I played poker last night with a group of guys who have become friends through my friend, Jason. I wouldn't have known any of these guys were it not for that mutual association, but over the past couple years, I suppose I have burrowed enough into their group that I can be considered "one of them."
That means I'm on the low end of the totem pole so to speak, not having been there for years and years of stories and inside jokes. I circumvent that by dominating the conversation and making everything about me. That's how you win friends, right?
Moving on.
I have missed poker several times in a row because of my erratic, (yet somehow at the same time consistent), travel schedule. I was delighted to be able to respond "yes" to this week's game, held last night at Karl's house, our de facto venue.
The long and the short is, I have only finished in the money one time. The rest of the time I have been a loser. One time, I was first out on an Ace-high straight and lost to a flush that I just didn't see. I lost to Jason, who was also my ride, which meant I was thrust into the enviable and highly esteemed position of "all-time dealer" for the rest of the night. Did I say enviable and esteemed? I meant dreaded and lamentable.
Last night, I tried to outlast Eric, whose pile of chips was about equal to mine. Problem was, my cards went cold a couple hands before his and he outlasted me - By one hand. I missed the money by one hand. And because Karl said so at the beginning of the night, (remember, it's Karl's house, so we kinda let him make up stuff at-will so we have somewhere to play)," 4th is in charge of food next time", I didn't get any money, AND I have more responsibility.
In short, it was kinda like my last 'promotion'. And the one before that, come to think of it. I need a career counselor.
Moving on.
And because it was Jason's turn to drive, (kinda, but not really since we hadn't discussed it, but we had been switching on and off and it was his turn), and he bugged out at the last minute, I didn't even drink. So there I was. Defeated. Sober. Tired.
But, I couldn't have that much fun at the bar for $20.00.And because it's a friendly game with friendly people in a friendly environment, it doesn't really matter who wins or loses, or who spills what on whom. Someone almost always spills something on someone. What matters is that we have an excuse other than sports to hang out. A lot of these guys golf together in the summer. I avoid golf courses like whores avoid church.
But we have poker. Win, lose or draw, it's always a good time.
Friday, January 25, 2013
Thursday, January 24, 2013
The Car Show That Wasn't
There have been more than a few failed attempts at blog posts over the past couple months. I am unhappy about not committing more to consistent posts, but I've always thought if you nice people were going to take the time to read, I may as well be somewhat happy with what I wrote.
And I have just been... drained.
Inherently introverted, the holidays, which now seem like distant echoes of a once familiar song, drain me. On top of that fact, I have also been immersed in a large couple of large projects at work that have stolen my ability to focus on anything else. In short, same old shit I always say when I haven't blogged for awhile.
A little Debby Downer moment, if you please - Life is just not that happy and exciting to write about now. No, it's nothing serious. No, it's nothing that won't be in my rear-view before too long. But right now, its more long sighs and fatigue than it is laughter and manic energy.
Take the car show. Emily loves the car show. Dave loves the car show. Greg humors Emily, Dave and I and is a good sport when we four go to the car show. This is a typically annually ritual, though not strictly annual. Sometimes we can't all go so we don't all go. But surely I go and usually Dave. We are the stallwarts.
Greg has been so busy he forgot about it, Em couldn't work with my travel schedule. That left Dave and I. The staunchest of the car show fans in our world. We made plans to go on Tuesday afternoon, after work. Him, after a long day of doing a job he doesn't love, and me at the end of a long day facing a looming deadline the following morning.
Did I mention the high temperature was 8? Yes. 8. Degrees. Farenheit. That's not a lot of degrees.
Planning to meet at 4:30, I got a text at quarter-of-three from Dave. "How keen are you about the car show?"
I wanted to write back - "Very keen! Keen, keen the car show machine!" Instead, I wrote back what I really felt, "meh."
And because we were both exhausted. And because as Dave so eloquently put it, "I just don't feel like walking five blocks on the coldest day of the year (of course!) only to get norovirus the second I touch the door handle and have to jockey around a million people who are in my way so I can't see all the cars I want but won't ever be able to buy."
It was, without question, an excellent argument, and I was, without question not going to argue against. Besides, not having the chutzpah to argue, Dave is a lawyer... he argues for a living. See: "Lose-Lose Situation".
Historically, it's ALWAYS the coldest day of the year when we go to the car show. I can scarcely recall ever being comfortable, or even safe traveling to and from a car show. Why the industry persists in having a major show in January, in MICHIGAN is beyond any comprehension. The only good thing is even the thieves, bangers, pimps and whores, normally so redolent on Detroit's streets are thinned out significantly during the deepest days of winter.
It's one hard-core crack whore out when it's 8 degrees. I don't mean to be mean or even glib, but you spend enough time around the city of Detroit and you become less moved by the blight, human and otherwise, even while being increasingly aware of it.
