Saturday night.
The man and his dog had completed their loop, and were a few yards away from their house, when it happened.
Once again, he was well into the cross walk, when someone nearly ran him over.
The man was greatly displeased by this, and voiced his displeasure loudly, and crudely.
This, it turns out, might have just saved his life.
The driver of the offending vehicle had her window down, and heard him yell, which caused her to stop.
She had apparently not seen the man and the dog.
She looked slightly ill, at the realization that she had almost struck the man, as she spoke.
“I don’t know what the f*ck I WAS doing.” she said, answering the EXACT question the man had loudly posed.
“I’m so sorry!”
The man could not help himself, and broke into a big smile. He waved to her, as she patiently waited for he and the dog to finish crossing the street.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Imagination and Tim Burton movies….
Sunday night.
He was walking down his driveway with an armful of boxes, a bag of recyclables, and a big dog on a leash.
His goal – put all the boxes and recyclables on the curb; and then proceed to take the dog for her evening walk.
“Hope the dog doesn’t take off on me.” He thought briefly, as he crouched by the side of his busy street, placing the bags and boxes on the curb. And, as it tends to do, his imagination ran with the notion.
He clearly saw in his mind eye his dog seeing a rabbit, taking off, and yanking him over, facedown into the street, as a white van approached…
This did not happen of course.
Nothing did.
Done with the unloading, they proceeded together up the street in companionable silence, until they reached the corner.
Looking both ways, they entered the cross walk at the four way stop, and crossed the street.
They were over halfway across when a large white van, barely slowing down at the stop sign, bore down upon them. Seeing this, he quickly jumped back, pulling the dog with him, and started cursing mightily at the van, which by this time had already hit its brakes, and was speeding back up, never actually stopping for the pedestrians who had the right of way.
“Jesus, that was close!” he muttered, wishing he had a cell phone with him so he could call the police with the van’s description and license plate number.
Shaken, he and his canine companion continued across the intersection, and on with their walk.
Moments later, images from Beetle Juice popped into his head. The movie started with Geena Davis and Alec Baldwin narrowly missing a big accident, only to find out that they not only did NOT miss it, but they were actually dead.
He noticed how quiet it was outside, and how there wasn’t anyone else to be seen. He thought about the movie some more, and laughed to himself, amused by his own imagination. And they walked on.
And on, and on, and there was still no one else to be seen. Down two blocks, left just past the elementary school, through the empty playing fields by the train tracks, and back toward home. And he thought again about the movie…
As he approached the four way stop again, a garage door opened, and the home’s owner walked out. He was a nice guy, wife, two kids, spent lots of time in the summer shaping his hedges until they were perfect.
The man and his dog had stopped numerous times in the past to exchange pleasantries with him, whilst he trimmed. The man remembered a particularly pleasant exchange from the end of last summer, where he was encouraged to smell the greenness of the freshly trimmed hedge. It had smelled wonderful.
“Happy new year!” the home’s owner said cheerfully to the man, as he walked to his van, parked at the curb.
“Oh, whew!” The man thought, smiling to himself.
“Happy new year to you, too!”
The walk concluded without incident, and he was delighted to hear his wife giving their daughter a bath, when he walked into the house from the cold, quiet night.
“How was the walk?” She called from the bathroom, as he took off his coat and scarf
“It was ok.”
He was walking down his driveway with an armful of boxes, a bag of recyclables, and a big dog on a leash.
His goal – put all the boxes and recyclables on the curb; and then proceed to take the dog for her evening walk.
“Hope the dog doesn’t take off on me.” He thought briefly, as he crouched by the side of his busy street, placing the bags and boxes on the curb. And, as it tends to do, his imagination ran with the notion.
He clearly saw in his mind eye his dog seeing a rabbit, taking off, and yanking him over, facedown into the street, as a white van approached…
This did not happen of course.
Nothing did.
Done with the unloading, they proceeded together up the street in companionable silence, until they reached the corner.
Looking both ways, they entered the cross walk at the four way stop, and crossed the street.
They were over halfway across when a large white van, barely slowing down at the stop sign, bore down upon them. Seeing this, he quickly jumped back, pulling the dog with him, and started cursing mightily at the van, which by this time had already hit its brakes, and was speeding back up, never actually stopping for the pedestrians who had the right of way.
“Jesus, that was close!” he muttered, wishing he had a cell phone with him so he could call the police with the van’s description and license plate number.
Shaken, he and his canine companion continued across the intersection, and on with their walk.
Moments later, images from Beetle Juice popped into his head. The movie started with Geena Davis and Alec Baldwin narrowly missing a big accident, only to find out that they not only did NOT miss it, but they were actually dead.
