Lack of Reality Bytes

I had an enlightening visit with my buddy Wally yesterday. Wally just turned 88. I arrived at the nursing home about 4:45pm. He was sitting in the dining room with his usual dinner mate.

She introduced herself. I couldn't hear her when she told me what her name was, so for the sake of simplicity, let's call her "Millie". I sat between the two and talked to them while Wally periodically pointed to his watch, showing me how late dinner was.

A few minutes in, Millie announced "look what I got!" and out from under the table, she pulls from her lap a baby doll dressed in pink. I reply "Wow. She's adorable!". Millie then says "Yes, she's 5 months old".

* hoo boy... *

A social worker gave me some impromptu training on stuff like this; stay in their version of reality. When my aunt first showed signs of her Alzheimer's disease, we kept making the mistake of pointing out all of her delusions. Telling her that mother was dead, for example, is of very little reward to someone who will forget that fact in 3 minutes. It's also quite hurtful when it's like the first time they've heard it.

So, to further test the situation, I asked her, "Is she sleeping though the night?". "Oh yes." Millie replies.

Millie must be a Mom. I bet she was a good one when she was younger.

Wally describes to Millie how he and I go way back. He asks me "How long have we known each other? Fifteen years?". It's been more like four or five. So, I told him it was a little less than fifteen. Wally asks again, "Eleven years?". "Yep", I said.

Between Millie and Wally, it was like a one-two combination punch of dimensia.

This minute or two of dialog left me with a very distinct impression: You might not like your version of reality. You might feel that you don't have enough time or money, that people in your life aren't giving you as much love or respect as you feel they should. Or even worse, your favorite TV show might have been cancelled. But, at least it's the truth. And you can then react to that truth in any way of your choosing. That is a power we sometimes take for granted.

Because, if you're unlucky enough to live deep into your eighties, it's very likely that you'll be unable to decifer what's real and what's not. Enjoy while you still can.

Waiting in Van

I'm sitting waiting for new tires and an oil change:

*to the tune of Waiting in Vain, Bob Marley and the Wailers*

I don't wanna wait in vain for my van
I don't wanna wait in vain...

From the very first time I rest my eyes on you...van
My motorcycle dreams took a poo.

But I know now I'm way down on the line
Cus these grease monkeys take their time

Don't treat me like a puppet on a string
cus I can see you aren't doing a thing

Don't talk to me as if you think I'm dumb
I wanna know when you're freakin' done

I don't wanna wait in vain for my van
I don't wanna wait in vain...

*guitar solo*

Like I said, I've spent two hours and some listnin' to that wrench
*air wrench noise three times*
and this waiting room has a stench

ooooh guys, oooh guys...is it feasible, I wanna know now...
there's more time on this bench?

I don't wanna wait in vain for my van
I don't wanna wait in vain...

Hold your fire

Somebody's always gotta spoil everybody's fun.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070829/ap_on_re_us/burning_man_burned

What are the chances you'll get arrested for arson at Burning Man?

Pretty good if you're an idiot. Nice face...dork.

Moon shot

Hey Loonies, if you're not doing anything August 28th between 4:52am and 5:52am. Go watch the moon disappear and turn red...

One of my earliest memories (besides the time I pooped in the bathtub) was a time when I was say 5 or 6 years old. I wanted to see a lunar eclipse but my Mom told me I couldn't stay up late enough to watch it. I threw a fit, but she told me to go straight to bed or I'd get a spanking.

Luckily, my grandmother (Nana) was visiting us. After pouting myself to sleep, she woke me up, whispered to me, telling me that I should me quiet and snuck me outside where I saw my first eclipse of the moon. That moment must have really stuck with me, because I mooned a lot of people in college.

Nana's 93 now. I haven't spoken to her in weeks because she broke her hip and she's not able to handle a phone.

I should get my ass out there this morning and see the eclipse. And then I gotta get it down to Alabama to see her...stat.

3 teachers walk into a bar

Before the Reel Big Fish Show in a strange town that rhymes with "shitsburgh".

Teacher #1 and #2 go sit at the bar while teacher #3 goes to the john.

Teacher #1: "I think we're in a gay bar!"

Teacher #2: "No way!"

Teacher #1: "There's nothing but guys in here."

Teacher #2: "So, what's new about that?"

Teacher #1: "Take a look at the art on the walls"

(teacher #2 notices that there's several framed photos of shirtless men)

Teacher #2: "Huh".

Teacher #1: "What about that?" (pointing to a banner above the bar that clearly states "hot male dancers Thurs-Sat")

Teacher #2: "Holy shit! You're right!"

