What is wrong with people?

I am back. I am beginning to wonder about people. Who is kidding whom, I always wonder about people. Every time I think somebody says or asks something really stupid, another person comes along and tops them.

What the fuck is it with you people? I had a woman who bought a dress (for about 5% of retail) at one of our charity auctions just write to me to say that her dress arrived in Texas but it is too big. "What is your return policy?"

Here is the return policy, I come down to Texas and kick you in the cunt for asking such a stupid question. It is for charity. As long as it was as described, if it does not fit, too fucking bad for you. We are not a change room. What the fuck! Now, I have to try to word that in the nicest way possible.

We do not have a return policy. You bought it, you own it. We held up our end with the correct description. If it is too big, give it as a gift to one of your fatter friends. What the fuck is wrong with people?

Then again, being from Texas, transplanted home of George W., I am thinking that stupid just runs in the water there.

That is all for today. Just too fucking angry to write or think straight. Thankfully, the Scotch is coursing through my veins, so I, probably, will not kill tonight, but tomorrow, watch out! Ciao!

Well, at least, they are gone now....

I am back. I survived the weekend from hell. It was MIL's unveiling. For those who do not know what an unveiling is, it is a ritual where one gathers at the cemetery, the Rabbi says a few a words and they unveil the headstone. Then, we gather to eat.

That is the thing about the Jews. It does not matter what it is, but it is always an occasion to eat. That is why I do not belong. I just do not want to eat, or be among those who would eat. Actually, you cater the fucking thing and a bunch of hangers-on, eat your food. It is not like a wedding, bris or bar/bat mitzvah, where gifts are given. At least, in that situation there is a trade of food for some sort of tangible consideration. Not here.

It was a weekend filled with the Outlaws. The extended Outlaws. The good part, I do not have to see them for a long while. Guests from hell is all I can say, but of course, the problem is always somebody else, never them. Make a fucking pig of yourself, and shit on your hosts, but if you should be called on your behavior, the problem is yours and "I" am an innocent victim. Or "we are only here for a short time (not a good time)".

That one is my favorite. On the one hand, that is true, but that does not give you carte blanche to shit on me. On the other hand, you really misread me when you think that I care how long you are here and that justifies me having to eat the shit sandwich being served. Never really put in her place. Fuck. The nieces were fun, at least.

Friday with those people, Saturday more of said same and then Sunday. I need a fucking vacation, long drinking binge, acid trip....I think I need to go to Amsterdam! Fuck it, I am out the door.

Sorry for the bitchfest today, but that family really tries my patience. Self centered fuckers, they are. I am not so bothered by that, it is the fact they cannot acknowledge it in themselves.

Done for today. Ciao!

On the Road

I am back. Where was I? Ah yes, the road trip. As a kid, we did many a road trip, that I can recall. We would visit my grandparents in Kirkland Lake, Ontario in the summer. I do recall being up there a fair bit. They moved down to Toronto in 1975 or 1974. I do recall being up there during part of the Munich Olympics in 1972 (or at least that is how I remember it).

Those were gruelling trips, even for me in the back seat. We would take the old Dodge Dart. No air conditioning in those days, to get a breeze, open the windows and/or the vent. The vent in this case was a large (3" x 3") door under the dashboard. Then the wind would whistle across your legs.

There was the obligatory stop at the Simcoe Dairy in Barrie. There we would sit at the window overlooking Lake Simcoe and have food. It is not the food I recall, so much as the chocolate milk. Then again, as I think of it, it was probably not a wise choice having me, WAM the Lactose Intolerant, drinking milk and then getting in a car with me for well over 7 hours. Then again, my grandmother could do the trip in about 6 hours, but it would take us 10. We did make a number of stops and the inevitable brother or sister having to go to the bathroom. I mean they had the bladders of little children (which they were).

We would also stop in some place with Falls in its name. They had a trailer that served fresh cut fries that were great, hot out of the oil. Then there was the used book and crap store in Cobalt. That was a personal favorite of mine. I got some great books and crap there, though I cannot recall exactly what it was.

