Thursday, September 27, 2012

Little Things

Little Things That Bug Me

People who say "No Worries"
What does that mean???  Does that mean they have no worries and are trying to flaunt their fabulously wonderful life in my face?  Are they trying to imply that I have no worries?  Because if they are, let me tell you, they're fucking wrong.  Is the English language becoming a spoken version of texting filled with misspelled or abbreviated words and incomplete sentences?  Are they subtly trying to give me an English test?   Next time someone says that to me, I'm gonna ask them exactly what they mean.

Thursday Night Football
Do we really need another day with a football game?  Isn't all day Sunday, Sunday night, and Monday night enough?  It really screws up my DVR scheduler when they have football games that start Sunday afternoon and go into the evening.  Truth be told, I actually like football, but I hate watching Monday night since they took Hank Jr. off.   It's just not the same without his song.

Mocha Anything
Simply calling it "Mocha" doesn't mean it stops tasting like coffee.  I hate coffee and I'm kinda sick of people trying to get me to taste "mocha" flavored treats that they say don't taste like coffee.  All things mocha taste like coffee to a coffee hater.  I know this is weird, but I've never actually had a cup of coffee in my life...and I'm not even Mormon.

Thong Underwear
I even had to be specific in the title because it could have been confused with the thongs you used to wear on your feet.  You know, the ones that they now call "flip flops" instead of thongs so they don't get confused with the Melvin inspired underwear of the same name?  Basically that's what they are...a continuous Melvin.  Everyone remembers a Melvin, right?  When someone would sneak up behind you, grab the back of your underwear and yank it up the crack of your butt?  Do you know a single person who left the Melvin in place?  No, we all did a little dance pulling the underwear out of the crack of our butt.  Now there's millions of people willingly giving themselves Melvin's via their choice of underwear.  Why do they call them Thong's anyway?  Maybe they should call them Eterna Melvin, or Melvinesque, or Melvinitas.   Who thought up this stuff anyway?  If you don't want a visible pantie line, don't wear panties.  Easy peasy.

Stale Butterfingers
You're all ready to take a bite out of a fun sized Butterfinger and when you're teeth sink in, instead of the sweet crumble buttery confection, your teeth make contact with a cement like substance that makes you worry that they're going to break.  Not only do you have to worry about breaking your teeth, but as you chew, the cementish interior packs itself so hard into your teeth that you 're afraid to pry it out for fear that your fillings will come out with it.  This ruins the whole Butterfinger experience for me.  You'd think with today's technology that they could make a Butterfinger whose inside wouldn't get rock hard wouldn't you?

When I stop and think about it, there's lots of little things that bug me.  Some of them are so petty, that I'm too embarrassed to even admit it.  I don't know why I let little things bug me, but I do.  It's the stoopidist thing...

P.S.  There's lots of little things that I love too...

Saturday, September 22, 2012

The Bunco Squad

If you want to see a group of seemingly normal women turn into a bunch of screaming meemies, (What is a meemie, anyway?  I'm not sure that's really a word, even though people say it all the time.) give them some dice, a little bit of adult beverages, good snackage, and watch the fireworks other words, Bunco.

I think we were on our way back from a trip to Costco when the original idea for Bunco came up.  OF (Old Friend of undesirable snackage fame) and I regularly purchase staples like hunks of smoked Gouda, giant bags of M&M's and dry roasted Macadamia nuts for me (the Mauna Loa ones in the blue can...not the purple bag of "Gourmet" macadamia nuts...yuck)...vats of hummus, goat cheese and quinoa salad for OF (You can see why her snackage is least to me...), and dried bull penises or penes for the dogs sold under the unoffensive name... "Gourmet Premium Bull Sticks".   Really, I mean, who would buy it if the package said "Dried Penises"?  Not me, that's for sure.  Truth be told, if I'd known what it was when I first bought it, I would've passed.  Unfortunately, my little psycho dog, Briley, loves her some dried bull penis...and let me tell you, dried bull penis is 'spensive...not to mention, stanky...very stanky.   So don't be stoopid like me and let your dog get hooked on them.   I bet you never really knew what the plural of penis was, did you?  Me neither, so I looked it up.  You can use either "penises" or "penes" (pronounced pee-neez).  See it's really do learn something new every day.

OF likes to sample all the stuff at the ends of the aisles at Costco.  Once in a while I'll sample.  On my way to get dried penises, one of the demonstrators offering samples finagled me into trying a little Dixie cup of coconut water.  She was good, I'll give her that, because it looked kinda like gray water...not something one would ordinarily drink.

"Oh it's filled with vitamins and anti oxidants, and it's really good for your skin" the demonstrator gushed.  "You can mix it with juice or just drink it plain" she prattled on as I grabbed the mouthwash sized paper cup and swigged away.

