Stayin' Alive!

Sorry, but traveling abroad is not at the top of my to-do list.  Far from it.  "We'll have to do a cavity search, sir."  Enough said, right?  Wait til you hear about the bonehead moves by supposed doctors in far-off countries.  I mean, did you catch the one about the  patient in Brazil who was pronounced dead by her physician? -- just one problem: she was still alive.  Yes, the poor woman was mistakenly bagged in a cold storage drawer at the morgue!  (I've heard of bag ladies, but this is too much.)  I'm not making this up, guys.  Her daughter was called in the middle of the night to identify the body: "Uh, why's she blinking?  -- My mother's blinking!"  Can you imagine the horror, being stuck in a freezer for all those many hours?  "Can I have the last popsicle?!"  In my humble opinion, this woman really got the cold shoulder.  But wait, I have more for all you globetrotters out there: Back in July, a South African man woke up only to find himself  locked in a morgue's refrigerator, too!  -- yes, same thing!  The poor guy played the unenviable role of Mr. Freeze for twenty-one stinking hours!  "Hey, somebody help me! -- It's freezing in here! -- Can I at least have a sweater!"  (I appreciate cool weather as much as the next guy, but that's way out of line.)  What I'd like to know is where'd these so-called doctors studied medicine... "Why, I completed med school on-line."  Okay, that explains it...

There's No Place Like Home...

"What happened to our house?!" My mom still can't believe another family lives in her property -- that was sold over 20 years ago.  "What's with all those bushes? -- we didn't have a tree out front!"  My parents took such great care of their first casita...  I had a chance to visit my old neighborhood recently, so I drove by the house where I grew up, where I became moi.  (Yes, we were one of the first Latino families to hit the lily white neighborhood back then... "Run for your lives -- Mexicans!") I decided to stop and take a picture (maybe I shouldn't have shown it to Mom) and so many memories came flooding back:  Like the time a couple of vicious German Shepherds jumped me as I headed to school.  "Somebody help me! -- these beasts are gonna swallow me whole!" (okay they were Chihuahuas) I took a peek out back where a basketball rim used to hang... "I'm gonna grow really tall and play in the NBA and make millions and -- !"  Yeah, right... Around the corner I saw the convenience store where I was frisked by a clerk who had nothing better to do one day... "Let me check your pockets, kid!" (I looked like a criminal even back then, I guess).  I think back to how my mommy walked me to school every morning... "I can walk by myself, honest."  Finally, she let me walk that last long block on my own (I was a junior in high school -- or was I a senior?).  I remember all those kiddie birthday parties my parents threw for my sister and me... (they quickly turned into "big people" blowouts) I can still see my first ever car in the driveway... "A Chevy Nova, Dad? -- really?!  And then there's the backyard avocado tree that fed us guacamole all those many years... "It needs salt -- and more cilantro."  No doubt about it, you can certainly go home again, at least for a visit...  "I don't know why we ever sold that house -- our house!"  Oh, Mom...

"Is That A Pooch In Your Pouch?"

Awhile back, I may have mentioned that I'd never want to be a dog.  Well, I was barking up the wrong tree.  "I take it all back, my canine friends.  Can you ever forgive me?"  See, I recently took a sec to view one of those rich wives reality shows (I swear, I usually don't watch anything so vapid, so trashy -- honest!) and what did I see? -- a pooch getting carried around in a sequined purse on Rodeo Drive... "Hey, I can do that!"  I swear, it's like watching some Egyptian pharaoh getting fed grapes... "Grapes in my belly!"  Simply put, life doesn't get better than that, guys.  "Where do I sign up?!"  Put a ribbon in my hair, feed me fancy dog biscuits that taste like snails -- I don't mind. (as long as I'm included in the will)  I'll even wear a cute little sweater -- one that reads 'Precious.'  And you won't ever, ever hear me complain if I'm put in one of those over-sized handbags either... "Wow!  It's like a condo in here!" (there's enough space to fit a satellite dish in some of those lady purses) I can already see it, my lady master and me shopping all day long, getting our nails -- and paws --done, riding home in a shiny new Rolls... "La vida rica."  I'll be willing to sit there and listen to Plastic Woman's tales of reductions here, enhancements there -- and every subject in between... "I need more jewelry!" Yes, being the toy dog for some filthy rich family's the best thing that could ever happen.  "I'll be treated like one of the kids! -- even better!"

Look What I Found!

Did you hear about the guy who found $150,000 in his backyard?  Lucky son of a gun... I bet that guy was just sitting there, watching his weeds grow when he made his discovery.   Why, all I ever find in my backyard are chewed up bottle caps and a bunch of gopher holes... "Hey Ma, I just found us one them there bucktooth critters -- we're havin' us a barbeque!"  With my luck, I'd probably find a missing body before I found money... "Officer, I swear -- those gotta be chicken bones."  About the only valuables that I come into contact with are my dog's personal treasures.  "No! -- these are brand new shoes!"  Heck, when I go to my backyard, the only shiny thing I get a glimpse of is my dopey neighbor's bald head -- yeah, the one that's too cheap to go halves on a fresh new fence.  "What if we go with chickenwire?"  The big lug, he doesn't even trim the gigantic palm trees that sway ominously overhead.  "Don't they remind you of Hawaii?"  Ha!  "They remind me that you're coconuts!"  But I digress... Getting back to the dude who found that money, talk about fortunate.  "Finders keepers..."  How could one person find all that bread?  "He didn't even have to scratch off anything!"  What cracks me up is the guy claims he turned the money over to authorities.  Yeah, right.  "ALL of it? -- really?"  I don't believe him.  I'm sorry, I just don't.  I know what I'd be thinking if I found me a wad of dough: "I'll stuff a few bills into my pocket -- no one will know."  There aren't any cameras around... Beside, I can always go to confession, right? -- contribute a little extra to the poor box...  "You're forgiven, my son..."  Nice...

