I am taking a few day's holiday from the blog, but still want to keep you entertained, so in the tradition of summer re-runs, I will leave you with a couple of earlier posts that are among my personal favorites. Happy Canada Day...Happy 4th!
This is a purely hypothetical post…a composite of real conversations. I have this friend…he helps take care of his mother who is in her 80’s and lives alone. She is still reasonably sound of mind, and a little wobbly, but in good health otherwise. My friend has at least 3 conversations a day with his mother and visits her with some regularity to help fix things around the house, visit and otherwise check up on her.
The following is an excerpt from a typical daily conversation, during work hours, early in the morning:
Phone rings:
Him: “Hello [Company Name Here], this is [His Name Here], how can I help you?”
Mom: “Well, you’re at work?”
He thought: “Well Mom…you called me…and I answered the phone…so yah, I’m at work!”
He said: “Good morning Mom, how are you today?”
Mom: “I never know where you are.”
He thought: “I have caller ID...and yet I answered the phone.”
He said: “How are you feeling this morning?”
Mom: “Oh, okay. I just got back from the Kroger [grocery store]. I hate winter vegetables. They don’t have any taste. Where do they grow them…in the desert?”
He thought: “I need to water the plants in the office, they look a little droopy.”
He said: “We import the winter vegetables, they come from all over, and they aren’t as good as what you grow in your garden, that’s for sure.”
Mom: “They had really nice, fresh spinach, so I got a batch.”
He thought: “Oi, here we go…”
He said: “Mom, you know you aren’t supposed to eat spinach. It throws your Coumadin levels off.”
Mom: “Oh, that’s okay; I’ll just eat a bowl of cranberries to balance it out.”
He thought: “oh, sh#t! She’s going to spontaneously bleed to death in her sleep because she can’t stick to a simple diet.”
He said: “Mom…stick to your diet. You shouldn’t be self medicating with food and try to balance your Coumadin levels. The Doctor will figure it out you know.”
Mom: “Oh, he’ll never know!”
I…I mean he thought: “Oh sure, finding you curled up in a bloody mass on the floor from hemophilia caused by your arrogant denial of a proper diet to keep your levels balanced… just...because you were too stubborn…it won’t be pretty, and the Dr. WILL know…and it will be too late.”
I…I mean he said: “Just the same, stick to the diet. “
Mom, in perfect transition: “You never call you know!”
He thought: “Oh crap, here we go again. I called last evening. You told me you were going out to supper with [insert gold-digging boy toy who is not my father…I mean his father here].”
He said: “We talked last evening. You told me about your supper plans.”
Mom: “Oh, yah…amazing…you called me. Do you know how many Valentines cards I got?”
He thought: “No, but I’m about to find out…and please, please don’t start reading them all to me.”
Mom: “24 so far…let me read them to you…”
He thought: “Please! Somebody else PLEASE call me right now! No…just shoot me! Really…I’ll pay for the bullet!”
He said: “Mom, I’m coming down to see you tomorrow. How about if you leave them out and I’ll read them when I get there?”
Mom: “How long will you be here?”
I…I mean he thought: “It depends on how many cards I have to read.”
I…I mean he said: “I’ll come down mid-morning. I’ll read the cards; we’ll have a yak and go out to lunch. How’s that?”
Mom: “Okay, remember not to call me tonight because I have supper plans…but you better call in the morning!”
He thought: “Oh good…another reason to live?!?”
He said: “I’ll call you when I’m on my way out the door.”
Mom: “You say you will, but we’ll see.”
He thought: “I love you Mom…ohhhhh how I love you…you….I love you Mom (ten times real fast).”
He said: “I love you Mom. See you tomorrow.”
Now I, I mean my friend, really does love his mother and if she ever gets connected to the internet this post will disappear in a heart-beat! He wants her to be happy and comfortable. He would jump in front of a bus to save her…hopefully during off-business hours, and hopefully not a large or fast moving bus.
I’m just saying.
And You Can Bank On It…
So it’s Sunday morning about 6:00AM, I’m tired and I’d like to sleep in until say…7:00Am…not so much. The boys [my two dogs] have a daily agenda that starts with getting fed at 6:00Am regardless of what I think. They don’t know Sunday morning from anything…I gotta teach them to read a calendar…
Dogs tended to, first cup of coffee poured I started my Sunday routine. Pay bills, write checks, balance the checkbook. I went online to check my electronic statement and found a $30 charge that had no description, payee only a transaction number. Whadda-wha? Did I forget something? Why $30? It looks like a fee…what did I do?