I bravely fought the gag reflex...thank God I didn't down it in one gulp... but I know I sounded just like my mother, God rest her soul, and probably looked like her too when my face uncontrollably grimaced and I said "Uuulck...that's terrible".  (Uuulck isn't really a word, it's more of a sound made at the back of your throat when something is really, really gross...I'm sure everyone has their own personal version.)

I could tell the demonstrator wanted to laugh but instead she said sort of sheepishly "Most people mix it with juice."

...there was no juice sitting on her little cart to use as a mixer...just a casual observation...

OF, who fortunately for me missed my little near vomiting episode, wandered up so I said "Try this coconut's suppose to be really good for you".

I don't know if I'm just an asshole or if misery really does love company, probably a little of both, but I was instantly rewarded by her look of utter disgust as she downed the entire cup of crappy coconut water in one swig.  I laughed out loud at the look on her face...even the demonstrator couldn't help but laugh and I don't think they're supposed to do that, are they?  We watched a couple of other people, including another demonstrator, try the horrible free sample and everyone had the same reaction.  I could have stood there all day watching the reaction on peoples faces.  If I'd been smart and less of a Luddite, I'd have used my fancy new iPhone and recorded people's reaction to the fabulous product they so eagerly sampled.  Would've made a great You Tube clip.

Back to the Bunco idea.  I'd never played but it seemed like a good idea when I mentioned it to OF. If nothing else it seemed like a good reason to eat, drink and be we need a reason.

"I don't know how to play" OF said when I broached the Bunco idea.

"Neither do I" I said.  "But it can't be that hard."

We both looked up the Bunco rules on the Internet and as it turns out, the game IS basically a reason to eat, drink and be merry.  On another little side note here, what did we do before the Internet?  Is there anything you can't find on the Internet?  I don't think so.

Both of us bugged people we knew to come and we almost ended up with a full group of twelve for the first game...apparently we don't have as many friends as we thought we did.  Stuffed animals were able to fill in quite nicely where vacancies occurred confirming my original thought that brains were not necessary to play the game of Bunco.

By the third game last weekend, the cast of characters was least in my mind.

OF... who needs no introduction.

The Sister Wives...LS and BS...not to be confused with the polygamous gang from the reality TV show of the same name...they're just plain old lesbians, not polygamous religious folk.  LS is a shrink and as it turns out, the life of the party.  BS is a teacher and OF's sister.  The managed to get hitched during the brief moments when it was legal in CA. of the Old Chix, who's old like me...actually she's quite a bit older...almost six months.  I like to say that...she's quite a bit older.  Like me, she's an orphan...unlike me, she's a widow.  Scari lives with and for a clowder of cats, some feral, some tame and she's just a little bit shy of being the "Crazy Cat Lady".  I figure in a few years, she'll have this claim to fame as well.  Contrary to what you'd imagine, in spite of all her feline friends, her house doesn't smell like cat pee.  Someone once described us as the "Evil Twins" when we worked together...we might be just a little bit evil but we're fun...and she's quite a bit older so we really couldn't be twins, now could we???

Smellie...short for Smellie Noellie...Smellie works with me, has giant boobs and is a work out junkie currently in training for a Tough Mudder race.  We're getting ready to take a little work related jaunt to South Dakota...Smellie arranged the flights...she scheduled us on a flight at 0530 in 5:30 in the fucking morning.  This means that I have to get up at 2:00 a.m. to be at her house by 3:00 a.m. so we can be at the airport by 4:30 a.m....  Note to self...don't allow Smellie to make future flight plans. Fortunately she has a good sense of humor and is the only human I feel comfortable being a passenger in a car with.

Natasha...she works with OF and is an immigrant from some Slavic country.  Sometimes I call her The Ruskie.  I think she was a scientist back in the she checks septic tanks (or something like that).  Natasha tries all sorts of secret dice rolls which involve shaking the dice for an inordinate amount of time.  Since you want to get as many rolls as possible in each round this proves that despite her superior intellect, she lacks common sense...a trait that seems lacking in a good many super smart people...just my opinion.  I don't know her but she seems okay.

The Mouse...truth be told, I don't know what this girl's name is.  I just call her The Mouse (not to her face, of course) because she seems really timid and hardly ever says a word.  She works with OF and does some kind of inspections for the Public Health department.  The Mouse livens up a bit after consuming a couple of adult beverages.

Andie...who also works with OF.  Single mom and the only one of us who actually knew the rules of the game.  Andie just got a part Mastiff puppy and when OF puppy sat for her, the little critter got her first taste of horse shit...literally.  The next week she ended up at the vet from some parasite she picked up...allegedly from eating said horse shit.  OF probably won't be asked to puppy sit anymore.

