Subtitle: Today at work (instead of working). I decided to find out exactly what a person from Indiana is called.
In the state, I'm presently living in the natives are known as Iowans (although, I prefer calling them Iowanians...it rolls off the tongue like raspberry jelly). I asked a fellow employee of the Iowa City VA about Wisconsin (where she went to school) inferring their nickname is/are "Cheeseheads." False. She corrected me in saying they are called Wisconsinites!
This prompted me into a thought, I've been thinking, in my thought box, sitting a top my though shoulders (too much?). Are the people of Indiana (my so-called homestate) called anything besides "Hoosiers?" The reason I inquire? Well, when I tell people I'm a Hoosier (which is a new thing for me...if a genius like Vonnegut called himself a Hoosier, then it can't be that bad, right?). My problem is most people (especially in Big Ten land) assume I am associated with that abomination of a school in Bloomington (my hatred stems from the asshole basketball fans...and nothing more, actually). Nay. My loyalties are with Butler University (and to some extent The University of Iowa....football!).
With an extensive search (wikipedia), I could not find another name for a person from Indiana (no Indianan or Indianite or Indianian). Although, I did see a link to "People from Indiana." Intrigued, I clicked on the link and to my surprise...Jim Gaffigan is from Indiana (Chesterton to be exact). But that isn't why I am writing. I am writing today, because today (12/28/2009), I have never been more proud to be a Hoosier...
I am "birth state buddies" (wow, what a terrible description, ohh well...I'll keep it...cracks me up) with (this was in quotes when I found it and in quotes shall it remain)....(wow again, this "paragraph is riddled with parenthesis)
"Many consider him to be midget car racing's greatest driver ever."
I am, of course, talking about Mel Kenyon!
Like learning about our American history with greats like George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, and Jimmie Johnson (?), Hoosiers should delve into one of their greatests. Please enjoy!
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mel_Kenyon
Monday, December 28, 2009
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Written in the stars...
Why do people say “things are written in the stars?” What are they referring to? Fate or something? When I look to the heavens, my brain automatically begins to connect the dots. However, after several attempts I see nothing that remotely represents the written English language. Even considering the fact, the writer for things written in the stars could have bad handwriting, chicken scratch per say.
But honestly…
All I see is a fuckin’ banana. Maybe the writer for things written in the stars thought it would be a good idea to spell out fate using wingdings.
But honestly…
All I see is a fuckin’ banana. Maybe the writer for things written in the stars thought it would be a good idea to spell out fate using wingdings.
Monday, July 27, 2009
No one messes with his McDonald’s toys!
“I hate listening to people’s dreams. It’s like flipping through a stack of photographs. If I’m not in any of them, or nobody’s having sex, then I just don’t care.”
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Dennis, Mac, and Charlie, the three guys of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, are staying at a cabin in the woods. It is actually more than a cabin; it is several stories tall with a large basement filled with an assortment of tools. Charlie needs something from the basement but is too scared to go, so Dennis, uncharacteristically, decides to help.
Meanwhile, in the basement lurks a burglar holding an iron fire poker while searching for valuables. However, the only thing the burglar finds is cheap McDonald’s toys. Thinking they are worth something, the burglar begins to stuff his pockets.
The door opens at the top of the stairs and Dennis descends holding a piece of rope. The burglar is hidden out of view in the dark shadows of the basement. The burglar grabs Dennis mid-stride and holds the iron fire poker to his back. The burglar then demands Dennis to show him where the valuables are or he will kill him.
Dennis, uncharacteristically thinking on his feet, asks him what the point was. He continues to explain to the burglar that he came down to the basement to hang himself because he was in love and couldn’t be with her. Still with his back turned, he tells the burglar this is meant to be and he has just fallen in love. He turns around to this beautiful blond woman wearing a tight, leather, black jumpsuit. He looks at her and reaches for her hands. The fire iron falls to the ground.
Suddenly, Dennis reaches over to a knife in the near distance, holds it to her neck, and tells her no one messes with his McDonald’s toys!
I enter the scene, for whatever reason, and take over for Dennis grabbing her wrists. He takes the McDonald’s toys greedily, in more of a Dennis-like fashion, heads upstairs crossing paths with the 5’9” Detective Justin Lorenz.
I ask the detective to bring get me some handcuffs. He gives me some wooden cuffs that are very weak and bendable. She breaks out of these with ease and attempts to secure the now forgotten knife. I grab her wrist once more and tell the detective to grab some real handcuffs.
She tries to pull the same trick that Dennis pulled on her and tells me how much she loves me and tries to kiss me with her lips emblazoned with red, with a hint of purple tint, lipstick. (Don’t ask me how I remembered that specific detail, but as I write the hue is still clear as day to me.) I push her away and tell her that won’t work on me. Then, in turn, I ask how it worked on her, because Dennis typically is a moron.
The 5’9” Detective Justin Lorenz comes back down the stairs with one large handcuff (notice this word is singular), so we had to fit both of her wrists in just the one cuff (which works for some reason). She begins to plead her case and asks to be let go. I tell her that I would have, but Dennis is pressing charges. He is rather attached to those McDonald’s toys.
I begin to escort her up from the basement, through the, now, quite narrow stairwell, and up to the kitchen. As I head through the living room to the front, I see a guy from my high school named Jon Durham, but I ended up saying “Hi Jimmy,” which was the name of his cousin.
As we reach the outside, I notice there are several cars parked out front full of people. Focusing on my task at hand I open the back of the squad card and sit her down in the back seat next to another young lady who must have been picked up earlier in the night.
As I walk back to the house, people begin to get out of their cars. Everybody almost looks like people I know (does this make sense?), so I continue on path toward the house. Almost to the front door, I notice Marra, a person I actually recognize. She slightly stumbles and slightly slurs that she’s having the best night; I tell her she doesn’t even know.
As I approached the door, I noticed everyone is now back in their cars and drive away. I decide its time to go to bed even though it was rather bright outside. I lie down uncomfortably on the carpet of the hallway and look up at the clock. It is blurry so I must have taken out my contacts along the way. I, then, move to the kitchen and peacefully fall asleep on the hard-tile kitchen floor.
