I just read that the Washington, DC, metropolitan area is tops! As in Numero Uno. Better than second and third place winners, Denver and Chicago. We are the Champions!
In what category? Swearing at work.
Shit, yeah!
Who says Washington can’t do anything right?
Filed under Awards, Criminal Activity, Driving, Elections, Family, Global Warming, Gun control, Health and Medicine, Humor, Hypocrisy, Neighbors, Politics, Stupidity, Traffic, Word Press
We’ve all seen them. They seem to be on every commercial vehicle these days.
Google Image
But have you ever called one of those numbers? Have you ever reported somebody? I didn’t think so.
Recently, my son was stuck in traffic behind Truck No. 47. So he called the number on the back of the truck.
“Hello, this is Nancy,” said the voice at the other end of the phone. “How can I help you.” (She didn’t sound very happy to be getting this call, Jacob later said.)
“Hi,” Jacob said. “I want to report Truck No. 47.”
“Yes sir,” said Nancy. “What seems to be the problem?”
“Oh, I just wanted to let you know that the driver of Truck No. 47, well, he’s doing a really great job.”
“Excuse me, sir?”
“Yeah. The driver of Truck No. 47 is a terrific driver.”
“Would you please hold for a moment sir? I need to find a form to record this on.”
Meanwhile, traffic started moving again.
“You need to hold on, please. Traffic is moving, and I have to pull over,” Jacob allegedly said to Nancy. (I know, I don’t believe him, either.)
“Now, how long were you observing Truck No. 47, sir?”
“Oh, I’ve been following him for a while, all through Northern Virginia. He’s amazing. He stays on his side of the road, obeys the speed limits, always uses his turn signal. Really, this guy is a model driver.”
“Ummm, thank you for calling to let us know, sir.”
“You’re welcome. It’s just nice to see such a great driver on the road these days.” Jacob hung up, smiling.
I am pretty sure that this qualifies as a random act of kindness. It was definitely random.
Cool Kid, 1994
Today is Jacob’s 21st Birthday. Happy Birthday, Jacob!
By telling this story, I just wanted to let you know, today, how very proud I am of this crazy man cub John and I raised. Because you see, Jacob is one of the funniest, nuttiest people I have ever known.
It’s true. Hey, Jacob? You’re nuts! 😉 I couldn’t have found a sillier birthday song for you:
You all know that I love being outside. I often go to a park not too far away that lies along the banks of the Potomac River. It’s a natural area, with lovely paths that go up and over hills and others that follow the river. Still others cut through open fields. It’s lush and green, or open and bare, depending on the season and where you are.
Now that my dog is elderly and, well, in failing health, I tend to take my long walks by myself. It gives me time to sort out my mind, think up blog posts, get some exercise.
It also lets me eavesdrop. Here, you can too!
* * *
At the entrance to a short path that heads upriver for about half a mile, stood a woman looking at her iPhone with irritation. She was surrounded on either side by two men, one of them presumably her husband. The other looked like he might have been her brother.
“This damn UPS app,” she complained “doesn’t say how long the path is OR where it goes!”
But you’ll get a package for your troubles!
* * *
Two men were walking towards me; they had obviously just seen a snake, and since there are loads of them around here, I like to know where they’ve been spotted.
“Yeah,” said the first to his friend, “there are tons of snakes around here.”
My ears perked up.
“You’re right. And it’s you have to be really careful not to step on one,” said the friend.
“Yeah, because when you do, they act like you’ve done it on purpose. Like they don’t even get that you didn’t mean it.”
Ummmm, Guys? It’s a SNAKE, not Disney.
* * *
And just now, on the Sunday before Memorial Day, I heard this:
One tall middle aged guy was wearing a short sleeve flag-motif shirt. 
He was clearly waiting for someone. Finally his friend showed up.
“Did you have trouble parking?” said Flag shirt guy.
“Yeah, the park sure is crowded today,” responded his friend. “I shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, it’s a three day weekend.”
“Yeah, Memorial Day. But, still, why are there so many people here at the park? There isn’t a Memorial here.”
Oy.
* * *
Happy Memorial Day, everybody. Hope that the dopes you run into are at least entertaining!
Filed under Awards, Humor, Stupidity, Technology
When I tell this story, I always have to put in a disclaimer. Sort of like Dickens at the beginning of A Christmas Carol, when he says
“it must be understood that Marley was dead, otherwise nothing strange and wonderful could have happened.”
In this case, it must be understood that I was really, really nice to everyone. Promise me you’ll remember that.
Once upon a time, I had a job at a law school. The most fun job I’ve ever had. I was the administrative assistant to a student organization, the BSA. The Boy Scouts of America, law school chapter. The BSA members were 2nd and 3rd year students who did a lot to make the first year students happier during their (relatively miserable and difficult) first year. They did orientation, taught legal writing, answered questions on where to go, what to do. The office was large, with comfy chairs and a couch, a full free coffee pot. A good, friendly place to hang out. The members did, and so did a core of 1st years who, naturally, tried to become members for their 2nd and 3rd years.
It was a wonderful job. Basically I answered questions and was nice to people. Always. A smile on my face, a laugh, a soft shoulder when needed. It was easy to be nice in such a fun job.
