Army Buddy, Diner, Short Pants.

Keep reading and I will explain this photo.

A couple days ago I got a phone call from an old army buddy. I believe that I've talked about him, but really all you should know is that he drives a tractor trailer truck. He travels all over the US, and we arrange to meet to see each other whenever we are going to be within 100 miles of each other. When he called he said he was going to be in Greensboro, NC to deliver a load and would be there about midday, I agreed to meet him. Raleigh and Greensboro are about 90 minutes apart which is about as far as I would drive to have lunch with him. Now Army Buddy has a remarkable memory for details--truly remarkable. He had delivered to the Greensboro area before and remembered a diner that was on HWY 29 just north of Greensboro. This particular diner had truck parking and seemed to be a good place to meet. This diner was not a place that I would normally frequent as it looked "rough" from the outside and was about the same inside. The front of the place was lined in neon and the neon was making a crackling sound like you hear in horror movies. I kid you not. Because this diner was quite small, when Army buddy and I walked in together everybody looked up at us. From the squinting of their Caterpillar ballcap covered eyes, I immediately got the feeling that the boys didn't like College Boy (me) accompanying Army Buddy into their Bubba Bistro. It sure didn't help when I smiled and showed them I had all of my teeth, but I can handle my myself. After the awkwardness subsided, a waitress told us in Greensboronese to have a seat anywhere we wanted. I wanted to avoid the whole matter and go sit in the next county but Army Buddy got a booth and the boys went back to chewing on toothpicks and sucking food through their tooth. Like old friends will do, Army Buddy started telling me about something that happened to him on the way to Bubba Bistro when the other waitress walked up and asked if we were ready to order. I looked up at the waitress and swore the girl was a vampire. Her skin was washed out and pale as Martha Stewart's face at the moment the judge sentenced her to jail. This girl's lips were gray. I surmised she was either a vampire or anemic. It was daylight outside, so I halfheartedly decided she was anemic. So, Anemic Waitress asked again if we were ready to order. By now I was almost in sensory overload to the point I was having trouble making words, but I had enough resolve to ask her to bring me some water--tap water that is not holy water. Army Buddy did the same and Anemic Waitress scurried off to the room behind the cash register. Then Army Buddy and I decided what we wanted from the menu which was laminated and covered in Magic Marker scribblings updating the prices on the stuff. We chit chatted a couple minutes and Anemic Waitress returned and again asked us to order. I ordered a grilled chicken sandwich and Army Buddy ordered a barbecue plate. When she left we went back to chit chatting. About ten minutes later Anemic Waitress brought over the food and placed it in front of us. Army Buddy then asked her where the bread was for his barbecue plate because in Kansas they always get bread with the barbecue plate. Well Anemic Waitress wasted no time assuming the "I don't get paid enough for this crap and you've got to be kidding me" pose that nineteen year old females so commonly exhibit. Army Buddy kept insisting and I gave him the "I'd fight Al-Qaeda beside you but I don't fight vampires and you're on your own" look. I got up and went to the men's room. That is when I saw the sign you just saw above. I've been in men's rooms before, lots of them, and I have never needed a sign to inform me not to urinate on the floor. I figure that is one of those things that goes without saying. However, the other clientele must have needed some coaching and for the most part they adhered to the management's wishes. But having read the sign a little late, I was careful not to soil my College Boy shoes from the existing inventory on the floor, and decided I needed to rejoin Army Buddy before Anemic Waitress came and took out her bread frustrations on the College Boy that didn't read the sign not to pee on the floor. I was guilty by association. I stealthy walked back to the table and Army Buddy had his bread sitting in front of him and was happy. The neighboring boys didn't pay me much attention because they were too busy snickering about the College Boy returning with pee on his fancy shoes. Amazingly, the rest of the time we were there everything else was uneventful. Army Buddy and I caught up on stuff, and we left and I drove back to Raleigh. The last part almost made up for the first part.