And that about sums it up. A couple guys with a passion for not only cars, but for the industry, the very zeitgeist that is created by the car culture of the Motor City couldn't even see their way to be a little brave, a little patient and a little cold, (ok, a lot cold... it was 8), to go indulge in their great annual ritual.
I managed to sum up everything I wanted to say in one, compact anecdote. See, things really are weird right now.
And I have just been... drained.
Inherently introverted, the holidays, which now seem like distant echoes of a once familiar song, drain me. On top of that fact, I have also been immersed in a large couple of large projects at work that have stolen my ability to focus on anything else. In short, same old shit I always say when I haven't blogged for awhile.
A little Debby Downer moment, if you please - Life is just not that happy and exciting to write about now. No, it's nothing serious. No, it's nothing that won't be in my rear-view before too long. But right now, its more long sighs and fatigue than it is laughter and manic energy.
Take the car show. Emily loves the car show. Dave loves the car show. Greg humors Emily, Dave and I and is a good sport when we four go to the car show. This is a typically annually ritual, though not strictly annual. Sometimes we can't all go so we don't all go. But surely I go and usually Dave. We are the stallwarts.
Greg has been so busy he forgot about it, Em couldn't work with my travel schedule. That left Dave and I. The staunchest of the car show fans in our world. We made plans to go on Tuesday afternoon, after work. Him, after a long day of doing a job he doesn't love, and me at the end of a long day facing a looming deadline the following morning.
Did I mention the high temperature was 8? Yes. 8. Degrees. Farenheit. That's not a lot of degrees.
Planning to meet at 4:30, I got a text at quarter-of-three from Dave. "How keen are you about the car show?"
I wanted to write back - "Very keen! Keen, keen the car show machine!" Instead, I wrote back what I really felt, "meh."
And because we were both exhausted. And because as Dave so eloquently put it, "I just don't feel like walking five blocks on the coldest day of the year (of course!) only to get norovirus the second I touch the door handle and have to jockey around a million people who are in my way so I can't see all the cars I want but won't ever be able to buy."
It was, without question, an excellent argument, and I was, without question not going to argue against. Besides, not having the chutzpah to argue, Dave is a lawyer... he argues for a living. See: "Lose-Lose Situation".
Historically, it's ALWAYS the coldest day of the year when we go to the car show. I can scarcely recall ever being comfortable, or even safe traveling to and from a car show. Why the industry persists in having a major show in January, in MICHIGAN is beyond any comprehension. The only good thing is even the thieves, bangers, pimps and whores, normally so redolent on Detroit's streets are thinned out significantly during the deepest days of winter.
It's one hard-core crack whore out when it's 8 degrees. I don't mean to be mean or even glib, but you spend enough time around the city of Detroit and you become less moved by the blight, human and otherwise, even while being increasingly aware of it.
And that about sums it up. A couple guys with a passion for not only cars, but for the industry, the very zeitgeist that is created by the car culture of the Motor City couldn't even see their way to be a little brave, a little patient and a little cold, (ok, a lot cold... it was 8), to go indulge in their great annual ritual.
I managed to sum up everything I wanted to say in one, compact anecdote. See, things really are weird right now.
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
On the Road (Again), Naturally
Bill Uebbing, Author, Creator, Technical Consultant, Editor, Content Manager and Community Relations Liaison to "Grandiose Ruminations Rooted in Minutiae", (GRRIM), is traveling this week and will be unable to post a blentry.
Astute readers will note the abject lack of posting as of late. The Author wishes to apologize and blames the lack of serviceable ideas for blog posts on his "day job", which lately has been a day job and night job in many different cities. Sometimes, somehow even all at one time. It's really quite amazing.
Stay tuned for next week's blentry entitled, "Still Traveling Because of the Holidays", wherein the author will discuss his inability to 'catch a break' and the affect of driving so much on his lower back and bum area. It's sure to be a people pleaser.
Until then, The author would like to recycle some road witticisms shared previously on Facebook. Sorry for the clip show. It's the best I got.
10 Immutable Laws of Staying in a Hotel:
1. You are the only one there to sleep.
2. The room is never dark enough except the floor area immediately around coffee tables and other things that jump out at your feet on the way to the bathroom at 2:00am.
3. The parking lot light/sunrise will be concentrated by the seam in the curtain to the exact spot where your eyes are in bed.
4. Your non-smoking room will smell just like cigarette smoke, although that's impossible, because it's a non-smoking room.
5. The dialogue on the TV will be inexplicably hard to hear, but you can make out every word coming from the neighbor's TV.
6. The light switch for the lamp is not at the door, but hidden on the wall around the corner of the closet, meaning you have to fumble around your bags to turn on a light...
7. Which will inevitably have been turned off by its switch and therefore will not turn on via the wall switch.
8. There will either be no bathroom fan, or there will be a bathroom fan that was apparently a leftover turbojet from a decommissioned 707 based on its overwhelming noise. Of course, same said fan will be completely ineffective in the removal of either steam or noxious emanations.
