I had intended to skip buying Girl Scout cookies this year but I opted to HOP instead. The Troop mothers frown on the practice but it helps me work off calories. No actually my intention was REALLY to avoid buying ANY Girl Scout cookies this year. I’m not mad at the Girl Scout Organization or those little hunks of butter ( uh … I mean the COOKIES not the SCOUTS) . My baked good affection has long been established as dangerous, so I just was trying to avoid testing my cookie willpower that’s all.
But as fate would have it, the year I choose to make a principled stand, the underground cookie cartel thwarts me at every turn. In the old days it would be impossible to avoid those insidious cookie pushers because all of my daughter’s friends, and the kids of co-workers would be dealing cookies from street corners. An obligatory box from these people, another from a workmate, two from the kid next door – you know the drill. Eventually caloric crenellations were formed around the house from boxes upon boxes of Girl Scout’s finest.
Since most of the neighborhood cookie kids grew up to be productive adults, I thought finally this year I would have a chance to shun the little crumbs and their cookies. But ‘NO’, I try to get into a Home Improvement store and there is a NEW batch of girls hawking cookies and wanting my dough. The next day, when I went into the grocery store, the exits were clear; but by the time I left and was on my way out – “BAM”, another barrage of cookie girls. This is unbelievable especially since I had bought one of those packs of ‘duplex sandwich ‘ cookies at the grocery at twice the quantity and HALF the price of the Scout’s stuff.
To top it all off, my Aunt stopped by in her impossibly happy glory. She had not one but TWO boxes of Thin Mint cookies. She and my Uncle are on a NEW diet so APPARENTLY the first person they thought of to kill-off with 10,000 calories was me! Thanks Aunty for dumping your highly addictive minty discs packed in two convenient glassine packs. My former overweight brother-in-law referred to those as “magazines”. He could unload a couple of those bad boy magazines with a quart of milk as fast as I could un-box them.
So once again my house is surrounded by stacks of habit-forming cookies. I froze some of the ones my Aunt brought. My wife oddly, keeps a tray of the Samoas by her computer and protects them like a Lioness with a little coconut cub. I used to prefer the Trefoils but then they eliminated the sugary top so now I literally get LESS for my money. I’m truly in an addicted conundrum. I am hoping there is some kind of 12 step program to help me - ‘cause it’ll take at LEAST that many to grab a box of Tagalongs and a tall cold glass of milk!
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Burgers Three not for ME!
I have lived a reasonably honorable life. Unlike the ACLU, I don’t run around demanding respect for every little thing that marginally rubs me the wrong way. But lately, just because I don’t have the physique of say 2 or 3 runway supermodels all squished together, these burger joints are starting to bug me.
After a really long work day, my wife and I agreed that I would stop and pick up some food which we could eat at home. So as nice as you please, I popped into our local McDonalds and ordered 2 Big N’ Tasty burgers, 1 regular hamburger, and an order of chicken strips. The girl behind the counter was efficient and got the order in quickly. I always order something non-standard like ‘without mayonnaise’ for my fast food so as to ensure it is freshly made.
While we waited for the hot cow to grill, the kid made herself busy managing her cash drawer. Then suddenly the clerk looks up at me as if she had forgotten something and asks “ For here or to go?” I kind of look sheepish and begin to shift my weight nervously between both feet. I am at a loss for words to the simple query since I am conspicuously alone in the vacant restaurant. I look around trying to give the girl a hint, or any kind of a clue that I’m obviously a ‘To Go’ order!
My elephant sized ego was bruised, or maybe that was my girth? Have I grown so beyond the limits of social norms that now, society EXPECTS that I must be eating vast quantities of food; and worse IN FRONT OF PEOPLE? I mean my order was not only for ‘dinner for two’ but also an extra burger for my wife’s lunch the day as a surprise bonus. Even if I was a walking Whale and going to try and stuff 3 meals worth of food into my blowhole, I would have the decency to do it locked away, behind closed doors, in the safe harbor of my own home.
