Is there anything better than sitting in Burger King sipping their Tuesday Senior Coffee, discounted by 30 cents, and reading Lee Child's latest thriller? I could have been at the gym, running with my club, or attending a Meet Up for writers. That would mean work. Punishing my body, coming up with insights, smiling a lot.
Here I can just be myself on a December evening. The guy sitting in front of me is blasting his radio tuned to a talk show. I don't even have to look up and acknowledge anyone. After 90 minutes I shut my book, return the extra milk containers to BK, and head out into the night.
Am I becoming a loner tired of people? Recently I quit three groups I was involved in and a fourth is ending because the facilitator is changing jobs. Today I could have gone to the library and watched White Christmas, but decided to hit the gym. Afterwards I went to Goodwill to browse. Found nothing that appealed to me. Reminded myself that I had only a dozen more days to donate tax deductible housewares, and I have to say, my knick knacks are far more appealing than what they have.
Six more days to another discount coffee. Nothing better than retirement.
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Sunday, December 16, 2012
What Bit Me?
First they yank out all my leaves, then dig into my heart. My artichoke identity is compromised.
He rips off my cover and cracks me in half... granola bar
How can I still refer to myself as a Yankee bean if they try to drown me in soup?
My best friend Ralph was swimming next to me in our bowl when this beast grabs him and swallows him whole. Goldfish have rights too.
I wake up lying on my side, feathers gone, somebody taking a bit of my leg. Where did my head go? I wish we chickens could run faster.
I'm basking in the sunlight, buried in cool earth and then I'm pulled violently and teeth puncture me. Sure I'm going to squirt juice. This is what tomatoes do.
Since when do humans give us hickeys? Yams don't even have necks.
Stop complaining. My owner licks instead of bites. You do not lick potatoes.
He rips off my cover and cracks me in half... granola bar
How can I still refer to myself as a Yankee bean if they try to drown me in soup?
My best friend Ralph was swimming next to me in our bowl when this beast grabs him and swallows him whole. Goldfish have rights too.
I wake up lying on my side, feathers gone, somebody taking a bit of my leg. Where did my head go? I wish we chickens could run faster.
I'm basking in the sunlight, buried in cool earth and then I'm pulled violently and teeth puncture me. Sure I'm going to squirt juice. This is what tomatoes do.
Since when do humans give us hickeys? Yams don't even have necks.
Stop complaining. My owner licks instead of bites. You do not lick potatoes.
Let's Not Talk About It
My social circle is incredibly polite. When we meet for our discussions, manners are our priority. This past Saturday I had just put out the coffee and snacks and we were juiced to begin our session. Suddenly one of the members, Jim, keeled over, face down on my new red tablecloth. We were stunned.
Being the host I felt I should say something. I asked Carl to see if he was breathing. Carl declined, citing fears he would be sued if he moved the head and snapped something. Joyce remarked how she never realized Jim had pattern baldness. Lucy became anxious because Jim was her lift. Keith got up, walked over and removed Jim's keys from his jacket. He gave them to Lucy and pronounced the problem solved.
Bob was upset because Jim's collapse took attention from his topic--Why We Need More Amusement Parks. Bill arrived late, looked at Jim, shrugged and revealed he had never liked the guy. Too many plaid shirts. Carl poured himself a cup and proposed we begin and if Jim woke up we'd inform him where the discussion was.
Well, eventually he regained consciousness, but by then everyone was gone.
He staggered outside and barked, where's my car? I doubted Lucy would return for him. How rude to lose consciousness at such a moment.
Being the host I felt I should say something. I asked Carl to see if he was breathing. Carl declined, citing fears he would be sued if he moved the head and snapped something. Joyce remarked how she never realized Jim had pattern baldness. Lucy became anxious because Jim was her lift. Keith got up, walked over and removed Jim's keys from his jacket. He gave them to Lucy and pronounced the problem solved.
Bob was upset because Jim's collapse took attention from his topic--Why We Need More Amusement Parks. Bill arrived late, looked at Jim, shrugged and revealed he had never liked the guy. Too many plaid shirts. Carl poured himself a cup and proposed we begin and if Jim woke up we'd inform him where the discussion was.
Well, eventually he regained consciousness, but by then everyone was gone.
He staggered outside and barked, where's my car? I doubted Lucy would return for him. How rude to lose consciousness at such a moment.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Crushed It
Suddenly 'crushed it' has become the new hip term. When did this happen and why weren't seniors informed? I was finally used to going green and now I have to incorporate this new tag in my daily discourse.
I can't imagine Ian McKlellen auditioning for King Lear and telling friends he crushed it. It's all I hear now.
I shopped for blueberries and crushed it.
I wore my new suede jacket and crushed it.
I baked an apple pie and crushed it.
I jogged around the block and crushed it.
I read the entire Sunday Times and crushed it.
I argued with a meter maid and crushed it.
I went to Confession and crushed it. Jesus really does love me.
I cut my toenails and crushed it.
I rotated my own tires and crushed it.
I listened to Keith Urban and crushed it.
I did the Rosary and crushed it.
I had a bowel movement today and absolutely crushed it. Ask anyone.
I can't imagine Ian McKlellen auditioning for King Lear and telling friends he crushed it. It's all I hear now.
I shopped for blueberries and crushed it.
