Road blogging makes me feel a little free. The blog exists and waits for me like a patient and loyal puppy. Way more patient and loyal than my actual dog. Or the Furby a friend of mine had many years ago. Why a grown man had a Furby, wait never mind, I know why this one did. He collected Barbies. Anyway, once he "woke up" the Furby after not playing with it for a long time. The Furby said, "oooh, long sleep." The blog doesn't do that. It just sits there unmolested and waiting. Waiting for me to go to the local internet cafe/coffee house where "God is [their] barista." Just FYI, God makes middling nonfat iced lattes.
We're at the Atlantic Ocean. We live about 30 minutes from a perfectly good ocean. It's called the Pacific, I think. Every week I get within 5 miles of it when I go to therapy. I can smell it. Still, why not get in a plane and fly across the continent to the other one? It's warmer. And then there the thrill of the hurricane possibility. Gives me a little zing every time I think about it.
So, blog away east.
So far on my summer vacation, I've spent more time than I should looking for a 7mm hex screw. It fell out when I shipped my old bike here to be able to ride it near this ocean. One screw should not make a whole bike disfunctional. It does. And apparently 7mm is just the weirdest size ever. As I sit here at God cafe, I am worried that the fourth screw I have acquired from the ninth store visited looking for the screw will not work. It taunts me from my pocket. It's not the kind of snickering a shed does. It is, however, rather insidious in its evil. Stupid screw.
Just a tip: when shipping with or traveling with bikes, bring 7mm hex screws. Lots of them. Maybe even make a belt of them to be sure you'll have enough. The bike store won't have them. Oh, and remember that everything is closed Sunday. God is tired from making lattes.
Much to certain famous bloggers' consternation, the sporks didn't come. The buttery rubbery clogs did come. They've been worn. Here's something remarkable, the people of this coast are just as jealous of them as the people of the other one. Lots of glances and no comments. Sigh.
Honey is blogging right now, too. We're a computer away from each other. Between us are two people who seem alarmed that it costs 10 cents a minute to use the computer, with a $1 minimum. Shocking, I know.
So, bravely blogging, I vow to stop writing and therefore to stop paying. I may have to supplement Honey. She's more careful than I am in writing.
Still, my blessed latte sits by my side. And those evil screws nestle in my pocket like so many vipers. It's the age old struggle between good and evil. Right here at God Cafe. Near the Atlantic Ocean.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
We'll take the low road...
Someone else can take the high one. I got nosebleeds as a child.
Blogger friends of all types, the scouster and I are outta here for a bit. The lure of humidity and mosquitoes is a siren call. We're off to sweat and eat some she-crab.
If you know where we live, don't rob us.
If you don't, don't spam our blogs.
We're leeeeevin on a jet plaaaane.
I do know when we'll be back again. Check back on St. Carpophorus' feast day. Meantime, to quote Southern mothers, "be sweet."
Blogger friends of all types, the scouster and I are outta here for a bit. The lure of humidity and mosquitoes is a siren call. We're off to sweat and eat some she-crab.
If you know where we live, don't rob us.
If you don't, don't spam our blogs.
We're leeeeevin on a jet plaaaane.
I do know when we'll be back again. Check back on St. Carpophorus' feast day. Meantime, to quote Southern mothers, "be sweet."
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
How to use a credit card
This ladies and gentlemen is a new phenomenon about which I was trained today:
Apparently what happens is that one is given a little plastic card with the above logo on it. And one can use that little plastic card to buy...
Do you want to guess? I had to! Think. Ok, fine, I'll tell you.
Goods
and
Services!
Well slap my ass and call me me Sporks. Goods and services. No shit.
You want to know what's great about the little plastic card I learned about today? Well, I guess the aforementioned goods and services have to be paid for by somebody. You know what? The nice people in Accounts Payable pay them. Isn't that fantastic?
There are rules, I guess. No firearms can be purchased without prior approval. Got it. And it seems that when you have one of these little dandy dealios, you can't just loan it out to people to use. Check.
The motivator (and that really is the only word for him) who told us about the plastic miracle liked the track and field coach who was sitting behind me. Our motivator was, in fact, much more impressed with the man who taught others to throw things than he was with me. How do I know?
