Ramblings from a Short Life

Well, it has been three weeks since I penned anything, so in response to the single request for more, and the fact that Jan is out of the way in Nebraska visiting Marmite Breath and the grandkids, here goes.

I decided to rent a DVD for my four year old grandson and I to watch so off I went to the store and rented "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs". We sat down on the couch to watch it and I couldn't believe it. The animation was crap, the story line was sketchy, to say the least, and within three minutes the Dwarfs and Snow White became naked and started graphically fornicating in every way. We watched for about fifteen minutes in the hope it would improve but it didn't. My grandson was very disappointed so I took the dvd back to the store and asked to see the manager. I commenced to verbally lash him about the content and lousy animation but imagine my embarrassment when he told me that the dvd I had had rented was called "Snow White does the Seven Dwarfs" and that, in fact, I was in the adult xxx/store and that BlockBusters Video Rental was next door.    

Ok, it didn't happen but it serves to punctuate the way VIZ  ( please note that if you decide to visit VIZ Comic it is somewhat, er, lets say crude) type things do happen. Marmite Breath and I were talking about this a couple of weeks ago and I guess I must be getting senile because I can't remember what example we were talking about - in fact, I know I am getting senile because Jan keeps telling me I am.

However, this did happen.

I was in a cellular phone store getting an Internet link gadget for my Laptop when ....... Wait, I'll tell this from the shop assistant's aspect in a VIZ type Letterbocks way. Remember this is a true story only the names have been changed to protect the innocent,  Da Da Da Da (Dragnet:  for those who can remember it).

LetterBocks

I work in a cellular phone shop. One day a customer wanted an device for his Laptop so he could get Internet service wherever his cell phone had coverage instead of looking for a "Hot Spot" each time. These devices are expensive so imagine how delighted I was to sell him one. I loaded it on his Laptop but we could not get any Web sites no matter what we did. After an hour I noticed he (he was a little bald guy with a British accent) was getting irritated so I decided to bring in the manager of the store. After another thirty minutes of unsuccessful attempts to open a web site my manager asked me if I had activated the device. Imagine my embarrassment when I remembered I had to connect to the internet to get a web site.

One month later.

Letterbocks

I work in a cellular phone shop. One day a customer came in (he was a little bald Englishman) and complained that his data phone bill was seven hundred and forty dollars and that when he bought the device, last month,  he was told that the first month would be free unlimited data.

Imagine my embarrassment when I remembered that the free unlimited data offer had expired before he bought the system.

  VIVA la Letterbocks

I don't know if it's genetics, raised as ignorant or a combination of both but some people just don't get it! It happens in and with lines/queues, driving, shop assistants, telephone conversations, you name it,  in all walks of life your average Joe Blow can be just bloody ignorant, stupid or downright rude.

I had to go out of town on business for two days this week resulting in a couple of nights in hotels. The second night I went to bed early (I'm on the wagon) and got a great night's sleep.  I got up before the wake-up call feeling wonderful. I showered,  brushed my teeth, combed my hair (Just the one) and went down for an early breakfast before the crowd hit. There were seven tables-all empty- in the dining area and a TV in the corner. I was the only one there. I selected my breakfast (OK I gotta tell the truth, I actually went out to my truck and brought in my own Weetabix as they tend not to have that fare in BF Batesville) of eggs and coffee. I sat at a table and watched CNN. Five minutes later in comes a guy who looks like he's been dragged through a hedge backwards.

No "Good Morning" or "How's your Father?" he gets his nutritious breakfast of cinnamon rolls and doughnuts and plonks himself on the table right in front of the TV. I mean smack dab in front of the TV. (Now this table would never be used unless the place was packed because it was about two feet from the screen).  I laughed out loud because I knew he was having a joke, I had a big goofy grin on my face and waited for him to turn round and say "Just joking, gotya didn't I?"

He didn't turn round. He carried on eating his carbs.

If you have ever seen the movie "The Long Good Friday" you will recall the last two minutes showing Bob Hoskins' face going through a superb and seamless performance of surprise, anger, denial and finally acceptance. (No, we are not talking Elizabeth Kubler-Ross here). Well, my face must have gone through similar expressions. Grin frozen, blank look, surprise, denial and finally anger. I mean, come on, I had actually laughed out loud so I know he heard me. So he was either deaf-I know he wasn't- rude, stupid or just ignorant.  

