It's Terminal (Re-post)

Happy re-post Wednesday!  I'm following last weeks post with one that came after it last year, just to stay congruent.  Summer is wrapping up - two more Wednesday re-posts after this and my brain will have to get back to full time work.... But for now, it's still on summer Vacation!  See you Friday with something new.

So I’m using a line I heard while at an Irish pub the other day.  I was hanging out with some Marines and one said, “Flying any more really is terrible, that’s why airports are called terminals” Hahaha - I laughed, it was funny.

Then I flew home a few days later, went to pick up my car in the parking structure and spotted this little scene.  OMG, he was right, it is terminal!  

Here sits two empty wheelchairs, alone in a parking spot, with a case of Coors Light and what looks like a bag of snacks, occupants are missing…what happened to them?  Do they need their chairs, who wheeled them out here and really, did they get enough to drink??  

I can’t make this stuff up – there it is, as found in the Big Blue Lot – Level 5, Green Section… 

My husband loves airports for the people watching, that realm has now been expanded to be all encompassing - shit you see at an airport you would never see anywhere else… 

 

Maybe they were having race in the parking lot and got pulled over for drunk wheeling, or open intoxicants, or both?

Possibly they were pilots who needed a lift back to their cars after their international flight, where they had picked up the case of Coors Light in the duty free earlier.

Or maybe they were passengers that heard about the hospital garage sale and once they finished their Coors Light were off to get their free popcorn? (referring to post 9/10/12 - "What Kind of Garage Sale Is This"? and Re-posted 8/7/13)

All I know is that this proves there are no bums at the airport – otherwise those returnables cans would have been snatched immediately!  $2.40, that’ll get you two more cans of Coors at the Kroger, with deposit and 20 cents to spare….

The White House

We’ve been spending a lot of time at BBQ’s and outdoor gatherings this summer, meeting new people and hearing new stories – and well, we heard a great one this weekend!!  

We met a lovely lady whom, in telling this story, you know she had the best interest at heart – it just worked out differently than intended.

Here it goes…. I’m going to call her Ethel (not even close to her real name).  

Ethel comes home from work on a Friday night and finds a little dog in her backyard.  There is no collar and no tag on the dog and its getting dark outside.  Worried about Coyotes, she brings the little guy inside.  Her dog isn’t particularly thrilled with this situation, so she separates them into different rooms for the night and goes to bed.

Saturday morning, she goes about looking for the dog’s owner.  She asks the lady next door who says - Oh that little fellow, he was in our yard a few days ago, we brought him in too (worried about the coyotes) but he peed on the floor, so we didn’t keep him any longer than we had too and in the morning we sent him back outside.  Nope, don’t know who he belongs too.

Ethel heads across the street to ask a few neighbors there, someone says- Oh yes – we know him, he belongs to the two girls that live in the white house over there and points in a general direction behind them.   

Ethel heads over to a white house with the little guy, knocks on the door, but no one answers.  Being resourceful and wanting the dog to be back in his own home, she tries the door – it’s not locked.  So she pops the doggie inside the door, pulls it shut and goes about her day running errands and getting Saturday chores done.

When she gets home, her husband says the two girls who own the dog were canvassing the neighborhood looking for their puppy.  I thought you said you took him to his house and left him there?

So it seems the dog did not make it to his own home, despite her best intentions.  Ethel had gone to the wrong white house and popped the doggie inside the wrong home….  

Can you imagine the homeowner opening the door and finding a random dog inside their home?  That one would be a question for the ages….”And we came home from a weekend trip and there was a dog inside out house!!  I know, we have no idea how he got there, or who he was…… a dog”!!!!

Funny.

(Dog photo used above, not actual dog from this story)

Pants OnThe Ground

Pants on the ground, pants on the ground, looking like a fool with your pants on the ground…

This picture is not the guy I actually saw, but it is a good representation, found this picture on the internet – (thanks internet)!   

The reason we have to use a substitute photo is because I was a bit slow to get the camera out and snap a shot of the real guy, so let me paint a picture for you.

Sitting at a traffic light, there are a group of twenty-something’s on the corner.  They start to cross the street and one of the boys pants fall down.  

This of course catches my eye, but my brain doesn’t react quickly enough to actually figure out what I just saw and get my camera out.  Until he pulls his pants back up to a point, at about the bottom of his butt cheeks, then I realize his pants just fell off his body!!

Now the light is changing, his friends have all made it across the road, but he is still in the middle of the street and now he has to run.  But of course he won’t pull his pants all the way up, because – well that just isn’t his style.  So he is trying to run to beat the traffic and he is all bent over because he is holding his pants up – hands at his crotch.  I’m just staring in amazement thinking – just pull the darn things up to get across the street – you can re-position them at the bottom of your ass cheeks when you get to the corner.  

