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–“Coors Light–the official beer of drinking in the shower.” At bottom of screen depicting this–“Do Not Attempt.”

On base of scented candle–“Do not breathe candle fumes.”

On educational TV show: “Archaeology has only discovered 10% of civilizations.” Rom: “How can they know that?”

I did not whine in a timely manner about Halloween candy appearing on the shelves at CVS, but it’s there, and has been for about a week.

Someday I hope to discover which employee at Walgreen’s drives a black Cadillac, since it’s on the lot every day.

GOD SAVE US FROM THEOLOGY ON THE BUS

I have reached a stage in life where I can’t be sure, if a guy lets me get on the bus ahead of him, if it’s because I’m a woman or because I have some gray hair (although I got my first gray hair when I was 27). But I can be sure if it’s a man my own age. He was wearing a Pink Floyd t-shirt. Because it’s m-m-my generation. (Apologies to both bands.)

A woman got on who works at Taco Bell on Lloyd, and started telling the bus driver and her friend about this weird sect she’d just heard of, who believe only 130,000 people will be saved. (It’s actually 144,000–it’s from Revelation, the 12 tribes of Israel times twelve, BUT WE WON’T GET INTO THAT HERE). She said, “I’m Christian myself, but I’m Catholic.” When she got off the bus, she said she was going to pray for the two women she’d been talking to, and the bus driver’s friend said, “Don’t pray for me–I know who you’ll be praying to!” The Taco Bell lady got off the bus, and the bus driver’s friend said, “She’ll be praying to the wrong person!” The bus driver said, “Yes. That is idolatry.” For the record, Catholics do not, in fact, pray to the devil.

I went to get stamps, and intended to get T. Rex stamps in honor of Trexa, but they had none, so I had to settle for dragon stamps, in dubious honor of Nick.

 

 

 

Politics & Religion

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RADICAL CENTRIST OBSERVATIONS

Dear Republicans, More tax breaks for corporations is not tax “reform.”

Dear Democrats, Guaranteed income for those who “choose not to work”? Really?!

Out upon you both!

Yes, these thoughts came to mind while I was thinking about doing my taxes. The forms did finally arrive, thanks for asking.

86% CONSERVATIVE CATHOLIC OBSERVATION

…based on an internet quiz I took on Catholicism. With 1 as most liberal and 100 as most conservative, I got 86, which seems about right. Anyway, I found a prayer pamphlet lying around (seriously–it was in the lobby of a medical office building) which included a prayer for the healing of schism, but also a prayer in honor of Reformation Day. What’s wrong with this picture?

Now that I’ve offended a broad spectrum of Americans…

COSMO ASTROLOGY 1988

Beauty for Cancer: “For an interesting look, try perming just one section of hair.” Well, that would be interesting, certainly.

ASTERISK AS FIG LEAF

Speaking of Cosmo, they have decided it’s kicky and young to have article titles like “Sh*t You Should Take on Vacation” and “How to Know You’re Dealing with a F*ck-Boy.” It’s OK, we used an asterisk!

OVERHEARD AT THE NAMELESS CONVENIENCE STORE DOWN THE STREET FROM ME

–“I got chocolate on my shirt. How can I get it out?”

–“Use club soda. It’ll get out anything–chocolate, blood, anything.”

I immediately suspected the second speaker of trying to dispose of a body.

Mardi Gras at McDonald’s

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Since Mardi Gras is called Pancake Tuesday in, I think, England, I went to McDonald’s to have some. But the real Mardi Gras King today was undoubtedly the person who left their cardboard crown from Burger King under the bus seat today, amidst a pile of scattered candy.

I am wearing my two strands of Mardi Gras beads. Disclaimer (since Nick always fantasizes about some risque explanation): I found one on the sidewalk by the bus stop after the Mardi Gras parade had gone by one year, and the other was awarded me for eating at Hacienda after my dentist appointment another year, since my dentist’s office is across the street from them. Because my life is exciting.

I AM THE OUTSIDER AND I WILL NOT SHUT UP

Since I am a declared presidential candidate (no Launching an Exploratory Committee for me!), I am as entitled to pontificate as any of the others. I will never stop reminding you that–

–Mexico was going to pay for the wall, hence, no need to keep asking us to do it, and

–the tax cuts to individuals given in tax “reform” will expire, the ones for corporations will not.