(teacher #1 and teacher #2 giggle under their breath and make an agreement to not tell teacher #3 when he comes back. Just to mess with him and see if he could figure it out.)

Teacher #3: "What are you guys laughing at?"

I was teacher #2.

I told him about 5 minutes later because I couldn't stop giggling and just couldn't keep it to myself any more.

Actually, the place seemed really nice. Bartender called another guy "dear". Very friendly.

And most importantly, nobody asked to push in my stool.

Maybe I should find a place like this in Dayton? Ah, I'm not ready to give guys a try just yet. Maybe hermaphrodites. Kinda ease into it...

Return To Work Day

I am suffering from a bout of RTWS, "Return To Work Syndrome".

One of the symptoms of RTWS: sarcasm.

Today I returned to work to discover a huge crisis arose in my absence.

*That's some of the sarcasm presenting itself right now*

It seems that some of the members of my department have been severely disenfranchised because the campus mail system has not been operating up to the very high departmental standards we uphold, the same high standards that got me hired as the chairperson.

*cough, cough*

....*cough*

It seems that some of the mail was not being delivered to the proper office. Whoa.

While I was in the Adirondack mountains riding my bike and being stalked by giant bugs, this crisis came to a head. A package was delivered to a location 3 buildings away. Someone had to walk this entire distance to pick it up. Oh Crikey!

A hot potato of this nature couldn't wait for me to re-enter the world of accessible bandwidth. So, let's skip the first four layers of management and call the president's office. Yeah. Oh, and while we're at it, let's send out snippy emails with large distribution lists accusing the mail room staff of purposely not delivering the mail to the proper place. Because I've met them and they're malicious, ya know. I very highly doubt it could have been...a mistake. And even if it was a mistake. Walking three buildings down to get the mail? Not on option. Especially because colleges are so busy in mid-August.

So I'm happy to return and discover that I'm needed to support these folks in their plight against the mean, mean mail room people.

And impressed with their tact, brinksmanship, and overall poopie-headed-ness.

For example, if you go to Burger King and your Whopper isn't up to specs because it has pickles on it, don't stoop so low as to remove them yourself. Make sure lots of people are around. Then, storm the counter and yell loudly "This burger has pickles on it and I specifically asked for no pickles!". Then shove it right in the worker's face.

...and wonder why you got that special sauce you didn't ask for.

Geez! How are we going to open up fall quarter? The mail isn't being delivered right 100% of the time!

Thanks to these guys, I'm sure it will be now!

*sorry, more sarcasm*

Mission Accomplished!

Madame Shoe

While Stranded Away
on a 3 week vacation
My shoe sole fell victim
to delamination

Whenever I walk
it goes flop, flop flop
because the bottom rubber layer
peeled away from the top

It's rather embarrassing
and it pisses me off
I feel like a jerk
like Mr. Jack Meoff

A stay of execution
was granted of late
much thanks to the services
of cyanoacrylate

It's called Super Glue
for those in the know
and it takes half a tube
to save a broken sole

The signs are STILL a-changin'

On last year’s New York trip I seized a bored moment to alert the town of Newark Valley of my feelings about the banking industry’s business practices.

Whelp, it seems that Visions Credit Union was ready for my visit this year. A quick check of the marquis shows only the letter “L”. Calling me a “loser” are they? The wily bastards! Well…they have crummy rates on 5 year CD’s! And, I don’t need them anyhow!

You see, serial marquis sign-changers don’t hit the same location every year. That’s like, totally no class, man. So this year, I did some recon and I have Newark Valley High School scoped out. The sign, which sets right off highly trafficked route 38 currently states:

JV – Varsity Sports Practice Begins August 13

This has gotta have enough letters for a really silly combination. Or maybe even something meaningful? Nah, let’s go with silly. I need your help. Got any ideas? I am planning a mission this weekend before I go to the Adirondacks to hide from the authorities.

Now it’s time for the frequently asked questions portion of this blog:

FAQ:

Mike, isn’t this disrespectful to the property of the high school?

Yes.

Mike, shouldn’t you act a little more your age?

No. I really, really don’t think so. I’m up to my armpits in responsibility and maturity. So, once in a great while, allow me some juvenile fun, Poopie-Head!

What happens if you get caught? Couldn’t you get in trouble?

Hey, if you can’t do the time, you shouldn’t do the crime. If I get caught and slapped with a trespassing charge, I’ll call my Dad to bail me out. No, make that my brother. I owe him one. Then I’ll just hope that my boss doesn’t read the police-beat section of this town’s local newspaper The Daily Cornhole.

Enough questions! I must now proceed with my mission as planned. I feel marquis signs are a vastly underemployed channel by which we can all express our thoughts and feelings. I believe deeply in this.