More Ruminations...

By RICK RANTAMAKI http://rantamaki.blogspot.com

Back by popular demand, even more daily ruminations! (also known as mental vomit) I'm beginning to think these should be printed. . . on toilet paper.

1. "Each time you make a choice, that creates an alternate reality in a new universe.” Snatching the menu from my hands, my wife handed it to the waitress and said, “He’ll have today’s special."

2. Normally just a metaphor, I once found myself in a backwoods bar literally proclaiming, “I don’t want to get into a pissing contest over this.”

3. A recent US market research study revealed that 40 percent of Twitter messages are “pointless babble.” The study went on to say stuff about other things, but I got sidetracked while Twittering updates of my prostate exam.

4. What kinda day are you having when a prostate exam is a humorous convenience?

5. Behold! I’ve been permitted to venture outside – unsupervised.

6. If I could only be half as proud of MY book as the college bookstore is of THEIRS.

7. From today’s Reuters newsfeed – “Cash-strapped Cuba says toilet paper running short” (I dunno, maybe they should print their money on something else.)

8. “…and who brought the water cannon when you needed talked down from that ledge, eh?”

9. From the “Senility’s Surprises Everyone” File: Today, a 60-year-old man was convicted of groping Minnie Mouse during his visit to Walt Disney World. The man claimed he was just trying to locate Minnie’s mouse pad.

10. Can the folks at Oxford Dictionary sue me for plagiarism?

11. Welcome to the South – where the mirrors quiver to the beat of thumping Bibles and the Holy Water is served iced and thickly sweetened!

12. I’ve got raisins on the bran.

13. While making a run for more beer, a brazen drunkard (whose license was revoked because of a previous DUI conviction) attempted to evade police by weaving in and out of traffic on his riding lawnmower. The police chief was later overheard saying, “He thought he was a cut above arrest.”

14. “The Guiding Light” soap opera will end its record 57-year run. Here’s a suggestion for the show’s finale: During a steamy adulterous interlude, the walls of the set fall away exposing a group of monkeys backstage, spinning a wheel labeled: amnesia, plane crash, adultery, evil twin, dream sequence, lost at sea…

15. Spellcheck: Can't live with it, can't liv witout et.

16. Nigerian Army attacks Islam . . . with email scam, which promises an all out holy war (provided the Islamist supply the Nigerian Army with an initial stockpile of weapons). “Nobody falls for that crap,” said an Islamic official, unaware of his colleagues ululating in the streets below.

17. “Accountability is not my concern, ‘cause Sunday resets absolve me,” was too wordy for their bumper sticker so they went with, “Born to Pray.”

18. Born to be riled.

19. Dementia: It's where the "YOU ARE HERE" arrow is pointing (and I thought I was in Sane).

20. Mondays: It’s what caffeine is all about.

21. It’s neurotoxin time; a little pick me up to put me down.

22. The necessity for his bicycle helmet wasn’t immediately clear until the well-dressed lad said, “Good afternoon sir, do you realize your inclination towards caffeine is destroying your relationship with Him?”

23. Learning Spanish (the hard way): Apparently, "Emergency Room" means "FREE health clinic" in Spanish. (Hey, this full immersion crap is paying off.)

24. I exist only to satisfy your idea of reality . . . and this is what you make of me?!

25. NASA officials recently admitted they accidentally taped-over Neil Armstrong’s infamous “giant leap” video. That’s right, what was quite possibly the most significant film footage captured by mankind now only contains the ‘79 season opener of Diff’rent Strokes. Just goes to show, you really DON’T want a rocket scientist working the VCR.

26. From the "All Eyes on Us" File: We piled into a booth at a local pancake house. My two sisters and I on one side, mom and dad on the other. Before the waitress could take our orders, mom’s side of the booth collasped with a thunderous snap. Our dad slowly slid down the lopsided bench and into mom. Smiling broadly behind his bushy gray mustache he said, “I like this place, it’s cozy.”

27. According to California tax officials, legalizing pot could generate an estimated $1.4 billion in revenue for the cash-strapped state. The officials went on to say that they plan to continue their analysis some time after the pizza dude arrives.