Perhaps I will state those two things at the end of every post, like Cicero’s “Carthago delenda est.” (“And by the way, Carthage must be destroyed.”)

And if you say, “But you’re not a serious candidate!”–I’m not a serious anything.

Well, I had a couple World Leader Edicts in mind, to keep in practice for when I win the election. I was even sitting on the bus thinking, I’ve got to write a blog post just to get these on the record. Now that the time has come, I cannot remember a single one. And I haven’t even started my Mardi Gras drinking.

ON ANOTHER NOTE

There is no segue for this, so I won’t even try. We are mourning the loss of my mother-in-law, Amazing Grace. I’m glad I got to see her at her 90th birthday party in January. It’s funny how the little things can affect you–I just remembered, No more birthday and anniversary cards from her, and teared up a bit. Her funeral will be tomorrow, which is, as it happens, Ash Wednesday. Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.

 

 

I Remembered To Show Up

…belatedly.

OBSERVATIONAL HUMOR

…is what Rom says this is.

Brought to you courtesy of Nick, who showed up at my door on my birthday with a gift bag full of apple ale clenched in his teeth, before flying away. The bag was black and had scratchy glitter on it. I suspect this was deliberate. Have you noticed that such bags always have the scratchy glitter on one side, but are smooth on the other side, so that glitter doesn’t rub off on your clothes? Why do I always have to touch the glitter anyway, even though it makes me shudder?

I have had 2 cans of ale (my normal dose), which makes me want to spend money on something self-indulgent. Last year it was green-and-white gingham shorts, but I resisted the temptation. (I love green-and-white gingham, and plaid with a black background. These prints give me a feeling of security. They’re like the opposite of the Baby Corn and the Union Suit. Anyone remember those? Check the posts under Conspiracy News for more info.)Now am tempted by some Keds in Iris Shimmer, and an Almond Cucumber perfume sample, even though I tried the AC perfume before and it didn’t work for me. Almond and cucumber are my comfort notes (kind of like the Magic Prints noted above), so I keep thinking, But it has to work! Sometimes perfume just refuses to cooperate.

OK, I hit some key that keeps deleting stuff I didn’t intend, and I don’t know what I hit, so I can’t correct it, and that is why the above paragraph is incorrectly punctuated.

SONG LYRIC ANALYSIS–MOODY BLUES

“Schoolwork, one and one is two

But you know that now that’s just not true”

Yes, it is true. Your ingestion of LSD does not affect its veracity.

AND THE DOORS

Rom says that “When the Music’s Over–turn out the lights” makes him think, “turnip delight.” You’re welcome. I hope I can forget that before I listen to it again.

Today is the 2nd anniversary of Alien Finger, which is celebrating by being stiff and sore, which I suppose is appropriate. I keep reading about people who dislocate a finger, pop it right back in, and it’s good as new. What’s their secret? Youth, probably.

Today is Pentecost, which makes me think, “Here he comes to save the day! That means the Paraclete is on his way!”

Long ago, my cousin Becky (hurray for Facebook and cousin Linda, who helped me discover cousins on the Forbidden Side of the family!) asked me, “Do you miss working?” After long thought, I can say I sometimes miss having a job (a Purpose in Life and all that, though I never thought of 911 as that purpose), but I don’t miss having that job. As I think every time I go by Dispatch on the bus and think, Glad I’m not answering phones in there.

IT HAS TO BE CLASSY, IT HAS CARPET–TACO JOHN’S

I visited this fine establishment on Cinco de Mayo. Since it was Saturday, I had church, and couldn’t go to Hacienda and have a strawberry daiquiri, which would have been the logical thing to do. Although people might have been drunk at St Boniface Church before.

Taco John’s has been around since 1969, although Rom can’t remember it the year he graduated from high school. The identity of Taco John is mysterious. I imagine him being kind of like Johnny Appleseed.

TJ’s is the only carpeted fast-food place I know of. Like the Women’s Hospital, the addition of carpet adds a certain cachet. It’s almost like you’re at home, except that someone cut into your abdomen. At the hospital, I mean, not at Taco John’s.

