Mind reading

A friend of mine made an interesting comment yesterday.

This will probably surprise some people that my friends do have interesting thoughts and can piece together a sentence or two on a good day, but they can.

His thought was so good that I even remembered what he said, which is rather amazing. Of course, I did write it down on my hand.

I have found this is the best way for me to remember something. Just write it down on my left hand so I’ll look at it frequently and go “oh, yeah!”

This kind of makes me a human sticky pad, although I tend not to attach to things, especially when there is labor involved.

But what the father Hooper figure said was (and I paraphrase a tad since I can’t remember it word for word and didn’t write it all down on my hand) “It’s a good thing people can’t read your mind.”

Boom. A blog was born. We went on to discuss this with a lot more zeal than most people would consider normal. Maybe that is the problem.

He said it’s a good thing that my thoughts don’t flash across my forehead, insinuating that I am rather sarcastic. I would be offended by this comment, aside from the fact it is true.

For the most part, the good Craig (which is what I consider the outer layer, aside from blemishes and back hairs) keeps those comments under control until I sit down at the old laptop to write my daily gibberish.

But the inner Craig usually has a rather interesting comeback to most things I hear. Since most people do not like to be told comments like “Duh!” or “You’re an idiot” or my favorite “I’ve picked boogers smarter than you” I manage to avoid these for the most part, unless the other person has a smart mouth, a tendency frequently found in youthful boys.

Then…it’s war. This happens a lot with my boys. Call it a smart aleck submission battle. They think they are clever, but I’ve been doing this for however long I’ve been talking.

I just don’t quite grasp some of the new technology they possess. Then again, without me, they would have never heard the classic comeback line when somebody says you are gay, you fire back with “you are!”

Oh, what fun.

Sorry, I got sidetracked. We all could be in a lot of trouble if we had like a marquee on the front of our forehead with our thoughts running across. Can you imagine sitting down with somebody who looks truly horrid and that thought running across the marquee on your forehead?

You would see her eyes open as she mouths the words of “My gosh, this lady has more wrinkles than a Shar-pei!”

That wouldn’t be good. It also wouldn’t be good if, say, you were talking to your boss and he or she told you to do something and the words “Why don’t you get up off your lazy tush and do it” came flashing across the old marquee.

This would be helpful in one area. You would never have to hear your spouse, friend or whatever say “What are you thinking about?”

All you would have to do is turn and let them read the old marquee. Of course, by this time it would probably flash something like “I wish you would be quiet so I can get back to thinking about that get rich real estate deal I saw advertised on television this morning.”

It’s also good we don’t live in a cartoon world. On cartoons, a person’s thoughts are in the bubble up above their head. Instead of the direct line leading to the bubble, the line is kind of fluffy to indicate that it is a thought, not wordage.

Can you image how embarrassing this would be for some guy who comes across some woman he used to go to school with and now weighs about 400 pounds?

“My gosh, she looks like a whale!” would appear in the bubble thought. He would watch her look up and read his thoughts and add “Dadgummit, I hope she doesn’t sit on me!”

Right before she does.

Angry people and meddlers

I wonder who came up with the term “Another day…another dollar.”

That term really does not apply in these times. If we only made a dollar per day, we could barely afford good toilet paper.

Forget about eating, unless you had kindly friends or relatives.

I would be much happier if it was something like “Another day…another 500 dollars!”Now that would be cool.

There are always people nobody wants to be around. Let them come into a room, the people will scatter faster than people in a pool when there’s a Baby Ruth candy bar floating.

I have often wondered what makes some people difficult and other people kind. Is it something in their makeup? No, I’m not talking about foundations and crud like that.

Is it the way they were raised? Did they get this way because their parents acted like buttheads? Am I asking too many questions without supplying an answer?

Usually you can tell a difficult person by the way they look. They’ll be all snarly with their eyes burrowed. I think they look like they’re just wanting to fight with somebody.

I get to deal with angry people sometimes. It’s not exactly fun, but usually by listening, they will chill. I usually try not to do something silly, like make fun of them, unless I’m having a really bad day and know they aren’t packing heat.

Okay, I’m sorry. That was not true. I don’t make fun of people, especially angry people who aren’t packing heat. That would not be kind.

Overall, I am a fairly kind person. People who read this might think different, but you get a different layer of Craig than most people see.

In real life, I might think “My gosh that hairy wart on that woman’s big toe is larger than a Volkswagon!”

But I won’t say that. In addition to being angry, there are far too many people who are outspoken. They will voice their opinions on everything, without being asked. I guess that is why they are outspoken.

These people tend to get on my nerves, unless they can say something helpful that will avoid embarrassment later. Like, for instance, “Uh, you’re like dragging a roll of toilet paper from the back of your pants.”

That, I would appreciate. A lot of the others I can do without. These people aren’t all that fun to be around. I enjoy watching the outspoken person get together with an angry person.