I called the bank which offers 24/7 customer service (which may change after today).
CSR (Customer Service Representative):”Hello, this is [Rip you off while you sleep bank], how may I help you?”
Me:” Hello [answering at least 10 security questions to convince them I was me] I have a charge on my checking account [transaction number] can you tell me what it was for?”
CSR:”Oh that is an annual fee for your overdraft checking protection.”
Me:”’My what? I don’t have overdraft protection…what is that?”
CSR:”Yes you do. We automatically signed you up for it.”
Me:”What? Why? I have never written a bad check in my life! What was this for?”
CSR:”Well if you read the small print on the back of page 4 of your electronic statement [in type soooo small you couldn’t read it with 20/20 vision and a microscope] you would see that we automatically signed up our preferred customers with this program.”
Me:”Wait a minute. I am paying extra for a service I have no use for because I am a “Preferred“ customer? What would you charge if you didn’t like me?”
CSR:”Sir, this program protects you in case you overdraw your checking account.”
Me:”I have NEVER overdrawn! What are the terms?”
CSR:”Well, if you overdraw there is a fee of $35 to cover the check, and the balance will be placed in a credit account at 29.9% interest on the unpaid amount.”
Me:”Whadda-wha? You are charging me to maintain an account that I have never used and you will charge me for using it, plus 29.9% interest?”
CSR:”Yes sir…what is your question?”
Me:”Cancel the account! I don’t want it, I never approved it and frankly if I write a bad check you can shoot me and if I pay for the bullets it will save me money! I also want my $30 returned.”
CSR:”Well sir, as a one-time courtesy, we will return your fee.”
Me:”Whadda-wha? Okay…I had no intentions of making this personal until you went “I’m just reading the script” stupid on me! So answer a question. If someone took $30 from your wallet without your permission and only returned it when you caught them red-handed…would you consider that a courtesy?”
CSR:”Sir the funds have been credited…if there is nothing else I can help you with, thank you for banking with [Suck the life out of our customers] Bank and have a nice day.”
Hmmmmmmmmmmmm.
My Grandfather hid his cash in tobacco cans in the root cellar. Smokers Unite! I need storage space.
I’m just saying.
I called the bank which offers 24/7 customer service (which may change after today).
CSR (Customer Service Representative):”Hello, this is [Rip you off while you sleep bank], how may I help you?”
Me:” Hello [answering at least 10 security questions to convince them I was me] I have a charge on my checking account [transaction number] can you tell me what it was for?”
CSR:”Oh that is an annual fee for your overdraft checking protection.”
Me:”’My what? I don’t have overdraft protection…what is that?”
CSR:”Yes you do. We automatically signed you up for it.”
Me:”What? Why? I have never written a bad check in my life! What was this for?”
CSR:”Well if you read the small print on the back of page 4 of your electronic statement [in type soooo small you couldn’t read it with 20/20 vision and a microscope] you would see that we automatically signed up our preferred customers with this program.”
Me:”Wait a minute. I am paying extra for a service I have no use for because I am a “Preferred“ customer? What would you charge if you didn’t like me?”
CSR:”Sir, this program protects you in case you overdraw your checking account.”
Me:”I have NEVER overdrawn! What are the terms?”
CSR:”Well, if you overdraw there is a fee of $35 to cover the check, and the balance will be placed in a credit account at 29.9% interest on the unpaid amount.”
Me:”Whadda-wha? You are charging me to maintain an account that I have never used and you will charge me for using it, plus 29.9% interest?”
CSR:”Yes sir…what is your question?”
Me:”Cancel the account! I don’t want it, I never approved it and frankly if I write a bad check you can shoot me and if I pay for the bullets it will save me money! I also want my $30 returned.”
CSR:”Well sir, as a one-time courtesy, we will return your fee.”
CSR:”Sir the funds have been credited…if there is nothing else I can help you with, thank you for banking with [Suck the life out of our customers] Bank and have a nice day.”
Hmmmmmmmmmmmm.
My Grandfather hid his cash in tobacco cans in the root cellar. Smokers Unite! I need storage space.
I’m just saying.
The Mysterious Missing Full Moon…Part II
Back to the story.
As I approached the counter, the “preoccupied” teller looked at me, looked back at my vehicle and proclaimed, “Hey, you can’t park there!” I took a deep breath and answered, “Well, I assumed that because you weren’t tending the window that I was indeed in a parking spot, so I came in. I simply want to make a deposit…you do accept deposits…right?” The teller processed my deposit silently and shoved the receipt back at me without making eye contact. She then turned and picked up the conversation with her co-worker. I stood there for a second a little aghast, and said,” Thank you…and you have a nice day as well!”