He noticed how quiet it was outside, and how there wasn’t anyone else to be seen. He thought about the movie some more, and laughed to himself, amused by his own imagination. And they walked on.
And on, and on, and there was still no one else to be seen. Down two blocks, left just past the elementary school, through the empty playing fields by the train tracks, and back toward home. And he thought again about the movie…
As he approached the four way stop again, a garage door opened, and the home’s owner walked out. He was a nice guy, wife, two kids, spent lots of time in the summer shaping his hedges until they were perfect.
The man and his dog had stopped numerous times in the past to exchange pleasantries with him, whilst he trimmed. The man remembered a particularly pleasant exchange from the end of last summer, where he was encouraged to smell the greenness of the freshly trimmed hedge. It had smelled wonderful.
“Happy new year!” the home’s owner said cheerfully to the man, as he walked to his van, parked at the curb.
“Oh, whew!” The man thought, smiling to himself.
“Happy new year to you, too!”
The walk concluded without incident, and he was delighted to hear his wife giving their daughter a bath, when he walked into the house from the cold, quiet night.
“How was the walk?” She called from the bathroom, as he took off his coat and scarf
“It was ok.”
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
It’s all about the Holly….
OK, let’s start this off with a little excitement –
Every year, usually in mid-to-late third quarter, I look at hundreds of ticky-tacky Christmas items, as part of my job.
Specifically, I review new items that will potentially be imported by my employer, in the coming year. To ensure that there are no restrictions; and to determine how much we’ll pay in duty to import them.
If you’ve not already decided that this is going to be too boring, read on.
Christmas items, or “Trim-a Tree” items, are a huge deal for retailers.
They stock up during the summer months, and dance around like they have to pee really bad, in greedy anticipation for the day when they can change their seasonal areas out and get to sellin’ Christmas stuff.
It is what it is. I don’t judge.
I’m an enabler, after all.
Anyhow, this product category being such a big deal, you KNOW that there’s going to be thorough rulings in place, defining what a Christmas tree light string is, as opposed to one that technically might not go on a Christmas tree.
More importantly to this story, there is a very comprehensive list of what an item needs to have or to BE, to be considered a “Holiday festive” item, and therefore import-able at 0% duty.
We like 0% duty.
A handful of years ago, the most recent, most detailed version of “Classification of Festive Articles” guidelines was released.
And in it, was an at-the-time insignificant item.
Sprigs of Holly are classifiable as a holiday festive article.
Next thing you know, you are seeing holly on everything! Everything that the rulings determined were NOT, by themselves, festive articles, that is.
Snowmen or their likeness are not considered a holiday festive item. It’s simply a winter item, apparently, unrelated to Christmas.
But... But we don’t want to pay duty to import that big-ass inflatable snowman that sits in your front yard!
No problem.
Just slap a sprig of holly on his hat.
Viola – now it’s CHRISTMAS snowman.
Ditto the big-ass lawn penguin and his polar bear buddies.
And ditto that creepy looking giraffe that’s not actually strangling on the holiday light string, but “playing with” it, according to the product description….
A monument to animal cruelty?
No! It’s a holiday festive item! See? Someone stuck holly on the giraffe’s head!
Honestly, I found myself a little irritated by the whole development. It seemed a circumvention of the rulings put forth, just to save a few cents, at the expense of… ugly-ing up Christmas a bit more. I
t was slightly offensive to me both professionally, and aesthetically.
I mention this because of what happened to me the other night, as I walked my dog around the neighborhood.
I started seeing sprigs of holly everywhere.
I wasn’t seeing Frosty the Snowman in the neighbor’s yard. I was seeing a tiny weed on a top hat.
It wasn’t a cute inflatable penguin, it was a tiny leaf and a couple of berries on a stocking cap…
It wasn’t a giraffe strangling on….er… playing with a holiday light string. It was a giraffe with a tiny scrap of shrubbery stuck on its forehead…
I simply couldn't help myself.
Yeah, maybe I DO need a vacation.
Every year, usually in mid-to-late third quarter, I look at hundreds of ticky-tacky Christmas items, as part of my job.
Specifically, I review new items that will potentially be imported by my employer, in the coming year. To ensure that there are no restrictions; and to determine how much we’ll pay in duty to import them.
If you’ve not already decided that this is going to be too boring, read on.
Christmas items, or “Trim-a Tree” items, are a huge deal for retailers.
They stock up during the summer months, and dance around like they have to pee really bad, in greedy anticipation for the day when they can change their seasonal areas out and get to sellin’ Christmas stuff.
