Space food sticks Vs. The Big Texas

With my sister bringing up Space Food Sticks and me writing about The Big Texas it gave me a little moment of clarity regarding the difference between how my generation was raised and the way in which we're raising the next generation.

When I was a kid we would drive my parents nuts asking for Food Sticks and Cokes. They would get annoyed with us always bugging them to eat that crap.

BUT, not because it was crap. They would say no because they didn't want to have to go buy more of the crap...
not because it was bad for us, they didn't think twice about that.

When my son bugs me about having hot cheetos and root beer I demure because I don't want him eating junk like that.
(ok, I do give in more now that he is a teenager and has the metabolism of a triathelete.)

It's a whole different attitude towards kids.

They loved us just fine but if somebody would have suggested that we have to wear a helmet to go on a bike ride, it wouldn't have even made sense to my dad. He would have just said, "why does he need a helmet? The boy knows how to ride the goddamn bike!"

We were free range children. In the morning they would open the doors and say "get out "

Heaven forbid you come in before lunch time. I can remember trying to come in the house for a drink of water one time and being told if "I just want water we have a goddamn garden hose."

Don't think for a second I am complaining. If my parents had kept as close of an eye on me as I did on Turbo? They would have probably killed me at some point. I would ask if I could go swimming and my mom would say . "No you can't go swimming, it's raining out."

And then I would go put on my swim suit and jump in the pool anyway. She would think I was in my room playing and then there I would be at the sliding glass door shivering and blue lipped. She would run a hot bath....

Did I get in trouble?

Probably ......but not enough to never do it again.

You can be damned sure Turbo would not repeat that stunt.

It's a combination of me not being an easily controlled child....and parents who weren't really overwhelmed with a desire to control me.

Can I give you a perfect example of my uncontaineable nature?
(Christina and I have a running joke that my motto is "I'M MICHAEL I DO WHAT I WANT!")
When I was...I'm guessing here but I would say 4 or 5? My dad had a Corvette. I want to say it was a '59. I loved that car.
He loved it too of course.
So.
He washed it, waxed it, the whole nine yards. Then he went in the house.
A few minutes later he realizes he can hear the water running. He thinks, "shit, I left the hose on"
He comes outside to find me, no shirt on, whipping the hose above my head like a fucking madman, water going everywhere...including inside his 1959 convertible Corvette.
He goes over and turns off the hose.
I look down the barrel of the hose like "what the hell, where did my water go?"
He walks over, "what the hell do you think you are doing?!"
Me, "playing in the water"
Dad, "well you're getting that shit in my car, knock it off! If I catch you doing that again I'm gonna beat your butt."
He always said that but never did it.
(except the time I gave Jason a bloody nose. But that's another Oprah.)
So.
He goes back in the house.
He gets halfway to his chair and hears the water come on.
He comes outside to find me, no shirt on, whipping the hose above my head like a fucking madman, water going everywhere...including inside his 1959 convertible Corvette.
He goes over and turns off the hose.
I look down the barrel of the hose like "what the hell, where did my water go?"
He walks over, "what the hell do you think you are doing?!"
Me, "playing in the water"
Dad, "Didn't I tell you if I catch you playing in the water again I'm gonna beat your butt?!"
Me, "yeah...but I didn't think you'd catch me."

And yet I lived.

The Days Run Away Like Wild Horses Over the Hills

I just spent 5 minutes staring at a vending machine.
If that doesn't sound like a long time stop and just stare at this line for five minutes.

I was craving salt so I walked over to the vending machine to get some chips...and they had the Big Texas.

Do you know the Big Texas?

It's a Cinnamon roll they sell in machines that Turbo used to love.

His mom was living in Va. It was kind of a hard time being a single dad and selling cars for a living ....but I look back on it as one of the happiest times of my life.

Turbo and I had so much fun. This was the hey-day of the super heroes Wind and Storm.

Not every day, but damn nearly, we would be running late.

I would get up on time and something would conspire to hold us up.

Turbo would be hard to wake or I would be daydreaming in the shower or I would forget to iron my clothes the night before...2 or 3 days a week.

I wouldn't have time to make Turbo breakfast and he would say " Can I get a Big Texas?" and I'd say "where's my wallet?" which was code for "yeah, but I don't want you to."

And he'd put milk in a travel mug and have milk and a Big Texas for breakfast in the car.
I always felt kind of guilty...but looking back? He probably has fond memories of us running around those mornings me yelling at him good naturedly to get his ass in gear and him eating the Big Texas on the way to school.

I know I do.

This is a picture of Turbo during that time. He hated the school uniform...yet insisted on wearing the shirt buttoned to the top.

Isn't he looking all James Spader?

I am not about to Kick off a nature Vs. nuture debate

I have a very dry, sarcastic sense of humor. I believe I was born with it and then I have honed and refined it over the years.
I look to this story as proof that I was born with it.

My Aunt Sissy ( whose name is actually Claudia, which my sister and I didn't know for quite a long time and were completely shocked when we were told that we were going to Aunt Claudia's. "What?! We don't have an Aunt Claudia!")
She had a husband, Rob. Uncle Rob was stupid. One time he bought a gold colored Plymouth Duster. He excitedly showed my dad his cool new car. Then when we went back to visit a few weeks later? He excitedly asked to show my dad his new gold Plymouth Duster. After several minutes of arguing that he had already seen the car, my dad went out to see the car ...there sat another gold Plymouth duster...this one with the super sporty white vinyl hard top.
So clearly Rob was stupid.
Anyway, I was 5 years old and we were getting ready to go over to Aunt Sissy's house and my dad sat me down and had a talk with me.
"Don't make fun of your Uncle Rob, it just upsets your Aunt Claudia."
"ok, I'll try Dad."
"I'm serious, if you make any jokes at Uncle Rob's expense I'll beat your butt." He would always say that "I'll beat your butt" but it never happened.
"Ok Dad, I'll try to not make fun of him."
So we go over to Aunt Sissy's and Rob starts in on my dad right away:
-Hey Rex have you heard any good jokes lately, do you know any jokes ...
-No Rob I haven't heard any good jokes, no I don't know any jokes...
then Rob say the immortal setup line:
" Come on, don't you know any good Pollack jokes?"
And I Say:
"No Rob, You're the Only Good Pollack Joke We Know"
BAM!
Brutal. You just got dropped by a 5 year old.
Like a sniper, one shot one kill.
I have thought about it and 33 years later I can't think of a funnier retort to "don't you know any good pollack jokes?"

I don't remember this but I'm going to tell you anyway

Do you ever tell a story about yourself but it's not one you actually remember? It's a story that someone (in my case it's always my dad) tells about you when you were little.
One of the things I find interesting about these stories is that it kind of shapes how you think of yourself as a child. Obviously you know what you were like at 10 years old...but what were you like at 5?
How do you know, other than from what somebody else has told you about yourself, what you were like at those early ages?
Judging from the stories I have heard about myself I was an ornery little cuss who kind of got a long leash to speak my mind and do my thing. I think part of why my sister is having the issues she is having with her oldest is that he is a lot like me and they don't give him that freedom to be the little maniac he wants to be.
And I support that %100.
That's why we had so many issues when I hit 13 and all of a sudden they tried to enforce...lets say a bed time?
I am sure I would be a much more focused successful person if when I was a child they had tried to point me in the right direction and hold tighter reins on me instead of letting me be a free range child.
I'm not complaining about my childhood. That would be so boring considering how relatively spoiled I was.

But that's not what I want to talk about.

My dad and I were in Zody's
( now we are getting deep with the old school So-Cal shit. Zody's was like Kmart...but not as cool. Think Wal mart Vs. Target...but down an entire notch in the food chain. We had one right by our house and I remember as an older kid being terrified every time we went in there that another kid from school would see me there)
I was about 4 and I had on my usual summertime attire: shorts, cowboy boots, no shirt, two six shooter cap guns on my belt.
About the no shirt thing.
I know they would have loved for me to be wearing a shirt in the store but frankly my dad was lucky I was wearing pants. My whole life I have always been hot. I can remember being yelled at all the time,
"put your shirt on!"
" but I'm hot!"
I bet I was 7 years old with high blood pressure.
The other thing about me being shirtless all the time?
I swam nearly every day of my young life. I was on a swim team from the time I was 5. I would climb anything. I would climb up into the top of a door frame and wedge myself there and just hang out and scare the crap out of people as they walked into a room. I had as a little kid a classic V shape muscle-man kind of body. That's creepy on a little kid.
Anyway.
There I am in my usual get up. Up to me walks a very large woman. She looks down at me and says "aren't you the cutest thing I've ever seen?"
I look up at this mountain of a woman and say " and aren't you the fattest thing I've ever seen?"
My dad says sharply " Michael!"
I say "what! Look at her she's huge!"
I have said it before and I will say it again, Nothing will embarrass you in the store faster than your own kid.
(Christina? "My daddy has 2 balls" Hmm?)

