast out demons; they will speak in new tongues;  they will pick up snakes in their hands, and if they drink any deadly thing, it will not hurt them; they will lay their hands on the sick, and they will recover.” Mark 16:16-18 (NRSV)

snakehandlingchurchI wonder if this disclaimer would hold up in court?   Does it also apply to the coffee, or are Pentecostals allowed to drink coffee?

I don’t take that snippet from the Gospel of Mark as a directive for going out and deliberately picking up rattlesnakes and copperheads or swilling poison for something to do, but I wasn’t raised in Appalachia or in the Pentecostal tradition.   I was raised with old-school Catholicism, which is plenty scary enough, even without venomous snakes or cyanide being involved.  We had to deal with nuns.  Most of the really creepy stuff associated with Catholicism has to do with the whole business of praying to the dead, people getting the stigmata, and exorcisms, and other way out supernatural freaky kinds of things.  I don’t disbelieve in the supernatural, but I do believe that when the spirit world makes itself known here on earth that it’s usually demons and such behind it, and I’d rather steer way clear of that noise.

the-exorcistI have my share of problems, but at least for now my head is screwed on straight, for what it’s worth.

So, maybe I’m the only one to have made the inquiry regarding the necessity of the loo in the Great Beyond.  Maybe not.  I’m not the only one who wondered why people’s clothes stayed clean on Gilligan’s Island even though they didn’t have either washing machines nor access to Tide.

Gilligan's_Island-003They are simply too clean.

tide-detergentMaybe there was some of this under the seats in the Minnow or something.

 

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assorted rants, gratuitous self pity, misanthropy

Geriatric Meltdown, BANNED! and the Silver Tacoma of Rude

Jerry AtrikPerhaps I should have some sort of identification/ warning attached to Jerry when he makes his forays out in public.

It must be fortuitous for the greater community that I usually get stuck running Jerry’s errands for him.  I am normally the one who ends up having to go to Speedway (gas station/convenience store) to get his smokes and to put gasoline in his truck.  That is a bit more complicated than it sounds.

 Speedway has a promotional program in which you earn points for buying gift cards (buy a $50 gift card, get 1000 points, then turn around and buy a $43 carton of smokes with it…) as well as for buying gasoline and the various convenience store crud they sell, such as Monster drinks and “Busted” papers.  Sometimes it’s a tad bit complicated to instruct the young punk clerk du jour on how to  1.) scan your Speedy card, then 2.)  take your cash in exchange for the gift card, then 3.) use the gift card to buy the carton of smokes.  If the order gets screwed up in any way you don’t get your 1000 points for buying the gift card.

When you earn enough points, you can redeem them for various free crap, like a $50 gas card, or an Amazon gift card, or whatever’s on the list.  Jerry’s whole aim in this is to get a $50 gas card.

If he gets 1000 points per $50 card he buys, and he doesn’t buy anything except $50 gift cards,  he’s got to spend $2425 to get a “free” card.

speedway gift cardNot the Golden Ticket, but close.

Anyway, Jerry does know to check the receipt to make sure he got his 1000 points.  The last time he went to Speedway to get his own smokes (I don’t know what possessed him to take this brazen step of self-sufficiency, but something must have) he forgot to have the clerk scan the Speedy card first, so the points didn’t appear on the receipt.

Ordinarily, in most places the clerk or the manager on duty can back out the transaction and let it fly again, but this kid was either new or having a bad day or both, and basically told Jerry tough titty, better luck next time, the money was already on the gift card and since the Speedy card wasn’t scanned first, he wasn’t going to get any points.

Jerry is one of those people who refuses to take “no” for an answer.

jerry points rage

I’m just glad I wasn’t there to witness this personally.

So the clerk (who is probably not terribly thrilled with Jerry’s condescending demeanor and/or gratuitous whining by now) tersely informs Jerry that the manager won’t be in until Monday (this was a Saturday night) and that he could come back then and take it up with the manager.  Jerry refuses to take the $50 card and demands his money back so he can go to the other Speedway to buy the card and get his points.

The clerk refused again.  So let the pissing contest begin.

Jerry doesn’t lose too many of those.  He’s embarrassed me in enough restaurants that he’s almost guaranteed a home-cooked meal.  I generally know how to fix his chow to avoid most of the bitching.  He’s probably one of the fussiest, bitchiest customers the Waffle House and the Frisch’s Big Boy have ever seen.

If I had to wager, I would bet he has consumed his fair share of boogers, loogies, scabs and semen, considering how rude he can be with wait staff.  “I want those fries flaming hot!”  I can hear him now.  Flaming hot with a sprinkling of scabs and a splash of bodily fluids… hawwkkkk…but I’m the passive-aggressive one.  It’s easier to feed him at home so that others are not treated to his egregious lack of manners and proper etiquette.

cold friesNo wonder they cringe at the Waffle House when they see his truck.  The silver Tacoma of Rude!

Then I get a phone call from Jerry while he’s at the Speedway asking me for the non-emergency cop number.  It’s a good thing he didn’t call the number I gave him, because he was in a different jurisdiction than the number he asked for.  Around here, if you’re outside of the area covered by a particular law enforcement agency, that means the dispatcher will tell you that’s not their problem and to call the other jurisdiction, and no, she doesn’t know who to tell you to call if the address you give is not in her area.

In other words, if you’re in the city of Columbus and you call Gahanna’s dispatch, you are SOL, which is what he would have done because he didn’t realize which jurisdiction he was in.  911 doesn’t work like that- dialing 911 will  (almost always) get you the correct dispatch, but you better know which jurisdiction you’re in if you call the non-emergency numbers.

bitchingSome things were never meant to be taken up with law enforcement.  They have enough to do.

I’m thinking to myself,  Are you really going to call the cops – even on the non-emergency number- for something kinda dumb like this?  For a moment I thought of World’s Dumbest and the guy who got arrested for calling 911 because his sandwich sucked and the restaurant wouldn’t give him a refund.  I am thankful Jerry didn’t get cops involved.

At that point, Jerry decides to stage a one man sit-in at the Speedway until the clerk got in contact with the manager, who told the clerk to give Jerry his $50 back, and instructed the clerk to tell Jerry to never set foot in that store again.

Banned from the Morse Rd. Speedway.  While sober.  Truth is indeed stranger than fiction.  To his credit, Jerry did go to the other Speedway and he remembered to have the clerk follow the correct procedure so he finally got his points, his gift card and his smokes.

rude tacomaJerry and the Silver Tacoma of Rude- coming to a convenience store or one star dining establishment near you!

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