Idle Ramblings of a Slightly Mad Man

I am shocked!  I am amazed!  I am stunned! 

I posted about Imported American Cheese and I had the most hits ever on my blog.  I had 75 hits for the day.  Now I am sure to many of you, 75 hits is no big deal, but for me that is huge.  That is about 65 more hits then I usually get.  There are actually people reading this silly thing.  The last time I got such huge hit numbers, if you can call 32 huge, was when I posted about black bags and posted it with the tag of Porn.  Interestingly enough, people like to read porn.

But what is it that got people to read this?  Was it that people were interested in learning about imported american cheese?  Or are people warped like me and enjoy reading about me torturing my wife?  Or was there just nothing better posted on WordPress to read?  I am almost positive that it is not latter.

Whatever the reasons, I am glad that people are reading.  To the 5 regulars that visit, thanks.  To everyone else, thank you too. 

75 hits!  75 hits!  Great-googly-moogly!  75 hits!

can you tell i have no life?

My wife can be very nieve at times.  This allows her to sometimes get taken advantage of.  I remember one occasion, back when we were dating, I had sent her to the local corner store to buy lunchmeat and cheese for making sandwhiches.  I thought that it would be funny if I sent her in asking for a pound of domestic ham and a pound of imported american. 

She enters my local corner deli and gives the store owner the order exactly as I told her.  When she tells the owner she wants the imported american he tries to correct her by saying “you mean imported swiss cheese?”  My wife replied defiantely ”No, imported american cheese”  The owner looked at her for a moment and then laughed at her.  My wife of course did not know why this guy was laughing and in near tears.  The owner paused from his hysterical laughing for a moment and asked “You are Markalan’s new girlfriend aren’t you.” 

Needless to say when my wife came home she was really, really angry with me.  When she was telling me the story, I was laughing so hard my sides hurt.  She called me just about every name in the book as I was laughing.  To this day, almost 9 years later, she will still not go into that store.

I went into the store a few days after the incident.  The owner took one look at me and burst out laughing.  With a store full of people, he recounted the incident, laughing and crying as he told it.  The 8 other people in the store laughed as well.  The guy thought it was the funniest thing ever to happen in his store.  To this day he will tell the story when I walk in to anyone that is working with him or to the customers.  He even for a brief time changed the sign behind the counter that lists the lunchmeats from american cheese to imported american. 

I don’t know how my wife puts up with me.

Again with the toilet paper.  I know, I know!  I have a compulsion over it.  But this time it is different.  This time I have issues with Scott Paper Extra Soft rolls. 

 Normally we just use whatever is on sale.  I mean Toilet paper is toilet paper.  You wipe your ass with it and flush it away. 

I never understand anyone that has fancy colors or prints on their TP.  If I am in a house where the person has TP with fancy prints or colors I figure, Fuck ‘em!  I gonna use extra just because you think your are so pretentious that you need fancy TP.  It’s TP for God’s sake!  It does not need to be fancy!

My wife did the shopping and thought that this Extra Soft would be nice to have.  I didn’t say anything.  If my wife wants extra soft for her fanny then she is entitled to it this one time.  I dutifully put the TP in the bathroom closet until the time came that it was needed.  And needed soon it was.

All was fine until I tried to put the roll on the little dispenser thing that was built into the wall, that came with the 50 year old house we live in, that I never thought in a million years would need to be changed because a roll of Extra Soft DOES NOT FIT!!!!!! 

Seriously, this roll is so thick that I cannot get the little roller thing that goes into the tube of paper, that attaches to the holder thing in the wall, that pops into the little notches, it is that thick.  I have 24 rolls of Extra Soft paper that will not fit in the holder. 

My wife just simply says that we will have to just keep the TP on the back of the toilet for now.  Now I have to be a contortionist to wipe my ass?   I don’t bed that way!  If I did I would live in the circus.  No, wait!  My life already is a circus.  Now every time I have to wipe, I have to twist around and bend my arms at weird angles just to get the TP.

Wait!  This gets even better.  Because this stuff is so extra thick, it will not peel away from the roll easily like a normal roll does.  No!  As you try to pull it off the roll it rips.  Not in easy to use little squares mind you, but in little itty, bitty, unuseable little confetti sized pieces that a cockroach would be unable to use, they are that small. 

I now have TP confetti that I have to try to use without getting my fingers all messy and coated in shit!  All I want is a nice quiet time, reading my latest edition of my Spiderman comic book.  All I want is to have a peaceful time, to easily wipe my ass, with easy to use toilet paper, that fits in the toilet paper despenser, and pulls easily from the roll.  Is that too much to ask?

I mentioned the stupid stuff my sister-in-law says in the previous Donnaism posts and I now have another.

We were talking about the latest Lindsey Lohan arrest and my sister proceeded to say “She has the world at her ass, she does not need to be doing this.”

 After we were done laughing our own asses off about what she just said we explained that the reason we found it so funny was because the correct phrase is “world at her feet.”

The woman kills me.  She is a classic, that one.

I was at a presentation at a conference and I was sitting there and listening to the presenter talk about his topic when he used a racial slur for Polish people.  Immediately after he said it he excused it by saying “I can say that because I am Polish.”  There was a laugh from the crowd and the presentation continued like nothing happened.

This got me to thinking about the “n-word” controversy and debate that has been raging on forever and how come people find it acceptable for the “white” people to refer to themselves as a racial slur but when the black community refer to themselves as the “n-word” we get all upset. 

Suddenly, what is good for the goose is not good for the gander?  Why is it that the n-word is more controversial than the slur for a Polish person?  Is there some list of racial slurs and their ranking of offensiveness? 