9. The shower mixer will have temperatures. "Oh my god, my skin melted" hot, or "Oh my god, my outty just became an inny" cold.
10.Finally the desk staff will be adept at telling you how welcome you are all the while making it tacitly known that this is the last they expect to see or hear from you during your stay and you are on your own until checkout at which point they will immediately ransack your former room looking for left over items to plunder.
And a bonus
11. The people upstairs will be tango instructors from a famous clog dancing group and have to get up exactly 30 minutes before you do, thusly robbing you of that last awesome bit of sleep you were really counting on because you stayed up too late watching "Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy" on HBO and stayed up even later wondering why you stayed up so late to watch "Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy" and truly wondering if you are as smart as you thought you were since you didn't understand not even one second of it.
OK, maybe that one is a little obscure in its specificity, but like I said... It's the best I can do right now.
Astute readers will note the abject lack of posting as of late. The Author wishes to apologize and blames the lack of serviceable ideas for blog posts on his "day job", which lately has been a day job and night job in many different cities. Sometimes, somehow even all at one time. It's really quite amazing.
Stay tuned for next week's blentry entitled, "Still Traveling Because of the Holidays", wherein the author will discuss his inability to 'catch a break' and the affect of driving so much on his lower back and bum area. It's sure to be a people pleaser.
Until then, The author would like to recycle some road witticisms shared previously on Facebook. Sorry for the clip show. It's the best I got.
10 Immutable Laws of Staying in a Hotel:
1. You are the only one there to sleep.
2. The room is never dark enough except the floor area immediately around coffee tables and other things that jump out at your feet on the way to the bathroom at 2:00am.
3. The parking lot light/sunrise will be concentrated by the seam in the curtain to the exact spot where your eyes are in bed.
4. Your non-smoking room will smell just like cigarette smoke, although that's impossible, because it's a non-smoking room.
5. The dialogue on the TV will be inexplicably hard to hear, but you can make out every word coming from the neighbor's TV.
6. The light switch for the lamp is not at the door, but hidden on the wall around the corner of the closet, meaning you have to fumble around your bags to turn on a light...
7. Which will inevitably have been turned off by its switch and therefore will not turn on via the wall switch.
8. There will either be no bathroom fan, or there will be a bathroom fan that was apparently a leftover turbojet from a decommissioned 707 based on its overwhelming noise. Of course, same said fan will be completely ineffective in the removal of either steam or noxious emanations.
9. The shower mixer will have temperatures. "Oh my god, my skin melted" hot, or "Oh my god, my outty just became an inny" cold.
10.Finally the desk staff will be adept at telling you how welcome you are all the while making it tacitly known that this is the last they expect to see or hear from you during your stay and you are on your own until checkout at which point they will immediately ransack your former room looking for left over items to plunder.
And a bonus
11. The people upstairs will be tango instructors from a famous clog dancing group and have to get up exactly 30 minutes before you do, thusly robbing you of that last awesome bit of sleep you were really counting on because you stayed up too late watching "Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy" on HBO and stayed up even later wondering why you stayed up so late to watch "Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy" and truly wondering if you are as smart as you thought you were since you didn't understand not even one second of it.
OK, maybe that one is a little obscure in its specificity, but like I said... It's the best I can do right now.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Come Thou Long Expected Blog Post
What a season it has been! It seems that Thanksgiving was but a moment ago and I haven't had a moment to myself. Thus the neglect of Grandiose Ruminations. I am sure most of you have survived just fine without semi-regular thoughts from the deepest recesses of the shallow pool that is my mind. And if you haven't? You need to get a life.
Where to begin? Let's start with the "did nots", as in I did not win the Powerball and I did not therefore put into motion the plan to tell people what I really think about things in general and them in specific. That's a privilege reserved for the wealthy and socially inept. I am neither... because I didn't win the Powerball. Rest assured could I afford social ineptitude, I would practice it immediately wholeheartedly and unremittingly. People who seem to know not that the world around them is moving and pulsing and living and dying seem to have much more fun.
I also did not keep track of the events of the year on a daily basis like I swear I am going to do every year when I read Dave Barry's year in review. I suppose that is just fine, since I couldn't come close to the bard's cleverness and wit. Beside all that, it's his thing. Why not find my own thing?
I did not make anymore progress on personal writing. No more chapters of my moribund novel "One Summer on Shit Creek", no progress on my motivational/humorous speaking.
I also did not read 50 books this year. I did not read 30, nor 20. I read maybe 12. And If I go back and really look I may find it's less than that. So, for the sake of my image, let's say I eked out 12. Not good at all.
I did not manage to keep off the weight I had lost the previous two years. Better luck next year.
I did not save any money toward my goal of a new garage and driveway.