The smoke soon flies, most of the time. The angry person quickly transforms into a Robert DeNiro look, only angrier. Generally, it is not a good idea to boss around an angry person, unless you have the ability to can their butt if they look at you angrily.

When it really gets bad is when you have an outspoken, angry woman. Whoo. Excuse me while I shudder. Now if a guy was angry and outspoken, there are always ways to get them to back down.

It isn’t like you can thunk a woman over the head with a metal driver, though. That probably would only make her worse. These types can often intimidate even the counterpart males.

They’re like an old rattler waiting to strike, all hormoned up, hissing away. All guys are scared of angry women, don't let them lie.

One other type of person that I would like to address is the meddler. This category of person is not naturally dangerous, just irritating as you know what.

They always want to stick their nose in other people’s business. Now if they actually had a handle on their business (which they seldom do) and would ask first, it wouldn’t be too bad.

A lot of the times the meddler has the dreaded “whine” tendencies. This is kind of like a natural mix. Meddle with a person for a while and then whine.

“That’s not the way you do that,” the meddler will say (this is just for an example), and continue with “I’m so bloated and haven’t had a B.M. in days!”

Help!

Honey do's and don't(s)

It is my belief that the smart people never stop learning until they get stop and get like senile or something.From that point on, they continue to learn but forget the new stuff and the old stuff at a rapid pace.

Now I can honestly say that I am not a really smart person by nature. No, I have to work on it and...never mind. Anyway, I believed that prior to my marriage, I was fairly knowledgeable about a lot of things.

Uh, wrong.

There are so many things I had missed out on. But after seven or eight years or marriage, I can’t remember for sure, I realize now that during those 35 years of singleness, I was so clueless.

(A disclaimer! I have actually been married seven years, two months and some days. I just wrote that earlier in a childish attempt to humor you. Please accept my apology and I vow to not write misleading stuff in the future unless it is necessary.)

Yep, I had missed out on so many things. Stuff such as the “honey do” which I firmly expected to receive.

I get a “honey do” or two (notice the rhyming?) every day. As in “honey do this” or “honey do that”. This usually entails fun stuff like taking trash out, cleaning up dog poop off the carpet, not leaving a mess, slurping at the table and much more!

Where I get in trouble is sometimes we are on different wavelengths when it comes down to a time frame. Generally, when the wife gives out a “honey do”, she expects it to be done in fairly rapid fashion.

Well, the old Craigman doesn’t always operate on the same time scale as the wife. I tend to procrastinate and put stuff off. I prefer to do it on Craigtime, not wifetime.

Needless to say, but I will do so anyway or this paragraph would not proceed any farther, that tends to cause a little friction.

As in “I thought I asked you to mow the yard three weeks ago!” says wife, looking in frustration at grass that is high enough that dogs can disappear in and never reappear.

“I’m going to do it,” I say while plopped out on the couch, watching something on television to pass the time. Then I make up some excuse that usually gets whittled down rather rapidly.
Yes, I expected the “honey do” part of marriage.

But the whole “honey don’t” part was something I never expected.

You know, “honey don’t” do this, or that, usually said in a way that shows a little tension. I am starting to realize that a lot of times the old “honey” part is left off in this statement.

Instead of “honey, don’t pick your nose in church”, it’s “don’t pick your nose in church!”

I actually have never been reprimanded for picking my nose in church. This was just used as an example. Honest.

Or, “honey, don’t leave your dirty underwear in the middle of the floor” is now…actually, she just picks them up! Ha ha, another joke. I never leave dirty clothes anywhere other than the hamper.

Okay, there are several others in the “honey don’t” area but I can honestly say that I am treading on thin ground and better hush it up.

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Also, congratulations to Jim Patterson. Of our three readers who guessed which all-time movie had the most obscenities in it, he answered correctly. It was the movie Platoon.

Other guesses were Goodfellows and Scarface.

Here's a true and false quiz: Fish have "dandruff" caused by flaking skin, and it is impossible to filter all traces of it from drinking water. True or false? Send me your answers.

heat stroking

Okay, this just isn’t right.We had to turn the air conditioner on last night. On March 1, 2006. Thanks a lot, global warming.

All I want to know is what happened to the 70s! Huh? I’m sure there are a lot of other people still trying to figure out what happened to the 70s, but I’m talking about the weather, not the decade.

Actually the 1970s were one of my favorite decades. Unlike many people, I did not have a drinking or drug problem and I was still in school, so times were good.

No, what I am talking about is the temperature. I have always believed temperatures should slowly go up a few degrees per week so we can get adjusted.

But no! That’s not going to happen. We went from the 60s to the 80s for the high. Sure, the temperature did pass through the 70s, but they shouldn’t be climbing out until later in the year.

We had it better than some places. The high yesterday in Okmulgee was 97. Foot! (that’s a word many people use as a replacement for such fine words as dang, crap, not for the appendage that has toes attached to it).