Deb bought me a couple pairs of shorts (short pants) from a mail order company. They arrived a few days ago, and I decided to wear a pair of them to see Army Buddy. I pulled off all the labels and got dressed. I was putting my wallet into the right rear pocket when I noticed that only the left pocket was real. The right pocket had a flap and Velcro but was only two inches deep. Now what moron designed a pair of shorts with a two inch deep pocket? I'll bet he was a college boy and didn't go into diners, because if he did he'd get beat up by the boys for making pants that their tin of Skoal snuff didn't fit in. I felt cheated. Where is my other pocket? Maybe I'll get me a short wallet and cut all of my credit cards and stuff in half, and then I would have something to put in my two inch deep pocket. The pocket had a flap and Velcro on it in case you missed it the first time I said it. Is this some kind of a fashion joke or something? Maybe that was what the boys in the restaurant were looking at, College Boy with the short pocket is going to get pee all over his shoes. It ain't funny, and I ain't laughing.

Geez Yall,
Al
MontyAndRiley@gmail.com

Pickles, Loss of shoes, Blow molds

In case you were wondering why I haven't updated the blog in several days, I've been busy, sick, or both. I've been in a pickle. Pickle is a word that isn't used much anymore but has been used in my presence by others several times in the last week. That's right, I've been in a pickle. Between work beating me and a summer cold sniffling me, I've been in a pickle. I'm back and vow to quit brining. Enough said.

So, Walter told me that he got into a pickle. No, I am not obsessive compulsive. As Groucho Marx was heard to say on the TV program You Bet Your Life, pickle is The Word of the Day. Pickle, pickle, pickle. Anyway, Walter got himself in a pickle with his neighbor. Evidently Walter had waited a little too long to mow his grass and decided to cut it at a taller height to keep from scalping and possibly killing the grass. He set the mower to the top notch of the mower and cut the yard. What you don't know is that Walter has a neighbor that is obsessive compulsive and does often get himself into a pickle (ding,ding,ding the secret word)telling his neighbors how to keep their yards. Walter's neighbor has made mention to Walter and his aunt on occasions about the condition of their yard in the past. Shortly after Walter cut his grass, the neighbor made mention to Walter's aunt that he thought,to which I shall paraphrase, the grass was too high and should be cut shorter. I'm not exactly sure what Walter's aunt told him but as soon as Walter told me of the conversation with the esteemed gentleman, I knew how I would have handled it had I been in her shoes. With age come tact and diplomacy. I would have told him to wait where he stood, and I would have walked inside and asked Deb to take him a greeting card, from that huge box of greeting cards that sits next to the front door, and give him one. On the card it says, "I would like to apologize for the upcoming actions of my husband and would like to offer you a jar of lubricant as a token of our good faith. My husband has gone to change shoes and will return shortly to put his foot up your butt and would you please use the lubricant as he has lost so many pairs of shoes edificating stupid people like yourself. I'm sure you understand as it can be quite expensive.Thank you for your cooperation." Then I would have gone outside and fulfilled the card's prophecy. Deb sometimes forgets to give out the lubrication, and I wind up having to hop around the yard on one foot until I can dislodge my work boot, but I forgive her and understand. When I was younger, I bought a huge box of those greeting cards but as time as told, I really didn't need them as so many people simply looked at me and understood my feelings in the matter in advance and decided not to utter stupidity in my presence. I am a lucky man. However, Walter's aunt has not been as lucky. So, I plan to take some of my custom greeting cards with the words "my husband" scratched through and the words "Al" written above, so Walter's aunt can use them too. Why should Deb be the only person to benefit from the greeting cards? Deb had some greeting cards made up too. They say "Tell me you didn't say that about The Puppies?." If you noticed the card said puppies and not husband you are a careful reader. She is like a mama bear when it comes to The Puppies. I could just see Walter's neighbors saying something about The Puppies and Deb stomping out with a rolled up greeting card to smack him on the nose. Now that is a vivid image huh. He would definitely be in a pickle (ding, ding, ding).