My softshell taco was very good, especially since the clever person who assembled it added a tuck-and-fold technique that meant I didn’t have to balance it carefully to keep everything from falling out the end. That must have been a Cinco de Mayo special, though, since it has fallen out the end every other time I’ve been there.

Ah, Potato Ole’s. The old Mexican classic of disc-shaped Tater Tots sprinkled with Lawry’s seasoned salt. Cinco de Mayo marked the first time I have ever finished an order. And if you put cheese on them, you are gilding the lily. And if you put bacon bits, donut bites, icing, and chocolate on them and EAT THEM FOR DESSERT, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?

TJ’s has a senior discount of 10%. I forgot to add discount information when I wrote about Taco Bell, but that was because I got 10% off there once, and the next time I requested it, the manager said they didn’t have a discount. Maybe I just looked too young.

LEGGINGS AS PANTS UPDATE

I am actually not against leggings as a lower half, as long as you wear a butt-covering top. But today I saw a woman who did wear a butt-covering top, but then knotted it up in the back, because she got dressed and thought, “Oh no! Now no one can see my butt!”

Speaking of entities trying to defy me, the roses in my yard, which normally bloom in mid-May, burst into glorious bloom simultaneously on THE DAY AFTER MY BIRTHDAY.

Spellcheck thinks “donut” is not a word. I don’t know what to tell it.

WordPress has an icon in the corner that says “Stress-Free Writing Experience.” I have to find out what that might be, but I am too stressed-out at the moment. As is Alien Finger.

 

 

I Hate a Parade

Therefore, the festival parade got rained on.

Rom said, “You should post more frequently so you don’t forget stuff.” Yeah, good intentions, what the road to hell is paved with, etc. I’m inclined to think the road to hell is not well-marked, either.

The bus today was standing-room-only, thanks to a woman whose attitude was, “I can’t be expected to move over. I have a tote bag.”

A CUSTOMER WAS LESS-THAN-RIGHT AT MCDONALDS

Speaking of which, in that blessedly cool and quiet setting, a woman marched up to the counter with 2 orders of fries and said, “These are cold and nasty. And I want 3 orders back.” OK, if you paid for 3 orders but only got 2, fine. If someone in your party already ate one order even though they were cold, or you expect to get an additional, free order of fries as compensation, too bad. And try not to be such a bitch. See, if my fries aren’t hot, I consider it to be in the nature of fast food, and better luck next time.

This is why they never made me the supervisor of anything.

CANNIBALIZATION, continued

My 3rd post (“World Without End”) was about how I got religion, if anyone has been wondering. Trust me, I was not Likeliest To Attend Church when I started at Dispatch. In the interest of brevity, that post featured only why I became religious in the first place, not why I embraced any particular religion. So here’s that explanation:

After my initial ecstatic experience in March of ’95, I feverishly read up on various religions, but came to no firm conclusion. Then I decided that, if God really was trying to get in touch with me, surely guidance would be provided, so I prayed for that. Around dawn on a day in  June (those who know me at all will know I was staying up late, not getting up early), I was idly paging through an old Bible I still possessed, and my eye fell on the verse in Matthew that says Ask, and you shall receive. This felt like a Sign to me, and I started attending St Paul’s Episcopal church downtown (that being the denomination I was raised in). And yes, I am aware of the objection that I probably chose it just because it was familiar to me. I’m pretty much aware of any objections to faith that can be found.

My conversion to Catholicism was more of an intellectual decision. I had been reading church history, and was troubled by all the divisions that had arisen, from the Orthodox split in 1054 to the Protestant Reformation. Jesus is on record saying that Christians should all be one, and we Episcopalians prayed for unity at every service, but we were part of the problem! So on Ash Wednesday 2002 at St Paul’s, I was gazing out the stained glass window that had been refurbished thanks to my contribution that year, and thinking, “Too bad that window has my name on a plaque, since I’ll be a Catholic now.” Since I hadn’t consciously made the decision yet, I was a bit unsettled by that thought. But I got my ashes and headed for the bus stop to go home, and prayed, “God, if I ought to  become a Catholic, let someone ask me if the ashes on my forehead mean that I’m Catholic.” In the past, comments on my ashes were either “You have some dirt on your face,” or, “Are you in a cult?” (Seriously.) When I got on the bus, a guy pointed to my face and said, “Are you a Roman Catholic?” So there you have it.