So, see, I am no stranger to traveling the blacktop. As I said, I have always loved the freedom it represents. It is like the life of the hobo, riding the rails, going from place to place. No permanent home, just the journey, and the adventures and experiences along the way. There is a certain beauty in that, as well as a desire to remove myself from the "expected" responsibilities.

I think that is why the Jack Kerouac novel "On the Road" always appealed to me. It romanticized the road and the travels. It never said that it was perfect, it just placed a premium on the value of "freedom". It is not an absolute, but a trade off. I do believe that "freedom" is something of value, and worth the price paid for it.

You can take some time to think about that one. Ciao!

More Roadtrip thoughts

I am back. Just to continue on with our little road trip, it was the first time in over 20 years that I had been on the I-90 east going towards Albany. I/we were very taken by the scenery as we moved further east from Buffalo and Rochester towards Syracuse. You go from the Finger Lakes region to the Adirondacks. That is when the hills and green (treed) mountains appear in the distance and the road starts to follow their contours.

I was also thinking that I do not recall any of that on my last journey in that direction. I was suddenly brought back to 1984. It was October and it was a frat road (t)rip to Renessealer Polytechnical Institute (RPI) in beautiful Troy, New York (which near Albany). As I thought about it, it was apparent why I do not recall the scenery.

As we were taking our pledges, Willie was driving. We did not leave until after classes on the Friday, so it was dark or twilight at best, when we hit the most scenic parts of the trip. On the way back on the Sunday, I was too trashed to really notice anything around me. It was the trip where I made my stand, and made myself puke. I have not had a drink of Southern Comfort since. I spent a slow and "crispy" Saturday, but got a second wind to party and drink by the night. Just in time for some college parties. whoo hooo!

Doing it this way, I really enjoyed the journey. Or at least what we saw on the journey. I am thinking that next time, we leave the Interstate and use those two lane state highways. Then you really see the sights. Of course, at some point you may hear "Mr., you sure got a purdy mouth." which does not please me.

That is all for now. Ciao!

The meaning of life?

I am back. If you did not know, and I do not recall saying anything, we, the Wife, the Lad and myself, were away for the past few days. We made the Journey 2007 trip in 2008. It was the family trip that we planned to take last summer, before the family sadness we endured last summer, and continue to swim through led us to call an audible and postpone it. It was to be a trip to Cooperstown, New York to visit the Baseball Hall of Fame.

Well, we made it this year. A whole lot of fun, driving.......Gotta love the road trip! I know I do. The feeling of freedom afforded by that blacktop is the greatest feeling in the world to me. I can just breathe. I have loved the road trip since I was a kid. I like taking a flight and getting to a destination as quickly as possible, but the context is different.

The road trip is much like life....the meaning is in the journey, not the destination. The vacation is not the destination but the journey, the drive, itself. It can be physically and mentally gruelling but when you come through the whole journey, it is quite exhilarating.

That is what this was all about, at least for me. Cooperstown was merely a means to an end. The real joy for me was in the drive TO and FROM Cooperstown. It was mysteriously beautiful being in the Adirondack Mountains of Central New York, just beautiful with farms, quaint villages and lakes galore. That was where the fun was. I know the Lad cannot appreciate that now, but he may come in time to grasp its meaning.

Then again, I could be full of shit. Ciao!

Things heard on a trolley

I am back. Here is something heard on a trolley in Cooperstown, NY. Picture a precocious seven year old girl with her father on her way to the Baseball Hall of Fame. She turns to the old lady sitting in the seats behind her and asks if she knows "Riley". Riley is apparently another 7 year old girl that she met in Cooperstown. The lady says "no". The two chat away.

The girl goes on to tell everybody that her name is Laila. It is pronounced "lay-la", just like the song by Derrick and the Dominos (Eric Clapton). She was named after a boxer, Laila Ali, the daughter of Muhammed Ali and co-host, with Hulk Hogan, of American Gladiators (the present version). Then she asks the old lady and says, "What is your grandpa's name?".

