Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Be Sure To Insure

I get amused when I hear about famous celebrities insuring their beloved body parts: lips, toes, and everything in between...  "You're easily amused, aren't you?"  Well, all the insurance talk got me thinking one day... "Oh oh..."  Yes, I'll admit that I tried to come up with a list of my own body parts that should be insured for multi millions...  "You can afford the premiums?"  Well no, but it's fun to think about... "You're easy to please, aren't you?"  Anyway, at first I drew a blank, not sure of what to insure, so I proceeded to stand in front of a mirror and tried to choose that way.. "You're quite the narcissist, aren't you?"  First of all, no!  Second of all, I don't even know what that is!  "You really don't know what a narcissist is?"  How could I? -- I'm too busy thinking about myself... "I rest my case."  Looking back on it, it was pretty difficult trying to decide...  "In other words, there's nothing worth insuring, huh?"  I stood there, arguing with myself, trying to pick my most valuable body parts.  "You argue with yourself? -- don't make it a habit."  Look, I'm not putting up with haters today.  "Sorry..."  Anyway, where was I? -- ah, insuring body parts.  At first, I believed I'd want to insure my -- "Don't say it, you want to insure your --" That's right, my eyes.  "Why your eyes?"  Well, first of all, I have two.  "That's a good enough reason -- and it's an even number, no?"  Correct.  That makes them doubly important.  "Okay..."  Then, there are my ears, they're extremely important to me, too.  I'd never leave home without them.  And yes, they come in pairs also. (By the way, my ears work quite well -- unless my wife tries to get me to listen to her Honey Do list.)  "Look, if you're going to go by two's, then maybe you should insure your -- "  That's right, maybe I should insure my thumbs"That's not exactly what we had in mind..." Anyway, I went back and forth, unable to decide on my most prized body parts.  Finally, I grew frustrated and turned to my wife for advice: "Honey, hypothetically speaking, what body part would you want me to insure?  You know, in case I ever decided to do such a  thing..."  Well, my better half came up with an interesting response -- once she stopped laughing.  "I'd prefer to get insurance for the dog."  Huh?  What makes that pooch so special?  "Well, for one thing, he doesn't stand in front of a full length mirror staring at himself for hours!"  Oh...

Saturday, October 27, 2012

What Are You, A Space Cadet?

You all know, right?  "Know about what?"  Apparently you don't.  Let's start from the top.  "Let's not -- I'm afraid of heights."  As some of you may know, I'm always looking for new material.  "I prefer corduroy myself..."  No, not that kind of material.  "What do you have against corduroy?  Just because you failed Home Economics..."  For your information, I did NOT fail Home Economics.  "Fine, whatever you say... liar."  What I mean by 'new material' is new adventures, exciting new things to learn and do.  "Hey, I tried raw fish for the first time the other day."  And wasn't it liberating?  Wasn't it -- "I'll never do that again."  Oh, but at least you tried something new, right?  Something fresh, something to keep you from growing stale...  "Now that you mention it, that fish was stale..."  Look, being a writer requires me to go out and search for new material constantly.  It's called research.  "I'm a writer, too!  -- I write grocery lists all the time."  Please, if you'll allow me, I'm trying to make a point here.  "I'll stay quiet."  Thank you.  What I want people to know is that I may go away for awhile...  "It's about time them head doctors had you committed.  -- Should I call a taxi?"  No, actually, I may go away to become an alien hunter.  "A what?"  An alien hunter.  I found an ad and applied.   "You really are nutty, you know that?"  Again, I'm looking for new material to write about.  I've always wanted to try different genres, so this opportunity presented itself and it'll surely bring me a flood of ideas.  "That's wonderfuuuul!"  Now, I do have some concerns...  "You should, you're going to hunt down aliens."  But just for awhile.  I shall return.  "I don't know, you don't seem the type to work for the border patrol."  No, you've got it wrong.  I'm going to hunt down aliens --  aliens.  The ones from outer space.  "Oh.  You believe in space aliens?  You really think there are other beings out there?"  There's only one way of finding out... "Say 'Hi' to E.T. for us."  I'll have to go back to school, take some courses, but that's okay.  All in the name of good writing... "I'm allergic to school.  I break out in a rash in places I care not to mention."  Not me.  I look forward to walking onto a college campus again...   "Maybe you should go walking onto other planets instead..."  Yes, I'll do some of that, too, eventually.  "Speaking of college, I don't think you'll look good in a toga."  That's your opinion.  Anyway, back to my concerns.  I'm not sure how I'll react the first time I run into a space alien.  I mean, what if the thing's got a bunch of eyeballs and antennae popping out of its oblong head.  "Sounds like a recent date I had."  Look, I was raised not to stare at people, and the same applies for space aliens.  "It's not nice to stare."  I know, I'd hate to be rude.  "Rude is crude."  Here's another concern: what about diet?  "I don't recommend it -- you'll starve."  I mean, what if I have to eat out of a tube of toothpaste?  "That's easy -- ask for mint.  And don't forget to phone home."