SIL #1...My sister in law...married to Gadget Man, both retired and living in a nearby community composed mostly of blueheads...code for old people.  SIL1 loves to plan get togethers and annoys her brother, The Husband, to no end because she plans family gatherings right in the middle of the day.  I'm sure it never occurs to The Husband that some people actually like family gatherings and attend because they enjoy the company... not just out of a sense of familial obligation.  SIL1 has a wicked sense of humor.

PD...this is a friend of SIL1 who lives in the bluehead community too.  I call her PD because she sounds like Paula Deen.  PD is a gen-ewe-wine southern belle...or she was at one time before she became an oldster like the rest of us.  She's all charm and drawl.

SIL #2...My other sister in law...married to The Husband's brother...SIL2 is always nice, I mean always.  You can't say anything bad about her because she's sooooooo nice.  Although she did play poker with us a couple of weeks ago and got b-o-m-b-e-d...I admit I was secretly happy to see that she's not perfect.

Betsy Gainey, BG.  OF and I both used to work with the now retired BG.  She's unpretentious, laughs allot, and is really lucky when it comes to rolling dice.

So there you have it, the cast of characters for the Bunco Squad.  The Princess from my office is supposed to play, but so far has been a no show.  She apparently thinks kids and a family are more important than hanging out with a bunch of drunk ol' wimmen.  I'm sure there's gonna be a ton of blog fodder in the whole Bunco thing.  If nothing else it's a good reason to eat, drink, and be we need one...oh wait, I said that's the stoopidist thing.

Smooth Move

I've had a bum right shoulder for a while now but it's finally getting better.  So of course, the left one is now going bad.  At first it was just a little nagging ache that would jab me when I tried to throw a saddle on a horse or a flake of hay overhead.  Fortunately when the first shoulder was hurt I bought a synthetic saddle so I could still ride.  Thanks to the bum shoulder I had to use the fake saddle again yesterday.  I can throw it on using only the semi-good shoulder.

After riding with OF, I went home and by the time I got there it was dark.  Since I'm too impatient to look for a flashlight, I was wandering around in the dark looking for dog dishes...found them and headed for the barn to feed the horses.  There's a light in the barn so I didn't have to wander in the dark down there.  Just going to and from.  From is where the trouble started...

On the way back from the barn was the first smooth move of the night.  I was just walking along fat, dumb, and happy...but the ground wasn't where I thought it was.  Have you ever gone down a flight of stairs, reached the bottom, and mistakenly thought there was another step?  Then you jam your leg down on the floor because there's not a step where you thought a step would be?  That's what happend here...only minus the stairs...which does make me a collosal dunder.  It jars your whole body.  Why is that?  It doesn't seem like I'm putting that much force into walking down the stairs themselves so what's up with that jarring, jerking feeling when there's not a step there?  Anyway, for some reason the jolting and jarring feeling was felt directly in the newly injured shoulder.  Really?  Take a misstep and it hurts the shoulder?  How is that possible?

So I get all the animals fed and I'm in the living room and I trip over a round foam pad (used on the gimpy back).  In this second smooth move of the night I manage not to fall thanks to my un-cat like reflexes and a Jerry Lewis type move that sends me jerking and staggering sideways like a drunk.  Again, the shoulder took the brunt of said smooth move number two.  This time it really hurt bad.  How can not falling hurt so bad?  I could understand it if I'd actually used the bad arm/shoulder to break my fall right before I hit the ground...but I didn't even put any weight or anything on it...just a huge jerk to my entire body. 

How come everybody tries so hard not to fall?  It's comical the lengths that people will go to not to fall.  Giant running steps, head down like a bull charging, arms flailing wildly...usually for nothing because you end up falling anyway.  So not only do you look like a dork when you fall, you end up looking like an even bigger dork for the lengths you go to to avoid it.   If you're lucky, you manage to get up relatively uninjured...if you're really lucky, nobody's captured your smooth move on video.

I think when we're kids, we should all be taught how to fall, not to avoid falling.  Falling is inevitable at some point so why not learn that tuck and roll shit from the get go?  Parents should teach their kids how to fall and pop right back up...preferably uninjured.  Although I can see how some parents would take advantage of this parenting technique and use it as an excuse to lump up the young 'uns. 

"Uh no, Occifer, I din't hit the kid, I was just teaching 'em a new tuck n roll move".......

Old people worry about falling, because they might break a hip...everyone knows when an old person breaks a hip, it's the start of a downhill road...they end up in the hospital with pneumonia and die...all from a broken hip.  Okay, it's a bit of an exaggeration to suggest that every old person who falls and breaks a hip dies...but they all think they're gonna. 

Now, not only do I have to worry about falling and  breaking a hip, I have to worry about getting injured by not falling.  I have some complaining to do when I get to heaven.  Hopefully it won't be because I died of a broken hip.  It's the stoopidist thing.