I wore my new suede jacket and crushed it.
I baked an apple pie and crushed it.
I jogged around the block and crushed it.
I read the entire Sunday Times and crushed it.
I argued with a meter maid and crushed it.
I went to Confession and crushed it. Jesus really does love me.
I cut my toenails and crushed it.
I rotated my own tires and crushed it.
I listened to Keith Urban and crushed it.
I did the Rosary and crushed it.
I had a bowel movement today and absolutely crushed it. Ask anyone.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Stop Pacing
People on cell phones, stop pacing in front of me. Stop making stupid circles, stop suddenly changing direction, cutting me off, stop pacing in front of businesses I wish to enter.
Stand in one spot, have your little meaningless conversation, and leave the area.
People in waiting rooms, stop pacing. I don't care how serious the situation is, whether your grandfather's ear came off or a gall bladder ruptured. You're only going to make everyone else more nervous than they are. Sit down and read a copy of Vogue with Rhianna on the cover. She looks like a cell phone pacer. So does Taylor Swift. I bet Leonard Cohen never did the pacing dance.
If you absolutely need to pace, do it with consistent rhythm. Don't get all herky jerky and change speeds. Establish a pattern and stick to it. But don't be surprised if, after awhile, I begin following you, step for step. I'm pretty coordinated in confined spaces.
And do not dare get up and pace in an audition. I will never hire you, assuming I'm ever in that position. And don't fake a gall bladder attack to gain my sympathy.
Stand in one spot, have your little meaningless conversation, and leave the area.
People in waiting rooms, stop pacing. I don't care how serious the situation is, whether your grandfather's ear came off or a gall bladder ruptured. You're only going to make everyone else more nervous than they are. Sit down and read a copy of Vogue with Rhianna on the cover. She looks like a cell phone pacer. So does Taylor Swift. I bet Leonard Cohen never did the pacing dance.
If you absolutely need to pace, do it with consistent rhythm. Don't get all herky jerky and change speeds. Establish a pattern and stick to it. But don't be surprised if, after awhile, I begin following you, step for step. I'm pretty coordinated in confined spaces.
And do not dare get up and pace in an audition. I will never hire you, assuming I'm ever in that position. And don't fake a gall bladder attack to gain my sympathy.
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Pills and Juicers
Someone is switching my pills around, putting the wrong pills in the wrong bottles. I could die or be paralyzed.
I think it's Natalie, sneaking around in my kitchen. She lives next door and loaned me her juicer. I wanted to experiment with healthy foods. I ended up with green glob that tastes worse than it smells. I tried pouring it down the drain, but almost puked as it backed up my sink. Then I remembered I owed Lois $10, so I offered her the goop instead, and to my shock she accepted.
Except every time I drive her somewhere she insists on sipping this sewer water and licking her lips. I almost drive off the road, feeling my breakfast come up.
Feverish cleaning has still left the juicer smelling rancid. Thus, my neighbor's vengeance expressed by switching my pills. Meanwhile, Lois is pestering me to reveal the ingredients so she can mix her own batch.I think all that crystal meth she took in college destroyed her taste buds.
I think it's Natalie, sneaking around in my kitchen. She lives next door and loaned me her juicer. I wanted to experiment with healthy foods. I ended up with green glob that tastes worse than it smells. I tried pouring it down the drain, but almost puked as it backed up my sink. Then I remembered I owed Lois $10, so I offered her the goop instead, and to my shock she accepted.
Except every time I drive her somewhere she insists on sipping this sewer water and licking her lips. I almost drive off the road, feeling my breakfast come up.
Feverish cleaning has still left the juicer smelling rancid. Thus, my neighbor's vengeance expressed by switching my pills. Meanwhile, Lois is pestering me to reveal the ingredients so she can mix her own batch.I think all that crystal meth she took in college destroyed her taste buds.
Your Hut is on Fire
This is the sixth hut to go up in flames. The Shah has declared this area to be set aside by eminent domain in preparation for construction of a state of the art camel trail. Coincidence? I think not. But what can I do? I am but a poor insurance adjustor. The Duchy of Kabarkistan does not respect my work. But the village where the huts block the trail is refusing to move. They were given the choice of relocating to South Kabarkistan, but the feeling is there is poor drainage there and floods are a threat. Also, they can't get cable.
Demonstrations have brought repercussions in the form of forced feeding of David Hasselhoff's CDs. The UN Rights Commmission is investigating.
My company is forced to make pay outs after what is obviously arson and the whole deal smells like oyster socks. Frankly, we should have replaced camels with cars long ago, but the Shah insists only the royal family may own a vehicle. It is doubly humiliating when the vehicle chosen is a 1988 Volvo hatchback.
What is really tragic are the two story huts without smoke alarms. I'll leave you to imagine the rest.
Demonstrations have brought repercussions in the form of forced feeding of David Hasselhoff's CDs. The UN Rights Commmission is investigating.
My company is forced to make pay outs after what is obviously arson and the whole deal smells like oyster socks. Frankly, we should have replaced camels with cars long ago, but the Shah insists only the royal family may own a vehicle. It is doubly humiliating when the vehicle chosen is a 1988 Volvo hatchback.
What is really tragic are the two story huts without smoke alarms. I'll leave you to imagine the rest.
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