Stop me if you've heard this one before

I have this fear that I will think of a funny story and write about it and then someone will point out that I have written about it before.
This is not an unfounded fear.
I got my ability for story telling from my father. If you spend any amount of time with him you will inevitably hear a story for a 2ND...or 32ND time. I think part of why my dad has been so accepting of my brother in law is that he views him as a fresh audience. Chris has not heard the story of Chrissy yelling "I think I'm going to throw up!" in the restaurant a dozen times....well maybe he has by now but you get my point.
I have to say in all honesty it doesn't bother me too much because they are usually funny. I liken it to coming across an old Seinfeld re-run on TV. You know all the punchlines but you can still appreciate the quality of the humor even if the punchlines aren't fresh.
My stepmother on the other hand is driven to distraction by this.
They actually have a routine: he will start to tell a story and she will interrupt and say you've already told him this one...and then he proceeds to tell the story.
I don't know what the solution is...I have a great ability to find the humor in a situation and I am observant and consequently I have a lot of funny stories...but I don't want to bore people writing the same stories over and over...of course that presumes that anybody would keep reading my blog frequently enough or long enough for them to actually catch me repeating myself...you know what? It may not be a problem after all.

Christina? Just please just send me an email if it happens, don't embarrass me in the comments section, OK?

What will your legacy be?

When I see something like this I have to stop and wonder about my short time on this earth. Am I making an impact?

Will I be remembered after I'm gone by more than just friends and family?

Will I have a memorial water fountain?

This is one of the drinking fountains at my work: The Ed Mansfield memorial water fountain. This brings up sooo many questions for me. Who was Ed Mansfield? What did he do to deserve his own fountain? Was there a dedication ceremony?

And most crucially:

Why a drinking fountain?

Did he die of complications related to kidney stones and his dying wish was that no other man should suffer that fate?

Did his widow sue over the lack of water availability and this was part of some kind of settlement?

I remember when I was a kid going to Emerson Elementary they dedicated a bike rack to some boy who had died of cancer or something.

At the time I remember being haunted by the question: why a bike rack?

Did the kid really like bike riding before he was tragically felled by disease?

It's these types of things that make me so restless.

How the heck can I get a good night's sleep when I have the Ed Mansfield memorial water fountain on my mind?

A funny thing happened on the way to my sisters blog

I have some blogs that I check daily and some that I only look in on occasionally.
I recently had a weird experience when I went to my sisters blog. I read it, I made a comment and then I went back to my home page and clicked on a link to another blog I read less frequently. There was my sisters blog again but this time she was talking about Obama and driving from Seattle to St. Paul recently ...what the hell? She hasn't driven to St. Paul....and why would she start off in Seattle?
Then I realized that the blog on my list directly below my sisters is using the same template and color scheme as my sister.

Ok, not earth shattering , there's a rip in the space/time continuum kind of weird...but odd nonetheless.

I'm generally not a jumpy, easily scared person....but I manage to startle myself on a fairly regular basis.
I think the problem is that my mind is always on, always turned up to 11 . So I tend to be forgetful or absentminded. I go to the supermarket to buy toilette paper and I get distracted because the cilantro is particularly fresh today and then I build a whole menu around cilantro and I make 3 trips back and forth across the supermarket because I forgot garlic and then I remember that I don't have any chicken stock...then I am out in the parking lot going "oh shit, I need toilet paper"
So the other day I left the house and did my usual back and forth in the supermarket (oh and making lists doesn't help because I just forget that I have a list) and when I come home right as I walk in the door a madman cackles at me and I jump about a foot in the air.
I had left the TV on. It was Miracle Max from the Princess Bride.
Damn you Billy Crystal!

A few weeks ago I had to go to the DMV to register a car.
I was running late and I couldn't find the damned title (I couldn't remember the "safe" place I had hidden it) so I kind of ransacked my apartment looking for it.
I go to the DMV, I go to work, and 14 hours later I come home to find?
I have been robbed!
Motherfucker!
Oh wait...no... I was looking for my title this morning...

About a month ago I jump into the Miata and I toss my book on the floor of the car. I get the MP3 player going , I turn the heat on, I glance up into the mirror and there is AndrewVachss looming in the mirror.
I jump. What the hell is Andrew Vachss doing in my back seat?!
In the next instant I realize that in fact it's just a reflection of the back of the book on the windshield that happens to show up right below the mirror.
This is, of course, ridiculous.
Andrew Vachss would not ride in the back seat!
He would sit up front with me.
We can talk about dogs and Burke and I can mention that even though the Prof supposedly talks only in rhyme I have noticed that many times his "rhymes" don't fit the classic masculine/feminine version of rhymes and I think that most readers are not aware of the different types of rhyme and may in fact think the prof actually doesn't always speak in rhyme...
(masculine rhyme: at the end of the sentence: Spain, main, rain)
(feminine rhyme: on the penultimate syllable: stinky,pinky)
um, anyway.
Also? The Miata has no back seat. Clearly he is not going to sit on the parcel shelf.
But I jumped out of my shorts for a fraction of a second thinking Vachss was in the back seat.

The art of the backhanded compliment

I don't normally ask for reader responses ...mostly because I don't get many responses.
Lets be frank, I know there are people reading, but I only know one actual person who reads this...
Anyway.

Have you ever gotten a backhanded compliment?
I'm thinking something along the lines of:
" you don't sweat much for a fat girl"

Recently when somebody found out I was in my late thirties they said "Wow, I had you figured for hard 20's"

You see what happened there? They thought I was somebody that was 24 but looked 29. They thought I was a hard livin' rough around the edges 24 year old.
Uh....Thanks?
but really I'm a 38 that looks 29...it's a compliment...but not...
what do you make of that, how are you supposed to feel?
Has this ever happened to you?

Craigslist Mumbai India

Just now, out of boredom, I went to Craigslist Mumbai.
I found a listing for a car called the Tata Indica.
There is no picture..but I googled it ...it's just a little 4 door hatch back econobox...but that's just about perfect.
How awesome would that be as a first car for a young guy headed off to college?
In case it hasn't occurred to you yet:
Tata= slang word for tit ( which is a slang word for boob) (which is a slang word for chi-chi ) (which...well you get the point)
Indica= weed

So would you say the perfect college guy car would be a cheap hatchback named the Boobie Greenbud, the Titty Sticky-icky, or maybe the Chi-chis Mota?

When did Cosmopolitan turn into a dirty rag?
I can't say that I have ever really "read " the thing...I've glanced at it in the past but it's been a long time I guess.
I was at the supermarket and I happened to glance over and the title of one of the articles was:

YOUR VA-JAY-JAY

That's pretty messed up right there.
Then below that:

NEW AND INTERESTING FACTS ABOUT YOUR LOVELY LADY AREA

Come on now.
I don't mean to sound like a prude but I really don't think that is appropriate for the supermarket.
Turbo is a 12 year old boy and that is exactly the kind of stuff that he finds hilarious. I really don't want to have that added to his vocabulary.
I know for a fact he would make every attempt to make "va-jay-jay" the punchline of numerous jokes.
Plus I have a problem with the very premise of the article.
New and interesting facts?
Oh really?
Did they re-invent the vagina since the last time I saw one in person?
Admittedly it has been a bit of a dry spell lately....not a million years mind you ...hey, how long do you think it would take for the vagina to evolve anyway?
Ok, that's not the point.
The point is, I'm pretty damn sure there are no new and interesting facts about that part of the body.
Most doctors/researchers are men. So if I had to rank areas of the body that I think have been pretty thoroughly investigated the vagina would have to be pretty high on the list.
And really? If there was groundbreaking news about the vagina? Would it really be in Cosmo under the title of YOUR VA-JAY-JAY?
No.
Oh, hell no.

You know what? I'm going to have to call bullshit on this one.

the thing about having a dead phone...

I haven't had a functioning phone for about 2 weeks now.
I feel like I'm on a desert island with no way to communicate with the outside world. It's lonely and scary let me tell you.
The only way I have to communicate with anyone is email. Which is kind of like throwing a message in a bottle and waiting to hear back from someone...only a little more accurate....so maybe it's like throwing the bottle directly at them, but still.
Oh...and instant messaging....and I can send text messages from my laptop...but that's IT!
& I suppose there's always webcams..but nobody I know is on webcams....
So, complete isolation from friends and family...

I'm not an early adopter...but I'm close

My cell phone died. Not like the time I accidentally dropped it into a glass of beer (which is actually a lot worse for a phone than you would think) But my phone started dropping calls and then it started doing this thing where it turns itself off for no reason and then it started flashing...and not in the good way.
So I went to the Sprint store and they professionally confirmed my amature diagnosis: my Phone is Phucked.
So my gay-girly cell phone is being replaced with the newest latest version of my phone which coincidentally matches my new laptop. They are both wrapped in a glossy black case. Now I look like ' that guy'. The guy who has a matching cell phone-laptop combo. Like I planned that?
Whatever, at least I don't have a girl phone anymore. You have to understand, I have never seen a man carrying the same phone as me. I have met several women....actually, girls, that said "hey we have the same phone!"
Great.