Well, now my great mood has evaporated and I'm pissed which in turn puts my inner self in a bit of a dilemma. Do I say anything? Shall I be my usual sarcastic self?  Do I ask him in all seriousness why he sat there of all places? Will it accomplish anything, the man's obviously a moron. Irritated as hell, my Weetabix souring in my belly, I decided to do the manly thing. I left,  but as I went behind him I did my lions' roar face with my tongue sticking out.

I have a sneaky suspicion the desk clerk was watching!

The Americans have a catch-all saying that is used when something unexpected happens.  Eg; Things were going great then life "threw me a curve ball".

The English have one which means the same thing but  is a little more roughhewn. "Life kicked me in the bollocks." Having the debatable distinction of being English I prefer the the second, yes a little courser, saying.

It is coming up to a year since Jan was 'diagnosed' with that that shall not be mentioned. So, this means that up until this time last year life was just plodding along at a serene and pleasant pace. Ok, yes the occasional piece of fruit fell off the barrow but generally nothing major happened to upset the Apple Cart.  Then...Life marches on, with it's big old clodhoppers and,  metaphorically speaking,  boots my goolies up into unknown regions. Its a year later and I still get the same bollock kicked feeling when I think back on it.  If that's how it affects me I can't begin to imagine how Jan feels.

Well guess what?  life must have thrown another curve ball on the very next pitch (throw) last year but this time I guess it threw a foul ball because something good came out of it. Ever since the bad news (notice I try not to say diagnosed, I think I am still in a state of denial) Janice has gone on from strength to strength. Instead of me bolstering her she has been my rock and support. It is like she took a deep breath when she heard the news and then said "Well this is an interesting episode of my life but I guess it's time to carry on with the rest of it". She never looks back. Through all the tests and treatment and crap she has never flagged. Patting me on the back "there, there it will be alright" while I snivelled like an idiot.

What brought on this flood of reflection? 

We were in church last Sunday and I looked at her and saw a radiant beautiful woman who has grown in spirit and, don't ask me how, seems to have achieved greater inner peace eminating from a life shattering event. She is running again, doing embroidery (thanks Nat) and is planning to fly and see the girls and grandkids soon. She still has her sight and the eye looks great. Her tests are negative for Mets at this time. Her new love "Patcherina" is a Jack rat terrier who is a pain in the arse (mine not hers)

By the way, she saw me looking at her in church and said "What?"

"Nothing". 

Life's a funny old thing ain't it?

I have a new hero. Her name is Shazia Mirza and she is a stand-up comedian (comedienne?) in England. She is muslim and wears a hijab on stage.

Now here is the thing. I have never seen or heard her perform so I don't know if she is funny or not. So why is she my new hero?  Well, I'll tell you.  She has decided that enough is enough and she is not going to shave anymore.  She is going to let her armpit hairs grow (and any other places hair may sprout). Okay, okay I don't know about the nether regions but I assume she is not to worried about that unless she gets a starring role in some sort of muslim comedic porn movie. Hey, stranger things have happened. 

Anyway, she feels that the time has come for women to stop worrying about trying to eliminate a natural phenomenon and to go with the flow.  I agree.  I guess she must have been influenced by Julia Roberts at the "Notting Hill"  premiere where good old Julia was seen to have a goodly sized amount of axillary hair.  For waaay to long women have been manipulated by the influential and insidious few. Wear this, wear that, shave this, shave that, eat this but mostly don't eat. Clean shaven stick women wearing impractical clothes.

Come on ladies, it's time to level the playing field here. Take a stand.  Hey, I'm not saying become a Sasquatch or a Michelin woMan sasquatch. although I have seen a few in my time, but it is time to get back to a realistic view of life.

 I am going to pontificate a while here.

As we all know, Sisyphus was condemned in the Underworld to forever to roll a large rock up a hill. When it got to the top it rolled to the bottom and he had to start again ad infinitum. Now most people use this story to illustrate that what makes you weak makes you strong. Meaning he got physically stronger the more he rolled the boulder uphill. While this may be true, the real moral is this. Every time the rock rolled down to the bottom Sisyphus would have to walk downhill to start again. Eventually, while walking his way down he realized the futility of his task and became content. Why? Because the ambiguity of life was gone. He had no one to impress, no one to answer to, and life was reduced to a simple labor of rolling a rock.