I then wake up in real life at 5:30A.M. and begin writing furiously before I forget. By the time I was through, it is four written pages long, which I will sequentially type up, correct the spelling (since it is riddled with errors), and send it out to people who would appreciate it. I will start the story with from a relevant quote from Episode One of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia by Dennis. “I hate listening to people’s dreams. It’s like flipping through a stack of photographs. If I’m not in any of them, or nobody’s having sex, then I just don’t care.”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Dennis, Mac, and Charlie, the three guys of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, are staying at a cabin in the woods. It is actually more than a cabin; it is several stories tall with a large basement filled with an assortment of tools. Charlie needs something from the basement but is too scared to go, so Dennis, uncharacteristically, decides to help.
Meanwhile, in the basement lurks a burglar holding an iron fire poker while searching for valuables. However, the only thing the burglar finds is cheap McDonald’s toys. Thinking they are worth something, the burglar begins to stuff his pockets.
The door opens at the top of the stairs and Dennis descends holding a piece of rope. The burglar is hidden out of view in the dark shadows of the basement. The burglar grabs Dennis mid-stride and holds the iron fire poker to his back. The burglar then demands Dennis to show him where the valuables are or he will kill him.
Dennis, uncharacteristically thinking on his feet, asks him what the point was. He continues to explain to the burglar that he came down to the basement to hang himself because he was in love and couldn’t be with her. Still with his back turned, he tells the burglar this is meant to be and he has just fallen in love. He turns around to this beautiful blond woman wearing a tight, leather, black jumpsuit. He looks at her and reaches for her hands. The fire iron falls to the ground.
Suddenly, Dennis reaches over to a knife in the near distance, holds it to her neck, and tells her no one messes with his McDonald’s toys!
I enter the scene, for whatever reason, and take over for Dennis grabbing her wrists. He takes the McDonald’s toys greedily, in more of a Dennis-like fashion, heads upstairs crossing paths with the 5’9” Detective Justin Lorenz.
I ask the detective to bring get me some handcuffs. He gives me some wooden cuffs that are very weak and bendable. She breaks out of these with ease and attempts to secure the now forgotten knife. I grab her wrist once more and tell the detective to grab some real handcuffs.
She tries to pull the same trick that Dennis pulled on her and tells me how much she loves me and tries to kiss me with her lips emblazoned with red, with a hint of purple tint, lipstick. (Don’t ask me how I remembered that specific detail, but as I write the hue is still clear as day to me.) I push her away and tell her that won’t work on me. Then, in turn, I ask how it worked on her, because Dennis typically is a moron.
The 5’9” Detective Justin Lorenz comes back down the stairs with one large handcuff (notice this word is singular), so we had to fit both of her wrists in just the one cuff (which works for some reason). She begins to plead her case and asks to be let go. I tell her that I would have, but Dennis is pressing charges. He is rather attached to those McDonald’s toys.
I begin to escort her up from the basement, through the, now, quite narrow stairwell, and up to the kitchen. As I head through the living room to the front, I see a guy from my high school named Jon Durham, but I ended up saying “Hi Jimmy,” which was the name of his cousin.
As we reach the outside, I notice there are several cars parked out front full of people. Focusing on my task at hand I open the back of the squad card and sit her down in the back seat next to another young lady who must have been picked up earlier in the night.
As I walk back to the house, people begin to get out of their cars. Everybody almost looks like people I know (does this make sense?), so I continue on path toward the house. Almost to the front door, I notice Marra, a person I actually recognize. She slightly stumbles and slightly slurs that she’s having the best night; I tell her she doesn’t even know.
As I approached the door, I noticed everyone is now back in their cars and drive away. I decide its time to go to bed even though it was rather bright outside. I lie down uncomfortably on the carpet of the hallway and look up at the clock. It is blurry so I must have taken out my contacts along the way. I, then, move to the kitchen and peacefully fall asleep on the hard-tile kitchen floor.
I then wake up in real life at 5:30A.M. and begin writing furiously before I forget. By the time I was through, it is four written pages long, which I will sequentially type up, correct the spelling (since it is riddled with errors), and send it out to people who would appreciate it. I will start the story with from a relevant quote from Episode One of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia by Dennis. “I hate listening to people’s dreams. It’s like flipping through a stack of photographs. If I’m not in any of them, or nobody’s having sex, then I just don’t care.”
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
My new job
Kurt Vonnegut's words always seem to open up the right side of my brain. I like that. I like him. I'd like to think he would like me if we ever met. Unfortunately he died; slipped on a patch of ice, so it goes. We were neighbors you know...kinda. He grew up at 4365 North Illinois Street in Indianaplis, IN. I lived at 818 W. 43rd St in Indianapolis, IN. According to Google Maps, it's only a 17 minute walk away (much quicker by car, or course). I forgot his address at first , but I knew where I could find it. I bookmarked it. He mentioned it in his New York Times Bestseller, Timequake. I don't remember what it was about, because it was the first book I've ever read by him. I bet it was about time or tiki torches on Tunisia. I'll reread it soon enough; I'm reading/rereading the books he wrote from start to finish. Only time will tell, I suppose. Interestingly enough, the bookmark I used was the ticket I purchased for the Boston Duck Tours. That was a marvelous day.
Back to my original point, Kurt Vonnegut's words always seem to open up the right side of my brain. After absorbing his genius, I feel a sense of wit come on. It comes on in a way transferable to paper, or in this case a computer monitor. I had a brief thought come through my head, maybe only a sentence or two long. Instead I started typing and the above vomited out of my fingertips like New Year's Eve party gone incredibly right. I will now postface (that's the opposite of preface, right?) this line with my original thought before I get too carried away (like Sean Astin).
"I like work. I like the people I work with at the hospital. I especially like the custodial engineers (the politically correct term for janitor). They rush over and proclaim that I should take the elevator (even though I'm only going two floors up to my office on the 5th floor...pretty posh, eh?), because he just mopped the stairwell. Those custodial engineers, they really save your ass."
It just ain't a good story unless there's a good pun involved!
End Transmission.