It is what it is. I don’t judge.
I’m an enabler, after all.
Anyhow, this product category being such a big deal, you KNOW that there’s going to be thorough rulings in place, defining what a Christmas tree light string is, as opposed to one that technically might not go on a Christmas tree.
More importantly to this story, there is a very comprehensive list of what an item needs to have or to BE, to be considered a “Holiday festive” item, and therefore import-able at 0% duty.
We like 0% duty.
A handful of years ago, the most recent, most detailed version of “Classification of Festive Articles” guidelines was released.
And in it, was an at-the-time insignificant item.
Sprigs of Holly are classifiable as a holiday festive article.
Next thing you know, you are seeing holly on everything! Everything that the rulings determined were NOT, by themselves, festive articles, that is.
Snowmen or their likeness are not considered a holiday festive item. It’s simply a winter item, apparently, unrelated to Christmas.
But... But we don’t want to pay duty to import that big-ass inflatable snowman that sits in your front yard!
No problem.
Just slap a sprig of holly on his hat.
Viola – now it’s CHRISTMAS snowman.
Ditto the big-ass lawn penguin and his polar bear buddies.
And ditto that creepy looking giraffe that’s not actually strangling on the holiday light string, but “playing with” it, according to the product description….
A monument to animal cruelty?
No! It’s a holiday festive item! See? Someone stuck holly on the giraffe’s head!
Honestly, I found myself a little irritated by the whole development. It seemed a circumvention of the rulings put forth, just to save a few cents, at the expense of… ugly-ing up Christmas a bit more. I
t was slightly offensive to me both professionally, and aesthetically.
I mention this because of what happened to me the other night, as I walked my dog around the neighborhood.
I started seeing sprigs of holly everywhere.
I wasn’t seeing Frosty the Snowman in the neighbor’s yard. I was seeing a tiny weed on a top hat.
It wasn’t a cute inflatable penguin, it was a tiny leaf and a couple of berries on a stocking cap…
It wasn’t a giraffe strangling on….er… playing with a holiday light string. It was a giraffe with a tiny scrap of shrubbery stuck on its forehead…
I simply couldn't help myself.
Yeah, maybe I DO need a vacation.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Random Christmas thoughts
And I DO mean random…
I’ve lucked out twice so far, at the post office. Getting there with packages just at the right time, only to turn around while (next or 2nd) in line and seeing folks lined up out the door and down the sidewalk.
No way in hell I’m going back THERE anytime soon.
My luck has been pushed.
Took my last vacation day for the year last week, and went to Christkindl (Kringle) Market with Wendy and Fiona.
We’ve not many Christmas traditions, but this is one of ‘em.
http://www.chicagohotblog.com/chicago-christkindlmarket
First time we went is the very day we found out we were going to have a baby.
So technically, Fiona’s been every year.
It’s beautiful, has great vendors, lovely food and beverages and is just Christmas-y as all get out.
And this year, there was a Snow Faerie/Angel (street performer) that totally captivated Fiona (and me, and many others, for that matter).
She gave off such an aura of calm and otherworldliness, that you walked away wondering if maybe, just maybe she wasn’t actually a street performer…
A gift card is a handy, if at times impersonal gift. But if someone on your list ASKS for them….
The REAL problem with them is that they’re small, and flat, and weigh nothing, and can end up being lost amongst the other items in the bag, and end up… recycled.
We think.
We’re not positive.
We just know it’s gone.
Ouch.
If your kid sleeps for crap, AND is prone to coming to visit you around 11pm every night, just when are you supposed to put all the presents out / put together the big stuff?
Sorry, sweetie. Santa saw that you were awake, and just skipped our house this year.
Sweet dreams.
Every kiosk at the mall was out of the correct size watch batteries. But at least I spent an unnecessary hour at the mall on the Saturday before Christmas, finding this out.
Who knew that this was such a hot holiday gift idea?
“Merry Christmas, baby. I wound your watch…”
That kinda sounds like it should be on the naughty list.
And yeah, I AM the guy who puts a new $15 dollar watch battery into a 4 year old Timex that probably only cost me $30 when I bought it.
I LOVE that watch, the 6-7 times a year I actually wear it…
Daughter did us the solid of getting really sick a week BEFORE Christmas this year. So she should be cool by Saturday.
Last Christmas, her and I both had the flu, and downed Tylenol all day together while watching really bad kid’s TV.
REALLY Bad.
Caillou bad.
Barney bad.
Caillou... the show that she only asks for, when she's feverish. Coincidence?
Looking forward to spending Christmas with my family, all of whom are driving in for the weekend, weather permitting.
