Purely random thoughts.....
1) Barry Bonds in news again...
It was inevitable that Barry Bonds massively oversized head would be hit by.....well, something noteworthy: a low flying jet was my biggest fear, but other contenders were a BART train, Russian satellite, weather balloon, some large type of bird of prey. Well, none of those have been pulverized via collision with BB's noggin. What DID occur this week was that Barry took out his early season frustrations on an innocent baseball during Giants batting practice. The poor ball (or "egg", as Crash Davis refers to 'em) never had a chance. Sure Barry went down to the ground in what looked liked obvious pain in an apparent attempt to garner sympathy from fans and media, but you and I know the truth: he relished picking on that pathetic excuse for a baseball and beating the living crap out of it. He's been doing it for years to other balls with lumber. Now he's trying to do the same with something even harder and more calloused. Poor, poor baseballs.
2) Do cats know what day of the week it is?
I have become convinced that my cat KNOWS when the weekend rolls around. Lately, on every Saturday or Sunday morning I spend about 2 hours cleaning my tiny apartment. It has become a ritual I've followed for several months now (prior to last winter I was cleaning the place every full moon or so, if that often). Nothing different goes on in this apartment to clue her in: I don't wake up any earlier or eat different food or really anything that I can think of. Hank just knows.
And Hank simply hates my cleaning tools of choice: any spray bottle such as 409 (I got her when she was less than a year old, so I assume that her prior owners must have been the type of folks to spray water on their cats when they do something "wrong", since I've never done anything like that to her), and of course, the dreaded vacuum cleaner, feared by all domestic animals. Now that Hank has figured out my schedule of cleaning the place on either of the weekend mornings, she hides under the bed after eating her breakfast, and stays there no matter what amount of cajoling I attempt to get her to come out. Of course, once I have finished vacuuming (this is always done last, as she well knows), she will slowly gather her wits and creep out from under the protective shield I sleep on top of to sniff around and make sure the coast is clear. And then she goes about her business of doing cat-like things: basically, that means sleeping, waking, then taking a nap, then going back to sleep once awakening from the nap. Also some licking, and a small amount of eating and drinking of water.
3) Whatever happened to Rent-A-Wreck?
I happened to have had to rent a car this past week while my 8 year old Corolla POS was being worked on. I hate to complain about something that most UMC or even LMC folks don't give a second thought to: does the rental agency have to give you the nice shiny car with all the bells and whistles and 410 miles on it, as was the case with me? The brand new Ford Fusion with the 3.0 liter engine that doesn't hickup and whisper to me "watch it, bitch" whenever I am going up a steep hill on 95?
Do the car rental companies not have some old, rusty Novas or Malibus out back with about 125K miles on them, touches of rust everywhere, with an engine that sounds like a Cessna taking off? The reason I am asking (or rather, complaining) is that I was SPOILED ROTTEN for five days! The sunroof, the intricate yet simple to use alarm system, the great stereo, the seat that adjusted to my rather large bum at the touch of a button. I was like George Costanza in a luxorious commode, and kept thinking to myself "so...this is how the other half lives...wow!". Once I got the dreaded call from the dealer that my car was finished and ready to be picked up I wept. Or at least felt like I should. Returning the keys to the Ford to the rental agency was like slicing off a limb, a rather shiny, useful and beloved limb. Like maybe one of my thumbs. It hurt bad.
Now that I have been back puttering around in my Corolla (the one with 142K miles, an engine fit for ride-on mower and that smells like dirty socks) I have almost forgetten what it was like to pass a slow moving vehicle without a second thought. Or to have to decide exactly what temperature I wanted the interior of the car to be heated/cooled to. Or to have a gas tank that will hold more than 8 gallons of gas. Or the rush of wind that a sunroof allows. Yes, I've almost completely forgotten about all of that, and more.
It was inevitable that Barry Bonds massively oversized head would be hit by.....well, something noteworthy: a low flying jet was my biggest fear, but other contenders were a BART train, Russian satellite, weather balloon, some large type of bird of prey. Well, none of those have been pulverized via collision with BB's noggin. What DID occur this week was that Barry took out his early season frustrations on an innocent baseball during Giants batting practice. The poor ball (or "egg", as Crash Davis refers to 'em) never had a chance. Sure Barry went down to the ground in what looked liked obvious pain in an apparent attempt to garner sympathy from fans and media, but you and I know the truth: he relished picking on that pathetic excuse for a baseball and beating the living crap out of it. He's been doing it for years to other balls with lumber. Now he's trying to do the same with something even harder and more calloused. Poor, poor baseballs.
2) Do cats know what day of the week it is?
I have become convinced that my cat KNOWS when the weekend rolls around. Lately, on every Saturday or Sunday morning I spend about 2 hours cleaning my tiny apartment. It has become a ritual I've followed for several months now (prior to last winter I was cleaning the place every full moon or so, if that often). Nothing different goes on in this apartment to clue her in: I don't wake up any earlier or eat different food or really anything that I can think of. Hank just knows.
And Hank simply hates my cleaning tools of choice: any spray bottle such as 409 (I got her when she was less than a year old, so I assume that her prior owners must have been the type of folks to spray water on their cats when they do something "wrong", since I've never done anything like that to her), and of course, the dreaded vacuum cleaner, feared by all domestic animals. Now that Hank has figured out my schedule of cleaning the place on either of the weekend mornings, she hides under the bed after eating her breakfast, and stays there no matter what amount of cajoling I attempt to get her to come out. Of course, once I have finished vacuuming (this is always done last, as she well knows), she will slowly gather her wits and creep out from under the protective shield I sleep on top of to sniff around and make sure the coast is clear. And then she goes about her business of doing cat-like things: basically, that means sleeping, waking, then taking a nap, then going back to sleep once awakening from the nap. Also some licking, and a small amount of eating and drinking of water.
3) Whatever happened to Rent-A-Wreck?
I happened to have had to rent a car this past week while my 8 year old Corolla POS was being worked on. I hate to complain about something that most UMC or even LMC folks don't give a second thought to: does the rental agency have to give you the nice shiny car with all the bells and whistles and 410 miles on it, as was the case with me? The brand new Ford Fusion with the 3.0 liter engine that doesn't hickup and whisper to me "watch it, bitch" whenever I am going up a steep hill on 95?
Do the car rental companies not have some old, rusty Novas or Malibus out back with about 125K miles on them, touches of rust everywhere, with an engine that sounds like a Cessna taking off? The reason I am asking (or rather, complaining) is that I was SPOILED ROTTEN for five days! The sunroof, the intricate yet simple to use alarm system, the great stereo, the seat that adjusted to my rather large bum at the touch of a button. I was like George Costanza in a luxorious commode, and kept thinking to myself "so...this is how the other half lives...wow!". Once I got the dreaded call from the dealer that my car was finished and ready to be picked up I wept. Or at least felt like I should. Returning the keys to the Ford to the rental agency was like slicing off a limb, a rather shiny, useful and beloved limb. Like maybe one of my thumbs. It hurt bad.
Now that I have been back puttering around in my Corolla (the one with 142K miles, an engine fit for ride-on mower and that smells like dirty socks) I have almost forgetten what it was like to pass a slow moving vehicle without a second thought. Or to have to decide exactly what temperature I wanted the interior of the car to be heated/cooled to. Or to have a gas tank that will hold more than 8 gallons of gas. Or the rush of wind that a sunroof allows. Yes, I've almost completely forgotten about all of that, and more.
posted by joe sweeney at 1:32 PM
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