Dear Solicitors

Dear Solicitors:

Please stop calling my phone. My home phone, that is. We don’t answer it. Ever.

This goes for all robots too. Robots for political action committees, charities, and debt collectors. Most of you aren’t even looking for us.

Especially you debt collectors. Wow. You called me looking for who? Erin Johnson? Are you even trying?

Listen, we keep our home phone for one reason, and one reason only.

911.

Seriously. That’s it. It’s an extremely selective group of people we don’t know that we’d like to be able to find us. You don’t qualify.

I know, I know… you’re saying, “Why don’t you turn your phone off?”

Well, there is that rare occasion where I’ve invited someone to call me on my home phone. That’s right. I don’t want them to know my cell number, but knowing my house number is fine. Why? Because I expect that I won’t know that person for very long and seriously don’t want to be accidentally texted at 3 am with “Yo bro? Wer u @?”

I really don’t care about the latest credit card service or deal you have to offer. It will not be good. At all. I don’t care who’s running for city council or why. I don’t live in the city limits anyway. You clothing drive people call twice a day. FOR YEARS and you have yet to get an answer.

My name is not Erin Johnson. My wife is not a 56 year-old woman from New Jersey. Funny how I was able to find her.

So, in closing, stop calling me.

Please.

The Space Shuttle, Me & The Devil's Advocate

I was up and awake this morning to catch the final descent of the Space Shuttle. Ok, it wasn’t specifically to catch the Shuttle landing, but I was up. As I read my twitter feed and news feed and all things Shuttle related I began to have a bit of an argument with myself.

I do that when I’m up at 5 am.

As I was following Neil deGrasse Tyson’s 900 twitters (he doesn’t know how to stop without saying, “I’m stopping now”), I started to develop an antagonistic attitude toward those short viewed, shallow thinking, self-serving, self-righteous, anti-education, keep-the-people-ignorant, people who run our country and the assholes who decided to shut down the shuttle program.

That’s actually how the argument started. When talking to people and opposing views come up, I always choose devil’s advocate. That is because if I agree with the person I’m talking to, it really isn’t any fun. It gets really weird when that person is me.

So here’s how it went down:

Me: “This is so wrong. I absolutely hate those (see above) people that shut down the shuttle program.”

Devil’s Advocate: “Why?”

Me: “They shut down the shuttle program! Haven’t you been paying attention?”

DA: “Not really. No. Why is shutting down the shuttle program a bad thing?” Notice how DA does not CAPITALIZE the word Shuttle? Disrespectful jerk.

Me: “Dude. The Shuttle has been the backbone of the US space program for 30 years. Now we’re backboneless.”

DA: “You mean they are shutting NASA down?”

Me: “Well, no. They still do stuff.”

DA: “What, exactly? Do you even know?”

Me: “They’re working on important stuff! Like that new telescope.”

DA: “You mean the James Webb Space Telescope?” How is it he’s always more informed than me?

Me: “Yeah! That’s the one. To replace the Hubble.”

DA: “I think they’re shutting that down.”

Me: “SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!”

DA: “Dude chill.”

Me: “We’re talking about the Space Shuttle. I don’t care how old your car is, you don’t deep-six it without getting a new car. How do they get into space now?”

DA: “You bum a ride from your buddies. Space Buddies. That movie was sooo bad.”

Me: “The Russians? Not cool.”

DA: “Or the Chinese. They’re going to the moon.” He shrugged like, no-big-deal.

Me: “SHUT UP!”

DA: “And isn’t it waaay cheaper to pay our way on the Soyuz?” Sure, he capitalized that.

Me: “Well, yeah, but that’s not the point. The USA was the leader in space technologies and advancements. The USA lead the way!”

DA: “Didn’t the Russians have a space shuttle too? They killed it because it was dangerous and expensive. The Soyuz is proven safe, efficient, and affordable.”

Me: “Dude. Their shuttle was made of plywood and Elmer’s glue. Of course it was dangerous.”

DA: “And expensive.”

Me: “Well, exploring space is going to be expensive. We still need it.”

DA: “So why can’t we hitch a ride with Russians?”

Me: “BECAUSE THEY ARE RUSSIANS! Damn it! Haven’t you seen Red Dawn?”

DA: “I’m not getting up with you at 5 am anymore. You are completely unreasonable.”

Me: “And you are an asshole!”

Dammit. He always wins.

Good Feelings.... Going.... Going...

It’s a good feeling when you make that last, final, soul completing car payment. You stroke the check lovingly as you sign your name. And sliding it into that prepaid postage envelope… oh yeah. You actually savor the taste of the glue on that envelope.

For the next 3 weeks it’s like driving a car for free.

Then the engine light comes on.

*bing*

And you are stalled at an intersection during rush hour.

Two days and $1800 later, you are back on the road in your 100% paid for car.

Three months later the engine light comes on.

*bing*

It runs fine… ignore it.

