One Bottle Of Uncomfortable

I feel like a fish out of water, I’m scared as I walk around. Everything in sight is foreign. The population here eyes me with suspicion. They know I don’t belong. Can they see the fear in my eyes?

“Can I help you?” queries the local
“I’m not sure,” I say “I think I’m okay…I’ll just look around a bit”
“Okay but I just wanted to let you know,” The over-bubbly clerk continues,
“Body sprays are half off, lotions are two for one, and have you seen our new…”

It seems to me that going to the local girly sent shop is as close as I’ve been to visiting a strange land. I’ve never left this country, not that I hadn’t planned to. We were going to go to Mexico once and got all the way down to the border, when someone high up in the government was murdered. I don’t want to sound unfeeling for this person, but I was quite disappointed that it had to happen while we were visiting. I just never made it since.

Anyway the point is this shop is one of places I feel like I don’t speak the language, I’m not sure of the customs, and I’m not up on the currency.

“Actually,” I recant, “I could use some help. I want to buy something for my wife’s birthday.”

“Okay,” bubble brain beams, “ We have shampoo and conditioner”so far so good “Body sprays, body bars, shower gels or lotions”sigh...lost me

“Oh...”

“What flavors does she like?”

“Uhm….

“Well” she oozes “We have: coconut lime verbena, creamy coconut, coco-cabana, cherry blossom, country apple, honey suckle, mango mandarin, cinnamon pumpkin spice, sun-ripened raspberry, strawberry lemonade …”

I smiled, leaned to the left and bolted. I grab three items at random from their pristine displays and slung them into my delightful gingham-bowed basket. At the front I’m manipulated into buying a darling box and bag of purple string confetti, just to move the checkout process along. I would have signed my life away to get out from under the false sunny lights of that enchanting depot. All said and done it only cost me half a year’s salary for the five items as they were having a sale.

I counted myself lucky though, last Christmas I was attacked as someone "accidentally" used the back of my head for a scent tester.

When Cholocate Comes Calling

When chocolate comes calling, I find that I'm almost always home. It's not at all like Brussels Sprouts or even waffles, which I find I can say no to most of the time. Chocolate is something quite different, like the lucky street salesman, who happens to have the product that everyone actually wants.

"Knock Knock"

"Hello?"

"Yes, I'm selling..."

"I'll take it all!"

"I haven't even told you what I'm selling yet."

"I smell it! Give Me The Chocolate!"

Point? None really, just a revelation. Take it or leave it.

An Empty Hat Hook

While trudging through a new bookstore
I saw a hat hook. Nothing more
Apparently used just for show
On a pillar by the fiction row.

I looked it over once, then twice
Of antiqued brass it once was nice
But why here this poor neglected bit
For I could see no use of it

Who hangs a hat near Bear or Clarke?
Why should here it make its mark?
I swear I found no use or function
For a hat hook at this junction

"So, what's your point?" I asked of it
"I'm here for hats" you stupid git
I smiled and nodded most politely
And then I gripped it rather tightly

I ripped the hook right off its screws
Then searched the store for the refuse
I dumped it loudly in the bin
The resulting crash, an awful din

For no one feels bad for a hat hook with an attitude!

Peter P. Brown 2009

Exceptionalism

Sherlock and Mycroft are brothers, both are exceptional but as in life, one candle outshines the other. Throughout their childhood one was always more capable, more insightful and more observing than the other. That's right, Sherlock was always second fiddle.

For those of you not familiar with the Sherlock Holmes stories, allow me to shed a little light. Sherlock's brother appeared in a couple of stories and it was always mentioned that his brain was much larger that of his baby brothers. His only trouble was that he was lazy. While Sherlock would occasionally go and ask a question of him, past that he wasn't much use.

Laziness is the sapping kryptonite of potential. You can have all the potential in the world, but if your don't apply yourself, what good is it? Anyway...what was I typing? Mercy... 500 words is looking like a thousand to me right now. I think I'm just going to throw in the towel. Maybe tomorrow I'll have the desire to finish this...

...yawn

Okay okay!!

Anyway. The point is simple. Sherlock was the better of the two, not because of all the potential that he had been blessed with, but because of all the tenacity that he applied to a situation. He cataloged the various dirt's of London, had exstensive knowledge of ballistics and took a painstakingly tedious amount of time investigating a crime scene. He rarely slept while on a case and was able to overcome an opiate addiction on his own. He is the pinnacle of the fictional self made man.

So exceptionalism isn't a birthright. It's a choice. Just becuase you were born with potential doesn't mean you will amount to anything. We see people throw away their lives everyday, who had buckets of potential. Potential is nothing compared to tenacity.

We make choices every day. Good ones, bad ones and benign ones fly at us all the time. We have a choice to apply ourselves or not. Tenacious people fail frequently. They fall on their faces time and time again. The difference between tenacious people and potential people is getting back up. I've heard so many sob stories in my day, "I've had it rough." or "You don't know what I've been through." or "I'm just not as exceptional as they are."

Guff! Hogwash! Malarkey!

Doing isn't easy, but it's motion. You cannot progress without motion. All the brains in the world can't make someone go if they've got no motivation. So get up, and do it.

Go. Try. Fail. Learn. Do.

The Unexpected

I love this picture. If anyone knows the photo credit for it, I'd love to link to them!