Substantively, I had to know what was going on in the members various activities, because I was the one in the office when the 1st year students had questions. I had to know what was going on to give the answers. Because that was my job. The BSA members were all nice. Except Monte. He wasn’t. He was a jerk. Totally uncooperative. He deserved that name.
Monte was in charge of a very important program that was one of two mandatory moot court programs for all 1st year students. Essentially, it’s where they learned how to present and argue a case. A whole case. They write the briefs and argued the case in front of a panel of judges.
The students had a million questions, and they were also apprehensive, because it was so important. But Monte was in charge and wouldn’t let me know what was going on. He wouldn’t answer my questions. He wouldn’t keep me informed or involved. I invariably had no answer to give to the poor student who really needed one.
Now, it might surprise you to know this, but I really hate to look stupid. So one day I’d had enough of being unable to help, unable to answer questions I was supposed to answer. Unable to do my job. So I took Monte into the back room and politely explained in the nicest possible way, why he had to do things my way.
He responded “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” And he left.
Me, except I’m blond. And in color.
To this very day I have never been so mad at anyone.
I went back to my desk fuming, steam coming out of my ears, angry tears, the works. As I stood there, shaking mad, a tall, blond 1st year student entered the office, came up to me and said – oh I don’t remember what he said. But it was a question about that program. Monte’s program.
“I DON’T KNOW. YOU WILL HAVE TO ASK MONTE WHO IS A COMPLETE JERK!” I screamed at the tall, completely innocent blond guy.
He stood there, put his hands on his hips, shook his head and left the office. He never returned.
I remember it clearly. Well, except all I can see in my memory is the outline of a faceless blond guy, shaking his head, clearly thinking “what a bitch she is not very nice.”
John did not propose then and there.
In fact, we didn’t ever cross paths again that we know about during the two years we were there together. We met again through a guy I was dating who worked with John. Years after I broke up with the other guy, John asked me out after we met up again at a party.
Whenever someone asks us the “how did you two meet?” question, well, I make sure I tell the story. Because John claims I fired nuclear weapons at him, which, I think you will agree, is a slight exaggeration. And it makes me look bad.
Really, I didn’t shoot at him.
But hey, my husband can never claim that he didn’t know I could be a bitch. And that has been worth its weight in gold (or nukes) for almost 26 years.
* * *
I wrote this up after Arindam, of Being Arindam suggested I do it. And because there is nothing I like to do more than humiliate myself. Publicly.
Even before computers I found a lot to laugh at. But since computers? I’ve found that it’s hard to not laugh at whatever happens to appear in front of my eyes, magically, through the tubes that are the internets.
Just now, while sitting alone here at my kitchen table, sipping a cuppa, I laughed loudly enough to wake up Cooper, who is stone deaf. Yup, it was that funny.
What was it? What could it be? What could make me stop writing what I was writing to share a laugh?
Well, I really don’t know how it happened. Or I don’t know how I got to the starting gate. You see, I was Googling pictures for a post when I suddenly found myself at Moondustwriter’s Blog. I had never seen it before; it’s a photography blog, and the picture on this particular post was a beautiful shot of a rocky beach in the moonlight. It looks like Maine to me, and I love Maine. The accompanying poem was beautiful too. But not being a poetry lover, I was quickly distracted by what I saw on the sidebar:
Can you see it there on the bottom right? I write like Mark Twain. Pretty cool, don’t cha think? Of course, I wanted to know who I write like. So I clicked on the link.
Wait, wait, come back! Don’t you want to know what happened next? Don’t you want to know who it is I write like? Or like whom I write?
Well, I looked at my list of favorite blog pieces, and chose what I thought was my best: Both Sides Now, my story about how all my family members die on holidays. And I learned :
Wow!
Cool. I like Kurt Vonnegut, but I never considered myself in his league, or even remotely like him. But I’m guessing the dark humor is Vonnegut-esque. Interesting.
But, I wondered, are all my posts so dark? I didn’t think so, so I plugged in another piece: Downsizing, a story of how hard it is to resist stuff.
And lo and behold, I write like Chuck Palahniuk, who I’d never heard of. I immediately went to Amazon.com and ordered all of his books though. That is, of course, what I want anyone who hasn’t heard of me to do when they find that they write like me. Here’s a sample:
Look, it's even got my face on the cover!
Again, I wasn’t sure that either of these two posts really reflected just who I am. I mean, my blog is a mish-mash of stuff. So I tried it again. And again. And again.
Lastly, I entered Great Balls of Fire, my piece about my neighbor Beau who built Tara Oaks, and who, I’m sure will soon host Civil War reenactments on his meadow: this time I was Margaret Mitchell.
Apparently I am either wildly talented or have a multiple personality disorder.
Here’s the link. Let me know who you are!
Hey, wait, I need to keep checking the link until I find that I am, in fact, Victor Hugo.
Filed under Awards, Conspicuous consumption, Humor, Music, Technology
I got TWO!
I recommend Karen Kingsley and Kingsley Ink
The Highest Honor
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
FiftyFourandAHalf 