Even if it DOES mean I have to sleep in the basement.
Murray Christmas is never on Christmas, so this is really cool.
If you’re waiting on a punchline… there isn’t one.
Merry Christmas to all my friends and family.
May the coming year bring you all joy, good health and prosperity.
Christmas day IS in your grasp, as long as you have hands to clasp.
I’ve lucked out twice so far, at the post office. Getting there with packages just at the right time, only to turn around while (next or 2nd) in line and seeing folks lined up out the door and down the sidewalk.
No way in hell I’m going back THERE anytime soon.
My luck has been pushed.
Took my last vacation day for the year last week, and went to Christkindl (Kringle) Market with Wendy and Fiona.
We’ve not many Christmas traditions, but this is one of ‘em.
http://www.chicagohotblog.com/chicago-christkindlmarket
First time we went is the very day we found out we were going to have a baby.
So technically, Fiona’s been every year.
It’s beautiful, has great vendors, lovely food and beverages and is just Christmas-y as all get out.
And this year, there was a Snow Faerie/Angel (street performer) that totally captivated Fiona (and me, and many others, for that matter).
She gave off such an aura of calm and otherworldliness, that you walked away wondering if maybe, just maybe she wasn’t actually a street performer…
A gift card is a handy, if at times impersonal gift. But if someone on your list ASKS for them….
The REAL problem with them is that they’re small, and flat, and weigh nothing, and can end up being lost amongst the other items in the bag, and end up… recycled.
We think.
We’re not positive.
We just know it’s gone.
Ouch.
If your kid sleeps for crap, AND is prone to coming to visit you around 11pm every night, just when are you supposed to put all the presents out / put together the big stuff?
Sorry, sweetie. Santa saw that you were awake, and just skipped our house this year.
Sweet dreams.
Every kiosk at the mall was out of the correct size watch batteries. But at least I spent an unnecessary hour at the mall on the Saturday before Christmas, finding this out.
Who knew that this was such a hot holiday gift idea?
“Merry Christmas, baby. I wound your watch…”
That kinda sounds like it should be on the naughty list.
And yeah, I AM the guy who puts a new $15 dollar watch battery into a 4 year old Timex that probably only cost me $30 when I bought it.
I LOVE that watch, the 6-7 times a year I actually wear it…
Daughter did us the solid of getting really sick a week BEFORE Christmas this year. So she should be cool by Saturday.
Last Christmas, her and I both had the flu, and downed Tylenol all day together while watching really bad kid’s TV.
REALLY Bad.
Caillou bad.
Barney bad.
Caillou... the show that she only asks for, when she's feverish. Coincidence?
Looking forward to spending Christmas with my family, all of whom are driving in for the weekend, weather permitting.
Even if it DOES mean I have to sleep in the basement.
Murray Christmas is never on Christmas, so this is really cool.
If you’re waiting on a punchline… there isn’t one.
Merry Christmas to all my friends and family.
May the coming year bring you all joy, good health and prosperity.
Christmas day IS in your grasp, as long as you have hands to clasp.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Almost Home Made, with Sandra Lee
Almost Home Made is on TV, during my lunch hour. Someone always turns it on one of the TV’s at the gym, as, honestly – who DOESN’T want to work out to Almost Home Made, with Sandra Lee?
Well, me.
But I’m 5 minutes in on a 35 minute cardio workout, and there it is, right in front of me…
It’s how I got hooked on One Life To Live, a few years ago.
(And for the record, I hope Rex finds out that Clint paid someone to falsify the paternity test results, and kicks his ass, even though Clint IS his dad….)
Anyhow, I get done with my workout, and I come across this...
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/denise-vivaldo/kwanzaa-cake-sandra-lee-hanukkah-cake_b_797165.html
Which made me decide to write a blog entry…
For the most part I really enjoy Food Network’s programming.
It’s informative, and entertaining, and I get the same vicarious enjoyment from watching someone cook a fantastic meal from scratch, as I get from watching The Joy of Painting with Bob Ross, or fishing programs on a cold winter day when I’m home sick.
And of COURSE I’ve pulled recipes off of their website after seeing them made, and tried them myself.
I’m a fan.
But THIS show… Can’t stand it.
There she is, talking about a quick and easy meal she just LOVES to make when she’s having a dinner party….
Take some frozen vegetables, a couple cans of mushroom soup, some pre-cooked bacon, pre-cooked cubed potatoes, and a couple of cans of pre-cooked, pre-cubed chicken….