So as I exited the place with two bags – one in each hand, I thought … “ Hmmm – yeah it MIGHT be possible, but is it RIGHT?”, then I came to my senses. Even if I do have the physique of SEVERAL combined supermodels , stuffing 3 burgers down would make me diet like supermodels too; praying to the great god of porcelain – “Hurley McBuick”!
After a really long work day, my wife and I agreed that I would stop and pick up some food which we could eat at home. So as nice as you please, I popped into our local McDonalds and ordered 2 Big N’ Tasty burgers, 1 regular hamburger, and an order of chicken strips. The girl behind the counter was efficient and got the order in quickly. I always order something non-standard like ‘without mayonnaise’ for my fast food so as to ensure it is freshly made.
While we waited for the hot cow to grill, the kid made herself busy managing her cash drawer. Then suddenly the clerk looks up at me as if she had forgotten something and asks “ For here or to go?” I kind of look sheepish and begin to shift my weight nervously between both feet. I am at a loss for words to the simple query since I am conspicuously alone in the vacant restaurant. I look around trying to give the girl a hint, or any kind of a clue that I’m obviously a ‘To Go’ order!
My elephant sized ego was bruised, or maybe that was my girth? Have I grown so beyond the limits of social norms that now, society EXPECTS that I must be eating vast quantities of food; and worse IN FRONT OF PEOPLE? I mean my order was not only for ‘dinner for two’ but also an extra burger for my wife’s lunch the day as a surprise bonus. Even if I was a walking Whale and going to try and stuff 3 meals worth of food into my blowhole, I would have the decency to do it locked away, behind closed doors, in the safe harbor of my own home.
So as I exited the place with two bags – one in each hand, I thought … “ Hmmm – yeah it MIGHT be possible, but is it RIGHT?”, then I came to my senses. Even if I do have the physique of SEVERAL combined supermodels , stuffing 3 burgers down would make me diet like supermodels too; praying to the great god of porcelain – “Hurley McBuick”!
Friday, March 19, 2010
Oh So Negative
Our family belongs to a number of groups and associations who routinely do some kind of charity outreach activities. In addition to those groups, I have succumbed to peer pressure (Ha!) from my daughter so I give blood once in awhile so she will love me more. My kid is a certifiable vampire and LOVES to give blood and gives it as often as she can. She somehow becomes more energized when they start to drain her? People like her that hang around blood banks make me a tad nervous, so I always eat a bunch of garlic before these trips.
For me, I help out where I can. If I have time and the blood wagon is in the area, I will stop by and let them tap me like a keg. I am not afraid of giving blood, but sometimes the time required turns me off. Even if there is no line in front of you, it takes at least an hour to check blood iron, answer the obligatory lifestyle questions, and then that magic time on the gurney.
Given my personality, especially if I give blood at a High School or University location, I try to be fairly up-beat if it looks like a couple of the younger folk are first-timers and tense. I usually make a big deal out of what kind of ‘hand squeezy’ ball they try to give me. I prefer the foam ones in the shape of either the human brain or the world. Yes, I am sure there is a Freudian implication of some sort there – but at least it wasn’t a HEART!?
You can guess by the blog title that my blood is Type O Negative. With that type, In the world of blood, I am a ROCK STAR! Donors with O Negative blood represent only about 6% of the blood supply in the U.S. In an emergency, when there is no time to match blood, an O negative donor can donate to anyone. So that makes me fairly popular every 56 days by anybody with a rubber bag, a needle, and oh yeah - the obligatory end-game cookie!
If you have never given blood, I would encourage you to try it at least once. If altruism won’t convince you then maybe the little donor card they give you will. Somewhere in the Vampire accounting office, they keep statistics on how much blood you have donated. If at a later time in life, you need a blood transfusion, the blood bank will give you the same amount back free if you need it. It has been awhile since I checked but a unit of Red blood cells in many hospitals can be a whopping $200 or more. If a gallon of milk was priced in the same range it would set you back around $1600. (Ouch and Yuuch – all at the same time?) If you're still bloody interested, check out this link for some ‘Salient’ facts!