Last weekend, Deb and myself drove about ninety minutes to Randleman, NC to pick up some plastic reindeer for our Christmas display. You likely have seen these reindeer as they are plastic, light up, are about three feet high, and sit in front of Santa on a sleigh. Plastic decorations of that type are called blow molds. I know several people that collect them. Blow molds are not something that we collect or generally desire, but Deb likes that stupid Santa and the kids do too. It didn't seem right with Santa only having three reindeer, so we now own a full complement of Santa's reindeer. Believe it or not we could not think of the names of the reindeer. Bahh humbug. But what I wanted to talk about was where we got the reindeer which are exact matches for the three that we already have. I got an email from a friend in Charlotte that collects blow molds that some guy had a huge collection of blow molds for sale on Craigslist. It took some painful planning but my friend managed to align several people from North and South Carolina to go together to buy this guy's blow molds as this guy would only sell the entire collection and not piece mill. Last Saturday we drove to this guy's house and spent ninety minutes gathering 100 blow molds from various locations on this guy's property. It was a million degrees in the shade, and I knew one of us was going to get snake bit from the looks of his overgrown property, but we didn't. While gathering all of the blow molds, we lined them up in the yard for identification purposes. You have never seen such a sight in your life. I turned to another friend of mine and commented on how does one person collect 100 blow molds. My friend calmly informed me that he had at least twice as many. My jaw dropped and I quickly picked it up to keep a snake from crawling inside. I was dumbfounded. In the car going to Randleman,I was griping about having to store Santa and his plastic, midget reindeer. I couldn't imagine storing 200 blow molds. Well I am here to tell you that it ain't going to happen to Casa Al and Deb (and Puppies). It would amaze you how much space is already used to store lights and props. I am not in a storage pickle (ding, ding, ding) yet. The new reindeer are cute though.

Aloha Yall,
Al
MontyAndRiley@gmail.com

Ugly Mood, Mrs. Mystery Friend,

I've been cranky the last few days and dismiss it as summer allergies. I've not been as foul as Nancy Pelosi's face but ranking along those lines. Boy it didn't take long for me to get in a democrat joke today. The Canadians are asking who Nancy Perlosi is about now. Nancy Pelosi is The Wicked Witch of the House (of Representatives. Anyway, I caught myself sharpening my talons on my desk and decided I needed to bite some nail heads off or kick some puppies or something. This too shall pass as it always does and always will regardless if I like it or not. Which brings me to the next topic.

I had lunch with an old friend today. I have known Mystery Friend for about 25+ years. I met Mystery Friend about four years after I was discharged from the army. Which means Old Army Buddy (who gave me the Circus Peanut referral) predates Mystery Friend by five years. Why and I telling you that? I have no idea but my gray hair covered mind seemed to want to tell you. Mystery Friend got married (again) late last year. Mrs. Mystery Friend is still a mystery to me as every time I've gone to Mystery Friend's house she had just left. I mentioned that fact to Mystery Friend today, and he said he would work on letting me meet her. Well Mystery Friend is a newly wed, and his bride is going through menopause and is having some trouble as part of the transition. It seems Mrs. Mystery Friend is sharpening her talons on hubby somewhat regularly due to menopausal changes. Hummmm. Let's see. The Mystery Friends have been married about eight months and making hubby's life as fun as a Muslim at a pig picking (pig picking is Southernese for luau). Guys like to tease guys in that situation, but I refrained from doing so today because of my ill mood. Guys teasing each other about our wives is kind of like giving wedgies but more refined. I'm sure you understand.

I was getting dressed today watching the news when that idiotic lawyer commercial aired again, but the idiot lawyers (now that is redundant) had changed the content. The commercial no longer wanted people who had died from the use of this drug to call in and become part of their class action suit. Instead, the lawyers wanted the loved ones of people who had died to call in and join the lawsuit. Alrighty then, which one of Yall called those lawyers and told them that dead people don't make phone calls? Now I can't make fun of them and that isn't fair. I was just getting warmed up. Whoever did it, I forgive you but don't make a habit out of calling the idiots that I poke fun at. If you do, it will be a fulltime job.