Back to my original point, Kurt Vonnegut's words always seem to open up the right side of my brain. After absorbing his genius, I feel a sense of wit come on. It comes on in a way transferable to paper, or in this case a computer monitor. I had a brief thought come through my head, maybe only a sentence or two long. Instead I started typing and the above vomited out of my fingertips like New Year's Eve party gone incredibly right. I will now postface (that's the opposite of preface, right?) this line with my original thought before I get too carried away (like Sean Astin).
"I like work. I like the people I work with at the hospital. I especially like the custodial engineers (the politically correct term for janitor). They rush over and proclaim that I should take the elevator (even though I'm only going two floors up to my office on the 5th floor...pretty posh, eh?), because he just mopped the stairwell. Those custodial engineers, they really save your ass."
It just ain't a good story unless there's a good pun involved!
End Transmission.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Green Sweata
(To the beat of "Moonshadow" by Cat Stevens)
Oh, I just bought me a green sweata, green sweata, green sweata.
It was on sale at the Old Navy, a green sweata, green sweata.
And if I ever lose my warmth, with goosebumps, and just be cold.
And if I ever lose my warmth, With, Sweata…I won’t be cold no more.
Oh, I just bought me a green sweata, green sweata, green sweata.
It was on sale at the Old Navy, a green sweata, green sweata.
And if I ever lose my warmth, with goosebumps, and just be cold.
And if I ever lose my warmth, With, Sweata…I won’t be cold no more.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Nurses kill me
Today I was working the in PCU (that's progressive care unit) and was listening to nurses talk about facebook...you can't make this shit up:
40ish year old nurse:
A few months ago my daughter and boyfriend broke up. So she updated her picture from one with him to one with her and one of her friends hugging. Also, she changed her relationship status to "In an open relationship" with the friend she was hugging.
Anyway, the next day or so I get a call from her Catholic school wanting to talk to me about something. The teacher said she saw her updated facebook and wanted me (the mom/nurse) to know that her daughter might be a lesbian!
:)
40ish year old nurse:
A few months ago my daughter and boyfriend broke up. So she updated her picture from one with him to one with her and one of her friends hugging. Also, she changed her relationship status to "In an open relationship" with the friend she was hugging.
Anyway, the next day or so I get a call from her Catholic school wanting to talk to me about something. The teacher said she saw her updated facebook and wanted me (the mom/nurse) to know that her daughter might be a lesbian!
:)
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Random thoughts #18
Well, I really can't label 1-17, I just thought 18 would be a good place to start
a) I was looking through the pantry today and had a thought:
"If I were to say the word 'Prego/Preggo' what is the first thing you think of?
If you think spaghetti sauce, you are probably normal.
If you think another word for pregnant woman, you are probably of my generation who's vocabulary has been tainted by the use of slang which is now approaching 2 "slang words" for every "word" we have in the English language.
b) This next one is a just an open-ended thought questions:
"Do you think Elton John wanted for this lyric 'But losing everything is like the 'sun' going down on me' to have a double meaning, a so called double entendre?
Think about it...
See, I don't think so. I feel, specifically in his case, it would be like 'gaining everything,' unless of course he was worried about committing statutory rape.
a) I was looking through the pantry today and had a thought:
"If I were to say the word 'Prego/Preggo' what is the first thing you think of?
If you think spaghetti sauce, you are probably normal.
If you think another word for pregnant woman, you are probably of my generation who's vocabulary has been tainted by the use of slang which is now approaching 2 "slang words" for every "word" we have in the English language.
b) This next one is a just an open-ended thought questions:
"Do you think Elton John wanted for this lyric 'But losing everything is like the 'sun' going down on me' to have a double meaning, a so called double entendre?
Think about it...
See, I don't think so. I feel, specifically in his case, it would be like 'gaining everything,' unless of course he was worried about committing statutory rape.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
God love nurses II
Here is another note dictated by a nurse.
(On assessing if a patient is with it)
"Alert and oriented to person/place and time. However thought current president
was Rommel (correct answer would be Obama) and last president was Ford. When
confronted stated that he always confuses Ford and Bush."
Yes this is completely true. The patient thought Rommel (Field Marshall Erwin Johannes Eugen Rommel of Hitler's Nazi Germany) was our president. Of course this went on for about five minutes and we figured the patient may have said "Ronald" as in Ronald Reagan, but I personally like the Rommel story better.
I also enjoy the fact the nurse included "Obama" as being the correct answer, as if the person reading the note has had their head in the sand for the last 2 years.
(The Medical Intern later questioned the patient and got this answer.)
"Some foreigner is the president but I know he's going to be good."
That's that. I cannot interpret that any cleaner or twist words to make it more funny. It is perfect just the way he said it!
(On assessing if a patient is with it)
"Alert and oriented to person/place and time. However thought current president
was Rommel (correct answer would be Obama) and last president was Ford. When
confronted stated that he always confuses Ford and Bush."
Yes this is completely true. The patient thought Rommel (Field Marshall Erwin Johannes Eugen Rommel of Hitler's Nazi Germany) was our president. Of course this went on for about five minutes and we figured the patient may have said "Ronald" as in Ronald Reagan, but I personally like the Rommel story better.
I also enjoy the fact the nurse included "Obama" as being the correct answer, as if the person reading the note has had their head in the sand for the last 2 years.
(The Medical Intern later questioned the patient and got this answer.)
"Some foreigner is the president but I know he's going to be good."
That's that. I cannot interpret that any cleaner or twist words to make it more funny. It is perfect just the way he said it!
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
God love nurses
This was copy and pasted from a progress note written by a nurse. (Don't worry, there was no HIPAA violations)
"Pt.(patient) tolerated being up and had loose bright yellow stool that had a foul odor of a dead animal laying for awhile. Very foul.
"Pt.(patient) tolerated being up and had loose bright yellow stool that had a foul odor of a dead animal laying for awhile. Very foul.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
To Sing
I would like to find someone who sings absolutely beautiful. I would like to ask them if there is anything they’ve ever wanted and in turn give up their ability to sing. I cannot sing. I would tell them I would be willing to give up something of myself to have the ability. Maybe even a trade could be in order…
I would be willing to give up my knowledge in science, ultimately my career in pharmacy. I figure the only reason I’m in pharmacy is to help people, so I wonder if I can help more people with the words I sing than the knowledge of science?