The media has been flooded with stories lately about funerals of the n-word and banning the n-word, but why not at the same time ban the Polish slur, Italian slur, American Indian slurs, Irish slurs, and the list could go on and on.  Why is it that America is obsessed with only this one slur?  At the same time why is it that America can’t make light of the n-word like people make fun of the Polish slur?  Is it that Americans have become desensitized to the Polish slur and the others because some have downplayed these words to the point to where they are no longer hurtful, hateful words?   

Why can’t we downplay and desensitize the n-word?  Why is this the one word that America cannot get past?  Why is this the one word that is off limits? 

When the presentation was over, the speaker circulated through the room and mingled with the crowd, shaking hands and holding little discussions.  What I found interesting was that no one mentioned anything about his little slur.  What I am sure of, is if this man was Black and referred to himself as the n-word, everyone would be buzzing about it. 

I wrote about the new kitten we acquired several weeks ago and she has been progressing just like she should.  She has her first vet appointment this week.  She is now about 12-13 weeks old and full of life.

But what this posting is really about is how I continually get myself into trouble by speaking without thinking.  My wife and I were on the sofa watching TV and the kitten had curled up between my wife and I.  My wife was gently stroking the kitten’s soft fur.  Our conversation went like this……

Wife:  She is so soft.  So pretty. (softly and lovingly)

Me:  Yes she is.  (focused on the TV)

Wife:  I thought they were supposed to have that really soft and fuzzy hair as a kitten.

Me:  I have no idea.  (still focused on the TV and now wondering when I became a kitten expert)

Wife:  Don’t they do that anymore (very seriously asked)

Me:  No, that is a style that went out in the 80’s (very seriously answered)

Wife:  Idiot (scoops up the kitten and leaves the room)

I don’t know why I am so excited.  It is just an example of what a poor showing this blog has been.  I think I started this in April or May and only now have I passed the 1000 views mark.  Thanks to the same 3 regular readers, oh wait, make that 4 now, that come here to read this blog.  Oh Well, 1000 views!!!!  Woo Hoo!

I went to a party over the weekend.  It was a birthday party for a young kid that my kids were friends with.  It was a very nice party on a very nice weekend where we were able to sit out in the yard and enjoy the unusually cool summer weather.  There was one of those large trampoline in the yard that they kids liked to play on and a small pool too. 

Here is what really got me, for the most part I was the only parent there that was in that part of the large yard keeping an eye on the kids.  There was maybe 8 kids at any one time out there by the pool and the trampoline. 

I feel that my kids are my responsibility and that I should be there to watch them.  Other parents apparently did not feel the same way.  They all sat there drinking their beers and eating their hotdogs while I stayed sober and kept my eyes on everyone’s kids. 

It is not that I mind.  It is not that I am looking for any appreciation or thanks for it because I certainly didn’t get any, but when did it become my responsibility keeping eyes on others kids?  Why was it assumed that I would be the responsible parent?  Why can’t one or two other parents come and sit there with me to help keep an eye on their kids?  What if I wanted to get something to eat?  Or use the bathroom?  Those kids would have been without supervision. 

Occasionally a parent would come over to check on their kids, but their stay would never last more than a moment or two and then they would go back to the rest of the adults.  I just don’t feel comfortable leaving kids from age 3-8 by themselves in an area where they are not in constant sight of any adults. 

I’m not an overprotective parent.  I don’t make my kids go through life in a helmet and padding to protect them from every little thing, but I do practice common sense and in today’s world, I sometimes think that I am the only one.

I find that going to the dentist is relaxing and good for the soul.  Seriously.  I truely find it to be a pleasant time.  I have found a great place where the people are friendly and professional.  The best part is that the hygenist does not sit there with her fingers and tools all in my mouth and try to have a conversation with me. 

I hate dentists like that.  I used to go to one that would not only talk but try to ask you questions, and not just the yes and no questions, the kind that require to answer in sentence form.  And then, when you try to answer the question, their tools and fingers are all in your mouth and he looks at you angrily because you had the gall to answer back.

I sit there and sometimes feel that I could almost fall asleep in the chair if it were not for my mouth wide open.  She will have a little conversation at the begining and at the end of our appointment.  She’s perfectly wonderful and delightful. 

I know most people fear the dentist or get anxious about going but I find it calming.  I don’t mind the scraping, to poking, the proding, the probing, etc…  I know, that is just one more thing that I have posted about my oddities, but I guess I just don’t mind it.  I could do another huge long post about similar things that I like, like my wife picking my zits, my hair played with when I am at the haircutters, etc…  I’ll save those things for another day. 

I’ll end here, enjoying my clean teeth for a few more hours before I attack a nice large cheesesteak for lunch.

I hate driving up to an intersection with stop signs.  I hate that when I get there at my stop sign, there is another car arriving at the stop sign at just the same time.  There we are, stopped, waiting for the other to make a move.  So I do the polite thing, I wave him on.  At that same time, the other driver waves me on.  Then we both go and break hard looking at each other with dumb looks on our faces and waving the apologetic wave to each other.  Then again we both wave each other through and again break hard.  AUGH!  Why does this have to be so damn fracking difficult.  I just want to get to the other side.  I want to get through this stop sign and back up the road to my destination.  I wave one last time and the other driver waves back.  This time I don’t go.  Neither do they.  AUGH!!!!!  You @)*%)@$*%@)*%* piece of @^%)_!+!  You are really starting to piss me off.  Finally, without any wave, I gun the gas, hoping, praying that you don’t do the same thing and wreck my truck, and I make it through.  I look in my rear-view mirror and see you pass harmlessly behind me.  I take a deep breath and calm down.  I made it.  I proceed down the road approach another intersection, another stop sign and another car.  Will this madness ever end?