Ok, I know my 56 days must be up again, because this week alone I have received 3 phone calls from my various bloodsucker paparazzi. Once they bandage up my arm, I hope I will have the strength to carry on blogging. Oh don’t you fret … I’ll load up on garlic shrimp before I get tapped – I’ll be STRONG enough to make your browser cry - Whew!!
For me, I help out where I can. If I have time and the blood wagon is in the area, I will stop by and let them tap me like a keg. I am not afraid of giving blood, but sometimes the time required turns me off. Even if there is no line in front of you, it takes at least an hour to check blood iron, answer the obligatory lifestyle questions, and then that magic time on the gurney.
Given my personality, especially if I give blood at a High School or University location, I try to be fairly up-beat if it looks like a couple of the younger folk are first-timers and tense. I usually make a big deal out of what kind of ‘hand squeezy’ ball they try to give me. I prefer the foam ones in the shape of either the human brain or the world. Yes, I am sure there is a Freudian implication of some sort there – but at least it wasn’t a HEART!?
You can guess by the blog title that my blood is Type O Negative. With that type, In the world of blood, I am a ROCK STAR! Donors with O Negative blood represent only about 6% of the blood supply in the U.S. In an emergency, when there is no time to match blood, an O negative donor can donate to anyone. So that makes me fairly popular every 56 days by anybody with a rubber bag, a needle, and oh yeah - the obligatory end-game cookie!
If you have never given blood, I would encourage you to try it at least once. If altruism won’t convince you then maybe the little donor card they give you will. Somewhere in the Vampire accounting office, they keep statistics on how much blood you have donated. If at a later time in life, you need a blood transfusion, the blood bank will give you the same amount back free if you need it. It has been awhile since I checked but a unit of Red blood cells in many hospitals can be a whopping $200 or more. If a gallon of milk was priced in the same range it would set you back around $1600. (Ouch and Yuuch – all at the same time?) If you're still bloody interested, check out this link for some ‘Salient’ facts!
Ok, I know my 56 days must be up again, because this week alone I have received 3 phone calls from my various bloodsucker paparazzi. Once they bandage up my arm, I hope I will have the strength to carry on blogging. Oh don’t you fret … I’ll load up on garlic shrimp before I get tapped – I’ll be STRONG enough to make your browser cry - Whew!!
Census Redux
It’s Here – It’s Here! I cannot believe it but finally the ACTUAL census form has arrived. I know I am impatient but it feels like it has taken 10 years to get here. Better still, it is not some ordinary ‘utility bill sized’ thing but a big, grown-up, 6 inch by 9 inch envelope with a plastic window in it.
Usually the mail’s importance in our home is ranked by exterior size. Little postcards are on the low rung and of little importance, followed by small envelopes and the normal size envelope majority that you see every day. The queen of envelopes is our census-sized letters, followed by the KING - the catalog sized flat which demand a high level of respect regardless of contents.
Oh sorry I got off topic – must be too much excitement? It’s just so overwhelming to get a REAL letter from the government rather than a letter telling me ANOTHER letter is coming. Anyway, the Census ... well it looks like it won the fight despite being black and blue all over. It actually folds out rather nicely like a menu. I kind of wish there were brightly colored pictures after each item like at Denny’s. Then I would not have to fill out anything, I could just point to my answers to the census questions.
Speaking of questions, there really are not that many. We were a little surprised that after all this work, there wasn’t a single query about income? I guess the government knows that after they get through with each of us, everyone will be in the same financial bracket as them – BROKE.
Right off the bat I was a little confused because the paper delineates who in my family NOT to count. I guess they assume my kid in college and the rest of my family in prison will take the time to fill out this form on their own? Fat chance – college kids won’t even take the time to VOTE and Prisoners are not known for executing their civic responsibilities with pride?