Well, Mr. Motivator shared his Myers-Briggs personality type. Why did he share it? Because we were trapped and had to listen to him. The problem was, he couldn't think of the name of the test. Like the sullen student I was channeling, I mumbled it under my breath. He then wanted to know what each of his letters stood for. I told him. Dr. INTJ didn't so much resonate with Mr. ESFP but she knew what the letters stood for. Still Mr Motivator/ESFP was more interested in the fact that Coach Thrower had taken Potential Freshwoman Thrower to Chili's. To Chili's! Can you imagine? And used this little plastic thingy. And Mr. Motivator could show us the Chili's charge on the computer. And Coach Thrower had spent $40. And then Accounts Payable had paid Chili's. Can you see how riveting this all is?
Mr. Motivator began the day by asking our objective for the session. People said chirpy things about how excited they were to learn about this new phenomenon. I should note, I guess, that we had plastic things before. They had logos that looked like this:
These new ones, boy, they sure are different. What with the goods and services and everything.
I ate a donut on the break. I didn't want a donut. I ate one anyway. I asked a famous blogger via e-mail to call in a bomb threat. I asked Assistant Director (also via e-mail) to come over to the building and pull the fire alarm. Both FB and AD refused. Where's the love? I ask you.
FB did try later. But by then, I was free. Still, she's my new hero. AD just laughed at me.
Three hours. That's how long it took to learn about this plastic miracle.
All of what was worth knowing, I have just condensed into this entry. You can thank me later. By using a plastic thing to buy me goods and services. Who knows? Maybe Accounts Payable will pay. Anyone want to meet at Chili's?
Apparently what happens is that one is given a little plastic card with the above logo on it. And one can use that little plastic card to buy...
Do you want to guess? I had to! Think. Ok, fine, I'll tell you.
Goods
and
Services!
Well slap my ass and call me me Sporks. Goods and services. No shit.
You want to know what's great about the little plastic card I learned about today? Well, I guess the aforementioned goods and services have to be paid for by somebody. You know what? The nice people in Accounts Payable pay them. Isn't that fantastic?
There are rules, I guess. No firearms can be purchased without prior approval. Got it. And it seems that when you have one of these little dandy dealios, you can't just loan it out to people to use. Check.
The motivator (and that really is the only word for him) who told us about the plastic miracle liked the track and field coach who was sitting behind me. Our motivator was, in fact, much more impressed with the man who taught others to throw things than he was with me. How do I know?
Well, Mr. Motivator shared his Myers-Briggs personality type. Why did he share it? Because we were trapped and had to listen to him. The problem was, he couldn't think of the name of the test. Like the sullen student I was channeling, I mumbled it under my breath. He then wanted to know what each of his letters stood for. I told him. Dr. INTJ didn't so much resonate with Mr. ESFP but she knew what the letters stood for. Still Mr Motivator/ESFP was more interested in the fact that Coach Thrower had taken Potential Freshwoman Thrower to Chili's. To Chili's! Can you imagine? And used this little plastic thingy. And Mr. Motivator could show us the Chili's charge on the computer. And Coach Thrower had spent $40. And then Accounts Payable had paid Chili's. Can you see how riveting this all is?
Mr. Motivator began the day by asking our objective for the session. People said chirpy things about how excited they were to learn about this new phenomenon. I should note, I guess, that we had plastic things before. They had logos that looked like this:
These new ones, boy, they sure are different. What with the goods and services and everything.
I ate a donut on the break. I didn't want a donut. I ate one anyway. I asked a famous blogger via e-mail to call in a bomb threat. I asked Assistant Director (also via e-mail) to come over to the building and pull the fire alarm. Both FB and AD refused. Where's the love? I ask you.
FB did try later. But by then, I was free. Still, she's my new hero. AD just laughed at me.
Three hours. That's how long it took to learn about this plastic miracle.
All of what was worth knowing, I have just condensed into this entry. You can thank me later. By using a plastic thing to buy me goods and services. Who knows? Maybe Accounts Payable will pay. Anyone want to meet at Chili's?
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