I did not, could not, get out of writing the Christmas letter this year that I know everyone sniggers at me for. Please understand, this is not my doing. I am chained up on November 1st in a cage with all my favorite foods being prepared just outside my reach until I finally write the letter. Only then am I released and able to enjoy life again in the wild. I hold out as long as I can, I promise!
Now for the "I dids".
I did reach my unspoken goal of selling over $1M this year. By a fair amount I might add. Next year's goal is now $3M.
I did get a contractor to replace the doors in the house that were long since past the pooch.
I did make progress on restoring the casement windows. I got three done. I was aiming for seven. I will have to amp that process up. It will begin this winter with the desire to restore four of the storm windows. That will leave me with six to go for next winter. My goal with casements this summer will be to finish the bay at the front of the house, which has four more to go and the two second floor casements.
I did manage to see my parents twice this year... this is a goal of mine going forward. One never knows what tomorrow holds, so you better take your chances now.
I hope you all, (ok, both!) had a good year and I hope you have a great year to come!
Where to begin? Let's start with the "did nots", as in I did not win the Powerball and I did not therefore put into motion the plan to tell people what I really think about things in general and them in specific. That's a privilege reserved for the wealthy and socially inept. I am neither... because I didn't win the Powerball. Rest assured could I afford social ineptitude, I would practice it immediately wholeheartedly and unremittingly. People who seem to know not that the world around them is moving and pulsing and living and dying seem to have much more fun.
I also did not keep track of the events of the year on a daily basis like I swear I am going to do every year when I read Dave Barry's year in review. I suppose that is just fine, since I couldn't come close to the bard's cleverness and wit. Beside all that, it's his thing. Why not find my own thing?
I did not make anymore progress on personal writing. No more chapters of my moribund novel "One Summer on Shit Creek", no progress on my motivational/humorous speaking.
I also did not read 50 books this year. I did not read 30, nor 20. I read maybe 12. And If I go back and really look I may find it's less than that. So, for the sake of my image, let's say I eked out 12. Not good at all.
I did not manage to keep off the weight I had lost the previous two years. Better luck next year.
I did not save any money toward my goal of a new garage and driveway.
I did not, could not, get out of writing the Christmas letter this year that I know everyone sniggers at me for. Please understand, this is not my doing. I am chained up on November 1st in a cage with all my favorite foods being prepared just outside my reach until I finally write the letter. Only then am I released and able to enjoy life again in the wild. I hold out as long as I can, I promise!
Now for the "I dids".
I did reach my unspoken goal of selling over $1M this year. By a fair amount I might add. Next year's goal is now $3M.
I did get a contractor to replace the doors in the house that were long since past the pooch.
I did make progress on restoring the casement windows. I got three done. I was aiming for seven. I will have to amp that process up. It will begin this winter with the desire to restore four of the storm windows. That will leave me with six to go for next winter. My goal with casements this summer will be to finish the bay at the front of the house, which has four more to go and the two second floor casements.
I did manage to see my parents twice this year... this is a goal of mine going forward. One never knows what tomorrow holds, so you better take your chances now.
I hope you all, (ok, both!) had a good year and I hope you have a great year to come!
Monday, December 3, 2012
Jack
I had never seen the mood of a large group of people in one place change so suddenly and completely as I did this Sunday morning in church when it was announced that Jack Terkeurst had passed away. Only a couple months ago, the congregation celebrated Jack and his wife Corrinne's 90th birthdays, which happened to be only a week apart.
Jack was the Grandfather to our friends Brent (Katrina) and Tricia and a fixture of the church. I half expected the very foundations of the building to begin quivering until they shook apart at the announcement. An usher for untold years, there are precious few congregants that weren't directly touched by Jack and his permanent smile and friendly greeting. Before that, Jack fought against the forces of tyranny in WWII.
It will be a sadder Christmas this year for the Terkeursts, but I hope they remember Jack had a wonderful life and a great positive effect on all he touched.
Jack was the Grandfather to our friends Brent (Katrina) and Tricia and a fixture of the church. I half expected the very foundations of the building to begin quivering until they shook apart at the announcement. An usher for untold years, there are precious few congregants that weren't directly touched by Jack and his permanent smile and friendly greeting. Before that, Jack fought against the forces of tyranny in WWII.
It will be a sadder Christmas this year for the Terkeursts, but I hope they remember Jack had a wonderful life and a great positive effect on all he touched.
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Travels, Travails, Trials and Tribulations
Emily and I went out to Las Vegas to surprise my Dad for his birthday, which is actually December 2nd. We did the same for my Mom back in January and we had such a good time, that we resolved there and then to do the same thing for Dad.
And we again had a great time. Traveling by air, anymore a crap-shoot where crashing into the ground in a fireball isn't even the worst thing that could conceivably happen, was a non-event. At least where logistics and safety were concerned.There's always the passengers themselves to contend with.