And for desert…. Take one box of Betty Crocker yellow cake mix, a can of sliced pineapple, and some non-dairy whipped topping…
(Seriously, she couldn’t even use ACTUAL whip cream? It comes in a spray can!!!)
I understand not everyone’s interested in cooking from scratch. I also am cognizant of time restraints, etc.
Every meal cannot be gourmet.
Good lord, how I know and accept this to be fact.
But do I REALLY need to watch someone prepare a recipe that she found on the inside lid of a container of Cool Whip?
And do so in a vaguely creepy manner?
Sandra, I have two words for you:
Hamburger Helper
Or
Popeye’s Chicken
For Desert:
Hostess Twinkies
And if it’s a really special occasion:
Boston Market
Well, me.
But I’m 5 minutes in on a 35 minute cardio workout, and there it is, right in front of me…
It’s how I got hooked on One Life To Live, a few years ago.
(And for the record, I hope Rex finds out that Clint paid someone to falsify the paternity test results, and kicks his ass, even though Clint IS his dad….)
Anyhow, I get done with my workout, and I come across this...
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/denise-vivaldo/kwanzaa-cake-sandra-lee-hanukkah-cake_b_797165.html
Which made me decide to write a blog entry…
For the most part I really enjoy Food Network’s programming.
It’s informative, and entertaining, and I get the same vicarious enjoyment from watching someone cook a fantastic meal from scratch, as I get from watching The Joy of Painting with Bob Ross, or fishing programs on a cold winter day when I’m home sick.
And of COURSE I’ve pulled recipes off of their website after seeing them made, and tried them myself.
I’m a fan.
But THIS show… Can’t stand it.
There she is, talking about a quick and easy meal she just LOVES to make when she’s having a dinner party….
Take some frozen vegetables, a couple cans of mushroom soup, some pre-cooked bacon, pre-cooked cubed potatoes, and a couple of cans of pre-cooked, pre-cubed chicken….
And for desert…. Take one box of Betty Crocker yellow cake mix, a can of sliced pineapple, and some non-dairy whipped topping…
(Seriously, she couldn’t even use ACTUAL whip cream? It comes in a spray can!!!)
I understand not everyone’s interested in cooking from scratch. I also am cognizant of time restraints, etc.
Every meal cannot be gourmet.
Good lord, how I know and accept this to be fact.
But do I REALLY need to watch someone prepare a recipe that she found on the inside lid of a container of Cool Whip?
And do so in a vaguely creepy manner?
Sandra, I have two words for you:
Hamburger Helper
Or
Popeye’s Chicken
For Desert:
Hostess Twinkies
And if it’s a really special occasion:
Boston Market
Monday, December 6, 2010
“Hey, let’s go to Toys R Us, right before Christmas!” OR “tis the season to be jolly, my dimpled butt….”
Random Thoughts and quotes from a delightful trip to Toys R US on a Saturday afternoon, three weeks before Christmas.
Thoughts in Italics. Quotes…not in italics.
More or less.
Well, a parking spot behind the store by the dumpster, right next to a front end loader’s still a parking spot…
“Loins all girded up?” as we reach the entrance…
“Seriously? SERIOUSLY????” 90 seconds later.
"we're back to on-line shopping next year. screw the postage." I whisper to Wendy, as I see what we're in for.
Two minutes later: “I’m gonna throw up” as I find myself too close to the most disgusting couple I’ve ever seen outside of those sleeping on el trains. I turn around quickly, and cover my nose with my coat sleeve. Wendy starts to pass me. I grab her shoulder.
“You don’t want to do that.” I warn her, as my stomach subsides.
“Not sure how they did it, but I’m pretty sure they’ve been smoking cat pee.”
“Did you see the McDonalds drive thru play store? Want to teach Fiona to say ‘do you want fries with that?’”
“Something kinda disheartening about the fact that little kids want to play ‘fast food restaurant employee’. Glad Fiona wants to be a cowgirl AND a veterinarian…”
“It’s on the ‘boy’s side’ of the store? You’ve got the store split up between boys side and girls side?”
(what is this, a Jr. High School dance?)
I was assured that not only is this the case, but a slinky dog is a boy’s toy.
As are board games, blocks, puzzles and all electronica, apparently.
And apparently, using same store design logic, all toddlers are… girls.
And boys should not have stuffed animals.
Or sleds.
Or yo yo’s or doctors kits or…
“Sweet geezus I hate this place.”
We found what we wanted, eventually, or as close to it as we were to get at this store.
Baby doll accessories are pretty clearly “girl side” items, so it wasn’t difficult. Trying to find anything else, since we were there and already miserable, was nearly impossible.
