Recently in Humor Category

This is directed to a number of you who do not seem to have grasped the basics of blending courtesy with parking lots. I am sorry to be so cross with you, but, really, something needs to be said to you. I suppose I have little choice but to be the one. It pains me, truly it does.

You. The young lady who shoots out of one driving aisle into a cross driving aisle. In particular, the cross aisle down which I happen to be driving:

As you pull your vehicle halfway out into the traffic, look to the left!. Caveat: if in one of those backward nations that insist on driving on the incorrect side of the road, such as the UK, obvii you'd look to the right.

I would dearly love to not have to maneuver wildly to avoid you, although I do get a small guilty bit of pleasure from the sudden expression of terror on your face when you eventually do look in the proper direction in time to see me narrowly missing your engine block.

Thank you for your kind attention.

Now, as for you ... no, dear. Not you. Him. Yes sir. I am speaking to you:

I totally get that your self image is a bit puny -- I have so been there. I understand that you derive great satisfaction from your massive, glinting, three-quarter ton extended King Kab pick-up truck with the pristine bed that has never, not once, hauled even so much as the family pet and those tires one ordinarily sees on the Caterpillar 797. I also get your critical need for the 20 lb, foot long trailer hitch -- it's so very shiny -- that has never had anything actually hitched to it! I wish you all the ego boost that you crave.

But, please. When you park your leviathan in our work parking lot? Do not pull it all the way back! Other people would like to be able to park behind you, see. In the parking spot your hitch is now occupying.

Here's an alternative. Just an idea. Park in the furthest spot out where no one else parks. You'll benefit your truck (no door dings, hey!) and yourself (toned calves and heart-health, yay!), and you can take over three spots, if it pleases you!

Thanks, dearies. Again, I am so sorry to have to have been so stern, but, really. It's for your own good.

This is one a them Facebook memes that I'm reposting here for the Luddites who don't do Facebook or who haven't figured out yet how to "friend" me. Feel free to meme along yourownselfs.

A - Age: old enuf to be cantankerous and, dare I suggest it, crotchety.

B - Bed size: With three dogs in the house, it's gotta be huge!

C - Chore you hate: Dusting. Wipe it off, it comes back instantly. Like shoveling your drive during a blizzard, nearly.

D - Dog's name: Teegan, a black lab mix, and Murphy, who is a Cão de Fila de São Miguel mix, but we don't mention that because it makes her feel self-conscious.

E - Essential to start your day: Shower. Coffee. Not together, mind.

F - Favorite color: used to be a deep blue, like machine metal blue, but lately I've been favoring those vibrant dark reds that are so popular. What can I say, I'm easily swayed by fashion.

G - Gold or Silver: Gold. Silver has to be polished or it turns black.

H - Height: I don't think "short" is in the database for the units of weights and measures, but it should be. Five foot, three inches, but my daughter tells me I'm only five foot, two-and-a-half inches. She is so competitive.

I - Instruments you play: Voice. Pianner.

J- Job: Not yet, but hoping. Hoping. Oh, how I'm hoping. (software engineering project lead/manager)

K - Kid(s): Two. One of each of the two most popular sexes. Both adults. See "A" above.

L - Living arrangements: Prefer it, obvii. Although, not having tried death I guess I'm not being all that objective.

M - Mom's name: <narrowed, squidgy eyes> Why? So you can steal my identity? Let's just say that my Mom gave me her name to be my middle name. 'course now people don't know what to call her. I resolved that by calling her, well, "Mom."

N - Nicknames: This is a family blog and I fucking refuse to use foul language here, so I'm afraid you'll have to do without an answer to this one. (Notice to boots: that there's a joke, son. Larf)

O - Overnight hospital stay other than birth: none.

P - Pet Peeve: Sorry, but if I mention a pet peeve then the misc.writing blogstalker boots gets all uppity. Hey! That could be my pet peeve! Cool!

Q - Quote from:
# a movie: Ummmm ...
# a TV show: Uhhh, yeah.
# a book: So. Well. Uhhm.
Oddly, even though I'm a geek, I am not one of those who memorizes movie, tv or book quotes. I mean, I love 'em when I hear 'em or read 'em, but just never managed to retain them.

R - Right or left handed: Right is right, left is ... no, wait, that's for guys wearing an earring.

S - Siblings: It varies. A bruvver and two step sis's.

T - Time you wake up: 3:41 in the ayem. Well, not now, but soon again!

U- Underwear (boxer/briefs): The male readers really really want me to say "commando", but I'm thinking the more proper way to say that, if it were true, would be "commanda", yes?

V - Vegetable you dislike: Okra. That's probably an alien life form and not a vegetable at all, but I really dislike it.

W - Ways you run late: I'm nearly menopausal. I so don't worry about things like that any more.