So far in my life, words that were sung have made more of a difference to me than medicine. But I am still young and all I have needed medicine for was to treat a few colds and some problems with allergies. Would I still feel this way in fifty years though? Only time will tell.
I would be willing to give up my knowledge in science, ultimately my career in pharmacy. I figure the only reason I’m in pharmacy is to help people, so I wonder if I can help more people with the words I sing than the knowledge of science?
So far in my life, words that were sung have made more of a difference to me than medicine. But I am still young and all I have needed medicine for was to treat a few colds and some problems with allergies. Would I still feel this way in fifty years though? Only time will tell.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Newport, RI
A classic story from the summer of 2006!
When one thinks of Newport and Cape Cod and all the exotic destinations of the East Coast, they think of the beaches, the sun, big mansions, and plenty of photo opportunities. However, this isn’t your typical story and in all actuality it’s completely the opposite. This tale begins like any other Saturday morning.
I awoke when I heard Derek stirring in the Sleep Number bed next to mine. Like I do every morning, I reflect on the dreams I just had during the night. On this day I remember Bill Walton coming to The Cape to sign autographs. I get in line and get him to sign a picture I made and for some reason my 5th grade soccer shirt, which I was wearing. I asked him if he remembers me from the NCAA tournament where I met him a few months ago (true story.) Also, the night before Derek was telling me of a pharmacist he worked with by the name of Magnar. Instead of being a burly German man, he was a little black guy shorter than me. (Sorry for the small side story, it makes me chuckle at it.)
Back to reality, I wake up at 9:15 early for most, but not on this particular day. We planned on getting up early and taking a ferry from the mainland to Martha’s Vineyard. Since we woke up later than expected, we wouldn’t be able to make it over to the ferry until noon and the last ferry back was at 6. So ultimately, we would have about four hours on the island, definitely not enough time to cover the island. So Derek called and to see if there was a late ferry or a way to reserve tickets. But instead of politely saying no, she decided to be mean and nasty. We were puzzled on what we should do with our day off, especially since we both work the following day and I will home the next weekend with Cheese for a wedding. Derek and I needed to do something memorable. I thought Boston, P-town, Plymouth, but we had done of this before so I just threw it up there…Rhode Island. Derek is like oh yeah and we can go to Newport. At this suggestion I was already half way in the shower. I decided today will be a good day.
In preparation, we took a quick look at maps.google.com to get a general idea where we needed to go (but nothing more, it has to be random.) We looked up some cool places to go like a mansion tour and a garden with bushes trimmed as animals. After we were all set, we knocked across the hall to tell Megan we were going to Newport, which of course saddened her because she was only going to be hanging out on a large boat in Plymouth all day. Our first stop was Dunkin Donuts which took my American Express Gift Card, which they didn’t the day before…it was a nice.
Derek and I were taking our time on the longest highway in the US, Route 6. It was a nice drive through the Cape. We made it over the Bridge and through the two rotaries that were pack with tourists risking their family’s lives to get to Cape Cod. From there the traffic calmed down and it looked like a nice hour and half drive to the great city of Newport. The next thing we knew a light came on, which certainly wasn’t a bright idea I was having.
I looked down on my dashboard and my ‘Volts’ light was on. It was also at that time that my car seemed to be dragging and not accelerating properly. I called mister fix-it himself, my father, to ask him what was going on. He said to look it up in the manual, but he was sure it was the battery or the alternator. He told me to take it to a Jiffy Lube and have the battery checked. Just after this, on US 195 the beautiful city of New Bedford came into view.
As we approached this city, we thought, wow this is what an east coast town should look like. There were houses on hills on the right and downtown/the ocean on the left. Low on gas, we got off an exit to search for a station. The exit we got off ended up being a pseudo-highway that took us downtown, so I got off another exit called Purchase Street, figuring, I’m sure I could purchase gas on Purchase Street. Derek and I drive about a mile or two and no gas station, but in the mean time the area around becomes more and more ghetto/sketchy. I figured we need to get off this street because the only thing on this street that could be purchased if we kept going would have been a dime-bag of marijuana. We take a left in attempts to find the main road and low and behold we are in the heart of the projects. We soon found the main road and took it to the highway without looking back.
We get back on the highway and on a sign in big huge letters is Gas next exit, it figures. We get off this exit (no longer in New Bedford looking for gas.) We see one down the road at an intersection and of course it’s the most expensive I’ve ever seen gas at $3.45/gallon. I told Derek there is no way I’m spending that much for gas off Cape when I don’t spend that much on Cape. We took a left and drove by a 24 hr CVS and a 24 hr Walgreens with nothing more than a Dunkin Donuts in between. I see a Sunoco ahead and gas is $2.95/gallon, hooray! I fill up and I’m just observing my surrounding and I see a statue. Of course being on a random adventure like this, a picture must be taken. I finished filling up my car and parked in a spot at the gas station. I’m looking for the right angle and placement of my camera to use the timer feature (one of my special interests) to get a good picture. During this an elderly couple was walking along, so I decided to ask them if they could take a picture. This woman would not have any part in it. She kept saying “No, no, no!” and kept walking, but her husband was kind enough to eventually take the picture so this image was able to be captured forever. But I had to feel bad for the older man, by the time he was done taking the picture, his wife was a half a block ahead still pressing hard. She kind of sucked.
We hopped back into the doomed car and headed on down to CVS. We thought about going to the drive thru to get batteries and be a jerk but Derek decided that would be mean. So instead we went inside got batteries for the camera and snack. I asked her for direction to the nearest Jiffy Lube and she was ever so helpful. She looked it up in the yellow pages and gave me directions. However, it was in the opposite way in a town which she called “Fahav’n” (Fair Haven), so I decided to press on and we can hit it on the way back if need be.
We continued our onward progress toward our final destination of Newport. Before we knew it, we hit the great state of Rhode Island. It was the first time I’ve ever been in the Ocean State so I was able to chalk that one up on my tour de US. We enjoyed the great views of the little harbors and small towns. Soon we came to an exit for a small town called Little Compton and of course if you know how my brain works and all, I had to do a gangsta photo of me (and maybe Derek) in front of the sign. So I get off on this exit against Derek’s wishes to get a priceless picture. We follow the signs about three miles and still no sign of this town. When all of a sudden my car seems to drop in RPMs and my acceleration was non-existent. My new priority was to find a Jiffy Lube and abandoned all hope of a fun picture. Continuing to drive towards Little Compton, we noticed a little change in scenery from a view of a harbor to country farmlands. I decided to go one more mile and if there was nothing I would try to get back on the highway. Within this mile we encountered an incredible photo opportunity. It was a sign that said room mate wanted, but of course there is nothing out of the ordinary with it. Below the sign it read “Must be cool!” (The underline was part of it.) Then I saw an auto shop but of course it was closed, so we turned around and headed back to the road.
