What's better than opening a bag of macaroni and having it tear open and throw the noodles all over your kitchen?
Nothing.
No...wait...
...having your nine-month-old 115-pound "moose" start gobbling up the raw macaroni before you can sweep it up.
Yes, that's better.
No...wait...
...having the water boil over while fighting your 115-pound "moose" for the fallen macaroni. Yes, that's better.
No...wait...
...stepping in dog saliva in bare feet from where your 115-pound "moose" licked and drooled all over the floor while you scrambled to turn down the stove.
Yes, my friends, that is indeed better. Dare I say, the best!
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Saturday, July 21, 2012
LAWD! HE BIG!!!
"OH LAWD! Yo dog BIG!
He nice?"
"But Mama!"
"He can be..."
"Lawd, look at them fools. I gots five chilrens, and them two the onliest ones scared of a dog. You believe that?
What kind of dog is that?"
"He's a Rhodesian Ridgeback..."
"A what?"
"A Rhodesian Ridgeback..."
"Lawd, he big! How big he gonna get?"
"Well, he's 103 pounds right now, but he's only seven months old, so...."
"OH LAWD! You hear he say? He say that dog seven months old!
LAWD!
Look at them feet!
Now what kind of dog he is again?"
"A Rhodesian Ridgeback..."
"Well, he sure pretty. But Lawd, he big!"
"Come on you fraidy cats; let's go!"
"But Mama!"
"You see me here pettin' this dog. He sweet. NOW COME ON!"
"I'm fixing to leave they ass...scared of a sweet dog. You believe that?"
"Well, we'll stand over here so your kids can go around..."
"You oughts to just let him off the leash...
I SAID COME ON...and that's the last time I'm gonna say it too!
You best believe that! Over an ol' sweet dog... Lawd!
"They ain't no snakes down there is there?"
"No ma'am. I didn't see any..."
Sunday, February 05, 2012
Free Ice Cream
Today William and I sold Boy Scout Fair Coupon Books at the Kroger at Echo Lane and I-10. For a couple of hours in the frigid afternoon air, we greeted a steady flow of shoppers from all walks of life. One by one we asked them if they would be interested in buying a coupon book to support the Boy Scouts of America. The coupon book is actually a good deal--for $10 you get $400 worth of coupons to Kroger, Luby’s, McDonalds, James Coney Island, and several other Houston businesses. The three Scouts working this particular Kroger were quite anxious to tell the passersby that the coupon for free Blue Bell ice cream could be used immediately!
At some point during our afternoon sales shift from 2:00 to 4:00, we had a nice woman (though she bordered on obnoxious) donate $50 to William! She said she wasn't from Houston, but wanted to help the Boy Scouts. As she rambled incessantly about Boy Scouts, Kansas, and fast food, we thanked her for her generosity.
William was a coupon-book-selling machine. It didn’t matter who walked into the store--moms, dads, grandparents, college students, the security guard, the cashier on her smoke break...even the acne-faced teenager wearing his blue Kroger vest gathering the shopping carts from the parking lot--everyone was given an opportunity to buy $400 worth of coupons for $10! And it didn’t matter if William asked the person when they walked into the store...he asked them again when they walked out--just in case they wanted to buy a second coupon book!
William approached one particular older woman who was wearing a faded and tattered sweatsuit. A lace on her once-white shoes was broken. It appeared her green and orange wool socks had been in the washing machine many times.
"Excuse me?” William’s little voice called out her. “Would you like to support the Boy Scouts by buying a coupon book for $10? It has free ice cream!”
Her apologetic eyes met mine. I wanted to look away. I didn’t. I expected more of what I’d heard many times earlier, ‘Not right now.’
I even had my standard response ready, ‘That’s OK, have a great day!’
In a voice spoken soft enough for only me to hear, she said, “I’m sorry; I cannot afford $10.”
I watched her as she dug through her well-aged handbag. Seconds later, her age-spotted hand emerged from the bag clinching a one-dollar bill and various scraps of paper.
“Do you accept donations? Would it be all right if I donated a dollar?”
As I took the coupon book from William and slipped it into one of the plastic Kroger bags in her cart, I said, “That’s very kind of you, but you keep that dollar. And you keep this coupon book too.”
My hand had not even released the coupon book before tears were visible on her pale cheeks. The appreciative smile on her face said everything her voice could not. As she looked down at William, he smiled and said, “There’s a coupon for free ice cream in there too!”
At some point during our afternoon sales shift from 2:00 to 4:00, we had a nice woman (though she bordered on obnoxious) donate $50 to William! She said she wasn't from Houston, but wanted to help the Boy Scouts. As she rambled incessantly about Boy Scouts, Kansas, and fast food, we thanked her for her generosity.