The thing is, this is my 3rd new phone in a year.
3 phones ago I was one of those people who didn't know shit about phones and didn't care. Now I say things like "oh you have the A900...have they fixed the software expansion issues?"
I am not quite a phone geek but I know my shit a little more now.
Ok, so the point of the first replacement phone was that I wanted a phone that played mp3s.
So I got that. Loved that phone.
Then it broke.
They don't sell that phone anymore.
I got the girly phone (it's white...it has removable face plates...green, pink, blue?)
Then it broke.
They don't sell that phone anymore.
Now I am getting a new phone.
It's shiny and black.
Cool.
But really? Why the hell have I gone through 3 phones in a year?
And? Why have they stopped selling 2 of the phones I have gotten in a year?
Am I the only one who sees something wrong with this picture?
The funny thing is it makes me look like an early adopter, switching phones every 4 months or so...

Not earth shattering...Simple yet deep

This just occurred to me...
The United States has at least one person from every nation on earth living within it's boundaries.
Think about it...we must have at least one person from every country here....can any other country claim that?
I'm not sure what all it means but it's an interesting thought...

I have a hard time relaxing, but the other day I managed to do it for an hour or so.
I went to Whole Foods (one of my happy places) to have lunch. I have not had much luck lately having lunch there but this time was different.
I had garlic mashed potatoes and chicken cacciatore.
To drink I had 2 shots of espresso, iced with hazelnut syrup. This is a drink that does not allow one to hide bad coffee.
My sister recently wrote a mini-manifesto in defence of Starbucks. Her thesis was that you can go to Starbucks and be assured that no matter where in the world you are you will get a decent cup. I concur...with a caveat.
If you can find a good local haunt that will do you right? Go there instead.
Whole Foods serves up a good cup of espresso. I have a hard earned opinion on these matters. For a few years in college I was a baristo in Portland OR.
You think Seattle knows coffee? PDX thinks Seattle is a punk.
I know my espresso.
So, I drank my coffee, ate my chicken and just .....was.
I think part of this letting go was possible because I did not have my cell phone on me.
More about that next post.

I think I am going to be a Fox analyst

I watch the news in the morning. Actually the news is almost always on but in the morning that's the Only thing I watch.
I happened to land on Fox Noise and they were discussing the fact that Hillary is going to try to:
1) woo delegates that Obama has legitimately won.
2) try to have the delegates in Florida counted even though they were off the table from the start because Florida moved the date of it's primary up at the objection of the DNC.

I am very torn by this because, while I have sorely missed the kick ass and take names style of politics that the Clinton Machine is so good at, I hate to see it used against another Dem. Especially Barack Obama, who I happen to have called as the Golden Boy of the New Democratic party back when he gave that speech at the last Democratic National Convention. Yes I called it. I told anyone who would listen that he was going to be the next big thing.
I hate to sound like I'm blowing my own horn but as someone with SO many opinions it's nice to finally be definitively right.
Anyway.
This "expert" is on Fox and the first thing he says about this whole delegate thievery thing is:
"Politics ain't bean bags and unfortunately for Obama, Hillary's bag is filled with jumping beans"

Wait, what?
First, it's a mixed metaphor.
Second, it makes no fucking sense.
Third isn't "jumping beans " racist?
If anybodies "bean bag" could be said to be filled with "jumping beans" it would have to be Obama's for that metaphor to make any sense. As in: Obama needs to be concerned about his beans "jumping" into Hillary's bean bag.
But I go back to the fact that the metaphor makes no goddamn sense!
The delegates are jumping beans inside of a bean bag? What?

I think I will send Fox Noise a tape of that guy and then a tape of me explaining how stupid that is and then ask them to hire me the next time they need a talking head because I am pretty sure several Americans had their head explode today when they heard that and Fox probably doesn't want to be accountable for that kind of collateral damage.

I got done with a good deed!

I left my wallet at home which wouldn't have been all that big of a deal if it weren't for the fact that the Saab is running on fumes.
I had a very bad feeling that I wouldn't make it home so I dug around in my back pack and managed to find $1.30.
Brilliant.
So I stopped at a gas station and walked in and said, "I know this is pathetic, but I left my wallet at home and I'm running on fumes ...so, $1.30 on five please."
The guy looked me up and down, saw a clean-cut white guy in a Ralph Lauren shirt and tie and figure I was a good risk for a microloan.
So he told me he was going to pump an extra $5 and I could just bring the $5 back tomorrow.
Nice.
I went to the store (after going home to get the wallet, duh)
and there they were...girl scouts.
I don't buy the cookies.
Ever.
I feel guilty about it, not helping out those sweet little girls and all....but I really don't need to be eating a box of cookies.
I never order desert, I rarely buy sweets...sometimes I will go nuts and get some sorbet at the store...
I was thinking about it and I decided, if I were to get rich somehow, I would buy Girl scout cookies every time I was asked. Then I decided I would also give change to every person that asked me.
Then I thought about having all those boxes of cookies....I don't need all those cookies. I mean sure, if I'm that rich I will have a personal trainer...
Then I had another idea.
I will give the cookies to the guys asking for change! Which would you rather have, .87 or a box of Thin Mints?
That's a no-brain-er.

So, my philantrophy master plan is really coming together...I've got that going for me.

Hack Blogger Alert!!

I don't normally go to blogs written by talking heads such as Bill O'Reily or Tucker Carlson. For the most part they are boring and not very well written.
I happened to tune into the last 5 minutes of Greta Van Susteren on Fox Noise. She was plugging her blog and going on about what a wacky unexpected adventure it is to go there and how you can "expect the unexpected."
I know you are going to be shocked when I say this....But I was a little skeptical.

So I went to her blog.
Oh wow.
I underestimated how badly these things can go.
First, do not go there. If you go there you will blame me for your IQ dropping a few points. I bear no responsibility.
Ok I think I will begin with the punctuation. It appears as if Fox gets it's exclamation points and question marks in bulk at Costco and then tells their employees to use them as freely as they see fit.
So you get treated to sentences like this!!! Would that get on your nerves?? I know the 5 minutes I SPENT there were unpleasant for me!! Oh, I forgot to mention, SHE also utilizes random all caps for no clear REASON!!!
I know I use my own sort of stylized syntax and manner of formatting my blog so technically I can't really talk about others choices because my blog is written in a non-standard fashion as well.
I try to write things in my own voice ....and then I go back and delete %60 of the F-Bombs.
But this woman just flat out sucks. If you didn't know better you would think this is the blog of a 14 year old girl with an interest in news. Don't believe me?
Read this.
Seriously? These are the musings of a national newscaster?
The articles or essays...most of the actual writing comes from the AP or other sources so I decided to dig around to find some writing by Greta herself....I won't put you through the whole piece...but here's an excerpt. She's talking about McGovern V. Nixon back in 1972. Her point ( I think) was that Mcgoverns running mate gave a speech at her college and whipped the crowd into a frenzy.Tell me what you think:

The result? Yes….President Nixon clobbered Senator McGovern in the general election
Why? positioning yourself as an extremes can be great for primaries…it is appealing to “the base” who you need to nominate you…but when push comes to shove, when the general election happens, the moderates have a great voice. If the Democrats want to win, they have to keep their eyes on the moderates no matter who their candidate it….likewise, the Republicans need to keep their eyes on the moderates.

WTF? Typos, tortured syntax, fuzzy/faulty logic...

If nothing else, this makes me feel better about my little blog. I think for the most part you know what the hell I'm talking about and sometimes I may say it in a stylish, funny way.

I will sacrifice the flow of the conversation for a funny joke.

I was talking to my friend Cindy the other day.
She works for the unemployment department. She was talking about one of her co-workers and she said he works primarily with migrant farm workers.
I said "but not fragrant mineworkers?"

yes it did slow down the conversation...but man I crack myself up sometimes...

I like the Internet but it is has some strange and terrible corners.
I came across tonight a video of an autopsy. And not this HBO-sanitized autopsy BS it was a training video.
I wasn't looking for it...but ....
OK, I started out on BoingBoing. There I came across a youtube video called La Pequeña Prohibida. The very fact that the video was there is odd because it's not usually the kind of thing they post, but anyway.

If you don't want to follow the link I'll just tell you it's a transvestite midget dancing to bad electronic music.

What I find personally interesting and odd is that I don't find this video all that interesting or odd. It's a cross dressing midget dancing around.

So what?
Am I weird for not finding that weird?
Anyway. From the readers comments I followed a link to a video of two Arabic guys who are either amputees or were born with no legs (Or a combination of the 2 I suppose) and these guys were dancing around to Arabic sounding music.
The cool thing about this video is that the 2 little guys are jumping and cartwheeling around the stage and the looks on their faces are like "oh yeah, I am that good".

And from there I got the link to the autopsy.

How did I run aground like this??
really... you can watch an actual woman...tan-lines and all...be given a Y incision...
WTF?
I mean, the tag said it was an autopsy, but nothing can really prepare you for seeing that kind of thing.

This is why I am resisting getting Turbo a laptop. That's what he wanted for Christmas. You can get one for less than $500.... but how do you balance being a good parent that wants to give a kid enough leeway to grow and become the best version of themselves with keeping them from seeing stuff that you think will be harmful to them?