One Plumb Job...

I had to call a plumber for help recently and it got me to wondering what a tough job it must be to actually look like a plumber.  I mean, they all have to have that similar look, right?  You know the one: "Excuse me, Mr. Plumber, how do you get your jeans to fall below the hips like that?"  (I hope it's okay to ask such questions)  From what I understand, it's in the union contract that plumbers have to reveal just enough of their backsides to become full fledged members of their profession.  ( Hence the shocked look on many housewives' faces...) It's my understanding that plumbers get their pants from a jeans designer in Dusseldorf  -- or is it Downtown Disney? -- who makes sure all of his jeans reveal a... uh... fault line.  Another interesting tidbit is that most plumbers use their backsides for ID pictures these days since their faces are hardly seen anyway... "Crack a big smile for me, okay?"  Since I have nothing better to do, I wonder if there are special classes to train plumbers to lean over  just the right way.  "Don't forget to bend your knees."  Then again, maybe plumbers do pilates so their bodies can contort in all sorts of ways to get that maximum 'plumber's look.'  "Say, how do you do that?" Whatever the case, I'm intrigued by the effort it takes to look like an honest-to-goodness plumber (Not that I'd ever want to dress up like one).  "Hey, where'd you get those steel-toe shoes?  -- they're kinda cute."  Now that I think about it, there are some attractive perks that go with the job -- like working with some very exotic animals... "Do me a favor, reach over and get me that monkey wrench, will ya?"

My, What Big Teeth You Have...

I'm so, so sorry to hear about the honeymooner that was recently attacked by a shark and later died. (You'd think enough people had learned from that Spielberg movie years ago. ) "Til death do us part..."   -- that was awfully fast.  Question: If the guy was on his honeymoon, (hint hint) what was he doing outdoors?!  "Hey, let's go out and get some fresh air, honey."  Yeah, look at the results.  His poor widow didn't get the opportunity to file for divorce.  "That's not fair -- I never got to hate him!"  Reports say the well-meaning guy went out snorkeling.  Well, after reading about this tragic event, guess who's NOT going snorkeling any time soon.  Yeah -- me!  I take it back: I will go snorkeling -- in my own bathtub.  I should be safe there, right?  If I want to get up close and personal with a bunch of exotic fish, I'll just visit the Aquarium of the Pacific -- or a local pet store.  "I don't even have to get wet."  No way am I going out into the ocean  if I know some big, bad shark's in the mood to eat.  "Hmmmm... I think I'll have Mexican today."  Great, he'll probably want guacamole to go with it...  Since I had nothing better to do, I did some in-depth research and was shocked to learn that shark attacks have climbed in recent years.  We could probably blame that on the economy, too.  "If people didn't have so much free time on their hands, they wouldn't bump into man-eating sharks."   One thing's for sure, I don't ever want to take the blame for a shark's poor dental checkup.  And I'll be the first to let him know it.   "It's from all that junk food you eat, Mr. Shark.   Aluminum cans, rusty car parts -- don't blame your gingivitis on me!"  

Get In Line!

The family and I recently went to an amusement park and stood and waited in long lines from morning 'til night.  Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock... I still don't see the point.  "What did I do to deserve this?"  I mean, what godawful crime did I commit in another lifetime?  When I think of all the productive things I could've done that day, something worthwhile, something meaningful for society... Instead of frittering the time away,  maybe I could've come up with a polio vaccine... "Uh, that's been taken care of, sir."  Okay, well, maybe I could've invented something that people fly in, that actually crosses vast oceans at record speeds, a sort of gigantic bird ... "Sorry, the Wright Brothers beat you to it."  Oh well, back to the drawing board...  Anyhow, I just don't see the thrill of standing in long lines for hours at a time for rides that last 30 seconds -- if that.  "That's it?!  I stood in line for this?!  I hardly had time to blink!"  To make matters worse, the "highlight" of the day was almost getting into a fight with some foreigner because she thought my family was cutting.  "I dare ya to cuss me out  in English, lady!  I dare ya!"  I'm sorry, but there's gotta be better reasons for standing in hundred degree weather... "You again? -- didn't I just see your face a minute ago?"   Sure, you can always buy a "speed pass" to zip right up to the front of the line, but have you seen the prices?  "You want me to pay how much?! -- so I can visit EVERY day of the year?!"  Not a chance.   Then again, maybe next time I can fake an injury and ask for a wheelchair, mosey on up to the head of the line.  But I'm not a good liar.  With my luck, security would see right through me, begin to question me...  "It's a miracle! --  I can walk!"  Maybe next time I'll just put a life-size cutout of myself in line.  That way, the person behind me can just move it up and call me over when it's time to slip to the front.  "Excuse me, fella, you wouldn't mind moving this life-like figure for me, would ya?"  Yeah, I think that'll work... "Excuse me? -- you find that piece of cardboard more interesting than me?! -- You actually want to sit on the ride with it?!"  Why, the nerve of some people...