Here I started to worry; I knew I had to call someone to find out where the closest Jiffy Lube is (P.S. thank you internet and cell phone technology.) The first person I call is Curt, because he always answers his phone and normally leads a lame life. However; he was returning a keg from the previous night’s party at the 818 (which is the first time one was returned within a month.) Next, we tried to call Derek’s brother Landon, but he was at his girlfriend’s house and was of absolutely no help. Next to call was my former roommate (and my back up singer to ‘More than Words’) Chris Cook. He was by chance next to a computer. He saved my life by finding a Jiffy Lube which was only about 5 miles ahead on the leading to Newport, Rhode Island. We thought we were in the clear and the day would be salvaged, but lets put it this way…I’m not even half way done with this story.
I continue along the main drag leading to Newport. At this point in time, Derek and I are stroking the car encouraging Gretchen Weiners (yeah, I named my car after a character in ‘Mean Girls’) and telling her how beautiful she is. We are counting down the blocks only about 12 more to go when she really starts acting up. Soon, Jiffy Lube is in sight! We are almost out of the woods with one final obstacle, making a left hand turn across a busy road with hardly any acceleration. We strive together and are waved toward a bay thinking the day will not be a waste after all. The guy asked me for an oil change. I told him ‘No thanks, I just had one, but you can test my battery and possible switch it out that would be great.’ Except unlike all the Jiffy Lube’s of the Midwest, this one ceases to do battery work. But he told me he would take a look to see if it was and told me to go to Midas down the road, so I’m like great. So I turn off my engine as he takes a gander under the hood. He told me my battery was old and might as well just get a new one. So I was like thanks for your help and tried to go about my merry way. However, Gretchen decided to die right then and there. I started to call Triple A to get a tow, but in two or three attempts the car started and we were on the road again. I pull to the main road to make a right hand turn and got about 100 yards. At this point, the car just dies again; it takes quite a bit of strength to pull into an empty parking since I was lacking the power steering. I triple park in a spot just outside of a pet shop called ‘Pets.’
I call up Triple A to get a tow. They tell me a truck will be out in less than an hour and told me to hang loose. Derek and I decided to go scout the area and look for some pristine photo opportunities. We find a few statues of dogs that will definitely do. Since we had at least a half hour to blow, we went to check out the pet store. First of all, they have a big sign that says they would match any of Petco’s prices (except on pretty much everything.) They had birds, lab rats, fish, and three alligators. After about ten minutes we left to go wait. From down the road we see the tow truck and made our way back to the car.
I get my license and card out like they said and give it to the driver. And what is the first thing to come out of his mouth… “Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were by the kennels?” Which of course, I have no idea what he was talking about so I just shrugged. First of all let me go into details what Ray looked like. He was about 350 pounds with a huge beer gut, coke bottle glasses, balding with a truck driving hat, and my best description…his teeth were in layers sticking out to the point where it looked like he was wearing brown braces. So this guy hooks my car up to tow and pulls me up. Then we get in the tow truck. I ended up sitting bitch in this gross truck. In front of me was a day or two old big gulp from Speedway and just broken equipment. We head on our five block cruise to Midas. But while driving, good ole Ray bits off the bottom of his stogie, chews it, spits it out, and sticks the rest of the cigar in his mouth (it was gross.) We make it to Midas. Derek helps Ray lower the car as I go instead to talk to a mechanic. As I wait in line for fifteen minutes, Derek is in my car guiding it down. Derek doesn’t put the break all the way down and almost runs over Ray’s arm. The more I think about it, his arm getting run over would probably break my axel before it broke his arm. So the car is down and Derek comes in to join me. I start talking to this mechanic and I explain everything. He goes “yeah, I can fix it….on Monday.’ I was like what, can you even take a look at it now. He was like nope we’re closed. Then I was like what time did you close. And he said “well its 2, right now.” I wanted to strike this man. We told me he could leave it here and he can maybe get to it on Monday or I could fix it my self. There was no way I could wait until then because I had to work the next day, so I took my chance with my mechanical skills and AutoZone.
We take a three block walk to AutoZone for a new battery; I was on my way back in 10 minutes. Then I began taking off all the parts over the battery. Except the bolt was on there good, so I send Derek to get a socket wrench. He comes back not knowing what size and finally comes back. The bolt still won’t come off. So I sent him to get some lubrication to help ease the tension. (Double Entendre) In the mean time I call Triple A and see if they can send a guy with tools suitable enough for this job. The lube didn’t work, so I was glad Triple A was coming within the hour. During this time the guys that worked at Midas were slowly filtering out. Not one made eye contact or asked if I was okay. Whatever. But as I got closer to the store I noticed something. It was opened on Saturday until 3PM. I was basically furious, but there was nothing I could do about it now, so I just brushed it off.
Within the hour, Cole (my knight in shining armor) from Triple A shows up. He has all the tools necessary and starts working on it right away. We just started making small talk, asking where we were from and such. We told him we were living on the Cape and had an internship with CVS. He asked if we actually lived there and I told him I was from Indiana. He told me I wouldn’t make it there on this battery (he wasn’t the brightest bulb on the circuit as you will soon find out.) I told him I just wanted to get back to the Cape and I’m going back to Indiana for awhile. Then he asked me if Indiana was out west and of course I was like yes. Then he asked him a very memorable question, “Does Indiana border the ocean?” (Kristen, I know you of all people totally appreciate that!) I held in chuckles and told him no, but it borders Lake Michigan. To this he responds, “Well at least you’re by water.” He gets the battery fixed and tests it out and determines it’s the alternator as suspected. I slip him a Jackson and we were on our way.
