These Things Don’t Belong Together and Yet They Are

A good friend of mine recently got to spend some time with a country musician.  The guy is a pretty famous.  Not Johnny Cash famous, but if you are a country fan you’ve heard of this guy.  Last week this same friend attended a basketball game with a famous former hoop star.  I told her she was all fancy hanging with celebs and she facetiously said “Oh yeah, I’m the shit.”  That got me thinking:  There is a fine line between what she meant and what I’m frequently called.  Why can one word have 2 such different meanings?  “You are the shit” is a compliment but “You are a piece of shit” isn’t.  Logically, the negative connotation must be with the word “piece”.  Another word like that is “bomb”.  You can tell someone “You are the bomb” and they feel good.  But you should never tell someone “You are a piece of bomb” unless you are trying to hurt his feelings.  On the other hand telling someone “You are an ass” is a bad thing but “You are a piece of ass” is also bad…sometimes…but different.  This is very confusing.  You’ve come to the wrong blog if you’re looking for answers.  Are you new?

Here’s a short story:  Once upon a time, there was a young pirate lad named Georgie.  Georgie got scurvy and died.

Have you ever thought about what an awesome sporting event you could create simply by combining football, swimming and bowling?  What an incredible coincidence!  Neither have I.  I’ll bet you didn’t know we had that in common, did you?  Tomorrow at work you can tell everyone “Hey!  You’ll never believe this.  Neither Rich or I have ever considered combining football, swimming and bowling to create a fun new sport!”  Don’t be surprised if sharing this little morsel doesn’t get you that promotion you’ve been busting your butt trying to get for 6-7 years.  I’m almost positive they won’t give the position to that 22 year old busty chick that has been working there for almost 2 months.

We really do need to lighten up our societal sphincter.  I was listening to the Oldies station (shut up!) and on came Little Richard.  I thought that if someone tried to release a song these days with the only lyrics being “Tuti Fruiti, Oh, Rudy” (unless you count “whomp babalua a whomp bam boom” as lyrics) there would be anti-defamation hell to pay.  I guarantee lawyers would be on that like sequins were on Richard’s jacket.

I’m amazed at how easily I’m distract

People Watching on a Sunday

Yesterday I went to a Cuban Café to grab a couple of to go sandwiches for my wife and I.  I was seated right in front of the front door while I waited the 20 minutes it took them to prepare my order.  This vantage point allowed me to observe several characters.

There was the party of 8 who were finishing up their meal.  2 members obviously wanted to leave because they were standing next to the table rather than sitting with the rest of the group.  After about 5 minutes, the rest of the group finally got up as well and they made their way to the exit.  The group as a whole took about 2 steps out the door and stopped.  They apparently were not yet done conversing.  They stood, blocking the front door for another 5 minutes, chatting.  3 other groups had to either walk around them or just kind of push through the middle in order to get in.  The only party that tried to leave when they were parked there had to ask them to move.  They were clearly inconvenienced by this request.  They reminded me of the idiot who stops dead trying to decide which way to turn when he gets off an escalator.

Then there was a couple in their 60s who had finished their meal.  He stopped by the counter on the way out to grab a toothpick.  As he left the restaurant he took the toothpick out of the clear plastic wrapper.  He held the wrapper in his hand then glanced left then right, looking for a trash can.  He eyeballed one on the right down the 3 steps and looked up recalling his car was toward the left.  He turned left and threw the plastic wrapper behind him in the general direction of the trash.  I waited until he was in his car driving back by the door before I went out to pick it up so he could see me cleaning up after him while he drove away.  He waved.

There was one guy who finished and told the waitress “Don’t work too hard!” as he left his table.  To him this was obviously the funniest thing he had heard or at least said all day.  He was still laughing audibly at his incredible wit when he made it outside.

My favorite was the guy in his early 30s.  He and his lady had also finished.  They were walking across the parking lot when he stopped, crouched, put his hands up to catch any imaginary basketball then stepped back and took an imaginary fade away jump shot.  (I don’t know if he made it or not because he didn’t give up a fist bump or anything.)  His girl looked at him then put up a hand in front of her face.  (So maybe he missed?)  Tool.

The sandwiches excelled in their mediocrity so the people watching was the best part of that venture.