But nope, he is skipping and hopping, all crouched over, hands holding up his pants in that awkward spot.  

I’m waiting for him to fall on his face and really, if he weren’t in his early twenties – I’m quite sure he would not have been able to balance himself in this little giddy-up hop run and would have surely landed on his head.  Which of course would have been better than pulling up his pants how?   

Then again if he were any older – his pants wouldn’t have been on the ground in the middle of a busy street.  They would have been up somewhere between his hips and waist and would have stayed there when he walked.

By the time he reaches the corner, his groups of friends are laughing uproariously and quite frankly they should be, it was quite a show!

Then I wonder – how many times a day does this happen?  And what if you wear the wrong boxers, you know the ones without really good elastic at the top – does everything fall down?  And what’s with the belt?  Um, it’s not doing ANYTHING…  

Does anyone find this style flattering?  How come they don’t get teased?  This used to be called “Pantsing” when I was a kid – you know, where someone (other than gravity) would come up behind you and yank your pants down – by no means funny for the person involved in the Pantsing.  So why is it cool now to have you pants fall down doing something as simple as walking?  

And again really – the belt?  Son, in case your parents or friends never told you - it’s for holding things up, not weighing things down like and anchor.  I would also tell you if you had spinach in your teeth.  You’re welcome!

(Pants on the ground lyrics by Larry Platt)

What Kind of Garage Sale Is This? (Re-post)

Happy Summer Re-post Wednesday!!  What a great day - it's just beautiful outside, therefore - what am I doing inside?? Well, picking out a previous popular post for your enjoyment, that's what!  Here's my choice - originally posted 9/10/12 - enjoy. And see you Friday with a new one.

This required a second drive by, a pull over and a walk back across the street to take a picture.

I'm baffled at where to start first - so many things are going through my mind I can't type fast enough - your mind racing too?

I have a garage sale every year, I never offer beer and popcorn - are you supposed too?  Isn't it illegal - I mean the beer thing - not the popcorn - other than unpleasant tooth kernels - you'd probably be ok there...

But why would you want to?  Unless you  have one of those fancy machines - you'd be running in and out of the house all day popping bags in your microwave and really, people are only giving you a quarter for your junk (I mean valuable goods), so technically it would totally be a bad business proposition all around.  The idea of the garage sale it to make a couple bucks in return for the removal of your formerly beloved items, not negative cash flow.

Another thing I do when I have a garage sale is tell them where it is.  You know, provide an address.  So what this actually may mean is the name of the bar is "Garage Sale" and they have free beer and popcorn?  Now that's a bit confusing isn't it, wouldn't you want to name your bar something cool like The Flying Whiskey Bottle or something similar? And not to belabor a point, but an address really would be good.  And again, the negative cash flow thing, wouldn't stay open long...

Ok, wait, maybe the Cottage Hospital was having a garage sale and they were offering free beer and popcorn.  Then if anyone had a real problem with one of those nasty popcorn kernels, one they couldn't wash away with the free beer - they were conveniently at a hospital so they could go in and get that pesky kernel removed with a scalpel or something else pointy that would clean out your gums?

Because really, no one is at a garage sale long enough to get drunk and need the services of a hospital, it's a fly by thing.  Except the lonely hangers-on, but it has been my experience they are more preachy than drinky, so they aren't getting drunk at the hospital garage sale.  Has to be the popcorn and honestly I don't think that's a good enough draw.

Free money on the other hand would work much better - and since it's been a negative cash flow thing all along, might as well make it a successful one!  I'll just take a tenner for my time - thanks!

Tesla Was Here

Ok, maybe Tesla wasn’t exactly here, since this is the inside of a porta-potty - at a beer festival – last weekend.

But look, he could have been here!  This is my hair, all standing up crazy.

It’s like I have my hands on a Tesla Coil and my hair is sticking out all over the place.  Mind you, I don’t think the owner of the porta-johns installed Tesla Coils in a random few stalls just to have a little fun with the patrons after they have had a couple – but I could be wrong….  

Of course, taking a picture while inside a porta-potty is not a pleasant thing. 

First of all, the goal is normally, to get in, and get out – as fast as possible, while balancing yourself – so nothing touches ANYTHING – all the while, holding your breath.

Stopping to fish your phone out of your pocket or purse or bra or wherever you keep it, to snap a photo is usually not in the repertoire of porta-potty dances (at least I would hope not…)

But here you have it, my hair – unfortunately having a mind of its own moment – not following the “do not touch anything” rule and sticking out statically towards the walls of the loo.  And since I found it humorous – I am now sharing it with you.

Next time, I’ll remember to bring a hair tie, advise you do the same!

OMG, We're Out of Midol!!

How can this be?  Midol is a basic necessity in life.  It’s on the first level of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs – Air, Shelter, Water, Food and Midol.  It has to be.  At least in this house it is.