Oh, and the only slinky dog in the place - ON THE GIRLS SIDE OF THE STORE!!!!
“Where’s little Ms. Customer Service?!?? I want to show her….”
“Let it go.”
And I let the slinky dog go, too, as it was a cheap plastic one designed for toddlers, and not the one I was looking for.
We get in line, and… stay there. For several soul-eating lifetimes.
Finally, it was our turn, next. When out of nowhere, we were approached by a guy who had one item, and didn’t want to wait in line like everyone else. He assured us he had cash in hand for it, and could we please… We sere standing there with three whole items in our cart. $25 worth of toys for all of our time and trouble and loss of soul….
“Sure, go ahead.”
When he thanked us and whisked in front of us, is when we realized he reeked of alcohol.
“Cocktails first, THEN Toys R Us…. I can see the appeal…”
Finally, we paid for our purchase, after assuring the check out person that we were not interested in opening a charge account today (or ever!!!!) thanks.
“I think I just caught scabies.”
“You did NOT just catch scabies.”
We walk through the door, out into the parking lot.
“Car exhaust never smelled so good.”
Wendy busted out laughing.
“Thank god I didn’t have to go through that by myself.”
“Hey let’s go to Walmart next!” My wife says, not quite keeping a straight face.
“Sounds great! Or we could play in traffic…”
We get in our car, behind the store, next to the front end loader, near the dumpster. Other cars see this, and eagerly await their turn to enjoy our crappy parking spot.
“Suckers!!! Flee!!!! FLEE!!!!!”
I put the car in gear, back out, smile and wave to the people who blocked traffic so I could back out and they could pull in. They smile and wave back.
“Let’s go get custard. We earned it. “
Thoughts in Italics. Quotes…not in italics.
More or less.
Well, a parking spot behind the store by the dumpster, right next to a front end loader’s still a parking spot…
“Loins all girded up?” as we reach the entrance…
“Seriously? SERIOUSLY????” 90 seconds later.
"we're back to on-line shopping next year. screw the postage." I whisper to Wendy, as I see what we're in for.
Two minutes later: “I’m gonna throw up” as I find myself too close to the most disgusting couple I’ve ever seen outside of those sleeping on el trains. I turn around quickly, and cover my nose with my coat sleeve. Wendy starts to pass me. I grab her shoulder.
“You don’t want to do that.” I warn her, as my stomach subsides.
“Not sure how they did it, but I’m pretty sure they’ve been smoking cat pee.”
“Did you see the McDonalds drive thru play store? Want to teach Fiona to say ‘do you want fries with that?’”
“Something kinda disheartening about the fact that little kids want to play ‘fast food restaurant employee’. Glad Fiona wants to be a cowgirl AND a veterinarian…”
“It’s on the ‘boy’s side’ of the store? You’ve got the store split up between boys side and girls side?”
(what is this, a Jr. High School dance?)
I was assured that not only is this the case, but a slinky dog is a boy’s toy.
As are board games, blocks, puzzles and all electronica, apparently.
And apparently, using same store design logic, all toddlers are… girls.
And boys should not have stuffed animals.
Or sleds.
Or yo yo’s or doctors kits or…
“Sweet geezus I hate this place.”
We found what we wanted, eventually, or as close to it as we were to get at this store.
Baby doll accessories are pretty clearly “girl side” items, so it wasn’t difficult. Trying to find anything else, since we were there and already miserable, was nearly impossible.
Oh, and the only slinky dog in the place - ON THE GIRLS SIDE OF THE STORE!!!!
“Where’s little Ms. Customer Service?!?? I want to show her….”
“Let it go.”
And I let the slinky dog go, too, as it was a cheap plastic one designed for toddlers, and not the one I was looking for.
We get in line, and… stay there. For several soul-eating lifetimes.
Finally, it was our turn, next. When out of nowhere, we were approached by a guy who had one item, and didn’t want to wait in line like everyone else. He assured us he had cash in hand for it, and could we please… We sere standing there with three whole items in our cart. $25 worth of toys for all of our time and trouble and loss of soul….
“Sure, go ahead.”
When he thanked us and whisked in front of us, is when we realized he reeked of alcohol.
“Cocktails first, THEN Toys R Us…. I can see the appeal…”
Finally, we paid for our purchase, after assuring the check out person that we were not interested in opening a charge account today (or ever!!!!) thanks.
“I think I just caught scabies.”
“You did NOT just catch scabies.”
We walk through the door, out into the parking lot.
“Car exhaust never smelled so good.”
Wendy busted out laughing.
“Thank god I didn’t have to go through that by myself.”
“Hey let’s go to Walmart next!” My wife says, not quite keeping a straight face.