When I finally got home, I kissed and hugged the dogs and hid in the basement for a while.
I’m just saying.
If There’s No Full Moon Tonight…Then Please Explain!?!
I had to run errands today. I always plan to take care of as many things as possible in a round trip. Deliver proofs to a client, do a print check for another client, go to the bank, and stop at the market. Simple enough? Not so much.
I also want to qualify that I am dedicating this post to my friend Kim. She will tell you that as long as she has known me, I have never passed and opportunity to verbalize sardonic response the bizarre. I have however in the past year tempered my reactions and try to find a middle ground from which to accept that which I witness. Okay Kim…now you HAVE to leave a response!
The first two stops were uneventful and routine and there I was, sitting at a stop light…minding my own business when a gentleman on an obviously very expensive mountain bike made a left turn in front of me moving to my left and behind me.
Rewind…this gentleman easily weighed 350 pounds, was wearing a helmet way too small for his head and was wearing a full body Spandex riding suit. Rewind…350 pound man in full body Spandex. Rewind…350 pound man in full body LAVENDER Spandex with a cup holder dangling from his handlebars holding a 12 ounce bottle of beer, AND he had a huge cigar hanging out of his mouth.
A flood of thoughts ran through my mind like a sheet of rain cutting across an open field. It was a mix of shock, repulsion, and sympathy. I rubbed my eyes to be sure that I wasn’t experiencing a stroke induced hallucination. And then I mustered all of my empathic senses to come to peaceful resolve with the images burned into my memory. I came to two conclusions.
1. Good for him for taking up exercise…he is obviously in a transition period.
2. I thank God I’m not a bicycle seat!
I tried Kim…sorry. To be continued…
I’m just saying.
I also want to qualify that I am dedicating this post to my friend Kim. She will tell you that as long as she has known me, I have never passed and opportunity to verbalize sardonic response the bizarre. I have however in the past year tempered my reactions and try to find a middle ground from which to accept that which I witness. Okay Kim…now you HAVE to leave a response!
Rewind…this gentleman easily weighed 350 pounds, was wearing a helmet way too small for his head and was wearing a full body Spandex riding suit. Rewind…350 pound man in full body Spandex. Rewind…350 pound man in full body LAVENDER Spandex with a cup holder dangling from his handlebars holding a 12 ounce bottle of beer, AND he had a huge cigar hanging out of his mouth.
1. Good for him for taking up exercise…he is obviously in a transition period.
2. I thank God I’m not a bicycle seat!
I tried Kim…sorry. To be continued…
I’m just saying.
Have You Fallen Off Your Garage Today?
A loaded question I know and I hope the answer is a resounding NO…more on that later.
This past Sunday was Father’s Day. I have a long standing tradition for Father’s Day that now transcends the loss of my own father and yesterday was no exception. When I was a kid we got Dad socks, ugly ties and tools as Father’s Day gifts. Mom would buy them, we would wrap them and I used to make handmade cards for him which ultimately he enjoyed way more than the socks.
Move forward…as an adult giving my Father gift items for Father’s Day became much more difficult. By the time I was an adult Dad had 2 each of every tool known to human kind, he didn’t golf, socks were out of the question, and frankly he had turned buying his own ugly ties into an art form. What to do??? What do you give the man who needs nothing?
One Sunday I went to visit my parents. Mom had gone out grocery shopping and when I got to their house, I found my Dad—in his eighties with failing eyesight—on a step ladder trying to clean the gutters on the garage. I took over and locked the ladder with a chain and padlock so Dad wouldn't be tempted to use it again. And so the tradition began. Dad would make a to-do list and I would come over early on Father’s Day, take him out to breakfast and take care of the chores on the list. Weed the rose gardens, edge the grass lines, clean the gutters on the house and garage and whatever else needed tending.
This Father’s Day was no different…except that Dad wasn’t there. I got to Mom’s early and weeded the gardens, edged, and cleaned the gutters. Every time I clean the garage gutters, I do it from the roof because it is faster than dragging the ladder around and climbing up and down. I have never been afraid of heights and one of my nicknames as a child was “Monkey Boy” because back then, I never found a tree I couldn’t climb. What I did notice this time sitting on the roof, cleaning the gutters was all of the stuff running through my mind that would have to be taken care of if I fell off the roof. I did not fall off the roof, but I did think about it…next year I’ll use the ladder…I’m getting too old for this crap.