28. A story my mother liked to recount: A kid in her elementary class raised his hand during a lesson and asked to go to the bathroom. The elderly teacher, who was notoriously hard of hearing, earnestly replied, “You can sharpen it later.”

29. From the Epiphany File of my childhood: “If you have nothing nice to say,” mom once chided, “then don’t say anything at all.” Without a hitch, I responded, “So, tell me more about this sarcasm stuff.”

30. There’re times when age knocks you for a loop. Moments when you realize, life’s happened. And when you’re finally able to refocus, it becomes clear… the message was delivered by a younger generation.

31. Okay, why would anybody publically claim to be Michael Jackson’s cosmetic surgeon?

32. From the Preposterous File: The lab results are in and whadda you know, I'm a child of Michael Jackson too!

33. I politely declined the invitation to attend Michael Jackson’s funeral citing, “He lost touch with me once I started middle school .”

34. An entry on our subdivision’s online forum (verbatim): “how many rules we need ,does wee need all that does we realy think wee need to hold grown ups hand and tell them everything...“ Apparently, I overlooked the Lobotomy Clinic on our amenities list.

35. How many movie trailers does it take till you forget what movie you came to see?

36. The cat continued to clean its paws as the lieutenant sifted through the crime scene. The only witness crouched in the corner, wrapped in a blanket and sobbing. She wasn’t ready to talk. She didn’t need to, because the discarded Scratching Post condom wrapper said it all.

37. Sometimes I even surprise myself, especially when my arm's asleep.

38. From the Distorted Ego File: We waited patiently while the harried clerk attended to some other customers. As the clerk tried to sort out a myriad of requests, she turned to me and mindlessly said, “You're something else.” I turned to my wife and said, “You see, that's what I've been trying to tell you all along.”

39. From the No Respect File: During a workload meeting one of the principals indicated he needed Adam S. for the afternoon, which would temporarily pull Adam S. from Adam B.’s project. So I said, quite cleverly, “Sooo, you’ll be splitting Adams today?” Not one laugh. Not one. For a moment I wondered if perhaps I didn't say it out loud, but the incredulous glares said otherwise.

40. "Why do I keep asking myself questions? I dunno. Do I enjoy interviewing myself? Yes, because it keeps you from asking questions I'm trying to avoid. Can I go on like this? Absolutely. I'm prepared to do this for as many seasons as they'll pay me." - Kate Gosselin

41. Shhhhh... I'm secretly controlling the plane with my cell phone. Flaps up, flaps down, flaps up, flaps down, flaps up...

42. Do you think the airlines train their pilots to mumble morosely over the intercom?

43. Tough Crowd: I've tried several times, but no one at this airport is amused by my Herve Villechaize impersonation.

44. Alright, I kept runnin' into this same guy in the airport restroom (he was singin' and pissin' and carrying on) and I thought he lived there or something, but during my last sortie I figured out it was just a full-length mirror.

45. Alone with my thoughts (which violates a restraining order somewhere).

© Copywrite 2009 Rick Rantamaki

Adventures in Pine Strawin'

By Rick Rantamaki http://rantamaki.blogspot.com

DACULA, GA – The once vibrant reddish-brown pine straw in our backyard has faded to a dull grayish eyesore, but this is the normal cycle of our suburbia landscape. It’s like mood-scaping; lively and fresh in the spring and then it gradually shifts to dreary and somber in the winter.

We have about 8,000sqft of hill to cover and most of it’s on an extreme slope that rises nearly as high as our house. Due to the severity of the slope and its vast area, we usually outsource this project. This has led to some interesting encounters.

Last year we hired some good-ol’ southern boys to do the job. The trio was lead by a man named “Bo”.

Bo was a gruff, disheveled man who, apparently, was from someplace where clothes are laundered only if you wear them in the rain and teeth have been dropped from the evolutionary tree. He drove an old rustic-blue Chevy pickup with cigarette smoke-stained windows and a warped 8-track stuck on Merle Haggard. (I believe Merle was singing something about how “his mama tried to raise him right”.)