Being Honest Can Get You Hospitalized

Honesty isn’t always the best policy

Here are a few comments that may be true facts, or questions that need to be asked, but you either need to lie or just shut up, if you are smart.  Consider avoiding these as a form of health care.

The most obvious of these are of course: No, it’s not the dress that makes you look fat.   And: That looks just like a penis, only smaller

Here are a few others:

Wow!  Who smacked your baby with the ugly stick?

No thanks boss.  Yes, I do golf, but I’d rather be eaten alive by fire ants than spend a Saturday with you.

I’d love to come over but your perfume makes me throw up in my mouth a little.

Was today weird or do you regularly skip showering?

(I actually asked this of a 4 year old who was in my store ignoring ever syllable his mom said) “Tell me something, do you think your mom is kidding or is she just not important to you?”  Yes, mom heard and no she didn’t buy anything.

You obviously didn’t screw your way to the top. So fess up, boss, did you blackmail or bribe someone to get your job?

Thanks for cooking but that was truly vomitous.   I’m impressed that I actually managed to keep it down.

I’m sorry for your loss, but I love funerals!

Have you ever even considered parenting classes?

Is your medication no longer working or did you forget to take it?

I see they are still offering free cuts for practice at the beautician school.

I’m sorry you didn’t get any new shirts for xmas this year.

While offering a breath mint: Do you ever eat anything other than dog poo?

 

 

Quickies

I was going to call this My Briefs.  Then I thought that sounded like it was a post about underwear.  My Shorts was just as bad.  Quickies is much better.

1. I’m so allergic to stupidity I need to medicate daily or I’ll die
2. My biggest pet peeve is people who don’t shower daily
3. I play golf as if it were a game (a game I suck at, but a game is the point here)
4. Lighten the fuck up
5. I’m enjoying reading blogs more than I ever thought I would.
6. If we eliminated political parties, people would have to listen to what is being said to formulate opinions rather than formulating opinions based on who is saying it.
7. Life is too short to spend it being miserable
8. No One can have a relevant opinion about what another human can or can’t do with his/her body.  Saying I am male therefore my opinion is irrelevant about what a woman can or can’t do is absurd. Gender is not a qualifier.  If it’s not your body your opinion is moot, regardless of your gender.
9. Straws suck
10. There is a magnet on my fridge reading “Jesus loves you!  But everyone else thinks you’re an asshole!”
11. This isn’t original but I love it:  Religion is like a penis.  It’s ok to have one, even to be proud of it.  No one else wants to talk about it.  You can’t wave it in public and exposing it to children is wrong.
12. Religion is the opiate of the people. (Karl Marx) That’s true.
13. Religion is Mythology, always has been, always will be. (me) That’s true too.
14. Bigotry is not innate it is taught.
15. All Yankee and Red Sox fans are obnoxious blowhards and even though they hate each other, they are exactly the same.
16. Cheetos are funny
17. Being an asshole is a choice.  Being straight or gay is not.
18. I became an old bastard when I wasn’t looking
19. There is no such thing as “pre-historic” (it can’t be before history) or “post-modern” (if it is new it is modern, if it doesn’t yet exist it is futuristic)  Stop making shit up.
20. I don’t get watching the same movie over and over and over and over
21. How do you get the job of deciding which art is great or complete rubbish?  (Don’t get to use the word rubbish very much)
22. Unless you’ve literally seen and done it all, you shouldn’t stagnate.  Except if you’re dead.  Then it’s mostly ok.
23. If someone is boring, you should be able to tell them that.
24. Nothing will get you trouble faster than honesty.  See # 23.  Another example: Wow boss, that’s the stupidest idea I’ve heard in over a month.  And another:  You really need to fire your hair stylist.  (there’s an entire post in this thought)
25. There should be strict intelligence guidelines for who is allowed to reproduce.
26. Mean people suck (I made a poster out of this saying and had it up on my wall in my last office job for 5 years)
27. Inconsiderate pukes are vexing
28. The popularity of reality shows is proof of societal idiocy
29. The human race continuously proves it is not smart enough to self govern
30. The blind man isn’t one who can’t see but one who refuses to see…the deaf man isn’t one who can’t hear but one who refuses to listen
31. Imagine all the people, living life in peace

4 of these thoughts were inspired by blogs I read and 2 were even  comments I made.  Mike is Happy wrote one of these style posts and I liked the idea, so I thought I’d do one too.  Read Mike’s fun stuff here:

mikesilvia.wordpress.com

Coin Toss Personalities

If you’re like me, you like analyzing personalities.  Even if you’re not like me, you probably like analyzing personalities.

