Three Little Stories
My wife's aunt is a ... well, let's call her a confident person. She is confident that she is never wrong. Case in point:Our wedding anniversary is May 19th. Aunt Commando sent us an anniversary card. It eventually got to us, but it took at least a week longer than it should have. when it arrived, we could see that the address was written down wrong. She was off by one number.
My wife's mother called Aunt Commando to ask her about this. "They got the Christmas cards I sent," she angrily claimed. "I obviously had the correct address for them. They just must have moved."
It was a long time before I stopped laughing at that one. "They just must have moved." Sure we did. We moved half a block north, and told everybody except one persnickety aunt. We're mean like that.=====================
Last weekend, my wife and I were sitting out on our second-story balcony, enjoying the cool post-rain breeze. Two little boys (prolly age 6-ish) ran out to play. They decided to play hide-and-go-seek.In the apartment yard we overlook, there's really not too many places to hide. One of the boys ran over to hide in some bushes that were only a few feet away from our balcony.
The "seeking" boy opened his eyes and was looking around for his friend. I waved to catch his attention, and then pointed silently over at the bushes near us. His face lit up like it was Christmas. He dove off into those bushes and easily chased down his friend.
For the first time in at least a couple of decades, I got to participate in a game of hide-and-go-seek, and I didn't even have to get up off my lazy hinder to do it.=====================
There's a Hispanic family that lives in the apartment building across from us. The alpha male is a friendly gentleman with a long graying beard.
Last weekend he went out into the yard to do some grilling. He put on a big floppy hat while we was workin'. He looked like a Mexican ZZ Top.There's no point to this story. I just found the visual to be very amusing. :)








I didn't want to stare, because he saw me notice him. There was the whole, "Hey, don't you look like...?" thing goin' on. But there was also the "Why do you have a yellow Christmas bow in your hair?" thing to further confuse matters.

And finally, Monday is Memorial Day. I likely will not post a blog story on Monday.



First up, was Drew Barrymore, sorta. She was our waitress at dinner before the show. She looked a lot like Drew, except that her hair was brunette and she wore glasses.
John Cleese. The guy was a dead ringer. I was in awe. I had to fight an urge to ask him if he had noticed the violence inherent in the system.
A young Richard Simmons. Same hairstyle (no graying or balding, of course), same hands-on-hips stance, same goofy smile. There is, of course, only one thing to do when you encounter a Richard Simmons look-alike. Run.
Amanda Plummer. This one is a little obscure. She played Honey Bunny in Pulp Fiction. Thankfully, she wasn't shooting anybody during the performance.
Finally, in the orchestra itself, I saw a Jack Black look-alike! He was in the back row of violins. This was the "fuzzy-haired bearded" incarnation of Mr. Black.
Sadly, Elmo remains MIA (Sorry, V!).
The conductor was a very animated fellow. I was concerned that he would step off the edge of his podium. After the first half-hour or so, I realized that he was in no danger. His arms were flappin' wildly enough that his feet barely touched the ground for more than a few seconds at a time.
There was lots of crowd noise during this thing, too. Coughs and "Harumph" noises were common. There was one especially emphatic "Hawwwwrh-chhoooospstpt!" during a tender moment in the Tchaikovsky symphony.
Last week I purchased a burger at Burger King for $1.58. The counter girl took my $2 and I pulled 8 cents from my pocket and gave it to her. She stood there, holding the nickel and 3 pennies, while looking at the screen on her register. I sensed her discomfort and tried to tell her to just give me two quarters, but she hailed the manager for help. While he tried to explain the transaction to her, she stood there and cried. Why do I tell you this? 




Yesterday for lunch, I was a
The waitress never let my water glass go more than an inch down from full, which was nice. What wasn't quite as nice was that every time she refilled me, I got more ice. I got a *lot* of ice. Halfway through the meal, ice was spilling out over the top of the glass.
Unrelated: Vehicular nonsense. My car is still in the shop. The air bag "

Yesterday I brought my lunch to work. Leftover pizza, a Pepsi, and some Oreos. Typical "Health Food" for the common programmer.
All was placed in a plastic bag and twist-tied at the top. When I got to work, I just put it all in the fridge. I forgot that there was also a package of Wrigley's Spearmint gum in there.
Lunchtime came. "Oh, gum!", I thought. I put it in my shirt pocket. Before long, I was wondering what prankster had put an ice cube up against my left... er... chest thing.
Unrelated Note: My car's in the shop again. No, I didn't hit anything this time. The air bag warning light came on. I got to drag my sorry hinder out of bed an hour early so I could be the first at the dealership this morning.
There are no restrictions on how much caffeine I can have today.
First, the turtles. He and his dad were out and about, and came across two turtles. They were *perfect* for the turtle races, Nephew declared. We *have* to keep them!
These things are in a laundry basket on Mom and Dad's back porch. They are the stinkiest things I've ever been around that were still alive (with the exception of a certain overweight Tech Support Lead from WAY back in the day). They're fed minnows. There's a problem with this... my parent's tiny chihuahua thinks that the minnows are a good snack for her, too.
Little miss chihuahua is not allowed outside without supervision, lest she become little miss damp stinky turtle-soup fish-breath chihuahau.
Nephew also has a pet rabbit. They keep it in a hutch outside their home. Nephew and Niece love it, and play with it often.
The first two times he got bit, he cried. The last time he got bit, he screamed and started hitting the rabbit. I guess he got tired of being a victim.