Internet filters? Blogger please! I guarantee he could figure out how to disable or get around any filter faster than I could install it. The funny thing is I am more worried about him finding the really horrible shit by accident versus him looking for weird stuff.
He is a 12 year old boy. At some point he is going to try (and succeed) to look at some boobies.
I accept that, but I just don't want the women that have those boobies to also be wearing a diaper or a horsey-tail butt plug. (although maybe that's what will prepare him for high school...perhaps I'm being old fashioned)
I don't have the answer to this problem other than direct parental supervision. Which is kind of hard to do if he's taking a lap top to school, no?

So....Turbo?
No laptop for you!

Kirby

Talking about Vacuums And Dragons got me thinking about a prank I played on a guy I worked with.
The guy was a bit of a moron.

We were in training together, studying for our series 6 and 63 licenses. (This was when I worked for Chase.) That means we were stuck in a room together for about 6 weeks.

He is going on and on about how he wants a Kirby vacuum because this guy came out to the house and this thing is like a regular vacuum on steroids ...
(regular readers? You see what I did there? With the "on steroids" thing?)
He figures out he can buy a Kirby on eBay for about 1/2 the price. The thing about the Kirby vacuums is you can't just pick up the bags from Target, you have to get them from Kirby.

Ok. Game on.
I call him and put on my best Bill Lumbergh voice.
(Office space? Anybody?)


Me: Ummm yeah, may I speak to Jason?
Jason: This is Jason.
M: Hi Jason, I am Mr. Danson from the Kirby company. It has come to our attention that you recently purchased a Blackmarket Kirby vacuum?
J: Well, I wouldn't call it blackmarket...
M:Umm yeah, did you purchase the vacuum from an authorized Kirby distributor?
J: no...but I mean, if somebody doesn't want their vacuum anymore it's their right to sell it...
M: first it's inconceivable that someone wouldn't want their Kirby anymore...it's more likely that someone has come upon hard times and finds themselves in the position of needing to sell a valued asset. And you were there to take advantage of that.
J: hang on! I didn't take advantage of anyone!
M: ummm yeah, calm down sir. It's not really the concern of the Kirby Corporation if you purchased a vacuum valued at $1,800 for only $900. We are simply calling about the simple process of registering your Kirby.
J: registering ?....wait, how do you know how much I paid for the vacuum?
M: ummm, you mean the Kirby vacuum?
J: yeah, how do you know how much I paid?
(Ok clearly he wasn't totally dumb)
M: Yeah, we have very sophisticated tracking software that pulls data from the Internet regarding all Kirby sales, whether blackmarket or legitimate. I wouldn't expect a layman to understand sophisticated computer technology.


Hang on. I need to mention here. Jason, before he worked for Chase, sold Dell computers. He took orders over the phone. When he found out that myself and another former car salesman were getting the maximum starting salary and he was getting significantly less, he was offended. That offense was deepened when the other former salesman told him that selling cars was "hard sales" and selling a Dell to someone who called in to buy a Dell was "order taking". He tried to say that there was up-selling involved. To which I replied up selling and closing are 2 totally different things. Then he tried to make himself feel better by pointing out he knows more about computers than me. I replied I know more about selling than him.

J:I understand computer technology just fine!
M: umm, sir? You are getting unnecessarily upset here.
The Kirby Corporation no longer brings suit against blackmarket profiteers who take advantage of legitimate Kirby owners. I am simply calling to give you the opportunity to register your Kirby.
(I think he decided to ignore that last bit just to get me off the phone)
J: You said something about that earlier. Why do I need to register?
M: simply put registration allows you to purchase Kirby replacement bags through legitimate channels instead of buying your bags on the black market.
J: how much is it?
M:If you purchase it today ...gimme a sec here...(I tap on a noisy calculator I have handy)
ummm yeah, without taxes...$799.00.
J:Wha..wha...
(I can see him across the lobby gasping like a fish)
J: that's ridiculous!
M: I know! It's absurd how cheap it is to actually own a Kirby when you consider what a fine product it is!
J: I'm not paying that!
M: Umm yeah, I don't feel comfortable letting you make that kind of big decision in your current state of mind. Please consult with you spouse or domestic partner and I will call you in exactly 24 hours. (click)



Post script: First. Yes I did write out some notes of things I wanted to say to mess with the kid beforehand. I had a feeling I would be able to keep him on the line a while. I wish I could claim that was all ad-libbed.
Second. I had intended that if I could get off the line with him still believing the hoax I would call him the next day. Unfortunately the second he was off the phone the rest of our team flat out lost it. They were holding their stomachs and wiping tears.


That was one of my favorite pranks I have to say.

Yet another Self diagnosis

A few years ago I diagnosed myself as having an inflection disorder.
I sometimes will say something like " I like your shirt " and the person I am saying this to will get offended and say archly "thanks pal" assuming I was being sarcastic. But I wasn't! I meant it. Part of the problem is that sometimes my sense of humor can be so dry that people don't know when I'm kidding or not.
Then back in July I diagnosed myself as suffering from ennui. (That has since metastasized into mild depression.)
Just recently I realized that I have a rare form of dyslexia. I read proficiently and profusely. I'm fine on the reading part...
I suffer from Signlexia.
I don't know if it is technically recognized by the AMA.
Sometimes I will read a storefront sign and the letters transpose and the sign doesn't make any damn sense to me.
For example there used to be a store I passed frequently in Portland it proclaimed in large letters:
WE PAY TOP DOLLAR FOR USED ELVIS!!
I found myself wondering if I have a used Elvis laying about because I sure could use top dollar...and then I realize the sign is offering to buy used LEVIS....
There is a store near the video store I go to that is called "
Budget Farmer.
Hmm...do they have cheap carrots I wonder?
Oh wait, Budget Framer. They frame your pictures for a reasonable price. Gotcha.
This happens to me with alarming frequency. Am I the only one suffering from this I wonder...could I be the first recorded case?
Incidentally, next door to the Budget Farmer? The liquor store proudly calls themselves:
YOUR
MICROBREW
HEAD
QUARTERS
I find it troubling. What are "head, quarters"?
And in more sign related news, there is a store right by my new office:
VACUUMS AND DRAGONS
Excuse me? Turns out it was a vacuum sales and service center. It seems that people just don't buy $1,200 vacuums so much anymore or get the ones they have serviced. By my math you can buy a decent vacuum at Target for $120...and you can figure that vacuum will last about 10 years...so a $1,200 vacuum represents a 100 year supply of vacuuming?
So they had to expand the business.
And what would be the natural companion business for a vacuum store? I hate to sound sexist but I would imagine that the demographic for a $1,200 vacuum would be a middle class or higher stay at home moms? So, lets have some kind of mom related side business...maybe some kind of scrap-booking store?
Wrong!.
The perfect companion business?
Dragons!
Apparently they have all kinds of medieval crap.
Little pewter statues and swords and shit. I haven't been in because I know I'll get a case of the giggles. But I asked around and word on the street is my hunch was right.

So if you're ever in the Springs come on down to the Budget Farmer, they're right around the corner from Vacuums And Dragons.....
Now if only we could get a store that will buy all these used Elvis I have laying about.....

carbon silicon

The Clash is one of my all time favorite bands.
Lets be frank, I am an alternative music junkie.
So when I recently heard a promo on NPR that they were going to interview Mick Jones and
Tony James for their new band Carbon/Silicon...my ears pricked up.
Mick Jones was The Heart of The Clash. Tony James was the bassist of Generation X.
What, you don't know Generation X? They were a "punk" band from the UK circa 1976...I never really felt like they were authentic, their music always kind of sounded forced and generic to me.They had one line of lyric that always struck me, "never sell out like they
did, they diii-iid"....
this belief was later confirmed when the lead singer Billy Idol went on to become, well....
Billy Idol.
And Tony James helped form the band Sigue Sigue Sputnik, which gave us the wonderful single "love missile f1-11"
You don't remember that one?!
Lucky you.
That boy sold the fuck out.
But what about Mick Jones?
Oh, well... after the glorious triumphs of The Clash?
He formed Big Audio Dynamite. B.A.D.
god help us all.
The Horses Are On The Track?
BOTH those boys sold out.
It makes you wonder. Sometimes an artist hits it once and then... that's it they should just hang it up.
But then again....Nirvana gave birth to Foo Fighters...so nothing is absolute...
But Carbon/Silicon is not bad. The music kind of sounds like if the guy from the Clash hooked up with the guy from Generation X and formed a band.
It's a sweet story when you consider they were best friends when they were teens and both of their first bands was together with the unfortunate name of London SS...which has Nazi connotations for most people but they meant it to mean "London Social Security"
The point is, our idols all fall, nobody stays cool forever...unless they die...

I'm Learnding!