 

Stopgap Measure

Yeah, I said I’d do restaurant reviews, but I had to get up early today, by which I mean 10:30, and I don’t feel like doing anything that organized.  So instead there’s this.

I got up early to attend the Assumption Mass at noon, and the deacon came over to me and said they had no one to do the Scripture readings, and asked me to assist. So I got to tell the congregation about a dragon with seven heads and ten horns (trust me, it’s allegorical), which always makes me wonder how the horns are allocated among the heads. It’s like the old hymn “Crown Him With Many Crowns”–after all, He only has one head. Unlike the dragon.

All theology aside, I forgot to mention that at Nick’s party the other day, I mentioned that I was still halfheartedly considering getting another tattoo, and he said eagerly, “Why not? It would have ‘Nick’ in it somewhere, right?” I’m surprised he didn’t insist it should be spelled out “Nicholas.” I’d love to get a temporary tattoo like that, show it to him (without telling him it’s temporary), and watch him blush and stammer.

Another thing I should do is get a Sour Neon Crawlers t-shirt made, and when someone asks me what it means, say, “It’s a band! Haven’t you ever heard of them?” and see how far I could go with it. Come to think of it, that sounds like a movie premise. If I have so many ideas, why aren’t I rich?

Well, I’ve been trying to get to bed earlier, by which I mean 3:30 instead of 4, but I’ve already screwed that up by trying to think of ways to annoy A Certain Person on Facebook. And I still have to pay the water bill. Speaking of, well, stuff, Time magazine had an article, “Solar Eclipse May Unite Divided America.” Because whatever our differences, we all like staring at the sun.

Crisis Averted

You must excuse any typos because I’m pretty drunk right now. Nick, you may avert your gaze.

THE LEGENDARY RETIREMENT PARTY

Disclaimer: Drunk enough to make many typos, sober enough to correct them.

Who would have thought I’d ever be popular enough to reserve a whole room at Hacienda? (Notice: Let’s see how well I do at Chuck E. Cheese on Sunday.) The most decadent thing I did was get chip crumbs in my hair–hardly a match for Easter Vigil at St Boniface, where I got hot wax on my hand and holy water in my eye–and I got tipsy enough to think sending Nick a picture of me with a drink in my hand was a good idea (though it wasn’t that bad an idea {disclaimer–I meant to do italics for “bad” rather than boldface, but I’m drunk, so suck it}, since I wasn’t driving).

There was no question of any sort of singing, since we were SO LOUD anyway. {Non-disclaimer: I have resumed this post several hours later and am now sober, which makes it much easier.} I was very pleased to see several former colleagues who had gone on to greener pastures (I guess the sewer department might produce greener pastures, for one). It is worthy of note that, in spite of this being a Mexican restaurant, A Certain Person had a burger covered with loathsome vegetables and a huge pile of fries. I had two of their wonderful strawberry daiquiris, the  most painless way to get alcohol into your body there is, but, combined with the large quantity of food I consumed, they just made me sleepy. I went home and dozed off mid-rosary on the couch, which sounds like some kind of retirement cliche.

Nick’s owner assured me he was sorry for his absence and would make it up to me somehow, both of which he loftily denied.

Now it’s time to shower, and I need to remove nail polish first, so I must go.

Your Car Is Not a Boat

One would think that was obvious, but the hordes who insist on driving into high water, “Turn Around Don’t Drown” be damned, prove otherwise.

Also, don’t call 911 just to say the streets are flooded. What do you expect us to do about it? “You need to get barricades out here and block the street.” No I don’t, for 3 reasons:

1. The city doesn’t have enough barricades to block every street that floods OR enough officers to stand there and direct traffic,

2. By the time we could get barricades to all those places, the water would have gone down anyway,

3. Even if the above 2 things were not true, people would drive around the barricades anyway.

Yes, I work for the Department of Boundless Cynicism. But my eyes are not red, no matter what Nick says.

MORE SHOPPING FOLLIES

Remember my ranting about Walmart? The other night, we needed to call an ambulance for one of their loss-prevention people because he was chasing a shoplifter and ran into a door. With his head. HE RAN INTO THE DOOR. WITH HIS HEAD. And then wanted to file assault charges.