Over the past several days I’ve been thinking about the coin toss at the beginning of football games.  Most people take this for granted.  I however, did a huge quantity of research on the psychological aspects of calling the toss.  What type of people call “Heads” and what type call “Tails”?  I realize that begs the question, what type of person has the time or the inclination to wonder about this?  It also makes you want to ask, is there really data on this?  Ah, but there is information on everything if you look in the right places.  As far as who wonders about such things?  Let’s just say this blog is called Stay Abnormal for a reason.

So, what was learned?  A great deal, actually.

Personality Traits of People Who Call “Heads”

People who call “Heads” are usually self-assured.  They are in general, gregarious but only in the appropriate situations.  The “Heads” caller usually has the fortitude to question authority but also possesses the wisdom to know when to let it go unchallenged.

Fascinating, right?  It continues:  The caller of “Heads” is likely to be at present, in the future or has been part of the work force.  For the most part these people are not contrarians.  They will speak their own minds but don’t argue simply for the sake of arguing.  Most “Heads” callers have some outside interests other than their job and their families.  The interests are usually well managed and properly prioritized, but “Heads” people can indeed become overly consumed by them.

Interestingly enough, there is little separating the socio-economic groups when it comes to calling “Heads”.  Most people who call “Heads” have some schooling, but not necessarily a degree.  People who have listened to certain radio programs or watched certain television shows are likely “Heads” callers.  Often shy people will call “Heads”.  People calling “Heads” are more likely to be right handed than left handed.  (That is not to say there are no left handed “Heads” callers.  Certainly not saying that.)

On the other hand…

Personality Traits of People Who Call “Tails”

People who call “Tails” are jack-offs.

 

 

Sedative Police

It occurred to me recently that if there were Sedative Police, the world would be a much happier place.  The SP should be armed with an excellent variety of barbiturates and if they see any kind of situation where people just need to calm down, they can give them the pills and insist they be consumed.

This thought started at a baseball game last Father’s Day.  What had happened was a father of two kids, probably about 6-8 years old, had been given 4 tickets to the ballgame as a gift.  Imagine how thoughtful this was, and how much he looked forward to enjoying a day at the ballpark with his family.  I was sitting high up in the nosebleeds sucking up a quality adult beverage.  The seats in front of me were empty.

At the beginning of the 4^th inning, I first heard her.  She was trailing her husband and the two kids coming up the stairs.  She was, shall we say, not in the spirit of things?  She was, shall we say, expressing her displeasure with most things?  Undaunted the dad came all the way up and took his spot in the seats in front of my buddy and me.  As they sat down, he stretched his arms out and sighed.  Ah, Father’s Day!  He leaned over to his kids and told them to inhale deeply because there was no smell on earth like that of a ballpark.  He told them to listen to the unique sounds, the ball smacking into a glove, the crack of the bat, the roar of the crowd, the vendors yelling those time honored words “Peanuts, Cracker Jacks, Cold Beer!”

He never got to share those sounds with his kids, though.  She wasn’t going allow that.  The din she created drowned out all the fabulous ballpark sounds.  She bitched expressed herself about how high the seats were, about where they had to park, about how uncomfortable the seats were, about how cheap he was for not buying them souvenirs, about how she had to go to the bathroom.  She never seemed to breathe.  There was simply no way for the kids to hear the sounds or for the poor guy to relax.  Then she started bitching saying she was hungry.  By the middle of the 5^th inning, this poor bastard knew he was defeated and they left.  Never saw them again.  He was there for 1 ½ innings and there wasn’t a moment of peace.  Happy Father’s Day.

When they left I told my buddy this was an excellent case for mandatory sedatives.  Clearly this bitching endless stream of words started long before they made it to the ballpark.  The poor bastard could have opened up his Father’s Day gift of a family day at the ballpark and said how much he appreciated it then, being a member of the Sedative Police, handed her 2 calming pills.  Problem averted.  They all could have enjoyed the whole game and maybe he would have passed his enthusiasm for the experience on to his children.