The nice young lady entered the door of the plane and I knew she was going to be a problem to the flight crew. She was, after all, outfitted like a sherpa with unending attachments and bags teeming from her person. She was petite, but due to the baggage she was bouncing into each and every person in rows 1-19. We were in row 20.
Hello new seat mate.
And so, after a brief but terse conversation with the cabin attendant to consolidate some of the bags, she sat down. It was then I noticed the one large bag was actually a pet carrier. She had a cat. No problem, I have cats. I like cats. The cat wasn't making noise, didn't stink and fit nicely under the seat ahead of her. She was nice enough to ask, as we were rolling down the runway if we were ok with cats. That was nice of her.
So the cat was no problem, but my new friend was made of arms and elbows and in spite of her small size, seemed to be all over my personal bubble. This reality was happening. To me. In spite of the fact I was halfway on Emily, with my back spanning the armrest between us that spent the entire flight in its upright and locked position.
I mostly got used to that. it was when she began to start spraying a juniper smelling spray every five minutes or so into her face that got to me.
"Oh, did I spray you?" she asked. "Sorry."
How could you not? You're practically sitting in my lap! At least she apologized the first time. The subsequent 200 times we freebies apparently.
I don't like the smell of juniper. She said at the end of the flight it was for the cat, to keep him calm. I didn't buy it. The cat was fine the entire time. She said it was Lavender spray... It smelled like gin to me. Which is fine, because as much as I dislike juniper, I really hate lavender.
She was a nice young woman, I imagine about Emily's age. When she wasn't sleeping and we weren't watching our movie, we spoke pleasantly.
The movie we rented on the iPad, Dark Shadows was only so-so. I am sure with a larger screen some of the visual pizazz would have helped overcome what was ultimately a poorly executed story that was well-acted. My earbuds were cheapos that I bought in an airport and they are also extremely uncomfortable.
While out in Vegas, I looked for cheap noise cancelling headphones. I found them, at $30.00 apiece. That's pretty cheap so I didn't expect much.
We boarded the plane for our trip home and sat about 10 rows in front of a family with three young children. The wailing began immediately. As soon as the 'bong bong' indicated that we hit 10,000 feet and we could use electronic devices, Emily and I fairly dove into our bags to pull out the headsets.
What a revelation. I know these aren't "good" headphones. I know there are others on the market for even $85 apiece that are truly quality devices. But I didn't hear that baby crying the rest of the trip except when I would flip that toggle switch and turn off the noise cancelling, just to let in a little of the world.
"Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa".
Yep. Still there.
We watched "The Candidate" which it was pretty clear I enjoyed as I was getting 'the look' from my fellow passengers each time I would laugh aloud. I think they were probably just taking their anger for the wailing out on me as I sat in my pleasant cocoon of adolescent comedy.
I saved $60.00 in alcoholic beverages on this trip alone by buying these cheap headphones. I highly recommend them, no matter how inexpensive.
We touched down on the runway in a cloud socked Detroit. A little high I thought. I am one of those that can time the touchdown as I am very into flight. I really get into approach and landing. I am, in short, a nerd.
And so I counted my five... four... three... two... one.... taking away one finger until I pantomimed landing with my flattened palm.
I was dismayed that I was a second... maybe even a second-and-a-half too fast.
As I was remarking to Emily about this, the wheels, directly beneath our row began to lockup squeal. That's not a noise you want to hear. The antiskid system kicked in and we started to change direction rapidly. I could see out the starboard side that the pilot was trying to make the first high-speed turnoff. I was putting it all together now... I didn't count wrong, he landed high and fast.
It seemed to me as I was looking at the lights that he had actually stopped faster than he thought and we were now sort of transversely on the runway. Now what?
Since we were over the wing, I saw the starboard thrust reverser engage and heard the port engine spool up and we sort of backed up a little and got onto the taxi way. There were a number of planes in the pattern and I imagine not a lot of time to take evasive action. So, all things considered, they did a good job getting us off the runway.
Onto a one was taxi way. Going the wrong way.
We were now playing chicken with a DELTA MD80.
Long story short... (Too late)... We made it to the gate. I wanted to give the pilot a little good natured ribbing. But instead of standing up front at the flight deck door, graciously accepting plaudits for a job well done, the pilots apparently decided to get out of Dodge.
Long enough post for now. There's so much more I have to say about people in airports and on planes and whatever. It's all very funny. So, just suffice it to say you would enjoy it much and attribute those good feelings to me. Thanks.
And we again had a great time. Traveling by air, anymore a crap-shoot where crashing into the ground in a fireball isn't even the worst thing that could conceivably happen, was a non-event. At least where logistics and safety were concerned.There's always the passengers themselves to contend with.
The nice young lady entered the door of the plane and I knew she was going to be a problem to the flight crew. She was, after all, outfitted like a sherpa with unending attachments and bags teeming from her person. She was petite, but due to the baggage she was bouncing into each and every person in rows 1-19. We were in row 20.
