....is hearing a Mexican woman try to describe how a famous Latino pop singer was busted while masturbating in the first class section of a commercial flight to Miami, and is now in jail.
Especially when she doesn't know the word "masturbating," or the PC term "pleasuring himself."
Good friends of ours are from Mexico (he works in IT for a multinational corporation here in Atlanta, and a soccer teammate of mine, she teaches Spanish at the same preschool where my wife works). Their English is very good, but she somehow never learned the words "masturbating," "fapping," "jerking off," etc. So she had to describe it to her husband in Spanish, who then snickered, turned to me, and said, "Ahem.....pleasuring himself," while the wife nodded her head, smiling.
We were on the back deck of a Mexican restaurant late on Saturday, and the song being played was by this singer, and she said, "he's in jail now," and proceeded to struggle with describing WHY he was in jail (mostly because our kids were around, otherwise I'm pretty sure she would've just done the hand motion). Once I got all the details out, I said, "So, this Mexican singer was in first class, commercial flight, and masturbating, with a woman sitting right next to him?"
"Yes," the wife said. "Except he's Puerto Rican, not Mexican." "Ahh," I replied. "That explains it. A Mexican would never do that in first class (the wife shook her head no, agreeing with me). He would be in coach." (the husband nodded his head, agreeing with me).
Monday, May 11, 2009
Commuter of the Day 5/11/2009: If this van's a-rockin'
As the saying goes, "if this van's a-rockin', don't bother knockin'."
Well, now we know what that kind of van would have as far as a vanity plate goes.
As you can see, Joy Van likes to take it in the rear.
The only thing this van is missing is a bumper sticker that says, "Gas, grass or ass, nobody rides for free."
Well, now we know what that kind of van would have as far as a vanity plate goes.
As you can see, Joy Van likes to take it in the rear.
The only thing this van is missing is a bumper sticker that says, "Gas, grass or ass, nobody rides for free."
Friday, May 8, 2009
Sharing with the Neighbors
Recently, we purchased some kind of large plant for the backyard, and it came in a cheap plastic pot that you usually discard once you get the plant in the ground (don't ask me what kind of plant....I think it began with an "H").
The disposable pot was left in the backyard until garbage day. We got a ton of rain recently, and forgot about it, and it filled up with water (along with a bit of potting soil still in it). Yesterday, my wife picked it up and carried it to the side of our backyard, where there are some trees, and dumped it out. Out poured the water. Out poured the potting soil. And out poured a very dead rat, covered in potting soil.
(It's OK, you can shudder, I know I did when I heard this story)
I'm guessing the rat climbed in for some stupid, suicidal reason, and couldn't get out and drowned.
The disposal of dead animals tends to lie on my back. When our cat Kramer died a couple of years ago (while sleeping on our bed), I had to lift him up and wrap him up to dispose of him at the vet. When our neighbor's very large Ridgeback/Doberman mix died, I helped another neighbor (the owner is a small woman and is not moving a dog that is sheer...ahem....dead weight) move him out of the house before their daughter came home from school and saw the dead dog on their kitchen floor.
On another occasion, a bird flew into our back glass door, breaking it's neck. I recalled my disposal method on that occasion, and decided to dust that one off and try it again. It involved this:
At 9PM last night, under the cover of darkness, I went outside with a shovel. I scooped the rat up with the shovel and carried it back to our back fence. Because of the shape of our streets, there are four houses that border our backyard, and two others whose backyard is maybe 20 feet away. So, perfect lacrosse style, I flung the dead rat hard, trying to clear the immediate neighbor's backyard and landing it 2 houses away in thick brush.
Unfortunately....because when dumping dead animals, there's almost ALWAYS an unfortunately....it hit a low-hanging branch in the yard next to mine, which stopped the rat mid-flight, causing it to drop right there, less than 10 feet from our fence. So there lies the rat, not far from our fence (fortunately covered in fallen pine needles, and if not, then I'll throw a shit-load over so that it is), much too close for my comfort. Not that it'll come back to me, but just because I don't want dead things near my house, it skeeves me out.