During the testing of the battery the volts dropped pretty low and even lower when the lights, A/C, and the radio were working. So we ended up driving home with the windows down, no wipers, no lights, no radio, while it was raining. That was kind of fun. So I called up my pharmacist and told him I may not show up to work on Monday because I don’t have a car. He told me he had tools and to pick up the part and he’ll fix it after work. I was psyched. On the way home, Derek and I did a brief overview of the day. We made it to the Sagamore Bridge and prayed that we would get over it. The rest of the story is kind of boring. We got the Alternator set up in about an hour, put a new belt on, but broke the suspension pulley. We got the part after work on Monday and the car was fixed in another half hour. My car was working so I got Taco Bell and everyone lived happily ever after. The End.
When one thinks of Newport and Cape Cod and all the exotic destinations of the East Coast, they think of the beaches, the sun, big mansions, and plenty of photo opportunities. However, this isn’t your typical story and in all actuality it’s completely the opposite. This tale begins like any other Saturday morning.
I awoke when I heard Derek stirring in the Sleep Number bed next to mine. Like I do every morning, I reflect on the dreams I just had during the night. On this day I remember Bill Walton coming to The Cape to sign autographs. I get in line and get him to sign a picture I made and for some reason my 5th grade soccer shirt, which I was wearing. I asked him if he remembers me from the NCAA tournament where I met him a few months ago (true story.) Also, the night before Derek was telling me of a pharmacist he worked with by the name of Magnar. Instead of being a burly German man, he was a little black guy shorter than me. (Sorry for the small side story, it makes me chuckle at it.)
Back to reality, I wake up at 9:15 early for most, but not on this particular day. We planned on getting up early and taking a ferry from the mainland to Martha’s Vineyard. Since we woke up later than expected, we wouldn’t be able to make it over to the ferry until noon and the last ferry back was at 6. So ultimately, we would have about four hours on the island, definitely not enough time to cover the island. So Derek called and to see if there was a late ferry or a way to reserve tickets. But instead of politely saying no, she decided to be mean and nasty. We were puzzled on what we should do with our day off, especially since we both work the following day and I will home the next weekend with Cheese for a wedding. Derek and I needed to do something memorable. I thought Boston, P-town, Plymouth, but we had done of this before so I just threw it up there…Rhode Island. Derek is like oh yeah and we can go to Newport. At this suggestion I was already half way in the shower. I decided today will be a good day.
In preparation, we took a quick look at maps.google.com to get a general idea where we needed to go (but nothing more, it has to be random.) We looked up some cool places to go like a mansion tour and a garden with bushes trimmed as animals. After we were all set, we knocked across the hall to tell Megan we were going to Newport, which of course saddened her because she was only going to be hanging out on a large boat in Plymouth all day. Our first stop was Dunkin Donuts which took my American Express Gift Card, which they didn’t the day before…it was a nice.
Derek and I were taking our time on the longest highway in the US, Route 6. It was a nice drive through the Cape. We made it over the Bridge and through the two rotaries that were pack with tourists risking their family’s lives to get to Cape Cod. From there the traffic calmed down and it looked like a nice hour and half drive to the great city of Newport. The next thing we knew a light came on, which certainly wasn’t a bright idea I was having.
I looked down on my dashboard and my ‘Volts’ light was on. It was also at that time that my car seemed to be dragging and not accelerating properly. I called mister fix-it himself, my father, to ask him what was going on. He said to look it up in the manual, but he was sure it was the battery or the alternator. He told me to take it to a Jiffy Lube and have the battery checked. Just after this, on US 195 the beautiful city of New Bedford came into view.
As we approached this city, we thought, wow this is what an east coast town should look like. There were houses on hills on the right and downtown/the ocean on the left. Low on gas, we got off an exit to search for a station. The exit we got off ended up being a pseudo-highway that took us downtown, so I got off another exit called Purchase Street, figuring, I’m sure I could purchase gas on Purchase Street. Derek and I drive about a mile or two and no gas station, but in the mean time the area around becomes more and more ghetto/sketchy. I figured we need to get off this street because the only thing on this street that could be purchased if we kept going would have been a dime-bag of marijuana. We take a left in attempts to find the main road and low and behold we are in the heart of the projects. We soon found the main road and took it to the highway without looking back.
We get back on the highway and on a sign in big huge letters is Gas next exit, it figures. We get off this exit (no longer in New Bedford looking for gas.) We see one down the road at an intersection and of course it’s the most expensive I’ve ever seen gas at $3.45/gallon. I told Derek there is no way I’m spending that much for gas off Cape when I don’t spend that much on Cape. We took a left and drove by a 24 hr CVS and a 24 hr Walgreens with nothing more than a Dunkin Donuts in between. I see a Sunoco ahead and gas is $2.95/gallon, hooray! I fill up and I’m just observing my surrounding and I see a statue. Of course being on a random adventure like this, a picture must be taken. I finished filling up my car and parked in a spot at the gas station. I’m looking for the right angle and placement of my camera to use the timer feature (one of my special interests) to get a good picture. During this an elderly couple was walking along, so I decided to ask them if they could take a picture. This woman would not have any part in it. She kept saying “No, no, no!” and kept walking, but her husband was kind enough to eventually take the picture so this image was able to be captured forever. But I had to feel bad for the older man, by the time he was done taking the picture, his wife was a half a block ahead still pressing hard. She kind of sucked.
We hopped back into the doomed car and headed on down to CVS. We thought about going to the drive thru to get batteries and be a jerk but Derek decided that would be mean. So instead we went inside got batteries for the camera and snack. I asked her for direction to the nearest Jiffy Lube and she was ever so helpful. She looked it up in the yellow pages and gave me directions. However, it was in the opposite way in a town which she called “Fahav’n” (Fair Haven), so I decided to press on and we can hit it on the way back if need be.