In a couple weeks, Deb and I are attending a convention of Christmas lighting "enthusiasts" near the end of August. This will be year three for us attending. I know about 90% of the people attending as they are mostly from around North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, and Tennessee. There has been and will be some characters at the convention. I'm sure that I will have some stories from this year. One of the people that is attending the convention has arranged a tour of one of the NASCAR team shops. I'm not a NASCAR fan but love the engineering and science behind those cars. We are driving The Love Boat to the convention, and we have not moved The Love Boat in weeks as I was thoroughly sick of of it when it got put into storage. The Love Boat sails in two weeks.

Al

Circus Peanuts, Lawyer Ad, Camo Plywood

A friend brought his new significant other around this past weekend. We were working in his front yard when we decided we needed something from my house. So, my friend volunteered to drive his car to get the stuff from my house. So, the three of us got into this car. This friend is a reader of this blog and had gotten a bag of Circus Peanuts as a joke (I sure hope that is why the bag was in his car). He reached into the bag and held out a Circus Peanut to me knowing that I would say something ugly to him. Before I had a chance to say something, his new flame grabbed the Circus Peanut and took a bite out of it and said she loved them. I was horrified. I looked around for an airline barf bag but didn't find one. Gross. Now he knows for sure where her mouth has been.

As I often do, yesterday I was watching the CNN news while getting dressed. The news was the same old kind news program where there is ten seconds of news and fifty seconds of people crying. I prefer to listen to BBC because of the crying and mindless drivel. But I was watching CNN and dealing with the situation rather well. CNN is a favorite place for ambulance chasing lawyers to advertise for people to join some class action lawsuit against some worthy product. If you detect a hint of hatred for lawyers, and this were a game show, you would be going home with a brand new Kewpie doll. Geez, I forgot what I was saying. Anyway, I was watching CNN when an advertisement, by a ambulance chaser, came on wanting people to call this toll free number if they had taken this drug and had experienced kidney problems, stroke, or death. That line sort of bounced around in the void between my ears for a few seconds then I paid more attention to the advertisement. Sure enough, the blood suckers wanted people to call them that had experienced kidney problems, stroke, or DEATH. How does a dead person call a toll free number? I listened to the advertisement three times to make sure they wanted dead people to call. I guess dead people can't write down the number so they have to be told the toll free number multiple times. Man, I would love to meet the Einstein that came up with the content for that commercial. You betcha. This topic reminds me of a joke. What do you call 1000 lawyers marching into the ocean? Answer: a good start. I could just see Einstein The Lawyer leading the march too. I can only hope.

Walter and I were in Lowe's Home Improvement (a store like Home Depot for you Canadians) and was waiting in line to get to the register (till) when I noticed something new stacked beside the register. There was a large picture of a kid in a box similar to a tree house but the tree house was actually just a little larger than an eight year old kid. What was strange about the photo was that the treehouse looked a lot like an enclosed deer stand. The new product was a sheet of plywood material with camouflage paint on one side. Now rednecks can build treehouses for Little Johnny out of ready made camouflage material. It will save Bubba hours of hand painting the pattern onto Little Johnny's house. Bubba can spend more of his time doing enjoyable things like shooting all of the deer crossing signs in the state. I can just see Papa Redneck's toothless friends coming over and saying, " Whoo weee. That's a smart looking tree house you got there Little Johnny. We're going to have to get you a beer fridge for that treehouse." I pondered the Redneck plywood for a couple minutes and decided should I buy some it, and laid it in the grass, how would I ever find again? When I'm not pondering democrat jokes things like this occupy my mind.

