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."

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?"

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..." 

Love Thy In-Laws...

It's no accident that I think the way I do.  "And how's that, exactly?"  Um, how do I phrase this in a sensitive, diplomatic manner... "You're not going into politics, are you?"  No.  That's the farthest thing from my mind.  I could never -- "Then say what's on your mind, mister.  Don't hold back. Stir the pot a little."  Okay, this is probably going to land me on the sofa for a couple of weeks, but here goes: Please understand, it's not that I think my wife's accident prone, but... "Oh, it's about the wife -- good luck!"  I know my wife's accident prone.  I mean, that poor girl (she feels younger when I call her that) gets hurt doing the simplest things... "Honey, I just sprained an eyelash..."  And now she wants to take up mountain bike riding!  "Surely you jest."  Surely I wish.  What's she thinking?  I mean, Emergency Room personnel know my wife on a first-wave basis.  "How's it going?  The doctors were asking about you."  Yeah, E.R. staffs actually worry when she doesn't show up with something sprained or broken.  "What's it today, metacarpals or a glenohumeral joint?"  Look, I want to be a supportive hubby; I'm there to assist as the mother of our three kids makes another attempt at physical exercise, but I have my doubts... "You're right, this is going to land you on the sofa.  Permanently."  At the very least, I'd like to offer one suggestion... "Go ahead, stick your foot in your mouth..." Before she goes all-out on that mountain bike, I'd like to see my wife start small.  "Baby steps, you mean?"  Yeah, perhaps she should start with a stationary bike.  Still boxed.  There's no way of getting hurt that way, right?  "Can we at least untape the box, dear?"  (she's always in such a rush)  Now, some people might ask who first encouraged my better half to try this hazardous venture of going down mountains on two wheels.  Well, I'm not a conspiracy theorist, but... 'Reliable sources' (the kids eavesdrop on Mom's calls) tell me her sister hatched this crazy plan.  "Why would she ever do that?"  Uh, this is where things get dicey.  I contend that big sister holds a grudge from when they were kids.  "What grudge could that be?"  Well, family lore has it that bratty little sis shaved big sister's doll one day.  "She shaved the doll's head?"  That's right.  A favorite doll's head.  "One of these days, you little -- "  Well, it took  years, but now it appears that big sis is up to something sinister.  "And aren't you going to do something about it?  Stand up for your wife!"  Are you kidding?  I don't want to end up in an emergency ward... Just the other day I found myself in the line of fire:  "Hey bro-in-law, have you ever considered sky-diving?"  Oh oh...

What You Say?

There they go again, those mysterious e-mails that land in spam.  I got another one the other day.  I got so nervous, all I read was the subject line: Learn a New Language in 10 days.  "Why?  What's the rush?  And where are you going?"  I figured Spanish and English would suffice... "Suf -- what?  Don't you resort to such words, Mister!"  As far as I knew, I wasn't going anywhere.  Thus no need to learn another language.  "Boy, were you wrong."  I mean, I love my country.   I love the U.S. of A.  According to my birth certificate, I was born here.  This is where I belong!  I need to have a real sit-down with my parents and ask them some serious questions like: "Mom, Dad, is there something I need to know?  Did the stork drop me off  somewhere other than U.S. soil?!"  I'll get the truth out of them, eventually.  "The truth shall set them free."  I agree.  Look, maybe my English isn't perfect, but whose is, right?  Okay, so sometimes I get confused with me and I.  "I hate when that happens."  But that happens to everybody, right?  "Don't look at me..."  Come on, I shouldn't get booted for making dumb grammatical mistakes.  "Maybe, maybe not..."  Okay, you got me: on rare occasions I've been known to say supposebly.  I'm sorry, sometimes it slips... "What slips?"  I swear, I promise to learn the difference between Too, Two, and To if I have to (or is it too?).  Just let me stay in the greatest country in the world, please!  "We'll have to think about it..."  Look, I promise I'll take classes to sharpen my English -- as long as they don't conflict with my favorite novelas.  But please, oh please, let me stay.  Let me stay!  I'll even memorize the Constitution, I'll tattoo the Bill of Rights on my back if I have to.  "Name the Presidents that were lefties."  Uh... Oh my goodness, I just realized the unfathomable... "Un -- what language are you speaking?"  What if I'm shipped off to some far off corner of the world that doesn't carry Dodgers or Lakers?!  What if I'm sent to some remote island in the far-off Pacific?  "It was nice knowing ya..." I'll never forgive my parents for this!  "Hey, at least you'll get a nice tan."  No really, I'd rather stay here, in America.  I don't want to go anywhere!  "But don't you want a nice tan?"  Nah, I can always visit a local tanning booth for that, no questions asked... "Uh, you fell asleep, didn't you, sir?"  Kinda... Where's that island again? 