Next I could not remember my age and sadly my wife could not either. So we had to count backwards using BOTH hands. It was really hard because I am all thumbs at such things? There is a bunch of confusing stuff on race so I just skipped all of it and wrote-in “all of the above” because I am well bred. Question #10 then proceeds to ask if I live somewhere else sometimes like college or in a prison? WHAT? – I thought they specifically said I should not count those people back in question #1? It’s obvious, I am just not a good test taker.
The balance of the census is much the same except after 6 people living in my home, they quit asking about all the race stuff for the rest of my commune. I figure by ‘Person 7’ they’ll decide I’m lying anyway and will just throw out the whole form? So what if I mistakenly add a few people – what are they going to do sue me? Oh yeah I forgot, they also sent a form which says, my answers are SO CONFIDENTIAL, that law enforcement, tax collectors or lawyers cannot use them even under a “Freedom of Information Act” request for the next 72 years?
So if nobody can use any of the information by law – what’s this stuff for again? Oh that’s right - so we can ensure the People of the United States have a REPRESENTATIVE Congress! That will be a welcome change, considering the way our current Congress ignores our wishes and rams through budget-busting bills. You’d think, census or not, the way our government behaves now - We the people really JUST DON’T COUNT!
Usually the mail’s importance in our home is ranked by exterior size. Little postcards are on the low rung and of little importance, followed by small envelopes and the normal size envelope majority that you see every day. The queen of envelopes is our census-sized letters, followed by the KING - the catalog sized flat which demand a high level of respect regardless of contents.
Oh sorry I got off topic – must be too much excitement? It’s just so overwhelming to get a REAL letter from the government rather than a letter telling me ANOTHER letter is coming. Anyway, the Census ... well it looks like it won the fight despite being black and blue all over. It actually folds out rather nicely like a menu. I kind of wish there were brightly colored pictures after each item like at Denny’s. Then I would not have to fill out anything, I could just point to my answers to the census questions.
Speaking of questions, there really are not that many. We were a little surprised that after all this work, there wasn’t a single query about income? I guess the government knows that after they get through with each of us, everyone will be in the same financial bracket as them – BROKE.
Right off the bat I was a little confused because the paper delineates who in my family NOT to count. I guess they assume my kid in college and the rest of my family in prison will take the time to fill out this form on their own? Fat chance – college kids won’t even take the time to VOTE and Prisoners are not known for executing their civic responsibilities with pride?
Next I could not remember my age and sadly my wife could not either. So we had to count backwards using BOTH hands. It was really hard because I am all thumbs at such things? There is a bunch of confusing stuff on race so I just skipped all of it and wrote-in “all of the above” because I am well bred. Question #10 then proceeds to ask if I live somewhere else sometimes like college or in a prison? WHAT? – I thought they specifically said I should not count those people back in question #1? It’s obvious, I am just not a good test taker.
The balance of the census is much the same except after 6 people living in my home, they quit asking about all the race stuff for the rest of my commune. I figure by ‘Person 7’ they’ll decide I’m lying anyway and will just throw out the whole form? So what if I mistakenly add a few people – what are they going to do sue me? Oh yeah I forgot, they also sent a form which says, my answers are SO CONFIDENTIAL, that law enforcement, tax collectors or lawyers cannot use them even under a “Freedom of Information Act” request for the next 72 years?
So if nobody can use any of the information by law – what’s this stuff for again? Oh that’s right - so we can ensure the People of the United States have a REPRESENTATIVE Congress! That will be a welcome change, considering the way our current Congress ignores our wishes and rams through budget-busting bills. You’d think, census or not, the way our government behaves now - We the people really JUST DON’T COUNT!
Thursday, March 18, 2010
To 'Gnome' me is to hate me
We already know that everyone has their own opinion on art. But with that said, in my travels I have developed a strong sense of what is and what SHOULDN’T BE lawn art. I really do not mind a little non-standard creativity outside the faceless boxes we all live in. However I have never really understood any attraction at all to lawn gnomes? My rejection of the dopey gnomes is probably based on some childhood trauma that I have masked with other odd behaviors as an adult? Nonetheless, some people hate clowns – I hate bearded gnomes and it’s time to come out of the tool shed about it.