Hello new seat mate.
And so, after a brief but terse conversation with the cabin attendant to consolidate some of the bags, she sat down. It was then I noticed the one large bag was actually a pet carrier. She had a cat. No problem, I have cats. I like cats. The cat wasn't making noise, didn't stink and fit nicely under the seat ahead of her. She was nice enough to ask, as we were rolling down the runway if we were ok with cats. That was nice of her.
So the cat was no problem, but my new friend was made of arms and elbows and in spite of her small size, seemed to be all over my personal bubble. This reality was happening. To me. In spite of the fact I was halfway on Emily, with my back spanning the armrest between us that spent the entire flight in its upright and locked position.
I mostly got used to that. it was when she began to start spraying a juniper smelling spray every five minutes or so into her face that got to me.
"Oh, did I spray you?" she asked. "Sorry."
How could you not? You're practically sitting in my lap! At least she apologized the first time. The subsequent 200 times we freebies apparently.
I don't like the smell of juniper. She said at the end of the flight it was for the cat, to keep him calm. I didn't buy it. The cat was fine the entire time. She said it was Lavender spray... It smelled like gin to me. Which is fine, because as much as I dislike juniper, I really hate lavender.
She was a nice young woman, I imagine about Emily's age. When she wasn't sleeping and we weren't watching our movie, we spoke pleasantly.
The movie we rented on the iPad, Dark Shadows was only so-so. I am sure with a larger screen some of the visual pizazz would have helped overcome what was ultimately a poorly executed story that was well-acted. My earbuds were cheapos that I bought in an airport and they are also extremely uncomfortable.
While out in Vegas, I looked for cheap noise cancelling headphones. I found them, at $30.00 apiece. That's pretty cheap so I didn't expect much.
We boarded the plane for our trip home and sat about 10 rows in front of a family with three young children. The wailing began immediately. As soon as the 'bong bong' indicated that we hit 10,000 feet and we could use electronic devices, Emily and I fairly dove into our bags to pull out the headsets.
What a revelation. I know these aren't "good" headphones. I know there are others on the market for even $85 apiece that are truly quality devices. But I didn't hear that baby crying the rest of the trip except when I would flip that toggle switch and turn off the noise cancelling, just to let in a little of the world.
"Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa".
Yep. Still there.
We watched "The Candidate" which it was pretty clear I enjoyed as I was getting 'the look' from my fellow passengers each time I would laugh aloud. I think they were probably just taking their anger for the wailing out on me as I sat in my pleasant cocoon of adolescent comedy.
I saved $60.00 in alcoholic beverages on this trip alone by buying these cheap headphones. I highly recommend them, no matter how inexpensive.
We touched down on the runway in a cloud socked Detroit. A little high I thought. I am one of those that can time the touchdown as I am very into flight. I really get into approach and landing. I am, in short, a nerd.
And so I counted my five... four... three... two... one.... taking away one finger until I pantomimed landing with my flattened palm.
I was dismayed that I was a second... maybe even a second-and-a-half too fast.
As I was remarking to Emily about this, the wheels, directly beneath our row began to lockup squeal. That's not a noise you want to hear. The antiskid system kicked in and we started to change direction rapidly. I could see out the starboard side that the pilot was trying to make the first high-speed turnoff. I was putting it all together now... I didn't count wrong, he landed high and fast.
It seemed to me as I was looking at the lights that he had actually stopped faster than he thought and we were now sort of transversely on the runway. Now what?
Since we were over the wing, I saw the starboard thrust reverser engage and heard the port engine spool up and we sort of backed up a little and got onto the taxi way. There were a number of planes in the pattern and I imagine not a lot of time to take evasive action. So, all things considered, they did a good job getting us off the runway.
Onto a one was taxi way. Going the wrong way.
We were now playing chicken with a DELTA MD80.
Long story short... (Too late)... We made it to the gate. I wanted to give the pilot a little good natured ribbing. But instead of standing up front at the flight deck door, graciously accepting plaudits for a job well done, the pilots apparently decided to get out of Dodge.
Long enough post for now. There's so much more I have to say about people in airports and on planes and whatever. It's all very funny. So, just suffice it to say you would enjoy it much and attribute those good feelings to me. Thanks.
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Bad Joke Tuesday
The local soft rock station used to have a tradition known as "Bad Joke Tuesday", which I called frequently. I was well under age and so would disguise my voice in the way that only kids think makes them sound like adults. I always used my Dad's name.
I won a dozen donuts with one joke, which was the booby prize. Not being satisfied, I called right back, now with an accent, since I already blew my best, "Luke, I am my father" voice. Talk about commitment. And it was a long joke.