That’s dadgum heat stroke dangerous. Stupid global warming. Let’s blame somebody, shall we?

Who should it be? Drivers of SUV’s? Naw, I once had one so better pass on that.

Caddy drivers? Hmm, better not. I know, let’s blame the Arabs. Yeah, that’ll work. Especially the Arab terrorist lovers who like to kill white people. They are destroying our Ozones, not the people using spray on deodorant, by gosh.

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Here’s some useless information that I found interesting enough to share.

The movie Crash is nominated for an Oscar at the Academy Awards this weekend. Now I must admit, I’ve not watched the movie. I saw a blurb (that’s a short story kind of like the USA TODAY ones that get you interested and then quit before you’re ready) this morning concerning the movie.

Would you believe the writers of this supposedly fine movie could not find a better word to use than the 182 expletives that are used in the movie. I can just hear the writers talking when they were writing the screenplay.

“Gosh, I don’t know what word to use in this dialogue,” said one writer to the other.

The other writer gives it some serious thought. “Hmm, let’s see…I know! Put another $%#@ in there!”

“Wow, what a suggestion!” the other writer says. “I’ll use %@#* again!”

“That really flows well.”

Please, people. They used the F-bomb 99 times in one movie. Yep, 99 times. I actually tried to find out how long the movie ran to figure out how many times per minute they said that word, but couldn’t find it.

You know, I have written three books and at least one blog every morning. I have never dropped an F-bomb or another expletive in any of them.

Yeah, I also know that none of my books have been published. Maybe that’s why? If it takes a few dirty words to get published, I would rather pass.

Some people do talk that way. Others don’t and won’t go see movies like this because they don’t like hearing people talk in ways that used to get kids in trouble for saying and wind up with a bar of soap in the mouth.

I used to actually let out a few good nasty words, but over time realized that was not appropriate and I could express myself in ways that were not offensive to others.

Well #@$% (I’m already saying it myself, argh!), I almost forgot to pass on this interesting tidbit. Which movie is the all time champ for vulgar?

I’ll make this interesting and answer this tomorrow. Let’s make this a contest. Send me an email me with your guess and I will post the name of the first person to answer correctly in tomorrow’s blog. How much fun, huh?

Give me a movie where people say “Foot!” instead of “#$@%!”

3-1-06

After reading a blog last week concerning the average customer at Wal-Mart, a friend of mine suggested that I should write greeting cards.

I thought that was a pretty good idea, especially after she added that I could probably make a lot of money from doing this.

Hello! Money? Me. I’m in. But sadly, I haven’t done anything with it yet and as I mentioned in an earlier blog this week, my memory isn’t all that great.

I happened to run across a birthday card that my wife bought for a nephew. It has a cute drawing of a really ugly dog with an enormous nose. We’re almost talking Alf proportions.

The title says (I’m not making this up!) “For a special nephew” Ugh, excuse me while I fight back the dry heaves.

But wait, we’re not through. The inside says, and I quote, “Wishing you, Dear Nephew, an extra special day. Hope it starts out perfectly and ends up in the same way! Happy Birthday!”

People get paid for writing this crap? Oh, I forgot on the back it adds “Just for You!”

How special! Now if I was a 14-year old kid (or a 42-year old guy), that is a card I would probably toss. My wife likes sappy cards.

I tend to favor the ones that are a little silly. Naturally, I have evolved from the bathroom humor card to the “My darling wife” cards since that seems to make her happier than say the one with the bellybutton lint.

I don’t like buying greeting cards. They are too dangerous. A couple of years ago, I ran across a really sappy card that I just knew the wife would love.

Yep, she liked it. In fact, she liked it when I bought her the same card the year before. She got a strange look on her face and then slowly turned to glare at me.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, since I was curious.

“This is the same card you got me last year.”

I made her prove this. She did.

So in an effort to get filthy rich and change the greeting card business as we know it, I have decided to write an alternative birthday card. This can go to anybody, not my nephew. Cool?

They say it’s your birthday! (daa, daa, duh, duh)

Oops, that’s a song. Let’s try again.

Happy birthday to you,
I hope you score a few.
We pray you get a job
So you won’t have to rob.

I see that your zits
are starting to leave pits.
You better take the meds
before we hear from the feds.

So I wish you a happy birthday
although I can’t think of any way
that I will eat that nasty cake
when it looks like something I’d make.

Please don’t wind up in jail
or your next card will come in the mail.
Also, don’t drink any more stinking beer
for your kidneys’ sake, I fear!

Hey, how was that? My first greeting card. I would like to point out that I have never had any special training from the gift card writing institute (don’t settle for any career! Should be their slogan, not that I know this place even exists).

Now if you were to receive a card of this nature, wouldn’t you remember it more than one of those generic pieces of crud you find in the store? Hopefully you might still want to talk to whoever gave you the card.