Oddly, enough the "grandpa" was the lady's HUSBAND. He did look a bit like father time beat him, actually the living shit out of him, so he did look rather weathered and crotchedy. (Have to work "crotch" into a story anyway I can) He could have been about 144 years of age, if he was a day. He could have passed for the lady's father, perhaps, which makes the scene all funnier.

She, the lady, replies that it is not her grandpa, but her husband. We, then, got off the trolley, giggling. That was a highlight in the real world.

Just a thought....before I go

I am back. Just a thought....in these days of high precious metals values (gold, silver, platinum, etc.) why is that you see people keeping goldfish as pets, but nobody has a good thing to say about silverfish?

Why is there no platinumfish?

Ponder that one for a while....ciao!

Did it rain this weekend?

I am back. Guess what, we had another weekend with rain. Saturday's rain was like the floodgates opened......again. I got soaked, but it was all good.

I saw a ghost. A real ghost. I saw an old customer shuffling across the street. When she was a customer, she was not a pleasant woman, either to speak to or look at. She had an air of arrogance about her. She was also on social assistance, though she looked old enough then to have been on drug benefit (an Ontario senior).

Anyway, I am driving and she is trying to shuffle across a busy intersection. Her hair, what was left of it, was redder than I can recall. She looked to be about 135 years old, a good 13 years ago, so that must make her by my calculations.....148 years old. Yet, she moved like a spry 160 year old.

It scares me when my past comes back to me. You try to turn the page, yet something stuck to it....and worst of all, the page is no longer pliable but stiff. Go figure....or better yet, do not.

I am telling you this woman is a ghost.....a very slow moving ghost. She is more hunched over now than ever. Oh well, what can you do. It is good to see that she still lives....I guess.

Anybody watch the opening ceremonies on Friday? Not me. Could not care less about the show. the spectacle of bullshit. But it all looks good.

With that said, ciao!

A sad moment revisited

I am back. Another weekend is upon us. I have to say it is a bit of a sad day for me. It was a year ago this Sunday and exactly 52 weeks ago today, that MIL's fate was sealed. She had gone in for her surgery but it was stopped when the tumor was seen as overwhelming. It really was the beginning of the end. She would be around for another 3 months but really was not "living".

It is a sad time. One that many who came before and many who will come after have faced or will face. That is life. I just wanted to mention it.

As much as she drove me a bit batty, with her inability to really look at things and examine her own assumptions about herself and life, I really do miss MIL.

I did have somebody tell me he could hear how fond I was of my father by the way I talked about him. That was a nice thing to say, I thought. Again, a bit of a wistful day. It, too, shall pass.

Ciao!

Oh dear, what title should I use

I am back. I was back, yesterday, too, but by the time I posted Blogger was down and the fucking thing did not save my full draft. Who can recall what I made fun of?

I did state that I have noticed that a number of blogs and bloggers that I had frequented in the past have given it up? I am not contemplating that. I do wish that that muse would be speak to me, whispering sweet somethings, into my brain more frequently than she has. I may have to go out and "buy" me a muse. Anyone know I could pick one up?

Is picking up a muse anything like trolling for hookers? I was involved in that once. It is not what you think and as usual I was on the periphery. Close enough to see what was going on, but far enough away to stay out of harm's way (if it had come to that). I will not get into the story as it is almost 20 years old, involves strippers who did not show for a stag (imagine that....unreliable stripper chicks) and the need for "entertainment" in the Carlton and Jarvis area on short notice.

That is all that you get.

Oh, yeah. If I ever think to take the bus to travel (I would consider traveling by rail) across the country, remind me a random stabbing and beheading. Of course, it occurred near Portage La Prairie, Manitoba. Having been there in February, I can see why you would do something like that there. There is not much else for fun, except the indoor pool and slide at the Super 8 Motel.

