Some lowlife was trying to sell me ‘buds’ while in line at Pirates of the Caribbean at Disneyland. Putting on my businessman hat, I convinced him I was an executive from Ty looking into licensing deals on the West Coast…and that he could make more money cutting open his wife’s Beanie Babies, filling them with ground beef, and selling them as dog treats. Either she kills him or he spends his days as a happy idiot, shoveling meat into toys. Either way, a victory.
The Grown-Up Survey
Tired of all of those surveys made up by high school kids? Here’s questions for the people who are a little older… Copy and paste into your own note, then answer the questions. Finally, tag your friends (including me, please!).
1. What bill do you hate paying the most?
Rent. I’d like to own, to have roots and be a solid citizen.
2. Do you miss being a child?
I do–and yet, I remember long stretches of boredom, too. Boredom apparently has a shorter shelf life as memories go. “When I was young, I could remember anything, whether it happened or not.”–Mark Twain. Continue reading “The “Grown Up” Survey”
So it’s Father’s Day, and I’m feeling a little melancholy, which friends have picked up on. See, my dad had a case of bad timing, passing four years ago. Now, every Father’s Day ad takes me behind the curtain at Westmoreland Hospital to long hours sitting with dad’s comatose body, passing the time watching medicines worm their way through tubes. This was no big deal, I was told–they’d induced the coma for healing, and if I wanted I could go…they’d have him call when they brought him up, and all would be well. And I’d show him the photos of me mugging over his unconscious form, something for him to chuckle at when he was up & around, and proof to him that yes, I was there for him.
And of course, that’s not what happened. It was already over except for the breathing, and I brought back as souvenirs pictures of me with my arm around him, grinning at the joke that I was there and he didn’t know. We’d have a laugh about that later, I thought.
So I wish he’d passed near Arbor Day–or another holiday with little or no advertising budget.