William was a coupon-book-selling machine. It didn’t matter who walked into the store--moms, dads, grandparents, college students, the security guard, the cashier on her smoke break...even the acne-faced teenager wearing his blue Kroger vest gathering the shopping carts from the parking lot--everyone was given an opportunity to buy $400 worth of coupons for $10! And it didn’t matter if William asked the person when they walked into the store...he asked them again when they walked out--just in case they wanted to buy a second coupon book!
William approached one particular older woman who was wearing a faded and tattered sweatsuit. A lace on her once-white shoes was broken. It appeared her green and orange wool socks had been in the washing machine many times.
"Excuse me?” William’s little voice called out her. “Would you like to support the Boy Scouts by buying a coupon book for $10? It has free ice cream!”
Her apologetic eyes met mine. I wanted to look away. I didn’t. I expected more of what I’d heard many times earlier, ‘Not right now.’
I even had my standard response ready, ‘That’s OK, have a great day!’
In a voice spoken soft enough for only me to hear, she said, “I’m sorry; I cannot afford $10.”
I watched her as she dug through her well-aged handbag. Seconds later, her age-spotted hand emerged from the bag clinching a one-dollar bill and various scraps of paper.
“Do you accept donations? Would it be all right if I donated a dollar?”
As I took the coupon book from William and slipped it into one of the plastic Kroger bags in her cart, I said, “That’s very kind of you, but you keep that dollar. And you keep this coupon book too.”
My hand had not even released the coupon book before tears were visible on her pale cheeks. The appreciative smile on her face said everything her voice could not. As she looked down at William, he smiled and said, “There’s a coupon for free ice cream in there too!”
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
The Chair
My appointment was for 2:00. As I glance up to look at the over-priced clock, I realize my ass hurts from the uncomfortable waiting-room chair. I also realize it's 2:48.
Interestingly--though no shocker to you--if I'm 48 minutes late to an appointment, I have to reschedule. Part of the rescheduling process involves me explaining that it's raining, and Houstonians suck at driving in the rain, and I shouldn't have to pay for a visit!
...but not today. No, today I was here at 1:55. Rain and all.
It's 2:51.
My doctor recognizes me as he casts a warm smile my way and calls "John Somethingoranother" to come back.
"Mallin. It's Bill Mallin." It doesn't even sound like "John Somethingoranother." UGH!
I cannot see the clock this time. I even leaned to the right to stretch my back. Stupid chair. I hate this chair.
Perhaps I should join the over-weight lady wearing black leggings and hoolahoop earrings. She's bitching at the emotionally detatched receptionist. She's also blocking my view of the clock.
I hate this chair.
I hate that the lady directly across from me is deaf. I know she's deaf because the volume of the Mexican soap opera she's watching on her phone cannot possibly be turned up any louder. I hate Mexican soap operas.
There are 27 lights in the ceiling. There are four speakers, eight A/C vents, three sprinkler heads...
Interestingly--though no shocker to you--if I'm 48 minutes late to an appointment, I have to reschedule. Part of the rescheduling process involves me explaining that it's raining, and Houstonians suck at driving in the rain, and I shouldn't have to pay for a visit!
...but not today. No, today I was here at 1:55. Rain and all.
It's 2:51.
My doctor recognizes me as he casts a warm smile my way and calls "John Somethingoranother" to come back.
"Mallin. It's Bill Mallin." It doesn't even sound like "John Somethingoranother." UGH!
I cannot see the clock this time. I even leaned to the right to stretch my back. Stupid chair. I hate this chair.
Perhaps I should join the over-weight lady wearing black leggings and hoolahoop earrings. She's bitching at the emotionally detatched receptionist. She's also blocking my view of the clock.
I hate this chair.
I hate that the lady directly across from me is deaf. I know she's deaf because the volume of the Mexican soap opera she's watching on her phone cannot possibly be turned up any louder. I hate Mexican soap operas.
There are 27 lights in the ceiling. There are four speakers, eight A/C vents, three sprinkler heads...
I hate this chair.
Hoolahoop ears is walking this way eyeing the chair next to mine...HOLY MOTHER OF GOD...IS THAT PERFUME? Please go block the clock again!
It's 3:06.
3:07
3:07:30
3:07:47
...
It's 3:12:13.
Stinky has just informed the deaf girl she has beautiful hair.
My nostrils burn.
Felix is apparently going to leave Maria (or so I gather from my limited Spanish).
John Somethingoranother apparently has a major illness.
Deaf girl does not have beautiful hair.
My ass hurts.
I hate this chair.
It's 3:06.
3:07
3:07:30
3:07:47
...
It's 3:12:13.
Stinky has just informed the deaf girl she has beautiful hair.
My nostrils burn.
Felix is apparently going to leave Maria (or so I gather from my limited Spanish).
John Somethingoranother apparently has a major illness.
Deaf girl does not have beautiful hair.
My ass hurts.
I hate this chair.
Labels:
Observations,
Randomness,
Short Stories
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