I stole the title of this post from Ralph Wiggum, possibly my favorite Simpsons side character.
I have been so proud of myself lately.
I managed to diagnose and fix a problem my car was having without so much as consulting the Internet for help. Yeah!
Then a couple of days ago I installed an external hard-drive. When I bought this computer I remember thinking "80 gigs? Wow I can't possibly fill up an 80 gig hard-drive!"
Then the music downloading started, then I started ripping copies of nearly every CD I could get my hands on from the library, friends, etc...and BAM! I have 1% free space.
So before Christmas I bought a 250 gig hard drive on sale...I bought it Christmas eve so it was super cheap.
Now those of you with access to a calendar might have noticed that there is more than a month between the purchase of said hard-drive and installation.
I tried installing it. It didn't work. I called the tech line. The very helpful man in India asked me all kinds of interesting questions that got exponentially more indechiperable until I was reduced to answering questions he hadn't asked.
Tech guy:"Is it a 32 bit or 64 bit?"
Me: "umm...it's facing west?"
He finally deduced that there was something wrong with Windows Installer and cheerfully informed me that he couldn't help me with Windows software. Frankly he seemed pretty freakin' happy about the fact that he couldn't help me at all.
He asked if I had any other questions.
I said, "Yes, how is the weather in India today"
"I'm afraid I'm not allowed tell you that"
"is it hot? I bet it's hot."
"Sorry sir, I am not allowed to tell you that. Is there anything else I can help you with.?"
"Nope, I just wanted to get this hard-drive installed and find out what the weather in India is like and since you can't help me with either I guess we are all done here."
So there it sat mocking me for more than a month.
Then after I fixed my car I decided I was a capable adult and I sat down and did a little research and I fixed the Windows Installer thing myself.
I Rule!
Then tonight I installed tracking software on my blog. (thanks Sara Kay whoever you are!)
So now I can track how many times a day my one reader checks my blog. Hi Christina!
Give it up for my sistah, big up, chigga what, what! (the roof has now been raised)
The thing is, doing those 2 computer related things myself in one week...I felt like one of those hackers you see in the movies.
Ok maybe not, but here's the thing, my computer skills normally rate just above one of those people who has to have their kid log onto their email for them.
Of course I still can't figure out how to put a Youtube link in the middle of a post or how to make an archive of my favorite posts off to the right there ->
but still...

I'm on a roll. I have to go now. I'm going to take apart a microwave or something.

Good News Bad news

So the bad news is Heath Ledger is dead.
I think he was a pretty decent actor and in terms of him as a person he seemed like less of a douche-bag than your average celebrity.
The good news?
It seems HBO has devoted one of it's channels entirely to Brokeback Mountain.
Hey great!
I have not actually seen the whole movie. However, since HBO has devoted one of it's channels to the movie entirely I have caught random 10-15 minute segments.
I will be honest, I can't force myself to sit down and watch the thing in it's entirety for 3 reasons.
1) I can't tell what the fuck Heath is saying most of the time.
I have read numerous reviews of the film and never once did anybody mention that he sounds like Boomhauer from King Of The Hill.
2) Every time I watch the thing at some point a wrasslin' match busts out. I am just too scared that the wrasslin' is going to lead to sodomy. I am a straight guy, not homophobic, just straight ...and as such I try to scrupulously avoid seeing men have sex with each other.
Hey...It's not like I'm a prude.
I'll be honest, if I was walking down the street and I turned the corner and there were an ugly man and woman doing it?
I'd stop and watch for a minute.
But if it was 2 dudes? I would not stop.
3) the parts of it I have seen seem terribly depressing somehow. I just haven't seen any part of the film where anybody is having any fun...

So, It's too bad that Heath is gone....but do they have to devote an entire channel to making the majority of men in America uncomfortable?
Maybe I should send them an email pointing out he was also in A Knights Tale? I actually kind of liked that movie, it was sort of fun the way they extensively used anachronistic plot devices...plus you could understand what he was saying...

But, all Brokeback, all the time?
I wish they could quit that.

A few words I am Happy with and One I am not

Ok first, I have one word that I am so proud of.
Ginormous.
You made it into Websters? Good job!
Now 2 others that I am quite pleased with?....
Crack
&
steroids

I love these 2 words because they have added 2 new descriptive modifiers to the English language.
Think about it, you can say
"oh The New Thing? It's like The Old Thing On Crack."
Or,
"It's like a ____ on steroids"

You see what I'm getting at?
What did we say to make sure you knew how extreme this new thing is compared to the old thing before we had crack or steroids?
"oh man it's awesome, it's rad...it's extreme."

Hang on "extreme" I have a bone to pick with you.
You have been showing up in places you have no business being.
Without going into a strict dictionary definition the word means "of the greatest severity or drastic".
So now we have "extreme sports" is there any fire involved? Does anybody die, ever? Are the participants at least naked?
Ok, so not strictly extreme.
What about the TV show, "Extreme Home Makeover"
Um, yeah, I've watched the show a little bit and there is never a hot-lava moat around the house, never a second floor made entirely of glass so you can look down into the living room or up into the bedrooms. You never even see a stripper poll or a "grotto"
Not extreme.
But the most egregious offenders?
Food products.
Did you know you can buy "Extreme Jello"
Really?
Jello is hospital food. How extreme could a food product be if it can be liquefied by squishing through your teeth?
You know what extreme Jello is? Jello with ground glass. Or gravel.

NO, I have it!

New extreme Jello! Pick your flavor:
Cranberry- Crack
Strawberry-Steroid
Or super-new and improved!

Viagra-Very-Berry!

My sister recently wrote this and I can confirm emphatically that they did try to scare the Jesus into us.
She forgot to mention they also made her scared of Mormons...
(rest assured, she's not scared of them anymore.
I recently confirmed this by yelling "look out! Mit Romney is right behind you!" and she didn't even blink.)
Then today I saw a guy in a Chevy Cavalier (which for those of you that don't know? It's the Ford Pinto of our time.) It had a graphic on the rear window that said "will you be left behind?"
It was accompanied by a stupid ginormous wing and a non-functioning hood scoop.
I thought, "Um, no I am in a Turbo Saab, you will not leave me behind"
But then it occurred to me it was meant in the "Left Behind" sense.
Wow. One day she writes it, and then a guy in a Cavalier lives it.
weird.

I bought the Saab

I got the Saab and my "friends" told me it was slightly less gay than a Miata.
Oh how wrong they are.
The Saab is a chick magnet.
You read that right.
I was driving the car today with the top down. I looked up in the rear view mirror and this woman behind me waves at me. Hello.
I wave back ...um..hello?
She motions pull over. I'm thinking the back of my car is on fire or something. I did just buy the thing...it may have a problem with flames coming out of the trunk that I am not aware of yet.
So I pull over. The woman pulls into the parking lot next to me. I roll down the passenger window. She says, "Hey how are you?" almost like she knows me....but I'm pretty sure I have never seen this woman before.
"do I know you"?
"Look at you with the top down, isn't it kinda cold?"
"No, I have heated seats and the heat is going....but....do I know you?"
"what are you up to tonight?"
At this point I realize
1) she's drunk.
2) I have never seen this woman in my life.
"so are you married"?
"Why yes...yes I am! Look I have my wedding ring tattooed on and everything!"
I show my lamentably tattooed on wedding ring.
"Oh cool. So what are you up to?"
I point to the pizza from Whole Foods sitting on the seat next to me, "just bringing home a pizza...to the Family!"
"oh, cool .......man I'm almost out of gas, 'wanna give me like 2 bucks for gas?"
"no. I am strictly plastic." I make a credit card swiping motion.
"oh...well you could follow me over there (she points to a nearby gas station) and pump a couple of bucks for me"
At this point I figure why not have a little fun here,
"Did you wave me over to try to pick me up or to get gas money?"
"What! Naw I'm just kiddin'...have a good night"

I didn't actually peel out...but I have to admit I exceeded the speed limit all the way home.

For the first time in ....about 3,650 days? (that's 10 years) I am finally glad I have this stupid wedding ring tattooed on my finger.
Also? My friend Cindy pointed out that the car may not actually be a "chick" magnet...but rather a "hick" magnet...

Chuck Norris is Hilarious

I have to admit I never watched Walker Texas Ranger because I always assumed it was a stupid drama for people with low standards of credulity.
Oh how wrong I was.
It is actually an hilarious comedy. Brilliantly funny stuff people.
I happened to catch a few minutes of Walker right before a commercial break.
It seems that Walker was on some kind of undercover operation. He was working amongst some men that appeared to be migrant workers of some sort. Chuck was wearing an absurd black wig. I don't know if this is a standard feature of the show or if it was because he was"undercover". Either way the wig was super funny looking.
So this one migrant guy goes to get some water and the slave driver redneck type boss yells at the guy for getting water twice in one day.
This is where the funny starts to happen.
Walker steps up for the guy, and the fight is on!
(I think one of the migrant guys in the background might have even yelled "It's ON!" in Spanish)
So this really funny fight sequence breaks out....at one point Walker is holding a guy by the scruff of his neck and punching the guy in the stomach. It was priceless the way the guy kept hopping up in the air every time Walker "punched " him. i have seen a lot of fights and I have never seen anyone get held by the scruff of the neck.
Anyway, the next part is where it gets really funny. One of the rednecks grabs a rope and lassos Walker and then somehow they tie the rope to a truck really quickly and start dragging Walker around...and then cut to commercial.
Wow! That was one of the funniest things I have ever seen.
I couldn't wait for them to come back from commercial so I pulled up Youtube where I found a clip of Walker fighting a bear.
Koala?
no.
Panda?
No, Grizzly!
Ya' heard!?
So this bear spends a lot of time chewing on Walkers sleeve and going "RAWR!"
Then Walker wins the fight through a clever combination of "stink eye" and "stare down"...maybe a little "gas-face" thrown in.
That was pretty funny too....but here's how I would have written it.
Instead of a bear? It would have been one of those Killer Whales that beaches itself to grab a sea lion off the shore...and right as the Killer Whale comes up on the sand Walker steps up and round house kicks the whale in the face.

