So I haven't posted in quite some time. I have no really cool remarks to make. I have no good goat stories, like curtis does. I can only offer an insight into the majesty that is a monday morning in goodrich. I wake up at my regular time after little sleep. Why? because I am idiot who gets really tired and then stays up watching tv instead of going to bed even though I am exhausted. However, we can discuss my stupidity at another time. So I make the trip to goodrich staring into a brightly lit sun. Oh it was gorgeous. However, it was also the rough equivalent of staring into triple spotlights at a 3 centimeter distance. I have no idea what was along the road on the way here. We may have hit 5 cows for all I know. Then I get to listen to KSBJ on the way. Now I love the music even when it's a bit repetitive and same sounding. And I know the dj is just trying to liven up the morning. But they both sounded like robots who had never been exposed to physical exercise. I know, I know you are wondering what I am talking about. See as a backdrop, the morning crew pledged to lose a lot of weight and get in shape. So each week a trainer comes on the show and talks about certain fitness things. Of course talking about fitness really doesn't address the need to expend calories but hey it's a start. Only these guys act like they have never even heard of fitness things....."so why are you moving with your feet in that fast, up and down manner?" JOG-GING? what is this JOG-GING? Please tell us more." (by the way the robot reference will make more sense if you read those words one at a time in a mechanical manner.)
And then I get to work to see 4 inches of water throughout the hallways and some of the classes. We had a water break. Whoo-hoo. So I get the various vermin to move their two-by-two line to the side and start the process of mopping and squeegying (no I think there is no proper spelling for that word) the halls and classes. The only problem is that the squeegee ( I will just keep chaning it up) I use is the same size as the one from the gas station. Thus I am bent over in a double question mark position trying to remove water from the hallway by pushing it to the door. Now the rats and field mice are arguing over who gets to get on the ark first and a family of raccoon's keep glaring menacingly at me for creating a pool in what was apparently their basement apartment. It's now 9:30. Did I mention I have a headache? roll the credits.
posted by Darol at 9:32 AM
After a long break, I have returned to annoy the several of you who read this page. At current count, that number has skyrocketed to 7 (counting me). Today's treat has no theme. Just a few odds and ends.
Memo to the girl scouts: Leave me alone. You see, I used to like the girl scouts cookie thing. They offered many varieties and they were tasty. Times they have a changed. First off, the box of cookies shouldn't be called a box at all. It's now down to the size of a Big Mac container and only holds 12 cookies. But since they still charge you 3 bucks, they ought to call it 4 for a buck. and I could live with the horrible economic situation if they still relied upon the door to door sales. A flock of girl scouts come to my door and begin steadily knocking. I see through the window that they have gathered to sell endless "boxes" of their trade. Knowing that I only have enough for 2 boxes ($24), I don't open the door and subject myself to the flock. The rules have changed in this area as well. Now the flock sets up shop in front of every single store that I have a need or desire to shop at. What's worse, the group has attended acting classes so that when they attack you as you get out of your car, they also attempt to gain eye contact so that you can see the wimpering depression of being told I'm sorry but I cannot afford to buy your cookies as I would like to pay rent this month. and should you elect to fall into their trap and agree to a purchase, it must meet the approval of the entire flock. One box is not enough. You must purchase from the entire flock equally or risk the wrath of all. Leave me alone cookie hounds.
Be sure and look for my new novel: In search of a box---A Mime's story.
In Houston we have many, many radio stations. So can someone explain to my why 106.9 (which is supposed to play the best of the 80s) translats into a station that plays their favorite 16 songs from the 80s? yes I am old. yes I miss the days of my youth. My youth, however, was not spent listening to the songs they play on that stupid station. I listen vainly to hear an occasional Def Leppard or Van Halen tune, only to be tortured by Culture club (who by the way were neither a culture nor a club) and Tears for Fears. I don't know about Everybody wanting to rule the world, but I do know one guy who would like to blow up their tranlator. They get a Golden Straw (See post for 2/25).
any time you can, watch the 1980s version of Flash Gordon. Any movie that features lines like "go, Flash, go" during the big fight scene is simply a must. Plus you can hear the classic rock band Queen chanting "Flash! He'll save everyone of us," in the background.
Finally, an idea to torture local resident George Russell. This is a gentlemen who wants to protect the environment. I can appreciate that. However, he annoints trees with oil, has started his own religion where he happens to be the grand poobah, renames himself Tiberius-Hepheus-Stupidus (or some other greek myth name), elects first time visitors to his church as deacons, and runs about the city throwing himself in front of anything that threatens trees. You know things like rain, wind, mean words, piercing glares from birds. So I propose that everyone mail him boxes of tree branches. They can be ones that are already on the ground; just cut them up a bit so that they appear to have been taken from a tree and tortured. Perhaps even an occasional threat like "there's more where this came from" or "I hate trees" or even "you are a clown" could accompany your mailing. Roll the credits.
posted by Darol at 11:48 AM