That kind of shit just does not happen on trains. Too high a class of rider. I do recall taking the bus home from Kirkland Lake with my mother once in late August. It would have had to have been about 1973 or '74, as my grandparents still lived in Kirkland Lake then. That was fun, if by fun I mean terminally boring. Recall, there were no video games, let alone handheld ones, laptop computers or portable DVD players. I was forced to read and watch a lot of boring highway pass. The only good thing is that I did not have to drive, and I do not mind driving on road trips.

I do recall, crappy, sandwiches in the bus station vending machine. Even back then, I was picky about my sandwiches. Mayo, or thought of it curdling in the sun, makes me sick. As does, sour cream and yogurt, if I put my mind to it. I do have this thing about fermented milk products. I would have been miscast in "Alienation".

I am done for now. How is that for abrupt? Ciao!

Sunday Funnies?? for a Monday

I am back. I just read that in India, 145 people died, crushed to death, in a stampede at a temple in honor of some festival. Now, with roughly 1.2 billion people, 145 is not even a rounding error, in India. The funny part, if one call any of it funny, is that it was the Festival of the Temple Stampede, which occurs every year. You just do not read about the casualties usually.

Here in Toronto, a 7 year old girl was killed, beaten to death, by her guardian (or allegedly so). I find it tremendously sad as she was truly an innocent. She was described as "happy go lucky", to which I am left to really ponder...."How "lucky"?"

There was an attack on Chinese policemen in Western China. 16 were killed and they are blaming "terrorists". Again, "terrorist" is not defined and it is tragic and senseless. Then again, with the Olympics about to get underway there, it could be a great pretense for another nationalistic crackdown. Time will tell.

Those are my thoughts on the holiday Monday. It is beautiful out there so enjoy the day. Ciao!

Holy Hell, How Fat Can A Person Get?

I am back. Got out amongst the people last night. Not sure if that is a good thing or not, but the things that I saw. Apparently, they are showing movies, for free, outdoors at Downsview Park on Fridays. The Wife wanted to see Bee Movie. So off we trek, like it is a far trek, to Downsview Park with the folding nylon chairs.



I tell you it was a like a drive-in without the charm of sitting in the car, separated from the rest of the world. I mean, in your car you are invisible (which explains me seeing people pick their noses at red lights, though if done while driving, that is real multi-tasking, because they obviously believe they are invisible or in some "private" place regardless of windows and on-lookers) so you can have any kind of wild sex you would like at the drive-in and nobody can see. That always leads to being anally penetrated by the emergency brake but that is a story for another day. The other other day story is the video of the chick riding her gear shift, yes she fucked herself with her car.



Anyway, there we sit when this woman and entourage sit near us. This woman was HUGE. She had one of those folding nylon chairs that we had and I could not figure how she could get into the chair, let alone how the frame could take that kind of strain (metal fatigue should have been an issue). Then I look at the chair, the frame is about three times thicker than normal, so it must have been reinforced with fucking adamantium (X-Men and Wolverine reference there) so that it would not collapse.



The Wife says "You would let me know if I got that fat, wouldn't you?" To which I replied, "No offense, but you would know that if you got half way there, I would be gone, so you would know." I can be shallow but fuck it, I am not about to roll the Wife in flour just to find the wet spot. I would hate to think that I was fucking some sweaty fold of skin in her belly or thigh. Then again, I guess a warm, wet hole is a warm, wet hole.



Of course, if she got that big, it would be left to the Lad to have to pry her off the couch/bed/floor to get her moving. I would be gone and I should take the Lad with me. I may just leave him with a pry bar, just so she can somebody to feed her. See, I am not cruel just shallow. Poor Lad, having to deal with that and stay out of arms length so he does not get eaten.



Well, that is what I saw and it still haunts me. Ciao!

Happy Simcoe Day Long Weekend

I am back. It is another long weekend here in the Great green north. I am going to sit back and enjoy a few bevvies myself. I need a break. Good luck to me on that one.

Well, have a good one and I hope to post over the weekend!

Ciao!