The disposable pot was left in the backyard until garbage day. We got a ton of rain recently, and forgot about it, and it filled up with water (along with a bit of potting soil still in it). Yesterday, my wife picked it up and carried it to the side of our backyard, where there are some trees, and dumped it out. Out poured the water. Out poured the potting soil. And out poured a very dead rat, covered in potting soil.
(It's OK, you can shudder, I know I did when I heard this story)
I'm guessing the rat climbed in for some stupid, suicidal reason, and couldn't get out and drowned.
The disposal of dead animals tends to lie on my back. When our cat Kramer died a couple of years ago (while sleeping on our bed), I had to lift him up and wrap him up to dispose of him at the vet. When our neighbor's very large Ridgeback/Doberman mix died, I helped another neighbor (the owner is a small woman and is not moving a dog that is sheer...ahem....dead weight) move him out of the house before their daughter came home from school and saw the dead dog on their kitchen floor.
On another occasion, a bird flew into our back glass door, breaking it's neck. I recalled my disposal method on that occasion, and decided to dust that one off and try it again. It involved this:
At 9PM last night, under the cover of darkness, I went outside with a shovel. I scooped the rat up with the shovel and carried it back to our back fence. Because of the shape of our streets, there are four houses that border our backyard, and two others whose backyard is maybe 20 feet away. So, perfect lacrosse style, I flung the dead rat hard, trying to clear the immediate neighbor's backyard and landing it 2 houses away in thick brush.
Unfortunately....because when dumping dead animals, there's almost ALWAYS an unfortunately....it hit a low-hanging branch in the yard next to mine, which stopped the rat mid-flight, causing it to drop right there, less than 10 feet from our fence. So there lies the rat, not far from our fence (fortunately covered in fallen pine needles, and if not, then I'll throw a shit-load over so that it is), much too close for my comfort. Not that it'll come back to me, but just because I don't want dead things near my house, it skeeves me out.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
A Conversation With the Dental Hygienist
Yesterday, I visited the dentist for a scheduled teeth cleaning. This was accomplished using what is basically a small pressure washer. And suction. Lots of suction.
The hygienist looked at me funny, and said, "You know who you look like upside down (she was sitting sort of behind me, so her view of me was upside down)? You look like the guy from Sixteen Candles, Jake."
I responded, "I don't remember him being upside down in that movie. Anthony Michael Hall, under the glass table, yes, but not Jake."
I am rarely told I look like any celebrities, but Jake Ryan is a first. Of course, according to IMDB he hasn't been in anything since 1991 (I was half expecting to see a list of soft-core porn films), so calling him a celebrity might be a stretch.
The hygienist looked at me funny, and said, "You know who you look like upside down (she was sitting sort of behind me, so her view of me was upside down)? You look like the guy from Sixteen Candles, Jake."
I responded, "I don't remember him being upside down in that movie. Anthony Michael Hall, under the glass table, yes, but not Jake."
I am rarely told I look like any celebrities, but Jake Ryan is a first. Of course, according to IMDB he hasn't been in anything since 1991 (I was half expecting to see a list of soft-core porn films), so calling him a celebrity might be a stretch.
Ironic Commuter of the Day 5/5/2009
I saw this guy on the way home yesterday:
What caught my eye was the SPIRIT7 license plate (there's a website of the same name, dedicated to providing spiritual fulfillment on the internets). But then I saw the two stickers on the trunk. They're hard to make out, but one of them says "26.2". The other one is "13.1". These are the distances of a marathon and a half marathon, respectively. Much like seeing an AT sticker on a car indicates the driver has hiked the Appalachian Trail (or at least bought the sticker), these indicate the driver is a serious distance runner.
So why the hell is he driving? Why not run/walk to work, and help save the environment?
Of course, as you can see from the long line of cars in this picture, this is not exactly the most ideally suited road for pedestrians. And, if I owned a Mercedes, I'd sure as hell would want to drive it too.