I shall not attempt to reproduce the joke here, because it is long and the punchline requires singing. They loved the joke and I won the first prize, tickets to see Yakov Smirnov. Imagine that being a prize of any size, let alone the grand prize. Hey, Grand Rapids was just a quiet berg back in the day, Yakov was a headliner.
I know I've written about this before from a different perspective, but Jerry Seinfeld was his opener and was brilliant.
I digress. The important part of this version of the story is that after telling this joke in what could kindly be considered and "inconsistent" accent, they asked my name.
I hadn't thought that far ahead.
"Yvonne," I said... "From Ecquador."
So while I am sure they didn't buy it they were cool enough to fake it. They put me on the radio, which I never heard because I had to catch a bus and I sent my Mom to get the tickets for me. I took a priest friend of mine and he treated me to dinner before the show.
So, I told two bad jokes for the privilege of hearing Yakov tell 45 minutes of them. Seems fair.
What does this have to do with anything? My sister just called me. A friend of hers from New York texted her at three this morning.
The text read, "What kind of drink is a Sandy?"
My sister, having spent a fair bit of time on both sides of the bar, wrote back, "You mean a shandy? That's a beer with lemon lime soda in it".
"No", came the reply, "A Sandy... It's a watered down Manhattan."
So, being it is an Election Day and a Tuesday, I thought I would resurrect Bad Joke Tuesday, if only for today. without further Ado some bad jokes. Some of my own, some classics. If you care to guess which are which, please feel free, but I won't tell you off hand which are which.
__________________________________________________________
Each day at 5, a doctor leaves his office and heads to a bar below his office and each day the bartender has a daiquiri with a cinnamon stick in it ready for the dock. Only today, the bartender realizes he is out of cinnamon sticks. So, thinking quickly, he grabs a piece of wood from beside the wood pizza oven, and puts it into the drink.
The doctor takes a sip and immediately asks, "What is this?"
And the bartender replies, "Why, it's your hickory daiquiri, Doc!"
_________________________________________________________
I heard the new church is state of the art. People are raving about the apse store!
_________________________________________________________
A priest and a rabbi are on a plane. They lapse into the inevitable spiritual debate. As it gets more heated, the plane has mechanical problems and crashes into the side of a mountain.
Of course, only the priest and rabbi live. the priest opens his eyes to see the rabbi giving himself the sign of the cross.
"Oh, Lord!," the priest proclaims, "In this moment of tragedy, I take notice of your glorious conversion of this man!"
"Conversion? Wvhat conversion? I was checking to make sure everything was in place... Spectacles, Testicles, Wallet, Watch!"
________________________________________________________
A priest and a rabbi who were friends we eating at a deli. They were jovially poking fun at each other when the conversation turned to eating Kosher.
The priest said, "I bet you've never had a ham sandwich. You don't know what you're missing!"
to which the rabbi replied, "But is is better than sex?"
________________________________________________________
What do you call a man with no arms and no legs in your pool? Bob.
What do you call a man with no arms and no legs at your front door? Matt.
What do you call a man with no arms and no legs in your pile of leaves? Russell.
What do you call a girl with on leg longer than the other? Eileen.
________________________________________________________
Why does the new Italian Navy have glass bottomed boats?
So they can see the old Italian Navy.
_______________________________________________________
A man is driving and suddenly sees flashing police lights behind him. Without hesitation, he speeds up and begins to drive as fast as he could.
After a chase, the cop finally gets him to pull over. the cop asks the man why he ran?
The man replied, "Last week my wife ran off with a cop. I was afraid you were trying to bring her back!"
_____________________________________________________
A man is pulled over by a cop.
"Sir, do you know how fast you were going?"
"No," says the man.
"That's not true, Harold," blurts his wife, "I told you you were speeding five minutes ago!"
"Shut up, Mildred before I slap you!" said the man.
"Jeez, lady, your husband always talk to you like that," asked the cop?
"Nah," she said, "Only when he's drunk!"
____________________________________________________
Finally, one of my all time favorites:
Timmy, Tommy and Achmed are at recess. Timmy and Tommy won't let Achmed play with them in the sandbox. The bell rings and they all go back to the classroom.
Just like every day, the kids line up before the teacher and one by one tell her what they did for recess.
"What did you do, Timmy?"
"I played in the sandbox with Tommy!"
"Very good, spell 'sandbox' and you can have a cookie!"
"Tommy, what did you do?"
"I played in the sandbox with Timmy!"
"Great! Spell 'played' and you can have a cookie!"
Achmed's turn now and he looks sad. He explains he tried to play in the sandbox with Timmy and Tommy, but they just kept kicking sand in his face and calling him names.
"Oh, Achmed, I'm sorry. That wasn't very nice of them. But if you can spell 'institutionalized racism', you can have a cookie!"
I won a dozen donuts with one joke, which was the booby prize. Not being satisfied, I called right back, now with an accent, since I already blew my best, "Luke, I am my father" voice. Talk about commitment. And it was a long joke.
