Onea those damn “define” websites lends “something given voluntarily without payment in return, as to show favor toward someone, honor an occasion, or make a gesture of assistance; present”
Gifts… children. Weather that is comfy in a car that ain’t gots no blower fan for heat or AC… A dog’s loyalty… The receiving end of a smile… Being on either end of a compliment.
I worked for one of the coolest bosses I ever had in the mid-80’s.. I taught Elementary PE, she, Irene DeArman, was the Principal. One of her favorite sayings was “catch them doing good.”… Who woulda thunk the impact that mighta had on some wet-behind-the-ears dude that oversaw gymnastics, push-ups, pull-ups, recess, Hill Dill, Dodge Ball, the 50 yard dash, etc, etc, but it was impactive.
We all love compliment – a gift. Hard for some to lend – perfect from others to hear “just in the nick of time.” Thanks to that lesson, whenever I hear/see “catch ‘em doing good”, I try to relate/thank, same. Victor, suggesting you’re perfect? Quoting my stepson, “not no’s, but hells no’s”… Twas (hearing that) simply onea those life impactive moments where you stop and think “wow… that REALLY makes sense” and growing up in the 60’s, “far out.”
Gifts… a simple email. A smiley face affixed to a sticky note at your desk. A voicemail with the word “love” in there. Casting eyes upon someone from a bit ago, the impetus for the smile that it conjures up – the so very damn many happy thoughts/mems that go thru your brain of u/this person from yesteryear – a gift.
Relatives. If you’re old like me, u scan thru family albums, you’ll note, “many ain’t around”… when u see ones that still are – a gift.
Cloud cover on a 100+ degree day. A brief rain shower in a drought. A bonus check (unexpected) from your employer. Familiarity. Laying down in bed after your body/brain have been extended to the max on this specific day.
The words “thank you”. Saying the words “thank you.” Follow through on a promise. Any fun, UNFORMAL writing, within email communication. I’m weird, I love to write, I prolly spend 45 seconds to reply to an email when it should only take 30 seconds, don’t give a rat’s – hopeful for a baby smile on the other end.
Visiting with someone your own age. Visiting with someone much younger than you. Visiting with someone much older than you. Visiting.
Hearing laughter after something you’ve said. Laughing, loud enough for the person who’s said something funny – to hear. Laughter.
With apologies, as always, to my relatives: intimacy. BeEn AwHiLe, BuT hAsN’t EfFeCtEd Me.
A handwritten, or typed personal letter via snail mail. Being included on a damn funny, or “oh my goodness” email.
Driving into work, and you’re ok with that, in fact, even look forward to it. Cigarette breaktime at work and reminding fellow co-workers “we don’t talk that work-shit while we’re on break.”
Patterns. Same ole same ole. Be it the couple that sits at table 7 on a Saturday morning in Mickey D’s, the cars as they pull into the lot at work – same spaces, day after day – goes back to familiarity. Familiarity is a gift.
You – your eyeballs. Your comments, even if they never reach my ears – I am thankful. I am blessed to be able to ramble aimlessly, and to have u put up with it. A gift.
For Irene, tomorrow – “Catch someone being good”. Love, Victurd
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Saturday, July 23, 2011
I like carry….
Interesting word. Carry on luggage. Similar to carry baggage? She’s carrying a child. Carrying twins. She too could pick the child up and carry. Look at the twins she’s carrying. (Perverts).. Can’t push away from the dinner table either? Carrying excess baggage too?
Support and move from one place to the other. The waitress carried the dishes. Waiters would be male carriers, but not mail carriers. Conceal and carry, me thinks u need a license for that, but anyone can carry conceit. Or guilt. Or pride, self confidence… some don’t carry much pride, confidence.
Some carry germs. Cooties I think we called it back in the day. Ticks can carry Lyme disease. His pickup only carried three passengers. Some pickups carry… well, you know.
You work for our company, you must carry that responsibility and represent us well. Cars carry us to work. Planes, trains carry many. Pilots, engineers carry mucho responsibility. I usedta carry bags for an airline. Foolish spending didn’t allow them to carry thru…
Onea my best friends is named Cary. Lotta ways to spell it.. works for dudes as well as dudettes.. Cary, Kari, Kerry, Kerri, Cari.. sCARY.
Dine in, carry out. Sorry Cari, no carry out. She drank too much, Karri’s out. Cash and carry.
Playing football carries the risk of injury. Holding a firecracker in your hand, lighting it, then throwing carries stupidity, but, reckon I’ve done it. Both me and my six and half fingered friend Lefty have. Carry on. He single-handedly carried the weight of the team on his shoulders (no, not Lefty, and I’d be ashamed if I were you!).. Each bike carries a ten year warranty.
Carry on. Continue. And some continue, continue, continue. Carried away I think they call it. Barack carries veto power..He carried the votes, Kerry didn’t. Protesters carry signs.
Tradition to carry bride across threshold (before carrying on.) Doesn’t everyone – wait?
Wow, that gal can carry a tune… The preacher’s voice carried throughout the auditorium..
Float trip soon. Will tie down everything we carry on. Learned that one hard way. River dry? Carry the canoe some. Carried us ten miles.
I’ll go now. Sorry, got “carry”ed away..... Carry on.
Love, Victurd
Support and move from one place to the other. The waitress carried the dishes. Waiters would be male carriers, but not mail carriers. Conceal and carry, me thinks u need a license for that, but anyone can carry conceit. Or guilt. Or pride, self confidence… some don’t carry much pride, confidence.
Some carry germs. Cooties I think we called it back in the day. Ticks can carry Lyme disease. His pickup only carried three passengers. Some pickups carry… well, you know.