What's Your Hurry?

Thanks to complimentary tickets -- I'll take anything that's FREE -- I went to my first race the other day.  "Let's go, Daddy!"  How could I resist, right?  So we loaded up the van, uh, sports utility vehicle, and off we went to the race track.  "What horses did you bet on?"  Uh, I'm talking/writing about car races, okay?  Anyway, it turned out to be a fun day.  For the most part.   Especially once we knew where we were going.  You see, we took a wrong turn... "Oh oh..."  We eventually got off the race track, just avoiding oncoming Indy cars.  "Daddy, I don't think this is the parking lot."  Kids can be such worry warts... "Are you brainless?! -- or just plain stupid?!"  (and event organizers can be so hostile)  Anyway, as we looked for our seats, panic started to set in.  I was overtaken by sheer anxiety.  "Take a deep breath... Find that happy place..." I was consumed by fear, with a feeling that I'd be asked all these complicated car questions by utter strangers.  I mean, it's not that I don't know much about cars, but... I just don't know much about cars.  You see, I didn't want to get embarrassed in front of my wife and kids (I have them fooled -- they think I'm brilliant.).  Sure enough, one guy started talking to me about 'Atmo engines.'  Huh?  Another dude, who'd surely consumed a few too many adult beverages, started muttering something about 'carbon fiber.'  (I informed him that my diet includes plenty of fiber, thank you.)   But the one that really got to me was when a discussion on 'crankshafts' broke out.   Come on, really?  Not in front of the children. All I could do was exchange perplexed looks with my poor kids.  Anyway, we covered our ears and braved the roaring engines as best we could.  Then, I came to the realization that car racing is not the best influence for teen drivers.  I mean, how am I supposed to instill good driving habits in my daughter?  There the blur of cars went, round and round, wasting fuel (who can afford fuel prices these days?!).  And the speeds those cars reached, they're a dad's worst nightmare.  I've never seen my daughter's eyes light up like they did that day... "Daddy, can I drive like that?!"  Please, pretty please!"   (All the while, people around us anticipated a spectacular crash.)  Heck, my blood pressure -- and insurance rates -- shot up just worrying about my kid behind the wheel...  Finally, the outing was well worth the trip to the boonies of Fontana, I guess.  You see, I found a little something to take home as a souvenir... No harm done, if you ask me... "Hey, mister! -- come back with those tires!"  Like they can't spare a few...

It Might Be In The Trunk

Hey everybody, please excuse me if you've heard this one before... "Would you repeat that, please."  I've mentioned several times in the past that contact lenses are no fun.  "What are you, the Fun Patrol?"  Trust me, I'm speaking from experience.  "What exactly have you experienced?"  Uh, let's stick to the subject, okay?  "Go on..."  You see, contact lenses are a really big hassle: they're easy to lose, they're uncomfortable -- they're a real pain.  "Does it hurt when I do this...?"  One more time: I discourage anyone from wearing contacts if they truly don't have to.  "But what if they have to?"  Anyway, awhile back I read about one particular patient that's a candidate for contacts.  I proceeded to react in a sane, sensible manner: "NO!  DON'T DO IT!  STAY AWAY FROM THOSE THINGS!"  You see, that eye patient is an elephant.  "A what?"  An elephant.  "Of the thick-skinned variety?"  It's very wrinkly, yes.  Upon reading this news I spiraled into a dark, abysmal funk.  "Funk -- you?"  I'm bitterly disappointed to learn that the human race has pushed elephants into the abyss of societal pressures.  "That must've been quite a THUD."  I mean, why should any elephant be so hung up over eye color?  "You sure that's the reason for the contacts?"  Of course -- whose ever heard of a near-sighted elephant?  "My neighbor's cousin has..."   If there's one thing I can't stand it's a vain, self-absorbed elephant.  "Don't you hate that?"  People, people don't go to the circus and/or zoo to admire an elephant's eyes.  "They're ocean blue!"  Please, world, leave our elephant friends alone.  Let them be.  "Bee? -- did you say bee?!"  Here's another thing, think about the poor eye doctor that has to insert those things... "Have a seat please..."  Might as well be a satellite dish installer... In retrospect, I applaud any eye doctor or vet that's responsible for such a difficult task.  "Peanuts, blink twice for me...  Good."  There, I've said my piece.  Live and let live.  But why elephants would subject themselves to a lifetime of misery is still beyond me.   "Cover your left eye -- put the ball down -- and read the second line for me... Yes, cover it with your trunk..."