What caught my eye was the SPIRIT7 license plate (there's a website of the same name, dedicated to providing spiritual fulfillment on the internets). But then I saw the two stickers on the trunk. They're hard to make out, but one of them says "26.2". The other one is "13.1". These are the distances of a marathon and a half marathon, respectively. Much like seeing an AT sticker on a car indicates the driver has hiked the Appalachian Trail (or at least bought the sticker), these indicate the driver is a serious distance runner.
So why the hell is he driving? Why not run/walk to work, and help save the environment?
Of course, as you can see from the long line of cars in this picture, this is not exactly the most ideally suited road for pedestrians. And, if I owned a Mercedes, I'd sure as hell would want to drive it too.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Some GT Love
Yes it was raining. Yes, I was approaching an intersection. Yes, I was taking my eyes off the road to recklessly photograph a douchebag in a Mustang GT. But, it was bumper to bumper traffic, cars were in the intersection, and I couldn't enter, so I safely stopped and pulled out my Blackberry to photograph LVMYGT (Love my GT? I don't know if that's a demand that I love the GT, or if that's a statement that the driver loves his/her GT).
At lunch, I saw another newer Mustang with the plate, MUAHHH. I wasn't sure if that was the sound of an exaggerated kiss, or an attempt at an evil genius laugh (which is normally Muahahah).
Either way, I have definitive proof that Mustang drivers are stupid with money.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Only your Mum would call you an athlete
On Friday, May 1, we had a solid 2-3 hours of thunderstorms throughout the afternoon. Naturally, not ideal conditions for sitting behind a metal cage, on a metal seat, with my feet in a big ol' tub of water. However, the skies cleared up at about 4:30PM, in time for the 5:30 start of the carnival.
The carnival started with pickup games between coaches, so I did that for the first hour. I then took Thing 2 around to some games, some jumpies, and got her face painted. At 7:30, I went to get changed. Much like the gladiators in "The Running Man" were called to fight Arnold Schwarzenegger, I was called to get into my trunks to get dunked. At 8PM, it was go-time.
I advised several people that they could be the next drummer for Def Leppard, with their arms (after ascertaining they actually had 2 arms...wouldn't want to say that to an amputee). I told a couple of kids that I could've worn my good suit. And I told one girl that only her mom would call her an athlete. This girl, of course, was my daughter, Thing 1.
Unfortunately, instead of softballs thrown at a small target, they were throwing soccer balls at a large round target. Since 2 of these kids who dunked me repeatedly were my players, in retrospect I regret being a good teacher of throw-in technique. Of course, some of the kids decided to be smart-asses, and they ran up and hit the target, dunking me. When that happened, I went in with the cannonball technique, drenching all around me.
At about 8:30, near the end of the carnival, the thunder and lightning came, holding out so that we could get our 3 hours of revelry. At that point, I decided it was a damn good time to get out of the dunk tank.
The carnival started with pickup games between coaches, so I did that for the first hour. I then took Thing 2 around to some games, some jumpies, and got her face painted. At 7:30, I went to get changed. Much like the gladiators in "The Running Man" were called to fight Arnold Schwarzenegger, I was called to get into my trunks to get dunked. At 8PM, it was go-time.
I advised several people that they could be the next drummer for Def Leppard, with their arms (after ascertaining they actually had 2 arms...wouldn't want to say that to an amputee). I told a couple of kids that I could've worn my good suit. And I told one girl that only her mom would call her an athlete. This girl, of course, was my daughter, Thing 1.
Unfortunately, instead of softballs thrown at a small target, they were throwing soccer balls at a large round target. Since 2 of these kids who dunked me repeatedly were my players, in retrospect I regret being a good teacher of throw-in technique. Of course, some of the kids decided to be smart-asses, and they ran up and hit the target, dunking me. When that happened, I went in with the cannonball technique, drenching all around me.
At about 8:30, near the end of the carnival, the thunder and lightning came, holding out so that we could get our 3 hours of revelry. At that point, I decided it was a damn good time to get out of the dunk tank.
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