To quote the Devil when he was thrown out of Heaven and  banished to the desert  " The mind is of it's own. It can make a Hell of Heaven or a Heaven of Hell" (Milton).

So to all of my readers, both of you, care less of what others think and enjoy each day by day by day by day.

You know, I guess Shazia is pretty funny because she said she had to use her Dad's lawnmower to shave her underarms.

I started boxing at ten years old. The only reason I did was because my pal Robin Gayton was doing it. Note; back in those days Robin was only used as a boys name( also Tony and Butch ).  I trained at the Charles Street Police Station in the gym around the back. Jim Knight was the trainer. It used to be on Monday and Wednesday nights. Now in those days money was a bit scarce, especially in our house, so I had to walk from Moat Road, through Highfields, to Charles Street and back. Robin's dad was a commercial artist, therefore not lacking in a penny or two, and they lived in a big house on Dashwood Road which was also a lot closer to town. That being said, Robin always had the penny busfare it took to get there and back.

We used to get changed at the back of the Ring next to the back wall and leave our clothes on a school form bench. The cops used the changing room. One night as he was getting changed Robin dropped the penny busfare out of his pocket and we could not find it. That night he walked some of the way home with me. I thought this was great. Okay, this is where I am not sure how a ten year old mind works. The next gym night when we had changed and he had started training I went back to the bench and took his penny out of his pocket and threw it under the Ring, where it could be found if you looked hard enough. Of course he didn't and that night he, again, he walked some of the way home with me. I did this, oh maybe, three times in a row before he went to Jim and told him someone was stealing his money. Jime got all the lads together and gave a stern warning about theft and said if it happened again someone would be in trouble. He looked me right in the eye as he said it. Lets face it, everyone else was getting changed in the changing room and I was the one next to Robin out back. My heart went cold and my stomach churned into knots. Jim knew my mam and dad well would he say anything?  Stealing??? what the hell was he thinking. I threw the money away and didn't keep it so how can it be considered as stealing? However, I never did it again.

A couple of thoughts here.

What brain circuits were being used by me back then?

Why back in those days was it considered ok for a boy of ten to walk through the prostitution area in the dark,  not to mention having to go by Spinney Hill Park on my own?

Back in those days a penny bought a lot of sweets so why did I throw it away?

Anyway, Jim Knight never mentioned it again. I sort of blacked it out of my mind and never told a soul, except I am not sure if I mentioned it to Jan or my Dad in a moment of weakness, drunkeness. My one regret is that when I grew into maturity I did not tell Jim I was not really a thief. He died ten years ago.

I saw Bob Gayton in a pub way back when and he took me up to his flat on St Peters Rd to meet his girlfriend. I never mentioned the money business to him either, Why?

Go figure.

Hey,

I figured if old Marmite breath can do it why can't I?

I finished baking the Christmas cakes this afternoon and then while I was doing the house work I ............ Hah!! None of that stuff in this blog. This is a meat and potatos blog loaded with stuffing and filling, the kind where once you have finished reading you have either a satisfied burp - whew that was good-  or you put your head down the bog and start retching. Either way, it's food for thought.

Okay, then......Where to start. Bloody Hell this is harder than I thought (Said the actress to the B...... ) oops better not! 

Jan got rear-ended last Wednesday night on the way home from work. Consequently, the car is in the shop and she is driving a rental.  I had to borrow it today because Jan, God Bless Her, took my truck keys to work. So, I pull up at this Doctor's office only to hear a crunching sound at the front of the car. When I got out to have a look there was a rather large concrete bloody slab sitting sedately under the car. The type the engineers have cunningly designed to not quite fit under  the front panel but just high enough to scrape paint until the tyres come to rest. Thus leaving the overhang to trip up unsuspecting pedestians.  Being such an affable chap I didn't give it a much more thought until I started driving and the front end crunched on the dip between the drive and the road .  "Oh Blimey" I said.

Are you retching yet?

The End.