Cancer, Aug 4, 2010

Some of the people that read this blog know that I had a doctor diagnose me with skin cancer on my scalp before we left for Canada in June. I have been quite terrified since then but didn't want to let on here. Today I went to a dermatologist that specializes in skin cancer and the like. I was standing in his examination room when he walked in. He looked exactly like I imagined and was the proper age that I thought a doctor should be which is older than me. I prefer doctors with experience over a doctor that recently gave up playing with Tonka trucks. Call me what you want but a doctor with gray hair rules in my book. Anyway, he walked in, shook my hand, and immediately began looking me over beginning with my face and then began walking around me while asking questions and listening. It was really unnerving having someone treat me like men do to women with big boobs. I wanted to tell him that my eyes are up on my face and not on my chest. Men are all the same regardless of their stature in life. Well Dr Dermatologist pulled out a pocket magnifying glass and started looking at the spots on me like I was an amoeba or a woman with small boobs. He then picked through my hair quite carefully and prodded me with more questions then announced something that I wasn't quite ready to hear. What do you think it was? Nope, I don't have cancer. I could have kissed him. It seems that the first doctor misdiagnosed cancer with something similar which I found out is not uncommon. The six weeks between doctors gave my scalp a chance to heal which in itself ruled out skin cancer as skin cancer does not heal by itself. Dr Dermatologist told me that fact and I verified it three times before I left his office. I am a very relieved man. But nothing really has changed since then other than my and Deb's concern. I am still grateful for every single day that I wake as it is a gift. I am grateful most especially for my wife and the people and little furry creatures that share in my day to day life. They are all gifts to which I truly appreciated before I was shaken at my foundation by a wrong diagnosis. My life didn't change today it went back to normal. And my closest family members know that I am truly grateful those idiot democrats are going to be out of control of the country in two years. You didn't see that one coming did you?

I was getting dressed to go see Dr Dermatologist today and the weather radio in our bedroom "went off". Today is Wednesday, and the National Weather Service tests the emergency alert system on Wednesday mornings, so I wasn't really concerned. Usually the test is the same recording of,"...this is a test of the emergency broadcast system and had this been an actual emergency then you would not really care because the democrats have already screwed up everything in our country anyway. Please dive under your bed and hide until the tornado carries your home and ruby red slippers back to Kansas." I believe that is how the announcement goes. BUT, today it was different. The announcer came on and announced it was actually a test and the message was being broadcast to certain counties in our area. At first she announced a list that included our county and the surrounding counties. But the list didn't stop there. She listed the counties down east and counties that I have never heard of anywhere in NC. Good Lord, there are only 100 counties in the state. I stopped what I was doing and my mouth hung open as she kept listing more and more counties. She kept on and on and on listing counties in NC, then she started on counties in Virginia, and that wasn't enough as she started listing "isolated townships" in Virginia. That must be one huge transmitter the National Weather Service owns. If you get too near that antenna, you could cook your Lean Cuisine while listening to the upcoming thunderstorm watch. I am not kidding, I stopped and looked at that stupid weather radio and asked myself what in the world were they thinking? I'll bet The National Weather Service got stimulus money to record that War and Peace length announcement and wanted to justify the money. Well duhhh.

We had the mega super furnace/AC inspected by the building inspectors yesterday. One was a mechanical inspector who came first and the other was the electrical inspector who arrived an hour later. Deb had the puppies locked up in her office for the first inspector's visit but when the second inspector rang the doorbell, the puppies went wild and barked themselves silly at the front door. Deb ran down and corralled the puppies back into her office while I opened the door. The inspector said hello and carefully peered around me into the hallway and asked about the barking. I kind of think he was scared of dogs a little. He didn't stay long at all and really didn't want to enter the house. His loss. The puppies would have loved to meet him. We need to get The Dog Whisperer guy to come over and whisper into the dog's ears to shut the heck up. The puppies don't listen to us. The Dog Whisperer guy might need to bring a lunch if he wanted to break the puppies from barking at people at the front door.

Walter has been dreading this moment. I got into his truck a few days ago, and I saw a Southern Living and Martha Stewart Living Magazines in the passenger seat floor of his truck. Walter told me the magazines belonged to his twin sister. Oh buddy I gave him grief over those magazines. After about ten minutes of ribbing him, Walter turned to me and said, "This is going to show up in the blog isn't it?" Come on now, I would never talk about such matters here. I mentioned the magazines to my brother in front of Walter, and my brother didn't miss a beat. He looked at Walter and told him that he knew what to buy him for Christmas, a subscription to Good Housekeeping Magazine. I'll bet Walter is more careful with his sister's magazines in the future.