I shall not attempt to reproduce the joke here, because it is long and the punchline requires singing. They loved the joke and I won the first prize, tickets to see Yakov Smirnov. Imagine that being a prize of any size, let alone the grand prize. Hey, Grand Rapids was just a quiet berg back in the day, Yakov was a headliner.
I know I've written about this before from a different perspective, but Jerry Seinfeld was his opener and was brilliant.
I digress. The important part of this version of the story is that after telling this joke in what could kindly be considered and "inconsistent" accent, they asked my name.
I hadn't thought that far ahead.
"Yvonne," I said... "From Ecquador."
So while I am sure they didn't buy it they were cool enough to fake it. They put me on the radio, which I never heard because I had to catch a bus and I sent my Mom to get the tickets for me. I took a priest friend of mine and he treated me to dinner before the show.
So, I told two bad jokes for the privilege of hearing Yakov tell 45 minutes of them. Seems fair.
What does this have to do with anything? My sister just called me. A friend of hers from New York texted her at three this morning.
The text read, "What kind of drink is a Sandy?"
My sister, having spent a fair bit of time on both sides of the bar, wrote back, "You mean a shandy? That's a beer with lemon lime soda in it".
"No", came the reply, "A Sandy... It's a watered down Manhattan."
So, being it is an Election Day and a Tuesday, I thought I would resurrect Bad Joke Tuesday, if only for today. without further Ado some bad jokes. Some of my own, some classics. If you care to guess which are which, please feel free, but I won't tell you off hand which are which.
__________________________________________________________
Each day at 5, a doctor leaves his office and heads to a bar below his office and each day the bartender has a daiquiri with a cinnamon stick in it ready for the dock. Only today, the bartender realizes he is out of cinnamon sticks. So, thinking quickly, he grabs a piece of wood from beside the wood pizza oven, and puts it into the drink.
The doctor takes a sip and immediately asks, "What is this?"
And the bartender replies, "Why, it's your hickory daiquiri, Doc!"
_________________________________________________________
I heard the new church is state of the art. People are raving about the apse store!
_________________________________________________________
A priest and a rabbi are on a plane. They lapse into the inevitable spiritual debate. As it gets more heated, the plane has mechanical problems and crashes into the side of a mountain.
Of course, only the priest and rabbi live. the priest opens his eyes to see the rabbi giving himself the sign of the cross.
"Oh, Lord!," the priest proclaims, "In this moment of tragedy, I take notice of your glorious conversion of this man!"
"Conversion? Wvhat conversion? I was checking to make sure everything was in place... Spectacles, Testicles, Wallet, Watch!"
________________________________________________________
A priest and a rabbi who were friends we eating at a deli. They were jovially poking fun at each other when the conversation turned to eating Kosher.
The priest said, "I bet you've never had a ham sandwich. You don't know what you're missing!"
to which the rabbi replied, "But is is better than sex?"
________________________________________________________
What do you call a man with no arms and no legs in your pool? Bob.
What do you call a man with no arms and no legs at your front door? Matt.
What do you call a man with no arms and no legs in your pile of leaves? Russell.
What do you call a girl with on leg longer than the other? Eileen.
________________________________________________________
Why does the new Italian Navy have glass bottomed boats?
So they can see the old Italian Navy.
_______________________________________________________
A man is driving and suddenly sees flashing police lights behind him. Without hesitation, he speeds up and begins to drive as fast as he could.
After a chase, the cop finally gets him to pull over. the cop asks the man why he ran?
The man replied, "Last week my wife ran off with a cop. I was afraid you were trying to bring her back!"
_____________________________________________________
A man is pulled over by a cop.
"Sir, do you know how fast you were going?"
"No," says the man.
"That's not true, Harold," blurts his wife, "I told you you were speeding five minutes ago!"
"Shut up, Mildred before I slap you!" said the man.
"Jeez, lady, your husband always talk to you like that," asked the cop?
"Nah," she said, "Only when he's drunk!"
____________________________________________________
Finally, one of my all time favorites:
Timmy, Tommy and Achmed are at recess. Timmy and Tommy won't let Achmed play with them in the sandbox. The bell rings and they all go back to the classroom.
Just like every day, the kids line up before the teacher and one by one tell her what they did for recess.
"What did you do, Timmy?"
"I played in the sandbox with Tommy!"
"Very good, spell 'sandbox' and you can have a cookie!"
"Tommy, what did you do?"
"I played in the sandbox with Timmy!"
"Great! Spell 'played' and you can have a cookie!"
Achmed's turn now and he looks sad. He explains he tried to play in the sandbox with Timmy and Tommy, but they just kept kicking sand in his face and calling him names.
"Oh, Achmed, I'm sorry. That wasn't very nice of them. But if you can spell 'institutionalized racism', you can have a cookie!"
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