Hump Day Rant

·         When the lovely Olympic hurdler Lolo Jones was interviewed last week, saying that she’s committed to maintaining her virginity, but that “it’s really hard”, I giggled like the severely delayed adolescent I am.

·         This year I signed up for EHarmony’s free Memorial Day weekend.  All of my matches were attending barbecues.   After I answered their screening questions, the site said that my compatible mate would be apt to leave me home.

·         When you’re at the gym, and you’re working out with REALLY heavy weights, and you have to dramatically and loudly drop/throw your weights and scream at the end of your set, count back one rep; that could be your sweet spot for next time.

·         Bonus Gym Rant:  I think exercise damages peripheral vision.  The guy hogging the machine I want can’t seem to see me waiting.

·         I’m contemplating starting to take Chantix.  I’m not a cigarette smoker, but I think it would be cool to have vivid dreams.

·         This story went largely unnoticed, but I think Justin Bieber beating up a paparazzo (or anybody, frankly) is a new sign of a pending apocalypse.

·         I really like 5 Hour Energy, but I think it’s an interesting commentary on our culture that their advertising campaign is targeted at those for whom coffee drinking is just too difficult and time consuming.

Memorial Day 2012

Happy Memorial Day, Everyone. 

Thank you for your sacrifice and service, Veterans!

My Father was a Veteran (Navy) of the Korean War.  He used to say, "Police action, my ass."  RIP and thanks, Dad.

Sounds from the Memorial Day Parade

·         Do you want to sit with Dakota?  Do you want a juice box?  Do you want to stand with Uncle Rusty? Don’t throw things.  Rusty, let her stand with you.  I can’t see.  I told you to go before we left.  I can’t see.  Do you see a bathroom around here?  There’s nothing to see yet.  Watch that way for the flags.  Do you need sunscreen?  I think they’re starting.  Does she need sunscreen?  I have sunscreen.  Can you see them?  Do you want to sit with Grandma?  Do you want to take a walk with Uncle Rusty?  You move again, and you’re done.  I think I see them.  I said don’t throw things.  I can’t see.  They only throw the candy to their friends.  I don’t have gum, ask Grandma.  Mom, do you have gum for her?  Can you see the fire truck? Over here!!!  Dakota, give the baby one of those smarties.  Where’s Dakota’s other flip-flop?  Did you bring the chips?  Dakota, where’s your other flip-flop?  Put a hat on the baby.  I can’t see.  We didn’t come here to eat.  Don’t walk on the blanket.  Where did you get that water bottle?  Where did she get that water bottle?  She’s right in the sun; put a hat on the baby.  I love the bagpipes.  They sound awful.  I can’t see.  Mom, take that from her, I have no idea where she got it.  I have the sunscreen.  Sit down.  I can’t see.  Janie’s in the band.  Don’t put that in your mouth.  What does she play?  I can’t see.  JANIE!!!  Wave to Janie.  JANIE!!! Sit down.  They sound great.  Sit on the curb.  That poor kid looks so hot; it’s like 90 in the sun.  Pick a place and sit.  Don’t throw things.  I can’t see.  Quit squirming or get down.  Sit next to Dakota.  Dakota, let her sit next to you.  Stop kicking or you’ll have to get down.  I can’t see.  Don’t step on the juice box.  Are you done with your juice?  Is that it?  Do you see more lights?  I think that’s it.  That was short.

Observations from the Memorial Day Parade

·         Marching bands probably sound great mostly because you only hear them for 40 seconds.

·         The theme song from Hawaii Five-0 is the coolest tune a Junior High band can play. 

·         Most of the guys in the bagpipe band don’t look like they’re used to walking  that far.  If you scheduled your funeral on a parade route, you could save money on the bagpiper.  The guy with the big scepter/baton thing that leads the band is like a Drum Major or something, but he’s also probably the suckiest bagpiper.

·         People arrive late and expect that there will still be curb space left.

·         People arrive early and think they can reserve the whole curb for everyone they know.

·         I hope that the emergency responders who march look kind of out of shape because the more fit ones are back at the station ready for action.

·         The common denominator uniform piece of a parade marcher is black slacks.  Some try to get away with wearing navy, but they aren’t fooling anyone.

·          Veterans should be able to march in tee shirts and shorts.  They’ve given enough, no reason to make them march in wool.