*bing*

Fine… diagnose it and it’s no big deal. Emissions issue with gasoline vapors. Won’t pass inspection, but you’ve got almost a year before that becomes a problem. Vapors aweigh!

And now it’s the middle of summer. A car’s favorite time of year for one of two things to go wrong. Either the A/C quits, or it overheats. Your car is overheating AND you can’t run the A/C. As a matter of fact, you get to travel down the interstate with all four windows down blowing the heater at full blast to keep your car from literally catching fire while you drive.

Your radiator is “blocked”. You need a new one. And a thermostat too. They go bad. You’ve got two broken engine mounts, by the way. That’s bad. Real bad. As in you shouldn’t be as worried about your engine catching fire as a maybe the engine just jumping out from under your hood. Oh, and your yearlong engine light thing? Yeah… there’s a pump to detect problems with your vapors. It’s broke.  Oh, and yer washer spray don’t work cause both yer nozzles are AFU.

That’ll be $1800.

Still cheaper than a car payment though.

Ok, so this story was more about me than you.

But you get it, though. Right?

*bing*

A Dr. Seuss Moment

Does this ever happen to you?

You read a Dr. Seuss book to yer kid. It swishes and sways back and forth, pushes and pulls, and draws you into a trance until…

You can’t help but you do, you start to sway too; you want but can’t stop, it rhymes with kerplop.

And then it gets bigger!

Like a fuzzy Jum-Jigger!

I have to tell the wife.

She says, “Oh, get a life.”

“Well that’s no damn help,” I say with a yelp.

“Then go drink beer. Stop bending my ear.” Then her eyes get wide; I can see fear inside. “Shit… it’s got me too. What do I do?”

Well, believe it or not; like a bucket of snot, you can shake the Seuss off with a sniff and a snoff.

Take off your pants and do a jump-dance. When the laughing stops you can get dressed or whatever. Seriously, it’s hard to keep a line of thought when you see pantless people jumping up and down.

Oh Canada!

So…. Canada, what’s up?

Yesterday my wife brought home a small gift that one of the salesmen in her office picked up during a visit to Canada. It got me to thinking. What does Canada do?

I’ve got several friends that have gone on vacations there.

“Beautiful!”

“Awesome!”

“Did you know boiling water can freeze instantly here?”

I’m not sure that last one belongs in the “pro” column, so I’ll just say two outta three ain’t bad.

I already knew that Canada exports some great acting and comedic talent.  I also read something about white cowboy hats, the royals and potted plants recently.

So I decided to do a bit of research and share it with the world. Here is my short list of What Canada Does When We’re Not Looking:

1. Exports a CRAPLOAD of timber.
2. Oil too.
3. And grain.
4. They make cars.
5. On average live 80.7 years (as of 2007)
6. My Grandfather was born in Saskatchewan. 
7. They eat a log of eggs. 
8. Invent basketball.
9. World's largest source of Cesium!
10. They call their money the loonie. At time of this writing worth $1.0397 U.S.
11. Live withing 100 miles of the U.S. border. (ready to invade)

I like to stop at 11. It’s a nice number. You can’t give a cute nickname like “dozen” and you can’t indicate it silently by holding up 11 fingers. Well, except for the guy who killed Inigo Montoya’s father, most people can’t.

And teeny tiny bottles of Maple Syrup.

 

Zoey-ism #134

It's Zoey's Non Sequitur Hour!

On the way to the movies yesterday, out of the blue, as all Zoey-isms tend to come from she says:

"When I get out of the car, I might walk like a penguin."

Well. Of course you are.

F This F That

Why do so many bloggers insist on using profanity all the time? I mean those people that use the f-word as a simple modifier for anything and everything.

F this.

F that.

Now I’m not against using the F word. I think it makes a great modifier. It is all purpose, like Formula 409.

Perhaps I’m just old fashioned in thinking that it should be reserved for super emphasis. Like extreme likes, dislikes, or when something truly f-ing terrifying, wonderful, or horrible happens.

When I read it on other blogs, I read their experiences as all having been truly extreme. What I wonder is: how will they write something that is actually worthy of extreme language?

It’s like someone saying everything is awesome.

“That Bud Light was awesome.”

“Your Laura Ashley dress is awesome.”

“Where did you get that awesome Tetris game?”

So, when something truly awesome happens, they say, “Riding in the Space Shuttle was awesome!”

That’s when I go, “Really? Was it as awesome as that taquito you had last week?”

Now, I know what you are thinking. Riding in the Space Shuttle would be F-ing awesome. But now re-read those quoted phrases using the F-word to modify ‘awesome’. Now what do you say when you get to the Shuttle? F-ing super F-ing Awesome?

It gets to start sounding like Jay from those Jay & Silent Bob movies. When everything you perceive is extreme, nothing is extreme. It deadens the experience for everyone. It’s like putting curry in everything you cook.

OK. I’m done now.