How cool would that be?

I have to stop eating out for lunch

The other day I went out to lunch at a local Italian place. Normally I would grab lunch and go back to work so that if a customer shows up I'm ready to work. This day I needed to get away for at least an hour.
I sat down in a completely empty restaurant. I literally was the only person in a restaurant that has 20 or 30 tables.
A guy comes in and gets a couple of slices of pizza and sits at the table right next to mine.
What the hell?
Then if that's not bad enough he starts eating his pizza wrong. It's big floppy New York style slices. The proper method is to fold it in half, but nooo. This clown starts cutting his slices into tiny little bites. So I have to listen to him slice, slicing away at his food instead of just being able to ignore the fact that he sat at the table right next to mine.

Yesterday I went to have lunch at Whole Foods. I went out on the patio with my lunch and sat at a table off to the side to enjoy myself.
A group of people comes and pulls 3 tables together right next to me.
Great.
Then they proceed to have a discussion about how hard it is to be a Christian in this town.
What? In Colorado Springs? Try living in a place like Portland or Austin.
They were going back and forth talking about how they feel like sometimes people they work with are watching them; looking for them to make a mistake.
I'm sorry but if you publicly profess to have a value set that most people are familiar with don't be shocked if people are expecting you to honor that.
If someone tells me they are a devout Jew and then I see them one day eating a ham sandwich and showing off their new tattoo I have a problem with that.
Not that I have a problem with ham sandwiches or tattoos. I do have a problem with the disconnect between what you profess to believe and what you do.
Boo-hoo, people are expecting me to act like a good Christian just because I profess to be one.
Then if that wasn't bad enough, once they ran out of whine, they didn't seem to have much to say to each other. I was really trying not to listen in but with them pushing their tables together I actually was sitting closer to some of the people at the table than they were to each other.
I got to hear juicy tid-bits like this
"What kind of cake is that?"
"Oh it's actually corn bread."
"wow that's a big piece of corn bread."
"Yeah, and you want to hear the crazy part? It's the smallest piece they had!"

Thank God I was there to memorialize and write about that stimulating exchange, no?

I got Fired!

It was fun. I've never had so much fun getting fired.
I walked in and Harry told me they were going to pull the trigger.
Whatever.
There are probably 30 other dealers in town and I got job offers at every one I applied at before and I didn't have references then, I do now.

So if you know they are going to sack you why not have fun with it?
I was at my desk getting some papers together to make sure they paid me all my money when they paged me to the conference room.
I made them wait.
When I told Dennis I was leaving he said, "In a way I'm sorry to hear that." I said "Thanks, I almost liked working with you too."
He clarified that he was sorry to see it devolve into such a bitter, useless type of conflict....I won't go into the details but it was sweet in a Nordic, dry kind of way. (his last name is Skovgaard..he was an airline pilot...very clinical, not very expressive)
Steve paged me three times. (you can look down out of the conference room and see my desk)He waited 30 minutes before walking down to my desk and asking me to come up.
I said, "in a minute buddy" and went out to my car to look for something.
I finally decided I was ready to go talk to them ....so I went to the coffee bar and got a latte.
I went upstairs & sign, sign, signed.
Regina the office manager was there, she had to come in on her day off. Steve was on the other side of the room about to go in his office.
I said, "Regina, I'm sorry you had to come in on your day off. Hey Steve? ...Thanks for coming in on your day off."
I went downstairs and said goodbye to my friend J.T. and wished him luck (his girlfriend is pregnant....they are both 21...they go to New Life church, her mom works for Focus On The Family...not an easy situation) Sitting across from him was Adam.
I said, "Adam..." he acknowledged me in a 'good day to you too' nod. "you're a fucking tool and I never liked you." and I walked away.
(I got a text message"You really made Wells mad!" Good, that was the point. If it was me? I would have been out of my seat and in his face before he got 2 feet away.
Look, the guy is taller than me by 4 inches and outweighs me by 30 pounds. If you let a shrimp like me talk to you like that? You're a punk . So, I stand by my original statement the guy is a fucking tool.)
I shook a few hands said my goodbyes and left.
It was kinda fun. The most fun I ever had getting fired anyway.

Im'a Get Fired!

I had the most awesome meeting today.
I am on the hit list at work. I have a big target on my back. It's not because I don't do my job well. To be honest at the expense of sounding immodest I am above average at what I do. At my current employer? I am above, above average.
I work for a dealership that is run by people who have never worked at another dealership. Most of the sales staff have only sold for this dealer.
Consequently, they don't know how a real dealership is run.
If you took 3/4 of the staff (management and sales combined) and forced them to work at another dealership most would not survive a month.
It makes it hard for those of who know how a dealership is supposed to work.
Whatever.
So myself and another salesman (Harry) are constant targets. It's stupid but it is what it is.
(it would take me quite a while to explain how absurd my work situation is. I won't bore you with it)
I will introduce the characters first then tell you about this most amazing meeting.

Steve.
He is the Dealer Principal. That means head honcho. He is invested heavily in the dealership....but has only ever worked at this dealership, he has never sold cars and once referred to the piece of paper that we negotiate deals on as a 3 square...um Steve? It's a 4 square.
Ooooh I'm sorry the correct answer was 4 square.
( 4 squares: down payment, the price of our car, what we are giving you for your trade, your payment. 4 square.industry standard)
Robert.
GSM (general sales manager) Oh man, where do I start? He has been at the dealership for 20 years. Before that he was a manager at a local pub (Meadow Muffins or something). He is 1/2 black 1/2 white and all gay.
His (black) father never really acknowledged him and therefore he: identifies as a white man while not totally looking it, loathes his black side and has daddy issues. Working for him is like working for a menopausal woman...except instead of mood swings between random bitchiness and mothering, it's swings from bitchiness to cattiness...with some shitty, completely arbitrary sarcasm thrown in.
I have to be frank, he's really not as much fun as he sounds.
Chris.
Sales manager and all around punk ass bitch....or trick punk ass...or punk bitch trick....I can't ever nail it down. Doesn't matter. He has no real part in this meeting other than to randomly say "wow" to indicate how much he disagrees with someone. You call him out on a lie and his only response is "wow". He's a punk, forget him.
Harry.
My brother from another mother. He's Harry James Bitch!
Harry and I are the Sith lords of the dealership. I will explain that further later.
Harry is a black guy about my age with about my level of tolerance for stupidity. He is an old school car dog like myself.

Ok.
Yesterday Harry left early because he felt like it. (yes he flaunted the rules, he was wrong)I left 30 minutes after my shift ended...but I had shown up 45 minutes late. We both got in trouble for leaving early.

So, our morning meeting starts out with Robert asking " what is this power these 2 hold over you?"
I lean over to Harry and say "the force, duh."
"why do you let them do things that get everyone in trouble? Why do they constantly break the rules and then we have to make stricter rules and nobody ever gets mad at them? What power do they have over you?"
Harry says to me, "I'm Darth James bitch"
Robert passes out new contract resolutions stating that no one shall ever arrive late, or leave early under any circumstances yada yada yada.
I didn't read the damn thing.
Harry says, "we're Sith Lords, they're scared of us."
The reality is Harry and I do the same shit everyone else does....but we have the targets on us.
Harry signed one of his resolutions "Darth James" It was my idea, but I had already signed my stuff.
Oh well, I'll sign my termination papers Darth Miller.
Harry and I are told to stay after the meeting.

Harry brings out his little mp3 recorder and lays it on the table.
(this guy kills me, he walks around with a recorder)
Steve sees the recorder and says "are you recording?"
Harry, "yeah, I have a statement to make"
Steve leaves the room and comes back with this bulky recording rig of his own. Tape deck, wires, mini- boom mike.
This is the moment that things got surreal. It was like in a movie.
Steve starts to set up his rig. He realizes he can't plug in where we are. We all have to pick up and move 4 seats over. Now we are all shuffling about picking up our water glasses moving coats etc. Now he is fussing with wires plugging shit in. He can't get the mike right, the wires are tangled...it's quiet and awkward.
He's plugged in now.
push record:"check 1,2,3. Check 1,2,3"
Stop, rewind, play.
....nothing.
rewind, push record:"check 1,2,3.Check1,2,3"
Stop,rewind,play.
....nothing.
Robert " I think you are recording on the blank part of the tape"
Chris "there's a leader that you can't record on?"
By now I am trying hard not to look at Harry because I'm afraid we'll both start laughing.
Woody Allen could not have written a more fabulously absurd and awkward moment.
Steve gets his machine going and then stares at Harry.
Harry stares at him.
"You had a statement?"
Hang on. I am about to tell you the first few lines of this little pow-wow. I won't bother fleshing out the rest. The first few lines will tell you all you need to know.