As an endnote I got a really cool cordless drill driver for Father’s Day this year. Did I need one? No, but that is not the point. This thing has 2400 Ft. pounds of torque, a 2 speed gear box and variable speed trigger arrr, arrr, arrr…power! But I digress. When the boys were young, I would buy what I wanted for Father’s Day and give it to them to wrap and give back to me …thus avoiding socks and ugly ties. Justin called me and asked “What did I get you this year?” I told him, “A cordless drill driver.” He responded, ”Wow, nice! Can I borrow it?”
I’m just saying
Move forward…as an adult giving my Father gift items for Father’s Day became much more difficult. By the time I was an adult Dad had 2 each of every tool known to human kind, he didn’t golf, socks were out of the question, and frankly he had turned buying his own ugly ties into an art form. What to do??? What do you give the man who needs nothing?
One Sunday I went to visit my parents. Mom had gone out grocery shopping and when I got to their house, I found my Dad—in his eighties with failing eyesight—on a step ladder trying to clean the gutters on the garage. I took over and locked the ladder with a chain and padlock so Dad wouldn't be tempted to use it again. And so the tradition began. Dad would make a to-do list and I would come over early on Father’s Day, take him out to breakfast and take care of the chores on the list. Weed the rose gardens, edge the grass lines, clean the gutters on the house and garage and whatever else needed tending.
As an endnote I got a really cool cordless drill driver for Father’s Day this year. Did I need one? No, but that is not the point. This thing has 2400 Ft. pounds of torque, a 2 speed gear box and variable speed trigger arrr, arrr, arrr…power! But I digress. When the boys were young, I would buy what I wanted for Father’s Day and give it to them to wrap and give back to me …thus avoiding socks and ugly ties. Justin called me and asked “What did I get you this year?” I told him, “A cordless drill driver.” He responded, ”Wow, nice! Can I borrow it?”
I’m just saying
Stops Squeaks, Protects Metal
Megan Hesse – Sugary Cynicism. This is pulp-blogging; raw writing at its finest! Megan is a college student who vents daily on her posting. Whether it is movie reviews, daily life, or just venting in the moment Megan is acutely smart and makes you think. From obscure movie and literary quote references, to simple metaphoric references, when you read (and you should) Megan’s blog, be on your intellectual “A” game! It is literary Sudoku and you will be better for it.
Heather Binkley – Did You Remember Your Pill Today. I LOVE Heather! SAHM (Stay At Home Mom) Heather chronicles raising 3 children along with all of the other daily living requirements and does it with wit, intelligence, and empathic pleading for affirmation or alternative :).
Heather’s posts are a study in contrast and comparison with her own childhood, the reality of her daily life (laundry is a definite issue), and a call for empathy and advice. One of the beauties of Heather’s posts is that she welcomed…no…INVITED a male perspective on public breast feeding…WOW! You really have to slide over to Heather’s blog and get a daily fill. It’s WAY better than the WSJ, and you will think and giggle all day…way more than the WSJ (which by the way has never had a comic section!).
Anne Dickens – The Day After Yesterday. Anne is a former jet-setting executive who has become the country –living parent of a pre-school child and Ohhhh what a difference! Anne’s posts are daily, entertaining and a journal of daily life contrasting her upbringing and professional history with her current reality, and frankly…it’s a hoot! From a bar-b-queue that only works for 10 minutes at a time to not having a safety net in her toilet to catch a rogue i-phone (which actually creates a whole ‘nother set of problems). Take a break and stop by to what is going on in the Oxfordshire countryside.
AJ Poliquit – The Transcendental Tourist. AJ is a native of the Philippines and an educator by trade. His journals chronicle his travels throughout Asia and are rich with history and images. Eloquently written, you cannot help but feel inside the story. AJ was one of the first bloggers that I started following. I admit I was ignorant of much of the history of the South Pacific and AJ exposed me to an incredible collection of stories from a firsthand perspective. From ancient historic sites to journals of life under Japanese occupation during World War II, the travelogue posts are well worth you taking a trip over to AJ’s blog.
I want to encourage all of you to visit these blogs, share them with your friends and family and support the writing community. If you have a favorite blog with good content and writing, please let me know and I will visit it and review it in my monthly showcase post.
I’m just saying.
Becoming a Grandpa…Part II
So a few days ago I announced that I will become a Grandpa. It is exciting news and I am very happy for Justin and Amy – they are excited as well. When I was told it was okay to announce the pending birth I called some close friends and got the usual stream of stereotypical responses.