“Sounds great! Or we could play in traffic…”
We get in our car, behind the store, next to the front end loader, near the dumpster. Other cars see this, and eagerly await their turn to enjoy our crappy parking spot.
“Suckers!!! Flee!!!! FLEE!!!!!”
I put the car in gear, back out, smile and wave to the people who blocked traffic so I could back out and they could pull in. They smile and wave back.
“Let’s go get custard. We earned it. “
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Making $65 bucks a day – The hard way.
So, I was in a movie, yesterday.
Not something you get to lead with, very often.
A guy I was kids with, really hooked me up. His friend’s in charge of all the casting for extras, on some major films. My buddy tends to help him out, when he can. This one’s filming in Chicago, my friend said “Hey, you wanna be an extra?” and then made it super easy and hassle-free for me to do so.
I was in a scene that was supposed to be taking place in a bitterly cold Minneapolis neighborhood.
I jotted down notes throughout the process, which gave me something to do.
Something to do on a day where I spent huge amounts of time with… nothing to do.
6:50 – arrived.
7:10 – stood in line for pay voucher
7:50 – done with wardrobe. My red hat and scarf were, and I quote “Iffy”. So I had to exchange my pay voucher for a darker hat and scarf
8:00 – discovered that the food trailer has a self serve spigot for coffee, sticking out the side of the trailer. I need to get me one of those…
8:05 - Coffee interrupted, for hair and makeup. I’m bald, and am wearing a blue stocking cap. My hair, as it turns out, is fine. My face is apparently ok without makeup as well, since I’ll be walking down a street…
Sat around for awhile, eating a little breakfast and listening to three other people talk about “the business” whilst helping them with a crossword.
8:45 – sitting in a bar on the north end of the set, with all the other extras, awaiting assignment. If I had decided to wear a suit and tie, I might have got a better extra gig. Who knew? Three different sports channels and GMA on TV. No idea if or when I’ll be called to set.
Watched them spraying “snow” in the yards on the van ride over. Bitterly cold Minneapolis, but still lots of green leaves on the trees.
Awkward.
9:30 - Sitting in the bar with a bunch of increasingly crabby people. I’m hanging out with two people that had answered last minute desperate phone calls for “Café Worker” roles. They’re not “Pedestrians”, nor “bus riders”. Cool chick predicts she will be forgotten about, and will be riding that bar stool all day.
11:40 – back in the bar with my friends the café workers.
I’ve spent the last two hours, walking up and down a street. Southbound on the West side, Northbound on the East side, and vice versa. When I was walking southbound on the West side, I was told that I was to be, and I quote:
“A fast walker. You’re not angry, you’re not running, you just happen to walk faster than everyone else.”
But when I got switched to the east side of the street, someone else informed me that I was… walking too fast.
My goal in life became to time my walk so that I’d be as close to where the bus was stopping (all the action was on the bus) as possible.
And I was nailing it. Take after take.
Until YET another person took me aside and said:
“We really don’t want you directly in front of the bus when it stops. So if you get to the corner by the bus stop, before we cut, you’ll need to turn the corner and keep walking.”
I watch another extra walking with a pronounced limp on the first few takes. All the sudden, on the next take, he was walking normal. The assistants to the asst. director apparently healed him of his "affliction". Puh-raaaaiiiise Geez-Hus!
I become friends with the two women smoking outside the diner at the corner by the bus stop. I stop for a second and say hi to them as I walk by, and then we critique each other’s performances after each take.
“How was my corner turn this time?”
“I dunno, it really didn’t seem like you were feeeeeeeeeeling it.”
“Well, you totally OWNED the ‘good morning!’ and cigarette drag this take. “
12:45: We’re done. And my new friend the café worker’s prediction came true. She was the only one that did absolutely nothing all morning. Her partner in crime got to play an EMT, and share a scene with Kate Winslet. HIS day turned out pretty okey dokey.
And there are no vans to drive us back to the tent area, because crew’s on break. So we hump the 6 blocks back to the command center, arriving 15 minutes or so later.
I turn in my hat and scarf for my pay voucher.
I turn in my pay voucher.
Food smells great. But we’re told we’re not allowed to eat yet. We’ll need to wait a half hour for the crew to finish up and vacate the tent. And there’s no shuttles back to the parking lot until after they’ve eaten, either. I see no reason to stick around, and my near-to-tears café worker buddy has expressed strong desire to go as well (uh, to say the least...). I get a picture in my head as to where the parking lot is in relation to where we were, and we take off. I’m in my car 20 minutes later.