·         The dog with the shortest legs in the world (dachshund) is a strange choice for a parade dog marching club.  The dogs keep looking at their owners as if to say, “REALLY?”

·         The marching dachshunds got more applause than the Korean War Vets did. 

·         I bet some of the people driving the radio station vehicles are announcers.  It has to suck to be kind of famous but totally unrecognizable to your fans. 

Testing the Waters

Greetings!

As I explained in my introduction, one of my "isms" is a short attention span.  I often think in bullet points.  Sometimes this blog will be presented in little blurps of thought that have bubbled up.  Here are some things on my mind today.

Random Rant

·         Blackout Car Window tint people:  I can’t see you when you wave me on at an intersection.  You darkened your windows so no one can see you;  did you forget?  Let’s just pay attention to the order we arrived at the intersection and follow the rules of the road, shall we?

·         What’s going on with “Walmart Steak”? Does it come from some strange Chinese cow?  If Walmart TV commercials didn’t promote (with a blind taste test, and shocked participants) how “Walmart Steak” tastes so great, I probably wouldn’t have been suspicious, but now there’s no way I’m buying it.

·         If you’re at the gym and can read a magazine while you’re working out, you probably ought to increase your intensity.

·         If you’re at a laundromat, and you put a kid in a washing machine and shut the door, and the washing machine starts its cycle, that’s not an accident.  If this incident is captured on hidden camera and goes viral on YouTube (look it up) and you’re a District Attorney in that jurisdiction who decides to not push for a child endangerment charge, you’re an idiot.

Grammar Rant

·         An apostrophe and a letter S (‘s) denotes possession (the boy’s dog) or a contraction of two words (it’s, as in “it is”). That’s it, either/or,  no more mystery.  If neither applies,  and the word just happens to end with an S, or the word is simply plural, just use a naked old S all by its lonesome. Use of the apostrophe generally does not make a word plural, but it’s easy to get confused with plural nouns  (“the two priests’ vestments were wrinkled.”, “the bunnies’ burrow was deep.”, “the women’s restroom toilet was backed up.”), so avoid writing sentences about priests, bunnies and women’s restrooms (and toilets).  If you follow these simple rules, a lot of you will reduce your use of ‘s A LOT.

·          You’re is a contraction of the words “you are”.  Your is a possessive adjective (“your grammar sucks”).  The two aren’t interchangeable.

·         Sometimes it’s grammatically correct to use the word “me”.  Just saying, you don’t sound smarter because you always use the word “I” instead of “me”. 

Creaky, Cranky and Conservative: An Introduction

I'm well into my 50th year, and I'm now considered middle-aged by some, using the broadest and most optimistic measure.  If it's true that I'm in the middle of this journey, I'll be around until I'm 102, but I'm not sure how I feel about that prospect.  How much more creaky, cranky and conservative can I possibly become?  What will another 50 years do to me?  And what will I do with those 50 years?

Still, I must admit to having developed some characteristics that are commonly attributed to the middle-aged: gray and receding hair, impatience, opinionated-ness, short attention span, occasional forgetfulness, and others that I can't remember. 

So we'll agree to call this time in my life "Middle Age" (although I think it's more likely, at best, "Three Quarter Age"); so what?    Of the previously mentioned traits, the one for me that seems most pronounced and ever-evolving is my tendency to have strong opinions about stuff.  Although there are plenty of topics about which I willingly and alternately plead ignorance or disinterest, there is a ton of crap about which I find myself opinionated with conviction and mostly for no good reason.  While I'm an accomplished under-my-breath grumbler, there are times when my opinion seeks an audience.  Hence, The Rant.

So I will use this blog as an outlet for the rants I normally reserve for when I'm alone in the car, and formerly directed at my late cat .  Some of what I'll offer up will later embarrass and/or bore even me, and much of it will be silly and worthless at first read.  If I can take it, surely you, my mythical (for now) readers can. 

Disclaimer:  I'll admit at the outset that I will no doubt make up words and facts to back up my opinions.  So don't go getting all Wikipedia on me.  Also, I will try to be an equal opportunity offender, and I think I have it in me, but I promise nothing.

I have no idea how this blog thing will play out, or whether my short attention span will make this effort fizzle (I suppose I can always buy a replacement cat);  but here we go.  Welcome aboard, and don't say I didn't warn you.