62 II

Remember a couple weeks ago when I asked everyone to concentrate on the number 62? Well, after over two weeks of just needing that number to win the Safety Bingo Game, it was called last Friday (must not been a lot of you putting out the right vibes.) Because we had been 2 weeks without another boo-boo, they had added $100 to the pot making it worth $260. Monday after all three shifts had had a chance to check their cards, I was a winner. But so was someone else. We had to split the pot. Hey, $130, is $130 more than I had the day before, so who am I to complain. Today I got an extra check to go along with my regular paycheck. It was for $120.05. Not only did I have to share the pot with a co-worker, but Uncle Sam had to get his cut too.

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My Sureal Life

Boy I wish I typed faster because then I could relate all the very weird stuff I witnessed this weekend because there was so much of it and I’m not even counting the Shark Boy & Lava Girl movie.

Cool Shades
(That’s me, second from the right, Donna is peeking out over my shoulder)

Here is a sampling: When leaving the parking lot of the grocery store this afternoon, because the spot in front to me was empty, I pulled out straight through instead of backing up. I pulled slowly through in between a new BMW 5 series on the left and a Toyota Tacoma pickup on the right. As I eased my nose out I had to wait on some kid in a several year old Honda Civic hatchback pass in front of me. He was going slow because he was thinking of pulling in on the other side of the BMW. He finally gets far enough past that I can pull out. I look back to give him the evil eye for going so slow when I notice the reason he was going so slow was about half way down into the spot there was a shopping cart sitting there. Instead of pulling 10 feet further down the aisle (away from the store) into an empty spot or stopping, getting out and moving the cart he decides to push the cart out of the spot with the front of his car. Even though he is moving forward at a walking pace, the cart bounces off his nose and, you guessed it, rolls into the side of the BMW. Donna and I both witnessed this, just shook our heads and drove home thinking that we had just seen the topper of all the strange things we had seen this weekend.

But we were wrong. Halfway between the store and home a Don Martinesque (sample DM toon) parade of two old ladies with dogs crossed the street in front of us. The first woman was 6′ tall and weighed, maybe, 75 pounds with an unruly shock of white hair, wearing a white shirt, white shorts with black knee socks. She was carrying her Maltese dog with matching white fur which weighed 5 pounds soaking wet. Her friend, following a few paces behind and wearing a dark brown skirt weighed 250 pounds and was dragging by a leash a large brown mixed breed dog who probably weighed more than woman #1.

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The Curse Of That Damn Pirate Movie

While we await the start of the Tour de France and the real reason we are plunking down an extra $15 a month for digital cable, we get to enjoy several “movie channels.” A half dozen Starz channels and eight Encore channels of which there is a lot of cross pollenation. I always check to see what is playing in case there might be something interesting and usually there isn’t, but one of the movies in the rotation this last month or so is one I can’t help but to stop and watch. I enjoy it so much that just tonight I broke away from watching the West Wing Monday Marathon (and we all know how much I love that show) to enjoy watching it for the umpteenth time.

Jack Sparrow: You, sailor.
Mr. Gibbs: Cotton, sir.
Jack Sparrow: Mr. Cotton. Do you have the courage and fortitude to follow orders and stay true in the face of danger and almost certain death?
[pause]
Jack Sparrow: Mr. Cotton. Answer, man.
Mr. Gibbs: He’s a mute, sir. Poor devil had his tongue cut out, so he trained the parrot to talk for him. No one’s yet figured how.
Jack Sparrow: Mr. Cotton’s… parrot. Same question.
Parrot: [squawk] Wind in the sails. Wind in the sails.
Mr. Gibbs: Mostly, we figure, that means ‘yes.’

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Crass Commercialism

I have once again opened up a Cafe Press store to sell merchandise to the gullible. I have made up, just in time for summer, some Camp Mazdamiata T-shirts. There are 3 slightly different designs to choose from and if you want some slight customizations, that can possibly be arranged too. Plus held over are the world famous “Oh Yes Wyoming” t-shirts. Also available is a faux Euro oval sticker that reads “LOB” (Life Of Brian), a rectangular sticker with Sturgeon’s Law on it and a bumper sticker that proclaims “Interstates Suck”.

Please buy my stuff.

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Commercial

For the reopening of my CafePress store I commissioned a professionally done commercial for airing during the baseball all-star game on Fox July 12th. I had it made in Brazil to take advantage of the lower production costs, but that might have been a mistake. The problem is not the quality, that is fantastic, but I think they misunderstood the product I have for sale. See for yourself, Life of Brian Stuff Commercial (1.8Meg video) and let me know, use it or not.

Either way, please buy my stuff.

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Soooey

I grew up in Connecticut, but ever since I joined the Navy at 18, I have not been back north to live (except for that 2 year mistake in NJ.) I have lived in Virginia, Tennessee, Mississippi, Louisiana and South Carolina for a total of over 30 years. The last 16 have been here in Aiken, SC. While I don’t consider myself a Yankee anymore, I am still far from being a southern country boy and every once in a while I’m really reminded of that fact.

Here at ASCO the Activities Committee is forever raffling off one thing or another. They sell tickets for a dollar and all the money goes into a kitty to fund donations to worthy causes and a family fun day. The raffles are usually theme related to a holiday, like for Mother’s Day it was a basket with fluffy stuff & a gift certificate to a day spa. For Father’s Day, the prize was a combination smoker & grill.

Well, for fourth of July, they are raffling of a hog. A 50lb dressed, ready to cook, pig. Soooey.

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So If You Get Hurt And Miss Work, It Won’t Hurt To Miss Work

Our friend’s 11-year old son plays on a traveling baseball team. No, not like Bingo Long & 20 other guys in an old bus barnstorming the southeast, but more like 20 Chrysler minivans with rear seat entertainment centers filled with siblings who go from town to town all over the state every other weekend playing more teams just like themselves in tournaments. The teams have to pay to enter the tournaments and there are uniforms to buy and umpires to bribe and all manner of other expenses that are borne by the parents. To help offset these costs, they do what all kids are taught in school to do from an early age, they sell stuff.

The team’s current scheme promotion is selling raffle tickets to win a bat that has been signed by Yogi Berra. When we had a visit from them this evening to ask if we would like to take some chances, I asked, “Yogi Berra, isn’t that the guy from those Aflac commercials?”

Jared, just gave me as world-weary a look as an eleven year old could, like he had heard that a million times before and it wasn’t that funny the first time either, and nodded his head to say just fill out the back of the ticket fool.

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Any Port In The Storm

Well Mateys, it happened again this evening. I lost time. Fox Mulder would tell you that that is a sign of alien abduction.

After dinner I settled in on the couch to finish reading my current book, I had my headphones for music and a fresh Diet Dr. Pepper to slake my thirst when I made the fatal mistake of doing a quick check of the movie channels. It was about 20 minutes after 6PM when the channels stopped moving on Encore wam. Next thing I knew it was 8:20PM. If it was 9 minutes I’d have said Mulder was right, but this was 2 hours, that could only mean one thing.…

Barbossa: For too long I’ve been parched of thirst and unable to quench it. Too long I’ve been starving to death and haven’t died. I feel nothing. Not the wind on my face nor the spray of the sea. Nor the warmth of a woman’s flesh.
[steps into moonlight becoming a skeleton]
Barbossa: You best start believing in ghost stories Miss Turner. You’re in one.

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