See Yall Manana.
Al

Trailer Trash Circus Peanut Salad, Christmas Display Stuff

I was talking to an army buddy of mine a couple days ago. Actually, I speak to him a couple times each week, but this one conversation was significant . He told me about a family picnic that his family is planning for the near future in which everybody brings their favorite food. He said he was planning to make Circus Peanut Salad which has the main ingredient being that god awful candy, Circus Peanuts. I was taken aback. Circus Peanuts is a super sweet candy that is a chewy marshmellow like orange blob. I keep a couple in my tool box to plug sewer lines when I have to remove toilets. So I made the mistake of mentioning what my army buddy said to Deb after I found out the recipe to make it. I had to work this past weekend, and she made it while I was working. I wasn't around all weekend so I couldn't protest. This salad has Jello, pineapples, and for heaven sakes, Cool whip. In a funny Youtube video that we saw of a guy (dressed as a trailer park queen) making this monstrosity, he added the Circus Peanuts to the cooking Jello solution. The Circus Peanuts made the mixture rise up in the pan like it was alive. Nasty. Deb made this mess and put it into the refrigerator. I tried it after it harden into a Jelloy, orange, pineapple mess. Deb liked it or said she did. She lost a little credibility when she said she liked it. Good Lord, who was the idiot that said, "Let's put some of these candies that we don't eat into Jello and add some Cool Whip so noone tastes the Circus Peanuts. We won't eat these things, so let's make a salad out of them and take it to the Baptist picnic to get rid of them". What really disturbs me is that my army buddy actually wanted to make this "salad" and serve it to his family. What did his family ever do to him to inflict that level of mass punishment onto them? Sometimes we find out things about our friends that really disturbs us, don't we?

I was vacuuming tonight in preparation for visitors tomorrow, and guess what I found stuck to the hardwood on the stairs? No, it wasn't a clue that the democrats lost because the democrats don't have a clue. Ah ha, I got in my democrat joke early. I'm so talented. Anyway, if you guessed some of the taffy from that bag of taffy that the puppies ate, you would be correct. The stairs are twenty feet from the bedroom where the chewy carnage actually occurred, so I guess the puppies tracked it through the house and licked up their footprints before we got home and missed a spot--kind of like one of those robot vacuums except more like a puppy taffy bot. I still giggle over the thought of them chewing that bag of taffy.

So, I am preparing to order a couple special lights for our Christmas display. As you might know, our Christmas display is computer controlled and synchronized to music. I believe it is a form of art and not one of those tacky, flashing displays that you have seen on the internet. The lights that I want to buy are a little pricey and have kept me from ordering them which actually means Deb said no up to a couple days ago. I had an ace up my sleeve when we again discussed me ordering them. My mother-in -law sent me a check for my birthday that covered a sizable portion of the cost. When I spoke to Deb about ordering them, she looked at me like I told her I was going to vote for BO (the person whose name is not mentioned in our house) or something. Then I told her that her mother made it possible and Deb gave in. Deb loves the display too, and she can thank her own mother for forcing her to say yes this year. Sometimes life is good. He shoots, he scores and the crowd goes wild. The Christmas display this year will be outstanding as the music selections are amazing. I'm not sure how I will improve on it for next year but this year will be memorable. I guarantee it. I was in Sam Ash (musician's store) today and saw more lights that I want, but I don't plan on pushing my luck by asking for more lights this year. I have an entire year to whine that I want them. By the way, I will have close to 75,000 lights this year and that is a conservative estimate, and yes I am a Conservative. If you don't understand how many lights that is, a single strand of mini lights for your Christmas tree has 100 lights on a strand which means that I will have the equivalent of 750 strands of lights. It is a little more complicated than stating strands of lights. I feel our Christmas display is a shimmering beacon in the darkness of disparity of our nation until the democrats are out of power in our country. I had to get in one more democrat jab before I signed off.

See Yall later.
AL