Class

Everyone has class. Some peoples' are just higher than others

Blind Date

Think I should open the doors for her, or does she enjoy the popping sound they make as she rips them off their hinges?

Juniper Roots

Juniper bushes love work. They love the look in your eyes, when you first arrive at them with all that determination and gumption set on a face with that squared jaw defiance!

"You are going down. I am master of my domain and you are a mangy old ground bush. I've got superior leverage with my tools and superior intelligence with my big honking brain. I've been staring at your ugly form for four years, but today it ends. The line is draw, the count is in and your sorry behind is coming out of that well cultivated ground. I don't care how big you think you are, how deep your roots go, how allergic I am to your bark or how many spiders you send crawling up my sleeve, today you are coming out!"

"You think so bub? Bring it."

They especially love it when you collapse in a rumbled heap at their base, with your pulse sounding loudly in you ears over the din of your mp3 player, sweating profusely and shaking your head after three hours of hard labor. They really get a kick out of that.

"You think this is over?! You think I'm done? So my clothes are soiled my shirt is dripping wet and my palms look like the scene of a sandpaper attack army. I'm not letting you win again!"

"Are you going to start trying now? I think one of my two thousand twenty five roots might have wiggled a bit on your last attempt. I totally liked the part where you were jumping up and down on my main limb like it was a freaking trampoline."

"I still don't get why that didn't work..."

"Did you see the look your neighbors gave you?"

"No, my vision is impaired by my lack of oxygen. I'll I can see are shadows."

"Ah. Well then, are you ready to call it a day then?"

"You wish!"



Gotcha! Now all's that left is digging out the root ball (under the rock in the corner)... Maybe next year...

Frisbees Are Evil - Repost

Sometimes I refind a post after a couple of years, and like it enough to repost. This is just such a post. Enjoy, this Kludge Classic!

Over the 4th of July a number of us went to Spring Lake and had a picnic. It was nice, I got some sun, Dew and fried chicken. I also gained a valuable bit of information. Frisbees do not follow directions well, and they seem to have a nasty bent on making people suffer. I can only conclude that Frisbees are evil.

My Father-in-law is a very nice man, but even he is unable to correct the evil nature of these discs! While we were playing a seemingly happy game the disc attacked the group of female spectators for no apparent reason. It was particularly interested in the younglings. It identified the smallest baby and flew at it. Luckily the women deflected it. Back in the hands of my father-in-law the Frisbee again wielded its power and went back to the babies for revenge. My father-in-law was rebuked, which is what the evil saucer was really after.

My Frisbee is manic depressive. I can only attribute this to the design on the top. It’s a yellow disc with a large smiling face. It’s hard to be evil with a large smiling face on your top. We would get an hour or so of very nice behavior followed by thirty minutes of sheer terror. Flying at small dogs, children playing, or people sitting on park benches minding their own business. It also tried to make me go into the woman's restroom half a dozen times or so to retrieve it. Luckily Frisbees aren’t good at corners. It’s hard to guess what a Frisbee is thinking, but it can’t be happy thoughts.

One of the players stopped the Frisbee, that I had thrown, from knocking all the teeth out of his little girls head. This was done quite expertly, and in just the nick of time. I had no evil in my heart when I tossed the toy, but it knew exactly what it wanted. Costly dental X-rays. Evil Frisbees are so like that.

Rookie Moves

Last night the remote went missing. Not just the simple, "where the heck did I put that thing?" You know what I'm talking about, you get up, turn around twice and there it is, right next where you were sitting, "must have slid off the sofa arm or something."

This was nothing like that! This was an all out loss. I stood up turned around twice and looked in by the sofa arm. Nothing. I checked over, under around and even rummaged through the cushions. I got down on all fours like some feral remote hunting beast pushing toys and stuffed lions aside. Nothing. No power. No remote. I was helpless. Adrift all the while the paused image of my show stood a mere eight feet away beckoning me,

"Don't you want to see how this ends?"
"YEs! Of CourRSe I DO!"
"Well, then. Lets get to it bub!"

What's a guy to do. Sure I could hit the pause button the DVD player itself like some blithering Neanderthal, but what's the point. I wouldn't solve the problem. The REMOTE WAS LOST. It was probably just as scared and worried as I was. It needed me, and I needed it. We formed a kind of symbiosis. Apart we are weak, together we can stem the tide.

So I left the room, and walked back in. And there it was. Sitting pretty on the sofa arm.

"I was here along."
"No. I'm happy to find you but I know better."

I knew instantly what had happened. Aliens. Rookie aliens understudies. Clearly when the aliens had come by, frozen time and scanned the brains of all the humans on my street, they had some form of rookie fly along program. For all aspiring slimys looking for a career with decent hours and interactions with foreign bodies. Mostly they are just there to observe, sometimes hold the bags scanning equipment is stored in and clean up the slime trails. This one got foolish.

Imagine the surprise of the journeymen level brain infiltration services expert when he saw with this sticky young pup had done! Allow me to translate!

Due to some rushed math there was a couple minute blip where I existed on a planet without my remote. Too bad I'm not one to believe in my own shortcomings, silly aliens.

I imagine that junior understudy will get quiet a slimy pouchful from the master level brain infiltration director. Whoa! If I could be a pile of ectogoo on that wall. Anyway. It's good to know even aliens make mistakes.