“Don’t you feel old now?” NO! I didn’t feel old before I found out, and I’m only a day older now.
“It’s about time isn’t it?” What? By our actions we can choose the age at which we become parents, but grandparents? That’s not up to us and what good does it do to put that kind of pressure on anyone. No, it’s the perfect time.
And the quip that stuck out was “Oh boy, now as a Grandpa you get to drive Justin crazy by spoiling your grandchild as a payback.” I’ve heard that one a lot and I have to be honest…Justin never drove me crazy. He was always a good child and I feel blessed for that. Justin was always smart, engaged, interested and active. In his entire life to date I cannot remember a time that I was angry with him for longer than the current conversation…we always were able to resolve things to a peaceful conclusion.
Growing up Justin was an odd hybrid child that I endearingly refer to as a “Jocknerd”. He loved sports…ALL sports, but did very well academically in school. He was interested in every sport known to human kind and was active in several sports. I have said before, but if I could have convinced Justin that laundry and washing dishes were sports I’d have it made. Justin graduated high school on the National Honor Society and graduated University with double honors. The photo at right is the day Justin graduated University and at the moment the photo was shot, Justin was picking my wallet from my back pocket…God love him.
Justin was always a good kid! Before I knew he was becoming a father in a phone conversation I said,”You know what? I hope your children grow up to be just like you!”…and I meant it as a grateful compliment!
As and endnote and yet another Justin story: When Justin was a child we did not allow any toys in the house that remotely resembled weapons. No toy guns, swords, knifes, etc. Simply…the reason was that I did not want him to become desensitized to the notion that shooting ANYTHING was a form of entertainment. Consequently as is true with all boys, Justin developed a super-hero alter ego, but it was more based on super powers than arsenal. His super ego – “Pajama Man”. His costume – a terrycloth towel cape and his favorite pajamas. One day as I was rounding the corner into the living room, Justin lept from the couch right in front of me and proclaimed, “I am Pajama Man…and you are my arch villain!” He then whipped a sheet of note paper from behind his back and waved it in my face.
Me:”Ahha…Pajama Man, what have you there?”
Justin: “My secret weapon!”
Me: Smiling at the note paper ”And what will you do with it?”
Justin:”I will give you a nasty paper cut!”
Me:”Ahhh…death by systemic infection…how diabolical!”
Justin:”EXACTLY…huh…what?”
I’m just saying.
“Don’t you feel old now?” NO! I didn’t feel old before I found out, and I’m only a day older now.
“It’s about time isn’t it?” What? By our actions we can choose the age at which we become parents, but grandparents? That’s not up to us and what good does it do to put that kind of pressure on anyone. No, it’s the perfect time.
And the quip that stuck out was “Oh boy, now as a Grandpa you get to drive Justin crazy by spoiling your grandchild as a payback.” I’ve heard that one a lot and I have to be honest…Justin never drove me crazy. He was always a good child and I feel blessed for that. Justin was always smart, engaged, interested and active. In his entire life to date I cannot remember a time that I was angry with him for longer than the current conversation…we always were able to resolve things to a peaceful conclusion.
Justin was always a good kid! Before I knew he was becoming a father in a phone conversation I said,”You know what? I hope your children grow up to be just like you!”…and I meant it as a grateful compliment!
Me:”Ahha…Pajama Man, what have you there?”
Justin: “My secret weapon!”
Me: Smiling at the note paper ”And what will you do with it?”
Justin:”I will give you a nasty paper cut!”
Me:”Ahhh…death by systemic infection…how diabolical!”
Justin:”EXACTLY…huh…what?”
I’m just saying.
The Wedding Song
I finally got my hands on video from the wedding I posted about a couple of weeks ago (I'm Going to the Chapel...). This was when during the vows, Angela broke into a huddle with the bridesmaids and then broke into song. Eat your heart out Glee! Enjoy!
I'm just saying.
I'm just saying.
So…I’m Going To Be a Grandpa
So…the story.
I got a call a couple of weeks ago and the conversation went as usual. I asked him how he was doing and what was new and he went into a long story about selling the bar and taking a position with a company in North Carolina, as well as a partnership in a national promotional concern. Not being one for long phone conversations I said:
“That all sounds good son. I’m going to say goodnight and we’ll talk in a couple of days.”
Justin:”Dad. I have a family thing I need to talk about.”
Me (having peaked my curiosity:” Okay, what’s up?”
Justin:”How do you feel about being a Grandpa?”