We continued our onward progress toward our final destination of Newport. Before we knew it, we hit the great state of Rhode Island. It was the first time I’ve ever been in the Ocean State so I was able to chalk that one up on my tour de US. We enjoyed the great views of the little harbors and small towns. Soon we came to an exit for a small town called Little Compton and of course if you know how my brain works and all, I had to do a gangsta photo of me (and maybe Derek) in front of the sign. So I get off on this exit against Derek’s wishes to get a priceless picture. We follow the signs about three miles and still no sign of this town. When all of a sudden my car seems to drop in RPMs and my acceleration was non-existent. My new priority was to find a Jiffy Lube and abandoned all hope of a fun picture. Continuing to drive towards Little Compton, we noticed a little change in scenery from a view of a harbor to country farmlands. I decided to go one more mile and if there was nothing I would try to get back on the highway. Within this mile we encountered an incredible photo opportunity. It was a sign that said room mate wanted, but of course there is nothing out of the ordinary with it. Below the sign it read “Must be cool!” (The underline was part of it.) Then I saw an auto shop but of course it was closed, so we turned around and headed back to the road.
Here I started to worry; I knew I had to call someone to find out where the closest Jiffy Lube is (P.S. thank you internet and cell phone technology.) The first person I call is Curt, because he always answers his phone and normally leads a lame life. However; he was returning a keg from the previous night’s party at the 818 (which is the first time one was returned within a month.) Next, we tried to call Derek’s brother Landon, but he was at his girlfriend’s house and was of absolutely no help. Next to call was my former roommate (and my back up singer to ‘More than Words’) Chris Cook. He was by chance next to a computer. He saved my life by finding a Jiffy Lube which was only about 5 miles ahead on the leading to Newport, Rhode Island. We thought we were in the clear and the day would be salvaged, but lets put it this way…I’m not even half way done with this story.
I continue along the main drag leading to Newport. At this point in time, Derek and I are stroking the car encouraging Gretchen Weiners (yeah, I named my car after a character in ‘Mean Girls’) and telling her how beautiful she is. We are counting down the blocks only about 12 more to go when she really starts acting up. Soon, Jiffy Lube is in sight! We are almost out of the woods with one final obstacle, making a left hand turn across a busy road with hardly any acceleration. We strive together and are waved toward a bay thinking the day will not be a waste after all. The guy asked me for an oil change. I told him ‘No thanks, I just had one, but you can test my battery and possible switch it out that would be great.’ Except unlike all the Jiffy Lube’s of the Midwest, this one ceases to do battery work. But he told me he would take a look to see if it was and told me to go to Midas down the road, so I’m like great. So I turn off my engine as he takes a gander under the hood. He told me my battery was old and might as well just get a new one. So I was like thanks for your help and tried to go about my merry way. However, Gretchen decided to die right then and there. I started to call Triple A to get a tow, but in two or three attempts the car started and we were on the road again. I pull to the main road to make a right hand turn and got about 100 yards. At this point, the car just dies again; it takes quite a bit of strength to pull into an empty parking since I was lacking the power steering. I triple park in a spot just outside of a pet shop called ‘Pets.’
I call up Triple A to get a tow. They tell me a truck will be out in less than an hour and told me to hang loose. Derek and I decided to go scout the area and look for some pristine photo opportunities. We find a few statues of dogs that will definitely do. Since we had at least a half hour to blow, we went to check out the pet store. First of all, they have a big sign that says they would match any of Petco’s prices (except on pretty much everything.) They had birds, lab rats, fish, and three alligators. After about ten minutes we left to go wait. From down the road we see the tow truck and made our way back to the car.
I get my license and card out like they said and give it to the driver. And what is the first thing to come out of his mouth… “Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were by the kennels?” Which of course, I have no idea what he was talking about so I just shrugged. First of all let me go into details what Ray looked like. He was about 350 pounds with a huge beer gut, coke bottle glasses, balding with a truck driving hat, and my best description…his teeth were in layers sticking out to the point where it looked like he was wearing brown braces. So this guy hooks my car up to tow and pulls me up. Then we get in the tow truck. I ended up sitting bitch in this gross truck. In front of me was a day or two old big gulp from Speedway and just broken equipment. We head on our five block cruise to Midas. But while driving, good ole Ray bits off the bottom of his stogie, chews it, spits it out, and sticks the rest of the cigar in his mouth (it was gross.) We make it to Midas. Derek helps Ray lower the car as I go instead to talk to a mechanic. As I wait in line for fifteen minutes, Derek is in my car guiding it down. Derek doesn’t put the break all the way down and almost runs over Ray’s arm. The more I think about it, his arm getting run over would probably break my axel before it broke his arm. So the car is down and Derek comes in to join me. I start talking to this mechanic and I explain everything. He goes “yeah, I can fix it….on Monday.’ I was like what, can you even take a look at it now. He was like nope we’re closed. Then I was like what time did you close. And he said “well its 2, right now.” I wanted to strike this man. We told me he could leave it here and he can maybe get to it on Monday or I could fix it my self. There was no way I could wait until then because I had to work the next day, so I took my chance with my mechanical skills and AutoZone.
We take a three block walk to AutoZone for a new battery; I was on my way back in 10 minutes. Then I began taking off all the parts over the battery. Except the bolt was on there good, so I send Derek to get a socket wrench. He comes back not knowing what size and finally comes back. The bolt still won’t come off. So I sent him to get some lubrication to help ease the tension. (Double Entendre) In the mean time I call Triple A and see if they can send a guy with tools suitable enough for this job. The lube didn’t work, so I was glad Triple A was coming within the hour. During this time the guys that worked at Midas were slowly filtering out. Not one made eye contact or asked if I was okay. Whatever. But as I got closer to the store I noticed something. It was opened on Saturday until 3PM. I was basically furious, but there was nothing I could do about it now, so I just brushed it off.
Within the hour, Cole (my knight in shining armor) from Triple A shows up. He has all the tools necessary and starts working on it right away. We just started making small talk, asking where we were from and such. We told him we were living on the Cape and had an internship with CVS. He asked if we actually lived there and I told him I was from Indiana. He told me I wouldn’t make it there on this battery (he wasn’t the brightest bulb on the circuit as you will soon find out.) I told him I just wanted to get back to the Cape and I’m going back to Indiana for awhile. Then he asked me if Indiana was out west and of course I was like yes. Then he asked him a very memorable question, “Does Indiana border the ocean?” (Kristen, I know you of all people totally appreciate that!) I held in chuckles and told him no, but it borders Lake Michigan. To this he responds, “Well at least you’re by water.” He gets the battery fixed and tests it out and determines it’s the alternator as suspected. I slip him a Jackson and we were on our way.