Spellcheck is telling me that Walmart is not a word. Would that it were so. And don’t bother saying, “But I bet you like their low prices!” because I never go there. It is sensory overload incarnate.

STREET NAME CENTRAL

A couple of suspects were known to the caller only as “Rara” and “Shy.” Since he burst into a motel room, displayed a gun, and hit someone in the head, I don’t think he was really shy. Also, “displayed” a gun always makes me think they’re gesturing toward it and smiling like Vanna White would do.

Speaking of street names, HEY FOXY! I feel bad about not posting on your birthday.

USEFUL PROVERBS

From my colleague 911SK: “A turd rolled in litter looks better than just a plain turd.”

And from me: “If it smells like dog poop wherever you go, you might check your shoes.”

FASHION REPORT

I’m wearing my impersonating-an-officer outfit–navy blue quick-dry cargo pants and navy blue shirt. Just give me a gun and a  taser and I’m set! “NO!” Nick blurts out hastily. “Do NOT give her those things!”

MY BIRTHDAY HAS A CHANGE OF VENUE

Remember last year, when I had a party at the Howell Park shelter house, which was re-painted for the occasion? And I reassured you that I’d never have a birthday party again? Well, I lied–the Catholic Diocese of Evansville will be having a Mighty Mass (yes, I made up my own title, lest you blame them for it–the actual title of the event is “Rejoice!,” as all must do at the commemoration of my birth) at the Ford Center, on the eve of Pentecost, which is–you guessed it–May 14 this year!! I hope the thousands attending remember to bring me presents.

AND SPEAKING OF CELEBRATION…

Facebook says May 7 is World Naked Gardening Day. This is to “celebrate nudism in nature.” Well, since all the animals are naked, I’d think we’d have enough celebration, but apparently not.

AND JUST WHEN I WAS ABOUT TO HIT “PUBLISH”…

Amazon urges me to buy a shower gel dispenser shaped like a giant nose, and the product comes out of…yeah, you guessed it. No thanks. What’s next, a giant pair of buttocks?

 

 

 

Day 14: Fire Hazard

CRISIS IN PROGRESS RESUMES!

I received a call that there was smoke coming from the building behind the funeral home on 1st Ave. It turned out to be the crematorium in action.

I was at a loss for titles…

“All we are is dust in the wind”?

“Smoke in the water, fire in the sky”?

“I was caught in a burning ring of fire”?

“Come on baby, light my fire”?

The opinion was once expressed that “Don’t Fear the Reaper” should be my theme song, which I found a bit odd–I fear the Reaper a great deal.

S.G.’S 14TH POST, 3/29/13–“Holy Week: Maundy Thursday”

–I explain the concept of Christian charity, and deplore the current state of toilet paper advertising.

Some poor soul has taken on the task of actually digging up and reading these old posts along with me. Congratulations.

Day 5: Quantity, Not Quality

Be advised that I did not promise a minimum length of post. Attempts to refer to a mythical “spirit of the law” will be disregarded just as I disregard the “spirit of Vatican II.”

Sunday was that wonderful first day when it’s 25 degrees and you walk out, look around, and think, “Oh, look! Everything died!” Except the little pink bouquet from our wedding rosebush (given to us as a wedding gift–the variety was actually introduced that year, in ’87–so cool!) which Rom collects and brings in every year.

I neglected to say that the old post I dealt with yesterday was the first to mention a certain Nick, who should need no introduction, but is insisting on getting one anyway. Of course, he had not been transformed into a beast at that point. It will be interesting to see when the metamorphosis occurs.

S.G. POST #5, 2/28/13: Crisis in Progress/FanBase Follies/Mildly Amusing Adventures TRIFECTA

–I exulted in my fan mail, including someone who wanted to know why I wasn’t a columnist for a major national newspaper. That question remains unanswered.

–I noted scratchy/glittery nail polish at Walgreen’s which was called “Almost Famous.” I think my own situation could be better characterized as “Almost Obscure.”

–I told a story about The Entity Now Known As A Certain Person getting humped by a police dog while she was on the air.

OK, I am now on vacation, and you know what that means–DRUNK POSTING! Not just yet, though.

WORDS! WORDS! WORDS! Nick, can I go to bed now?