Me (naively):”Well, that would be nice, but it’s not up to me…that’s kind of your job.”
Justin:”Well…my work is done!”
Me:”What? What? Ummmm….How is Amy? How does she feel?”
Justin:”She’s good. Amy is excited.”
Me:”How are you?”
Justin:”I’m good and excited too!”
Me:”Congratulations! I’m excited for both of you. You will be good parents. We need to talk more soon. Be good to each other! I love you son!”
Justin:”I love you too Dad…goodnight.”
To be continued…
I’m just saying.
Have a Great Weekend!
I don't normally post this sort of thing, but I bumped into this video and by golly, this young lady is incredible.
Enjoy.
I'm just saying.
Enjoy.
I'm just saying.
Well Spank Me and Call Me a Red Eyed Chicken!
Okay, the title has nothing to do with the post, and I have no idea what it means, but I made you look…so read on. In my defense, I had a Lit Professor years ago that said, “The story has to be good, but the title makes them turn the cover”.
So my rant today is about language, what we have done to it, and what we aren’t doing with it, and the shortcuts we take not to communicate with each other. Texting is a good start. I was traveling recently to visit a friend several hours away in drive time. I had given an estimated time of arrival and was on schedule within a few minutes. As I was getting close, my phone buzzed, and when I looked at it, I found I had a text message waiting. I HATE text messages…call me! I fumbled to access the message which read “nt hm yt…whr r u?” WHAT? Now, I am multi-tasking with driving and trying to figure out what the heck the message means…you see, I am one of those people who turns the radio down when I am driving and looking for an address. I knew the message was from my friend, so I called to find out what was up. I got voicemail…SH#T! Then I got a second message, “Hey, wh r u?”
I dialed the number again, got voicemail again and left a message, “Hey, buy some vowels, and answer the d#mn phone!” As I was leaving the message, I got yet another text, “cll me”. Oi!
By now I have pulled over on the highway to try to respond instead of just getting to my destination and having a face to face conversation. What is wrong with this story? When I arrived at my friend’s home, I went to the front door and wrote “Knock knock” on the front window in soap and then rang the doorbell.
So here’s the thing. When I was a teenager, there were no cell phones or personal computers (I’m not complaining, it’s just a fact) and so I wondered what texting would have looked like in my day. So…there I am driving down the road and a letter flies in the window. I open it, and the message is “nt hm yt…whr r u?” Oh crap! I pull out my Smith Corona holding it in my lap while steering with my knees and type the message “on m wy, b thr sn!” But then I have to pull over, find a post office, buy a stamp, lick the envelope and post the response. The problem is the message isn’t received until 2 days after the visit.
So finally, here is the point to this post. I shop frequently at a market up the road. To get there, one makes a right turn onto the side street and then a sharp left into the parking lot. I drove over tonight to pick up some goodies for the next couple of days and when I turned the corner I saw a woman walking her dog in the middle of the street and headed right for me. She was texting! I stopped diagonally on the side street and actually put the car in park waiting to see what she was doing. The dog, on a long lead walked around the front of the car…she walked smack into the front fender, and her phone slid across the hood of the car. I jumped out asking if she was okay…stunned she stood up and her first look was accusatory as though I had run into her, but quickly she realized she simply hadn’t been paying attention. I scooped her phone off the hood of my car and typed a quick message and handed it back to her…the message…”WTF!”
I’m just saying.
I dialed the number again, got voicemail again and left a message, “Hey, buy some vowels, and answer the d#mn phone!” As I was leaving the message, I got yet another text, “cll me”. Oi!
By now I have pulled over on the highway to try to respond instead of just getting to my destination and having a face to face conversation. What is wrong with this story? When I arrived at my friend’s home, I went to the front door and wrote “Knock knock” on the front window in soap and then rang the doorbell.
So finally, here is the point to this post. I shop frequently at a market up the road. To get there, one makes a right turn onto the side street and then a sharp left into the parking lot. I drove over tonight to pick up some goodies for the next couple of days and when I turned the corner I saw a woman walking her dog in the middle of the street and headed right for me. She was texting! I stopped diagonally on the side street and actually put the car in park waiting to see what she was doing. The dog, on a long lead walked around the front of the car…she walked smack into the front fender, and her phone slid across the hood of the car. I jumped out asking if she was okay…stunned she stood up and her first look was accusatory as though I had run into her, but quickly she realized she simply hadn’t been paying attention. I scooped her phone off the hood of my car and typed a quick message and handed it back to her…the message…”WTF!”
I’m just saying.