Harry, " First, Michael shouldn't even be here. His only crime is guilt by association. Second I am being discriminated against because I'm black. I don't discriminate against Robert because he's a black-gay-uncle tom."
I jumped out of my seat, "Oh shit! In your Face!"
Ok I didn't say that....but man I wanted to.
Lets recap quickly.
Harry just called our boss a black-gay-uncle tom, to his face.
Best Meeting Ever.
I'm pretty sure Harry and I are getting fired.
SFW
At 10 minutes before the end of our shift Harry and I get called into the office and are told we have to talk to Steve before we leave. Harry tells me "at 3pm I'm out. He has 10 minutes."
3 pm rolls around and Harry leaves.
I wait 10 minutes before I walk into the office and tell Robert I was supposed to be meeting someone at 3 ( which I was) he calls Steve. Steve says give me 15 minutes.
Nope. I figure if Steve wants to fire me he can come in on his day off and fire me, I'm not waiting around a half hour for him to fire me.

To quote the Ghetto Boys?
Damn it feels good to be a gangster.

I just thought of another funny story involving Richard

When I was 12 or 13 my Mom married my step dad. He's a great guy, I won't say a bad word about him.
BUT.
All of a sudden we go to church on Sunday morning. Which I found confusing because for the previous 13 years that was the other day that we slept in...the one right after Saturday?
It reminded me of my recollection of the first day of kindergarten. I am sure that they warned me I was going to be going to school, but in my mind it went like this:
I was rudely awakened very early in the morning, shoved into some new clothes and dumped off at school. I beat up a kid or 2 for giving my friend Brad Karoda a hard time because he was Japanese. Then I got up to go to the bathroom and was told I had to ask before I could go to the bathroom. That seemed like a breach of my constitutional right of freedom of urination and I treated it as such by going to the bathroom despite not having permission. Then my Mom picked me up.
The next day I was rudely awakened very early in the morning and I told my mom I wasn't going because I didn't much like it.
No luck.
Ok, so I went to church week after week, not much caring for it all.
Then one week my friend Richard asked me to go to his aunt Michael Anne's church. (she hated us calling her Aunt Michael Anne...she was only a couple of years older than us)
I didn't want to go to any church but he assured me it would be cool.

Aunt Michael Anne's church was housed in a warehouse in an industrial park in Anaheim.
So far so good.
The main auditorium was a sea of folding chairs. Cool.
We grab some seats towards the back, to the side, in a safety zone of other teenagers.
The preacher starts. He is yelling and screaming and Hallelujahing all over the place. I couldn't really follow the message because :
1) I'm pretty sure he was just freestyling the shit.
2) Richard and I were transfixed by a guy in his 20's that was alternating taking giant swigs from an 84 ounce mug of coffee and slamming his fist into his palm and saying "YEAH!"
Then the preacher called for "testimony"
It turns out this was a variation on glossolalia. People would randomly stand up and say stuff like:
"Yea mighty redeemer of eternal glory find my soul heretofore repentant upon mightiness of light!"
"And the glory on all high shone upon my soul in a waterfall of Godliness and truth"
Actually, it wasn't that coherent to be frank.
Then, just as I have Richard fired up enough to stand up and give his own testimony?
A guy stands up and says "Behold!"
and before he can utter another syllable? the Pastor says
"Brother! Wait until the spirit Truly Leads!"
Yeah, Richard didn't much feel like testifying after that.
Then, after the basket is passed around, and some singing happens the Pastor invites people to come up and receive the Lords Healing.
People wander up, he smacks them around and they flop on the floor for a spell.
A good time was had by all.

Richard looks at me, "you want to go get healed or get some punch and cookies?"
I opted for the punch and cookies.
Then we took Aunt Michael Anne's Pinto wagon out and
did J-turns and donuts in the parking lot for a while.

I have to say that was the most fun I ever had at church sober.

My Crazy Friend Richard

In high school I had this friend Richard. Usually amongst my friends I was the friend to come up with and then carry out very stupid acts.
"hey lets jump off that bridge into the river!"
"No way, that's too high"
"No it' not ...watch!"
You get the picture. But frequently Richard was the one that would do stuff that had me shaking my head. One time we were riding our bikes and we saw these two little girls walking home from school. We cruised silently up next to them and right as we got parallel Richard yelled "BOOM!!" as loudly as possible.
Holy crap! Those little girls jumped a couple feet up and a couple to the left, like startled cats.
We cracked up ....about 3 houses down Richard turned around and went and apologized to the little girls. When he got done he said "are we still friends?" One little girl said yes and we peddled off.
Another time we talked my other friend Jhonny into taking us out ' geefing'
I don't know how the name came about but ' geefing ' is the practice of squirting people with the kind of fire extinguisher that is basically a large silver canister of water under pressure. You fill it up at the gas station.
So, we go out squirting strangers walking down the street for a few hours. On our way to drop off Richard he sees a guy a block or 2 from his house which seems too close to home to be squirting anybody but Richard insists that we get this kid.
So we pull up, soak the kid and speed off.
A few minutes later we are standing around in Richards driveway and who comes walking around the corner but the guy we just soaked.
It's not like we can run, and really why would we? 3 vs. 1 are pretty good odds.
The kid walks right up to Richard arms spread out in outrage, "what the fuck Richard?"
"Sorry Danny, I had to take the shot."
Danny says, "you're such a dick, dude." and walks towards his house. The house right next door to Richards house.
As he's walking away Richard says "hey, we still playing racquetball tomorrow?"
Without looking back Danny said "yeah."
Once the guy was in his house we cracked up. Richard looks at me, "hey remember that girl we scared the pee out of the other day? That's her brother."
It might sound like he was kind of a jerk and a bully but the reality is the only people that didn't like Richard were jealous of him.
Now, as charming as Richard was? His brother was a detestable little punk. His name was Tony or something.
One time I was staying the night at Richards house. We were hanging out in his room waiting for his mom to go to sleep so we could sneak out and go to this party at my girlfriends house. his mom went to bed at like 8pm or something because she was a nurse and worked really early. We're sitting in Richards room and his mom is in bed with her door open waiting for Tony to come home. His brother saunters in and on his way to his room their mom calls out to him. He stops in front of her door and stands there kind of swaying.
We are watching from Richards room and 2 things become obvious.
1) he's drunk.
2) his neck is a spectacular mosaic of hickeys.
This should be good.
Here is the conversation, verbatim :
Mom: where have you been?
Tony: don't worry about it.
M: are you drunk?
T: (incredulously, sarcastically) Nooo
M: what's that on your neck?
T: HICKEYS, WHY?! (At the top of his lungs)
Gold. Comedy Gold.

So Richard and I go to the party. It was a great party.
In attendance? Richard, me, my girlfriend and 6 of her best friends.
Great! we drink her dads booze, we play a game of spin the bottle with phenomenal odds of kissing a pretty girl. (Kelly was one of those hot girls who only hung out with hot girls)
Towards the end of the party we all end up in Kelly's room on the floor, in the dark.
Not as racy as it would seem. Basically we were all lying on the floor and the girls were picking our brains about why teenage boys do the stupid shit they do. I was kind of making out with my girlfriend and Richard was finally getting the chance to hold the hand of this redhead he liked.
(Or so he thought.)
The lights suddenly come on and it's the room-mate who was supposed to be keeping an eye on us but instead was smoking a lot of pot in her room.
"shit, you kids ain't doin' shit" she says and flicks the lights back off.
Eventually the party winds down and we are riding our bikes home.
Richard looks over at me, "what's that on your neck?"
I yell out "hickeys, why!"
"actually dude you do have a hickey."
"Shit. I've never had a hickey....This was a pretty good day, hunh?"
"fuck no it wasn't. Both you and my brother got hickeys and I got to hold a fucking foot."

That's right, when the lights came on he realized he was holding a foot, not a hand.

I am dangerously close to buying a Saab. Pray for me.

First, don't let the title of the post confuse you into thinking I don't like Saabs.
I like esoterica and weirdness. I have owned plenty of cool, yet weird, cars so this would just be another in the line. I mean, some of my greatest automotive memories happened in a VW Thing
But at this point in my life? I know better.
The only way I would buy a classic Saab at this point is if it was owned by an older guy. One owner. All service records. Low miles...
So I have a customer that the only way he can buy a car is if he gets rid of this car.
Ok. I have a chance to buy a $3-4,000 car for $1,000
And he's the one owner blah blah blah.
So if all works out My winter car will be a Saab 900 turbo convertible.
(anyone see the irony here? The PO made this his summer only car and this will be my winter only car...nevermind)...so if I start talking about Swedish automotive arcana in the next few months you will be able to look back at this as the day it started.
BTW, I found a set of Carrol Shellby limited edition wheels for the Saab on craigslist. These wheels were a factory tuner special available in dealerships from '87 to '91 ...anyway...wish me luck.

I spend a lot time simply trying to amuse Michael.

I have this thing I do that some people get...and F' the ones that don't!
OK slow down..
I like to dissect, in an erudite fashion, stupid bullshit.