So I am awoken at 4:00am with the “surprise” need for a Midol – NOW!  

I reach over to the nightstand, grab the bottle and its empty.  EMPTY????  How in the world is this thing empty?  EMPTY???  

Oh, empty won’t do….

I get out of bed, rush into the kitchen and tear through the medicine cupboard.  OMG – we are out of Midol!!!

No, this won’t do at all….

Now I don’t know about you, but every month an alien comes to visit me.  The alien only stays for the first two days, but he certainly makes his presence known.  Not that I’m against aliens or anything, I just don’t want them staking a large tent on my left ovary each month, which apparently I have no control over. 

We’ve all seen the movie (Alien) and it didn’t work out so well for Sigourney Weaver, so anything I can do to get rid of the little fella before he bursts out of my flesh is my monthly goal, and well – Midol helps a bit in this endeavor.

Then I remember, on one of our trips to Ireland this surprise happened and I didn’t have any Midol then either.  Of course, neither does Ireland, but they gave me something – what was it and where is it?

I go through the scenario in my head.  We head to the Chemist, where unlike the Drug Stores in the US, they do not have an aisle full of everything to cure you out in the public for your perusal.  You have to ask.  

Ok, I remember this, because I had to ask a man.   

Um, do you have any Midol?  What? Um, Midol – you know, for cramps?  Oh, you should take Potassium for leg cramps, bananas are good for that.  Um, no – monthly cramps, ahhhhm – for your period  (said very quietly).  

At this point I was beyond ready to curl up into a ball and lay in the corner on his store floor for the next two days.

What was that again?  For your PERIOD, something for cramps/ aliens, for your PERIOD.  Anything, please tell me you have something.   

He just looks at me, the quiet girls is not longer quiet.  I’m thinking someone in here might know what I’m talking about if I just throw it out into the ether.  Sorry I’ve got an alien in me kicking around my ovary like a soccer ball.

So I try again.  Do you have anything in an Acetaminophen with Caffeine and Pyrilamine?  He shakes his head at the crazy American girl.  

Then it clicks, oh they use/say Paracetamol in Ireland.  Ohhhh, how about Paracetamol and Caffeine, please, please do you have something with that in it? Oh, you mean Panadol?  

Yes, yes, whatever, yes I mean Panadol. Thank you kind sir!  

(Note to Ireland, just put this stuff on a shelf, dealing with women who are on their period with wicked cramps is something can easily be avoided, if the stuff  was just on the shelf.  I know there’s a law to control the use of Paracetamol – but clearly, this law was enacted by a man, who isn’t visited by an alien playing baseball with his ovaries each month.  If he were, the stuff would have a neon light flashing over it saying “Here, the Panadol is right here!!” don’t waste any time wandering the store, “Its right here!!” flash, flash, flash)

Alright, your brain works very differently at 4:00am, so all this was necessary to vet out the red box in the office of our home.  Yes, the office.  Why it wasn’t in the medicine cabinet, I don’t know – but here, in my hand is the Holy Grail.  Thank you, thank you, thank you Chemist in Ireland who thought I was nuts….  

Alien lines up for the ovary shot, this is for Birdie – FORE!!! Here comes the Panadol, the alien has lost control…

My Bra Looks Like A Cereal Bowl (Re-post)

Hello, hello - happy Wednesday summer re-post day!! Picked one of my favorites, of course by the numbers - many of you also agree... It's originally from Sept 4, 2012.  Enjoy and I'll see you all on Friday with a brand spanking new post.

This is ridiculous, my bra looks like a cereal bowl.

Ladies you'll know what I'm talking about - I'm getting ready for bed and to give the girls a rest, you pull your bra out from under your clothes.  Unhooking it, pulling one strap out through the arm and the rest out through the other arm.  I take it off fold it up and go about my nightly ritual, brushing my teeth, washing my face, slathering on the night time Oil of Olay in the purple jar....  then I turn around and think - who the hell left a cereal bowl on the bath tub??

Christ - it's my bra!  Really? Yeah, really.

Just when you think you're feeling ok about yourself, you realize your bra is ginormous.  Look, I didn't pay for these, they just grew there of their own free will, but believe me - if I could share the wealth, I would.

If only it was as easy as someone asking for a cup size.  A cup size you say - well yes - I have a couple of those to spare - how many would you like??  And would you like 5 or 10lbs to go along with that?  Great, just give me a minute while I bag that up for you.

And yes, I did go into the cupboard and grab a box of Cheerios to make my point (in case you were slightly terrified of the "bowl" size, it's not s full size box of Cheerios...)

Hey - maybe there is a market for these?  Could be like a bachelor gift, eat your Wheaties, stay a strong man!!

Spoon any one?