X - X-rays you've had: Boobs. Oh, and teeth.

Y - Yummy food you make: Last night's dish was Chicken Picatta .. piccata ... the lemon and wine chicken cutlet thingie . Oh, and k00kies.

Z - Zoo favorite: gift shop

My Verizon phone is a Motorola ZN4, aka "KRAVE". It was designed to be a "media" device and Verizon had Motorola design it so that their VCast TV and VZNav and VCast music applications are very accessible. Subscribers pay extra for the data plan if they want that stuff, of course. I have not chosen a data plan, so if I download data, it's even more expensive.

The cool thing about this phone is the touch sensitive clear flip cover. When it is closed, the icons that are touch sensitive on the front are the music, the tv, the navigator and the My Pics applications. You can lock the phone so the front display is not touch sensitive.

If, however, you forget to lock it, it's very very very easy to activate one of those applications. TV and VZNav are especially accessible.

Apparently my butt has been watching either The Simpsons or Futurama, or some other Matt Groening-inspired animated Fox network program.

Sadly, the catch-term "Obama Bucks" has been done. I don't think,however, that it has been given this application, however:

Create an incentive to help out. For every hour spent doing community service type things, you earn an Obama Buck. Obama Bucks are good in exchange for dismissing misdemeanors, or maybe getting some tax credit or other.

Parlor game, that is. Popular at girlie parties like showers, TupperWare© Parties, and so forth. Write down things overheard, then string them together in suggestive or funny ways.

Just now came to me as I was zipping thru a recorded show using the quick advance button on my remote during the commercials. Like these:

1. "Use Viagra" ... "to avoid injury" ... "tonight on NBC" ... "it completely stopped my pain!"
2. "It's a lot better" ... "using the world's perfect peppers" ... "for perfect performance" ... "America runs on Dunkin"
3. "The Uninvited" ... "this guy's a whack job"

I'm easily amused, what can I say?

I usually avoid going out on Black Friday on account of I'm allergic to teeming hordes of frenzied people cramming the spaces I wish to occupy. The sad thing is that my annoyance has nothing to do with Christmas shopping.

I needed to do some routine errands, which included filling a prescription for an ointment for a family member. I dropped the prescription off on my way out, and after about 45 minutes to an hour of running around, came back to the drug store to pick up the 'scrip.

I used their little drive-up window. "That'll be $10 please." I put my payment into the little door thing, then waited while she rang up some other guy who just at that moment walked up to the counter inside

I waited a bit longer as she disappeared out of my view. When she came back she said, oops, they're out of that stuff. She called to another pharmacy up the road, and they had it in stock, so the pharmacist lady forwarded the 'scrip info with instructions that I'd be there in 15 min to pick up. She handed back my payment.

I had one more errand to run -- a Wal-Mart that presumably had an item in stock that had been on sale for Black Friday. I drove past the pharmacy that had the ointment in stock in order to go to Wal-Mart to look for the sale item. That took about a half hour, maybe a bit more while I piddled around looking, finally asking, and learning they had sold out of 'em. No biggie, I'll find another somewhere.

So I headed back home, stopping at the second pharmacy. Waited in line while a really really loud guy argued with the pharmacist about why the orders on his prescription were wrong and the pharmacist, reading the prescription, said she could not fill it until Sunday.

He said, "I'm going out of town on a road trip!"

He said, "They got the date wrong."

He said, "I've only been having that filled every 30 days since forever."

He said, "No, see, you didn't fill the last one all the way."

No matter what he said, the answer was the same.

Finally, it was my turn, and I strode up and said, "Picking up," and gave the name. The guy looked in the little bin. He looked a second time.

"It was phoned from the other store," I said, helpfully. He looked yet again. He looked at the logs.

"Oh, we haven't filled that yet. It'll be just a few moments. We'll call you when it's ready."

A few moments later a young woman with two little girls came up. She looked at me. "You standing in line?" I was hanging out in front of the pharmacy window, but not in line so I motioned her ahead. She went to the counter and handed in her prescription. Then she went over to the waiting area and sat in the chairs. The little girls played "make believe shopping" in the toy aisle.

Still waiting ... about five/six minutes of the girls chirping and doing loud little girl things, while Kenny G caused all narcoleptics within hearing distance to seize up as the audio system played his rendition of "White Christmas", the pharmacist announced some name -- not mine.

The young mother got up and picked up her order. Yeah. The woman that had arrived well after I did. I stood immediately behind her, at that point.

I was all ready to bark, "How did that happen?" but he did not give me the chance. He went over to a shelf, grabbed a bottle off of it, popped the bottle into a bag, printed out the info packet, then rang the whole thing up. "Sorry about the wait."

Yeah, sorry this, motherfucker.