We expanded the idea after the game.  Think about how handy the Sedative Police would be every day.

The over-achieving parent yelling at the kid’s soccer coach or ref…take 2 of these.

The idiot filled with road rage cutting people off…take 2 of these

The power tripping boss…take 2 of these

The asshole complaining about EVERYTHING to that poor waitress…take 2 of these

Clearly this in a new definition of drug enforcement, but it would make things calmer.

Clipboard Fun

I just flew to ATL for a business trip last weekend.

I’m proud to announce I’m now a member of the Mile High Club!  (Solo Aviator division…don’t judge.)

Have you ever tried this to make flying less boring?  Carry a clipboard and a pen.  When the flight attendant welcomes you on board, smile, nod and make a check mark on your clipboard.  After you are seated, but before everyone is on board, stand up, check the location of all the attendants while visibly counting them, then make a quick count of the passengers, shake you head a little, glance at your watch, mark your clipboard and sit back down.  When the attendant starts the pre-flight announcements, make sure you are leaning into the isle so you can make eye contact with her/him.  Make marks occasionally during the announcements.  By now the attendants will think you are evaluating them for something and they’ll start talking about you among themselves.  Make notations on your board about this too.  If one of them actually has the intestinal fortitude to ask you what you are doing, just tell him/her to pretend you are not even here and mark your board.  After you have been in the air for about 10 minutes, ring the call light for some inane reason like the estimated length of the flight.  You’ll be amazed how quickly the attendant will arrive to see what you need.  Some may become overly attentive, some attendants might actually get resentful about what you are doing.  You never know, but you won’t be bored.

Clipboards can be used to spice up countless mundane activities in a similar fashion.  Try one at your bank.  If properly executed in a restaurant you may even get a free dessert.  Car salesmen get really sweaty, really fast, especially if the clipboard carrier is the “friend” of the customer who keeps coming up with objections.  It’s super fun while riding in the back during the test drive.  Probably the most fun you’ll have is doing it at your next Dr.’s appointment…especially if something, shall we say, delicate is being examined.  While you may be tempted, I DO NOT suggest trying this during your next traffic stop.

Good luck and enjoy.

Are you part of the Problem or Part of the Solution?

A call to arms to all good people tired of shitty service:

Let’s face it.  Even in this crappy economy, the term “customer service” doesn’t mean what it used to mean.  When everything was coming up roses in the early 2000s employees developed apathy toward customers.  Since things were going well financially for the owners, they saw no reason to fix this behavior.  Keeping an establishment fully staffed was the biggest problem for owners so surly employees were tolerated.  If those employees were corrected, they simply gave ownership the finger and walked across the street and got a job for 25 cents an hour more than they were getting and went home a hero.  Those things combined created a norm, which somehow is being accepted today.  Why do we as consumers still tolerate employees at businesses we patronize who have bad attitudes toward customers?  I’m convinced owners tolerate it because they don’t know how bad the problem is.

The only way this will ever change is if the consumer demands it.  The only way we can demand change it is to stop doing business at establishments employing these apathetic people.  However, we must take it one step further to make a difference.  Ownership must be informed you will no longer be using their business because of the uncaring or at best untrained staff.  For instance if you are being served in any way by a surly staffer at say a “Big Box” store, you can elect to not return.  Why should you give your hard earned money to an establishment that uses your money to pay someone with such a terrible attitude?  If you don’t go back, you got it half right.  Letting a manager or an owner know why you won’t be back is helping to solve the problem.  There is no way the owner knows the employee has that attitude.  If the owner knew, maybe he’d do something about it.  If he knows about it and elects to allow the poor attitude, he doesn’t deserve your patronage.

If you are treated with disdain and you don’t let the boss know, you are part of the problem.  My earlier question about why we tolerate bad service was rhetorical.  The reason we tolerate it is that it is easy.  Pointing out unacceptable employee behavior takes time and effort.  The value we place on our own time has created an atmosphere of apathy on the part of the consumer.  If we appear apathetic to bad service why should employees feel otherwise?  If we don’t return to the establishment, it makes that employee’s life easier because fewer annoying customers means not having to work so hard.  In essence we are rewarding bad behavior.  The only person who truly should care if you don’t return is the owner, and unless you tell him, he doesn’t know.