Bo was in charge of his two cousins (yes, we assumed they were related). Neither cousin spoke. One was scraggly and lanky with a sun-faded ‘Members Only’ jacket and an Oak Ridge Boys concert t-shirt – that appeared to be his only shirt since “The Dukes of Hazzard” went off the air. The other cousin was considerably shorter and, given the griminess of his hands, must have been on a sabbatical from his carnival duties.

They may have been a sordid bunch, but they sure worked hard. It took them a few hours to finish and in appreciation for their hard efforts, I bought them lunch too. I thought, surely they’ll remember our generosity and make an effort to see that we are taken care of next year.

So, when we needed to re-pine straw our hill this year we optimistically called Bo and, of course, his number is no longer in service. Yeah, I’m an idiot. Investing in the loyalty of pine straw laborers is like buying an extended warranty for your cell phone – you’re just going to replace it next year anyway. Besides, how long can pine straw laborers hide from the law?

This sparked a debate about the fate of ol’ Bo: perhaps his trailer burned down, or his sister’s paternity test came back positive, or he’s become the gourmet chef at Café Risqué – at Exit 173 where truckers and couples are welcome and fine food and topless dancing are the order of the day.

Either way, we had to find someone else, and, little did we know, that wasn’t going to be easy. Because, as it turns out, pine straw is in short supply this year, which forced us to prowl the local streets like druggies looking for a connection.

Finally, after weeks of searching, my wife stumbled upon some Hispanic guys that sell AND install pine straw. She setup delivery for Saturday, but, she noted, “They never asked where we live”.

Sure enough, we get a phone call Saturday morning from “Freddy”. Freddy’s mastery of English is a bit rough, to say the least, and that led to an interesting exchange:

“Hi Freddy.”

“Jess, how do I get to jew. I coming from one two four.”

“Near the county line?”, I asked.

“Jess”

“Okay, take 124 to Hamilton Mill and make a left.”

“Right, make right at Hampton Mill—“

“No, no, make a LEFT on Hamilton Mill Parkway.”

“Right, Hampton Mill.”

This is going well. Why the hell did I take French in high school? Why is it even offered? Did I subconsciously want to runaway to Canada? Now, unless Freddy wanted some "aimer chaud", which roughly translates to “hot lovin’” (yes, these are the useful things I remember from French class), we were going to have a hard time communicating.

Perhaps, I thought, he’ll understand me if I used my Universal English. By "Universal", I mean draw out the words like: “Dee–rive–on–till–it dead–ends–o–in–too–Jim–Moore–o–road-o.” Somehow, adding an ‘o’ helps me feel like I’m speaking Spanish.

Twenty minutes and four phone calls later, I agreed to meet Freddy’s cousin at a nearby convenience store.

As it turns out, Freddy’s cousin (let’s just call him Juan) was a portly little fellow with a broad white smile. His jovial mix of Spanish and English was just enough to keep me happily confused. We had complete conversations, laughing and smiling, even though I could only make out half of what he was saying. I believe this is what they call “partial immersion”. (A couple of days with this guy and I should be able to read ALL the posters at the DMV.)

Juan dropped off the pine straw in my backyard along with his non-English speaking workers. He gave them some instructions, then he left to get more pine straw.

I don’t know where Juan went, but he was gone for hours. I began to wonder if this was some kind of scam. (Stick with me a minute, because this made sense – briefly.) Here’s how the scam works: They abandon a couple of their guys at your house and you’re force to take them in – like stray cats. You feed them, clothe them, and next thing you know you’re throwing them a graduation party and then you’re the best man at their wedding and suddenly their children are calling you “papá magnífico”.

Well, I’m not having any of that. I have enough dependents as it is. So I began to devise a plan to take them home myself. Yes, there’s a language barrier, but when I’m determined, I can find a way. I could only imagine what the conversation would be like as I attempted to drive them home…

“Do I turn right here? Do I turn el left-o? Who has to pee? el leak-o?”

If I could just get them to point, I think we can make it.

But, before I could put my plan into action, Juan returned with more pine straw. They finished the job and, to my relief, Juan took his co-workers home with him.

The backyard looks muy magnífico.

Next week we plan to mulch the front yard…ourselves.