For example I enjoy parsing the grammar of street slang.

I had this conversation the other day.

My friend(MF): "how was your lunch?"
Me: Da bomb!
MF: oh yeah? The bomb?
Me: no, DA bomb.
MF: there's a difference?
Me: oh yeah. Nobody says "the" bomb anymore, it's "Da"
MF: so "Da" for "the"?
Me: yep.
MF: what is the plural of that...like "these?"
Me: "dese"
MF:
Me: would you like me to use it in a sentence?
MF: yes.
Me: Do you like cds or tapes?
MF: Um..cds?
Me: how would you like to see dese nuts on your chin?!

(see...it's a crude oral sex joke?)
(also? I assure you this was an actual conversation I had while waiting for my latte to be made whilst at work)

Selling cars for fun and profit

I got into selling cars because there was nothing else to do in Flagstaff to keep your head above water. It's a small town with a mostly service economy.
So unless you are qualified to work at the university or the hospital? You're boned.
I won't get into the mixed emotions of making profit off of nice people.
(or the thrill of absolutely sticking it to some dickhead)
I will say I can look you in the eye and say I have never ripped anyone off.

It's the very embodiment of the dichotomy principle. It is hot and cold, black and white, good and evil.
If you don't sell a car you make no money. Do you know what it's like to work a 12 hour shift and not make a single penny?
Conversely? Do you know what it's like to spend 90 minutes with a very nice older couple and make $1,200?
(wait...that doesn't sound right. I should add "with your clothes on" or some such disclaimer)
It can be a lot of fun. It can also be the most stressful stupid job of your life.

I have been thinking about a few funny things that happened just this week.
(I know I said there is a dichotomy, so the astute ones among us might be wondering about the not so funny things. I am not about to start complaining. I have tried to make the point of this blog to run a highlighter over what is funny about my life. I doubt anybody wants to read about what is pissing me off about life...unless I have a funny take on it.)

So. Just a few things that cracked me up this week?

First, for those that don't yet know? I am an observant SOB. I eaves drop and watch and in general try to know everything about everything that is going on around me.

So a few things I overheard this week:

Customer to salesman: I want you to know, I am serious about looking at cars. I am not serious about buying a car.

Salesman to a customer looking at a Volkswagen Passat (which is actually a very nice car) :
Yes the Germans are known for their coachwork; fit and finish...
(inaudible comment from customer)
...umm, No, it's leatherette.

This next aside I need to preface with a little education about the car business.
No matter what, every time you come into the managers office to ask do we have car XYZ you will have a manager yell at you "have you walked the lot?!"
Meaning "have you actually gone out and looked for yourself if we have that car?"
and the annoying thing is, knowing you are going to get yelled at? You have walked the lot in the hope that you can find the car yourself and avoid going into the damn office to get "have you walked the lot?!" yelled at you.
SO. We get told what our new pathetic benefits are.
I was out on the lot talking with Shane. I told him that I miss how good the benefits are at a bank.
I said, "when I started here I asked if we have a 401K and Robert said, "have you walked the lot!?"

(let me know if any of these are funny outside of the lot because these are all killers on premises)

Bar Brawl Elmo

I was recently reminded of the Christmas that Hopper got a Tickle Me Elmo.
Jee bought one in July or something; way before the whole Elmo craze kicked off.
Do you remember the year that people went apeshit for Elmo? People were selling them on Ebay for crazy money. It was just stupid.
Anyway. Hopper gets this Tickle Me Elmo.
He can't squeeze hard enough to make the thing work though. He somehow figures out that if he lays the doll on the floor and pushes on his chest 3 times the doll will do it's thing.

Picture it: toddler lays Elmo on the floor, pushes on his chest 1-2-3...and then the doll flops around as if having a seizure.
CPR Elmo is born.

So friends would come around and I'd tell Hopper. " go get CPR Elmo".
He'd get the doll and do his thing. Big Laugh.
Then he got wise.
"why do I need to get down on the floor and push on this things chest " he thought.
"why not just stomp on the chest?"

Now picture this: Toddler drops doll on the floor. Toddler savagely stomps the doll three times
'unh, unh, unh!' doll flops around as if having a seizure.
Let me introduce "Bar Brawl Elmo".

So the same friends come around and I say have you seen Hoppers new doll? they say "yeah we saw it, funny stuff dude"
"Actually I don't think you have seen anything like this. Hey Hopper! Elmo was talkin' smack again!"
Hopper brings the doll in and says some baby talk angrily (kid couldn't talk yet but , damn, he could chew you out in baby talk) and then stomps the hell out of the doll. Doll flops around like it just took a hell of a beating (which it did).

Man I miss those days.

Ever meet someone so happy it kind of scares you?

I got my hair cut yesterday by a woman I am sure was totally insane.
It was a scarier experience than when I got my hair cut by a guy who was a little bit drunk.
(first warning sign? he started complaining about how much it sucks to get called in on your day off when all you want to do is kick back and have a few beers...I realized later that meant he had already started on the beers when they called him in)

This woman smiled constantly. Not a beatific, inner glow, bemused kind of smile. It was a mouth-always- open-I-may-be-retarded-I-may-be-crazy kind of smile.
And the way she talked? You know that Romper Room, overly sweet way certain preschool teachers have? It sounds as if they are trying to make everything sound exiting and fun.
Yeah, well, this chicks' amps went to 11.
She would have made the kids from the popsicle story (http://nothingpersonalbut.blogspot.com/2007/12/they-are-not-retards-they-are-special.html) complain about being condescended to.
When she said she was going to even up my sideburns she made it sound like a wonderful adventure to Happy Fun Land.
All the while this is going on I am listening to a completely incomprehensible Korean lady color this other guys hair.
I was sooo jealous.
A little tip for you kids? If you run across an Asian lady who you cannot understand at all? Let her cut your hair because those women can cut the hell out of some hair.
So while we are taking the Super Fun Bus to A Little More Off The Top Land a hot Latina walks out from the back.
Dammit! I didn't know there was a hot Latina in the back!
So, Hot Latina sassies up to the front desk in too tight pants and too much eye makeup. She snaps her gum, looks at the guest register, sings a couple verses of "Don't You Wish Your Girlfriend Was Hot Like Me?" , struts to the back and yells something at the guy getting his hair colored in passing.
Meanwhile I am on the Super Neato Monorail to Would You Like A Little Jell In Your Hair Village.
I am really wishing that Hot Latina was cutting my hair, because frankly I do wish my girlfriend was hot like her. I do wish my girlfriend was a freak like her.
On the mirror in front of me is a sign that says if they didn't offer me a shampoo my hair cut would be free. Well this crazy lady definitely did not offer me a shampoo because I would have remembered being offered a Super Fantastical Cleanarific Shampoo.

At this point I became sad for opportunities lost.
here is the scenario I envisioned.
Hot Latina is cutting my hair, I'm flirting and talking like I'm a playa'.
It comes time to pay and I say, "hey you didn't offer me a shampoo"
So she gives me the free haircut
and I turn around and tip her %100 'cause I'm a hustla' baby
(you should be hearing Pharrell in your head right now)
That would have been Money.

Instead I went away scared. She chased me half way to my car making sure I had a Super Great Weekend.

I love music.
I am a bit of an Anglophile.
I love hip hop.
I love to dance.
combine some of those things and you'll figure out...
I love brittish hip hop.

So look to the right at the Youtube link.
It's black but I want you to click on the first link.
I click that damn thing and I can't help but dance around my apartment like an idiot for 3 minutes 54 seconds.

This may surprise some people but I become possesed from time to time and dance dance dance around my apartment. This is one of those songs that does it for me. It's quirky and catchy and geeky ......
and fucking fun to dance to.

I can't help myself, tell me if you can.

oh, and if the beat isn't enough, check out the LYRICS

lets all count our blessings...and our felonies

I had a touching customer on Christmas eve.
I won't bore you with the details.

Short version: she has bone cancer.
She has always wanted a New Beetle. We had the exact car she wanted so she came in and bought it. It was the easiest sale ever and she damn near broke my heart.
She cried when she found out she would be able to take the car home the same night. I almost cried when she told me that the person taking her cancer the hardest was her 11 year old. Jeebus, Turbo is just 12 right?
She talked about how she needed the car to go to her real estate classes, 2 nights a week.
What a trooper! Given a year to live but still taking the classes?!
She was a Hugger (2 times) and a Cryer (3 times)

So I went into Christmas feeling a little better about the fact that I wasn't going to see Turbo this year.
It was hard at first but once I had some perspective ....I may not see him this season, but at least I knew I would be alive to see him next year...

That was the 24th.

Today we found out she used a stolen identity.
I know at least one manager is trying to make me the scapegoat on this deal even though I was the only one to not drop the ball.
See, it turns out the person whose identity she assumed to get the car had a fraud alert on it.
If you know how to read a credit report you can tell that there were a lot of discrepancies.
For example, she said her current address was xyz but her credit report showed that to be a previous address.
Um...that's called a 'red flag'...Should have been caught by at least one of the managers that handled the deal, no?
Sooo...I may lose my job because of this.

Merry Christmas.