During the testing of the battery the volts dropped pretty low and even lower when the lights, A/C, and the radio were working. So we ended up driving home with the windows down, no wipers, no lights, no radio, while it was raining. That was kind of fun. So I called up my pharmacist and told him I may not show up to work on Monday because I don’t have a car. He told me he had tools and to pick up the part and he’ll fix it after work. I was psyched. On the way home, Derek and I did a brief overview of the day. We made it to the Sagamore Bridge and prayed that we would get over it. The rest of the story is kind of boring. We got the Alternator set up in about an hour, put a new belt on, but broke the suspension pulley. We got the part after work on Monday and the car was fixed in another half hour. My car was working so I got Taco Bell and everyone lived happily ever after. The End.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
&
Dear &,
Poor, poor &. The most misunderstood symbol in our English language. Most people probably don’t even know how to say your real name. They probably just call you “that ‘and’ sign.” But don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten it, my dear friend, &. It’s like when a person comes up to you that you’ve known for sometime, but all you get is a ‘hey dude’ or what’s up, man.’ I feel just as nameless as you sometimes, &.
Although it is disheartening, my pity is still for you, &. Because, my name isn’t displayed on marquees, restaurants, or billboards in a state of connection. It also isn’t a simple ‘shift-7’ or a symbol given free of charge to the contestants on Wheel of Fortune.
Why can’t you have integrated into our English alphabet and become your own letter, &? I mean, somehow ‘y’ did it in the Spanish language. You both share career goals, and basically have the same calling in life, &.
I hate to tell you this, &, but I see your fate, because it parallels another symbol of recent times. It is the symbol that Prince used as his name for some time. It completely took over who he was and his name may have been forgotten, leaving the only the symbol to remain, &. The difference is, even with the symbol, his name was still remembered as ‘The Artist Formerly Known as Prince.’ But you don’t have that going for you right now, do you &? Because to so many people, you are still just that “and-sign.”
&, I feel your best bet to be known for what you are, to salvage any recognition is to put on some make-up, hire a fancy stylist, and learn to play some killer riffs on the guitar. Then and only then, can you go by “The Symbol Formerly Known as Ampersand.”
And when you do, I will sign up for your fan mailing list.
Sincerely,
Scott Vouri
Poor, poor &. The most misunderstood symbol in our English language. Most people probably don’t even know how to say your real name. They probably just call you “that ‘and’ sign.” But don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten it, my dear friend, &. It’s like when a person comes up to you that you’ve known for sometime, but all you get is a ‘hey dude’ or what’s up, man.’ I feel just as nameless as you sometimes, &.
Although it is disheartening, my pity is still for you, &. Because, my name isn’t displayed on marquees, restaurants, or billboards in a state of connection. It also isn’t a simple ‘shift-7’ or a symbol given free of charge to the contestants on Wheel of Fortune.
Why can’t you have integrated into our English alphabet and become your own letter, &? I mean, somehow ‘y’ did it in the Spanish language. You both share career goals, and basically have the same calling in life, &.
I hate to tell you this, &, but I see your fate, because it parallels another symbol of recent times. It is the symbol that Prince used as his name for some time. It completely took over who he was and his name may have been forgotten, leaving the only the symbol to remain, &. The difference is, even with the symbol, his name was still remembered as ‘The Artist Formerly Known as Prince.’ But you don’t have that going for you right now, do you &? Because to so many people, you are still just that “and-sign.”
&, I feel your best bet to be known for what you are, to salvage any recognition is to put on some make-up, hire a fancy stylist, and learn to play some killer riffs on the guitar. Then and only then, can you go by “The Symbol Formerly Known as Ampersand.”
And when you do, I will sign up for your fan mailing list.
Sincerely,
Scott Vouri
Spare some change?...
And no, not this propaganda that’s been talked about in politics for the last year. Change in the matter, for each person in existence, that today is different than yesterday and will be different tomorrow. Even if it is in the very slightest way imaginable.
Most of the time it comes from within ourselves. When you read something and strikes you in a way either positive or negative. It is that thought, that perception of specific words may…no, will make you a different person, even if just barely.
Since change is inevitable, a simple part of life, don’t shy away from it. Accept it. Know that every time you wake up, you will learn something new about yourself, another person, a concept, religion, morals…you name it!
We are smarter each day we live. And, hopefully, one step closer to learning the ultimate truth we seek, whatever that is for us individually.
And for those people out there who fear change, fell the status quo is doing just fine, believe in the concept of ‘If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,’ remember this…
Without change, we’d still be trying to make fire and clubbin’ our significant others over their head.
However, this change isn’t always tulips and daisies (isn’t that an old saying, you got me?) With the positives come the negatives.
Love for instance. Especially in today’s society, people are falling out of love faster then they are falling in, but a change nonetheless. Though let me say, those downward slopes of love make those inclinations so much more worth it.
So if you still don’t believe me, think of this. The only thing on earth that remains constant, the only thing that never expires, gets outdated, or goes bad is bee’s honey. A bee’s honey from the hive.
So if you fear change…go try some honey, honey!
Most of the time it comes from within ourselves. When you read something and strikes you in a way either positive or negative. It is that thought, that perception of specific words may…no, will make you a different person, even if just barely.
Since change is inevitable, a simple part of life, don’t shy away from it. Accept it. Know that every time you wake up, you will learn something new about yourself, another person, a concept, religion, morals…you name it!
We are smarter each day we live. And, hopefully, one step closer to learning the ultimate truth we seek, whatever that is for us individually.
And for those people out there who fear change, fell the status quo is doing just fine, believe in the concept of ‘If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,’ remember this…
Without change, we’d still be trying to make fire and clubbin’ our significant others over their head.
However, this change isn’t always tulips and daisies (isn’t that an old saying, you got me?) With the positives come the negatives.
Love for instance. Especially in today’s society, people are falling out of love faster then they are falling in, but a change nonetheless. Though let me say, those downward slopes of love make those inclinations so much more worth it.
So if you still don’t believe me, think of this. The only thing on earth that remains constant, the only thing that never expires, gets outdated, or goes bad is bee’s honey. A bee’s honey from the hive.
So if you fear change…go try some honey, honey!
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