Guess I’m glad I did it. My effort in obtaining the gig was minimal, thanks to my friend.
It WAS an interesting experience. I’ll certainly be more selective about the type of extra work I do, should the opportunity arise again.
For instance, I won’t sign on to walk up and down the same block by myself for two hours, in 45 degree temps…….
Not something you get to lead with, very often.
A guy I was kids with, really hooked me up. His friend’s in charge of all the casting for extras, on some major films. My buddy tends to help him out, when he can. This one’s filming in Chicago, my friend said “Hey, you wanna be an extra?” and then made it super easy and hassle-free for me to do so.
I was in a scene that was supposed to be taking place in a bitterly cold Minneapolis neighborhood.
I jotted down notes throughout the process, which gave me something to do.
Something to do on a day where I spent huge amounts of time with… nothing to do.
6:50 – arrived.
7:10 – stood in line for pay voucher
7:50 – done with wardrobe. My red hat and scarf were, and I quote “Iffy”. So I had to exchange my pay voucher for a darker hat and scarf
8:00 – discovered that the food trailer has a self serve spigot for coffee, sticking out the side of the trailer. I need to get me one of those…
8:05 - Coffee interrupted, for hair and makeup. I’m bald, and am wearing a blue stocking cap. My hair, as it turns out, is fine. My face is apparently ok without makeup as well, since I’ll be walking down a street…
Sat around for awhile, eating a little breakfast and listening to three other people talk about “the business” whilst helping them with a crossword.
8:45 – sitting in a bar on the north end of the set, with all the other extras, awaiting assignment. If I had decided to wear a suit and tie, I might have got a better extra gig. Who knew? Three different sports channels and GMA on TV. No idea if or when I’ll be called to set.
Watched them spraying “snow” in the yards on the van ride over. Bitterly cold Minneapolis, but still lots of green leaves on the trees.
Awkward.
9:30 - Sitting in the bar with a bunch of increasingly crabby people. I’m hanging out with two people that had answered last minute desperate phone calls for “Café Worker” roles. They’re not “Pedestrians”, nor “bus riders”. Cool chick predicts she will be forgotten about, and will be riding that bar stool all day.
11:40 – back in the bar with my friends the café workers.
I’ve spent the last two hours, walking up and down a street. Southbound on the West side, Northbound on the East side, and vice versa. When I was walking southbound on the West side, I was told that I was to be, and I quote:
“A fast walker. You’re not angry, you’re not running, you just happen to walk faster than everyone else.”
But when I got switched to the east side of the street, someone else informed me that I was… walking too fast.
My goal in life became to time my walk so that I’d be as close to where the bus was stopping (all the action was on the bus) as possible.
And I was nailing it. Take after take.
Until YET another person took me aside and said:
“We really don’t want you directly in front of the bus when it stops. So if you get to the corner by the bus stop, before we cut, you’ll need to turn the corner and keep walking.”
I watch another extra walking with a pronounced limp on the first few takes. All the sudden, on the next take, he was walking normal. The assistants to the asst. director apparently healed him of his "affliction". Puh-raaaaiiiise Geez-Hus!
I become friends with the two women smoking outside the diner at the corner by the bus stop. I stop for a second and say hi to them as I walk by, and then we critique each other’s performances after each take.
“How was my corner turn this time?”
“I dunno, it really didn’t seem like you were feeeeeeeeeeling it.”
“Well, you totally OWNED the ‘good morning!’ and cigarette drag this take. “
12:45: We’re done. And my new friend the café worker’s prediction came true. She was the only one that did absolutely nothing all morning. Her partner in crime got to play an EMT, and share a scene with Kate Winslet. HIS day turned out pretty okey dokey.
And there are no vans to drive us back to the tent area, because crew’s on break. So we hump the 6 blocks back to the command center, arriving 15 minutes or so later.
I turn in my hat and scarf for my pay voucher.
I turn in my pay voucher.
Food smells great. But we’re told we’re not allowed to eat yet. We’ll need to wait a half hour for the crew to finish up and vacate the tent. And there’s no shuttles back to the parking lot until after they’ve eaten, either. I see no reason to stick around, and my near-to-tears café worker buddy has expressed strong desire to go as well (uh, to say the least...). I get a picture in my head as to where the parking lot is in relation to where we were, and we take off. I’m in my car 20 minutes later.
Guess I’m glad I did it. My effort in obtaining the gig was minimal, thanks to my friend.
It WAS an interesting experience. I’ll certainly be more selective about the type of extra work I do, should the opportunity arise again.
For instance, I won’t sign on to walk up and down the same block by myself for two hours, in 45 degree temps…….
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