As it usually goes...some random things I've been thinking about lately...hope you enjoy...
…IT doesn’t happen often, but once in a while I do run into people who have a kid. I know it’s hard to believe since not many children frequent dive bars and fantasy baseball drafts, but amazingly I do try to reach the surface of the real world for a breath once in a while. It is always the same thing when I ask their age. “Billy is 9 weeks, 44 weeks, 100 weeks, etc.” Would it kill them to just let me know their age, say Billy is 1, 2, or 50? I’m not a mathematician, nor do I carry around my abacus in my back pocket, so I would appreciate just hearing the age, nothing more, and nothing less, instead of tying my head in knots.
“Oh wow, Mikey is a beautiful child, so how old is he?”
“Mikey is 412 ½ weeks, yes he is lovely isn’t he?”
“Great so he’s like, uh lets see, 4 times 9, carry the one, subtract the 6, add 0, hold on I need a break, ok times the square root of pie, divide the 1, alright so he’s… uh 7?”
“Yup that’s right!”
Listen, I don’t go around telling people I’m 1,456 weeks old, so why should you? All I’m asking for is a fair chance here…
…LAST week while driving through San Francisco, lost, which often I find myself doing by the way, I unexpectedly happened upon the Castro – the homosexual area of the city for those who don’t keep up with their sexual orientation geography. This is a place free from most homeless, however the ones you see also seem to share the same orientation as the roof-covered area inhabitants. Immediately, I reacted and reached for my stereo, turning down the new Coldplay album that was blaring out of my speakers, just like a white guy driving through the heart of the ghetto turning down his rap music. In the ghetto this move is done in efforts to deflect attention from pugnacious gang members nearby, poised and ready to put their game of Craps game on hold, and make your trip to the ghetto your last. In this case, however, the terrifying gang member was in the form of a flaming transvestite dressed in butt less leather chaps poised and ready to take a run at my manhood as soon as the sounds of my far-from-manly Coldplay album entered his hearing vicinity. I think I’d rather take my chances with the gang member, and that is why I felt it was best to keep “Viva La Vida,” at it’s lowest decibel possible to remain inconspicuous and safe out of harms way. I’m not really sure what to do if I ever came across a transvestite gang member, but I suppose I’d just turn on some death metal or something, otherwise I’d really be in for it…
…DOES anyone know how seagulls make it up to Lake Tahoe, keeping in mind Lake Tahoe is 6,000 feet above sea level and the key part of their name is “sea”gull? It really is mind-boggling. Are these itinerant birds fighting wind, rain, sleet and snow to accomplish what the Donner party could not, leaving their life at sea behind? I’ve got to be honest I’m not even mad at these birds; I’m actually extremely impressed. Wouldn’t Lake Gulls be more appropriate though? These are the things I think about at night…
… IS there any reason that people are still wearing wristwatches? Have they not realized that they carry an apparatus that displays the time digitally for them, called a cell phone? I asked my buddy who wears a watch why he wears it and he said so he could tell the time. When I asked him what time it was he said he didn’t know because the hands stopped moving two years prior so he checked his cell phone… “So let me get this straight, the main function of the device is essentially rendered useless, but yet you still wear it,” I pestered him. “It’s a nice watch, ok leave me alone,” he responded, as he fiddled with the face of the watch and the cheap plastic covering popped off…
No comments:
Post a Comment