Once on a trip, back to see my wife’s extended family for a get together, I was invited to the home of my wife’s Uncle. They are nice normal folk who live in a nice normal Indiana town and I had met them a couple of times before. We pulled up to their attractive brick home in anticipation of a fun chat for a couple hours before heading off for dinner. The front and side lawn were manicured expertly and I learned that the Uncle did ALL the lawn work and maintenance himself.
Indiana in the summer can be hot and a tad sticky at times. Since air conditioning is expensive and houses can get a bit stuffy, my wife’s Uncle invited us out to the back yard porch to relax and have a glass of lemonade. Horrors upon horrors, this pretty little home with nice ordinary people in it, had not one or two gnomes, but DOZENS?!
I mean this was the house of gnome horrors. This was probably the place where gnomes went to die but it sure didn’t look like heaven to me? Remember these are ordinary people like you stand next to in any grocery aisle in America and think nothing of it. For me, this scene was akin to what the cops must have felt when they started rummaging through Jeffery Dahmer’s memory albums.
In fairness, the scene would have been termed quaint or eclectic by less gnome-challenged people than myself. There were all kinds of concrete and ceramic figurines decorating the back yard. Every space had meticulously detailed outcroppings of decorative rocks with varied statuary. The collection consisted of dogs, little girls with umbrellas, frogs playing instruments, birds, pots, stepping stones and gnomes of all races, creed, and creepy origin.
Needless to say I was more than happy when we extricated ourselves from the home of gnomes. Whenever I travel now, I don’t use Travelocity since their website and ads feature that stupid talking gnome. I have to switch the channel when his cocky ceramic head appears in commercials. I’d like to lure that little gnome somewhere ‘down under’ on vacation and bury him in the same way. Or better yet invite him to a spirited game of lawn darts with the real sharp BANNED darts from the 70’s. Given his short little legs I doubt he can out-run me for very long and the bright tunic he sports will make him a much easier target.
Once on a trip, back to see my wife’s extended family for a get together, I was invited to the home of my wife’s Uncle. They are nice normal folk who live in a nice normal Indiana town and I had met them a couple of times before. We pulled up to their attractive brick home in anticipation of a fun chat for a couple hours before heading off for dinner. The front and side lawn were manicured expertly and I learned that the Uncle did ALL the lawn work and maintenance himself.
Indiana in the summer can be hot and a tad sticky at times. Since air conditioning is expensive and houses can get a bit stuffy, my wife’s Uncle invited us out to the back yard porch to relax and have a glass of lemonade. Horrors upon horrors, this pretty little home with nice ordinary people in it, had not one or two gnomes, but DOZENS?!
I mean this was the house of gnome horrors. This was probably the place where gnomes went to die but it sure didn’t look like heaven to me? Remember these are ordinary people like you stand next to in any grocery aisle in America and think nothing of it. For me, this scene was akin to what the cops must have felt when they started rummaging through Jeffery Dahmer’s memory albums.
In fairness, the scene would have been termed quaint or eclectic by less gnome-challenged people than myself. There were all kinds of concrete and ceramic figurines decorating the back yard. Every space had meticulously detailed outcroppings of decorative rocks with varied statuary. The collection consisted of dogs, little girls with umbrellas, frogs playing instruments, birds, pots, stepping stones and gnomes of all races, creed, and creepy origin.
Needless to say I was more than happy when we extricated ourselves from the home of gnomes. Whenever I travel now, I don’t use Travelocity since their website and ads feature that stupid talking gnome. I have to switch the channel when his cocky ceramic head appears in commercials. I’d like to lure that little gnome somewhere ‘down under’ on vacation and bury him in the same way. Or better yet invite him to a spirited game of lawn darts with the real sharp BANNED darts from the 70’s. Given his short little legs I doubt he can out-run me for very long and the bright tunic he sports will make him a much easier target.
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