Saturday, October 20, 2012

I'm Not Going Bananas... Am I?

Much to my chagrin -- "Do you even know what that means?" -- I was absolutely flabbergasted the other day -- "You and your words!" -- when I heard about a man that ran away from a gorilla.  Why?  He didn't have to do that.  "Excuuuuuse me, Mr. Tough Guy.  Not everybody's as fearless as you."  Wait, let me explain.  This so-called gorilla, it was not a real gorilla.  "What was it, a cartoon?  Cartoons aren't real."  Actually, it was someone dressed as a gorilla that was chasing after the guy.  "Oh.  Go on."  Unfortunately, the chasee was struck by a car and ended up in the hospital with needless injuries.  "He should've looked both ways."  That's what I say.  Meanwhile, my question remains: Why was the guy compelled to scamper away in the first place?  "You'll have to run him down and pose that question."  I mean, couldn't he tell it was a fake gorilla?  Didn't he see the Velcro and zippers?  "Or the 'Made in China' tag!"  That's a very good point.  "I'm happy to point it out."  In any case, I must've dwelled on the gorilla talk way too much; it's messing with my mind. "Don't tell us, you can't stop beating your chest."  Well, no, but --  "You climbed the Empire State Building and swatted away passing planes."  No, none of that.  But the other night I had a really strange dream.  "What else would you expect?  -- you're a strange dude."   Look, the dream centered on a gorilla and me... "Just the two of you?" Kinda, yes...  "Were candles involved?"  Don't be silly.  "Maybe you should keep this dream to yourself."  Please, let me finish: this dream involved a sleeping gorilla.  "Nothing wrong with that.  Gorillas have a right to sleep."  Uh, the gorilla was asleep in our washing machine.  It even snored.  "No way, Bombay!"  I'm serious.  "No, you're sick!"  What did it mean, this snoozing gorilla...  "Was there a spin cycle?"  I can't recall.  "Did the ape suffer from sleep apnea?  Now you're being absurd.  "Hey, I'm not the one that dreams about gorillas!"  Do you really think I need help?  "Freud would've loved you..."  Now, as a result of all this, I can't get near our laundry room.  I'm terrified to go in there.  "You mean, you can't help with the laundry?  You can't fold clothes?"  Nothing.  I can't help my wife with the darks nor the whites -- not even towels.   "Interesting... any chance your gorilla friend can visit our house?"

Saturday, October 13, 2012

Hold the Lettuce!

"911, how can I help you?"
Who am I to judge... "What, you think you're Judge Judy or somethin'?"  After considerable thought, I've come to the realization that emergencies come in all shapes and  sizes... "Excuse me, what does?"  Emergencies.  And that includes those at fast food drive-thrus.  "You're joking, right?  You can't be serious."  I'm very serious (and when I'm asleep, I'm even more serious).  What I've come to appreciate is that some people find it necessary to call 911 when their food orders get messed up.  "And you're gonna tell us that's okay?  You're gonna justify such actions?!"  Hey, I'm just putting it out there for discussion.  Perhaps we can find a happy medium... "I happen to be petite."  All I'm saying is that maybe we shouldn't be so critical, so judgmental of what some consider trivial 911 calls...  "Cops are swamped handing out fix-it tickets -- let them do their job!"  Okay, fine, but I my heart goes out to some of the calls made to dispatchers that are later ridiculed: "I bit into mayo!  This thing's got  mayo -- and now my arteries are clogged!  Get me to ER!"  Okay, so maybe some people are a little melodramatic with their food orders on occasion, but you never know what such conflicts can lead to... Sooner or later -- probably sooner -- the added stress will be linked to a plethora (I have a thing for that word) of ailments that could've been avoided.  "Here comes the big one!"  Then what?  Who's responsible then?  "Pickles?!  Who told you to put pickles?!  I'm allergic to those things!"  Now that I've shed some light -- "You did what?" -- maybe the critics will have a different  view of such 911 calls.  "I need a SWAT team! -- my fries aren't fresh!"  Again, while I don't always agree with such actions, I put myself in these people's buns, uh, shoes for a moment and I understand their concerns more readily...  "You forgot the special sauce!  I don't feel special!  -- I'm gonna jump off a bridge!"  It's time that we stop laughing at these drive-thru victims.  They're human beings just like the rest of us...  "Oh, you bleeding heart tree hugger!"  No, look, all I'm saying is that not everybody likes onions -- or ketchup -- and that's okay.  Let's have a little compassion for this faction of society.  Allow these consumers to have a voice.  Let them be heard.  "Oh, they just cry wolf, wasting taxpayers money!"  You still don't get it, do you?  "I guess I don't."  Maybe we should sit down, discuss it further.  I'm sure we can reach a mutual understanding... "Nothing you say will sway me. I  -- Ah!  Paper cut!  I'm drowning here, in this pool of blood!  Somebody call... gurgle... gurgle... 9...1...1..."