There is a right way and a wrong way to let ownership know why you won’t be returning.  If you use foul language, direct your anger toward the owner or in any way raise your voice, the owner will immediately become defensive and your message will be lost.  The owner will assume you are the problem because you are caught up in an emotional state.  The effective way to lodge your complaint is to do so from the perspective of simply sharing information.  Calmly let the owner know you won’t be returning because you were treated with less than proper respect by his employee and you wanted to pay the owner the courtesy of knowing why.  In order for this to have the desired effect you cannot be perceived as looking for a confrontation, or looking for something for free.  You must be viewed a consumer who will no longer tolerate being treated poorly and that you are doing the owner a favor by bringing the situation to his attention.

If controlling your emotions is too hard at that time, go home and write a letter or email. If it is well worded and not exaggerated, remember you are simply sharing information, it will have the desired effect.  The key here is to get it into the right hands.  Just posting it on your blog or your FB page isn’t reaching the right person.  You may have to do a bit of digging to find out who to send it to.  By the time you get this information, you may no longer be angry about what happened in the first place.  That can’t matter, if you plan on being part of the solution.  No one ever fixed a problem if he didn’t know it existed.

Be part of the solution, not part of the problem.  It’s only consumer power if you use it.

 

You Say You Want A Resolution, Well You Know…

Everyone resolves to spend more time doing this and that

Biggest problem is we never have the time to spend the time

So I’m resolving to spend less time

This year I resolve to:

Spend a little less time trying to be happy

If I just decide to be happy, think of all the time I’d save not trying  (might be turning that into a plaque)

And with that in mind…

Spend a little less time with my family

They make me insane

Spend a little less time with assholes

They’re everywhere and won’t be happy until I’m not

Spend a little less time helping others

I’ll ask what others can do for me

Spend a little less time meeting their expectations

They have to spend time meeting mine

Spend a little less time being sober

No truer words have been spoken than “Sobriety is overrated”

Spend a little less time being introspective

I have no interest in improving as a person, today

Spend a little less time listening to politicians lie

Which means not listening to them at all

Spend a little less time watching the news

I already know how bad things are and don’t need the reminder

Spend a little less time reading blogs written by the depressed

I’m not sharing in that, it’s like, depressing

Spend a little less time worrying about weight

Snacks make the world a better place  (and they’re tasty!)

Spend a little less time listening to other people’s problems

Carry a stop watch and give them 120 seconds…90 if they’re boring

Spend a little less time trying to be polite

Call it like I see it…I see you didn’t wash your hair today (remember to increase insurance)

Spend a little less time tolerating shitty service

I’ll be part of the solution by letting management know there are issues

What will you spend a little less time doing this year?

Little Drummer Boy…Worst Lyrics Ever

I started this post commenting on one of the blogs I follow:

Xmas Song Challenge

I challenge everyone to come up with the stupidest xmas song lyrics ever written.

I nominate The Little Drummer Boy

When was the last time a gift to a newborn was some neighborhood kid banging on a drum?  The lyrics state that Mary nodded…If that happened in real life Mary would have been like “Will you shut the hell up?  Can’t you see I have a baby here?  He just got to sleep and you come in with what?  A drum?  Jesus Christ!  Joe!  Call the damn cops if that punk even tries to channel his inner Keith Moon.  One thump on that thing and swear I’ll beat you like that drum hasn’t even dreamed of.  You want to offer a gift fit for a King?  Tell you what:  Take that drum about 150 miles north and play it there!”  (For those of you without an atlas handy that would put him in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea and the boy would drown)

Nothing quite as soothing to a relaxing baby like a good old drumming.  Who the hell thought this concept up and decided “Hey!  Got me a great idea for a nativity scene song.  See there’s this kid and he’s got this drum, see?”  Don’t you think it might be a bit more on point if maybe the instrument was a nylon stringed guitar?  A drum!  What?  Was the local mariachi band already booked?

And another thing!  When was the last time you heard a drum that made the sound “pa rum pa pum pum?”  “Bang pow blam crash” is more like it.  I suppose since this took place in the Mid East the sound of the drum could have resembled the ambient sound of gunfire, but it’s still far from comforting.

What lyrics have bothered you all your life?  This is safe place to release the pent up anger.  You may find it cathartic.  Maybe as cathartic as a drum in a nursery.