You work for our company, you must carry that responsibility and represent us well. Cars carry us to work. Planes, trains carry many. Pilots, engineers carry mucho responsibility. I usedta carry bags for an airline. Foolish spending didn’t allow them to carry thru…
Onea my best friends is named Cary. Lotta ways to spell it.. works for dudes as well as dudettes.. Cary, Kari, Kerry, Kerri, Cari.. sCARY.
Dine in, carry out. Sorry Cari, no carry out. She drank too much, Karri’s out. Cash and carry.
Playing football carries the risk of injury. Holding a firecracker in your hand, lighting it, then throwing carries stupidity, but, reckon I’ve done it. Both me and my six and half fingered friend Lefty have. Carry on. He single-handedly carried the weight of the team on his shoulders (no, not Lefty, and I’d be ashamed if I were you!).. Each bike carries a ten year warranty.
Carry on. Continue. And some continue, continue, continue. Carried away I think they call it. Barack carries veto power..He carried the votes, Kerry didn’t. Protesters carry signs.
Tradition to carry bride across threshold (before carrying on.) Doesn’t everyone – wait?
Wow, that gal can carry a tune… The preacher’s voice carried throughout the auditorium..
Float trip soon. Will tie down everything we carry on. Learned that one hard way. River dry? Carry the canoe some. Carried us ten miles.
I’ll go now. Sorry, got “carry”ed away..... Carry on.
Love, Victurd
Monday, July 18, 2011
I haven’t bitched, griped here since 4.16/11.. or.. Reasons why I’m perfect..
Victor, we’re out there with you in that same world… Idiosyncrasies drive us bonkers too.. MUST you share the ones that bug you?
Idiosyncrasies, that bug me, by Henry Gibson.. Incessant. Working around someone that verbalizes everything, EVERYTHING, they do. Talk as they think/do. Again, and again, and again. Do they still make corks for things other than to shore up a wine bottle? Is it at all possible that the ears don’t work when the mouth is open, cause I think this be the case.
Loud. Don’t get me wrong, I hear a gamut of songs, I crank. I’m talking ‘work loud’, no, not incessant person.. nudder.. Yes, what one is working on is THE MOST IMPORTANT thing in your day/moment, but it’s not so important that folks 17 cubicles over haveta hear too. I comprende folks have no idea the volume with which they speaky, but I’d love to see everyone bring a tape recorder with ‘em to work (do they still make ‘em?) and replay at day’s end. Insert turning head side-to-side, exhaling thru bouncing lips here.
The old guy (prolly my age) in the way too GD (gosh darn) tight lycra outfit on his bicycle at the 4-way stop on the Western edge of town. When I was a kid, I think I remember “right turn, left arm extended, bent at 90 degree angle, with palm, upper arm pointing upward. And left turn, simply extending arm horizontally to the left. Hot. (More on the heat later).. Hot. A hunnerd. I traverse the 35 minutes (no AC) back to my hometown, come to the 4-way 6 blocks from home. Said “too GD tight lycra outfit guy on bicycle” and I next up to go. No signal from him. Repeat, no signal from him. So, my brain thinks, “the guy’s wearing “too GD tight lycra outfit on a bicycle” (remembering rules from yesteryear), he’s obviously going straight. (He going South, I North).. So I go. Straight. At the same time, he turns left.. gives me this astonished snarl, lifts his palm up mid-chest, palm up as if to say “what gives you idiot”.. I take a deep breath, and then lapse into that person I don’t wanna be and yell “SIGNAL!” at the “folks 17 cubicles over” can hear level.
I go to Mickey D’s every Saturday/Sunday morning. It’s my fattening treat to me. I walk in, 5 snotnoses (said lovingly) behind the counter, all faithfully refilling whatever spoon, straw, condiment, whatever it is they’re supposed to refill. This goes on for two minutes as I stand wantonly bellied up to the counter (which probably equates to 45 seconds, but whatever, too GD (gosh darn) long for a paying customer (ain’t that “why we’re here?”) to go without an order being taken. Twenty, even ten years ago, this woulda never popped out.. but to the oblivious ones (and no one in particular) I verbalized “I’m ready to order now.”…
Little redheaded gal comes to the register, gives me onea those overly fake “ya grumpy old bastard” smiles, and takes my order. She then goes back to refilling whatever it is she’s refilling. Roughly a full minute after I see the gal place my goodies in the “I’m ready tray” (I love this gal, the cook.. She GETS customer service”).. my order-taker is back filling whatever it is she’s supposed to fill. Ten years ago I’da never said “I think my order is ready”, but I said it, and redheaded gal goes, fetches, anudder plastic smile that bodes “Wow, you are REALLY a grumpy old bastard (topped off by "have a GREAT day!").. and perhaps I am/can be a grumpy old bastard..
Then again, I’m perfect. My well maintained car has no AC. Today, the driver’s side windows decided (both) “eh, we’re gonna take a break, sorry.. good luck fixing” (They’re down btw).. I go to the dadgum hangout too frequently.. I don’t eat right.. I smoke like a chimney… Without using the word “shit”, when at work I deem management to be UPON OCCASION fulla shit, off base, I relate same.
I have sheetrock falling down in my home ‘cause I ain’t got the $10K tucked away for a new roof (I know, I know, “insurance”.. I know it’s due to age.. I couldn’t consciously “turn it in to insurance”
I ‘waste’ hour after hour on the internet.. My neighbors keep the city on speed dial as my grass approaches “that length”.. my backyard is atrocious (was once a nice underground pool, shrubs, yada yada).. I have stinky breath, and upon occasion I probably have skid marks (VICTOR! You’ve relatives that read this!)…
Once again, I’m glad I’m perfect, and it’s really everyone else that’s messed up.
Happy day, love Victurd
(Victor, maybe you need to simply get laid) <-- HEY! NO FAIR.. to all my relatives who perhaps happen by here, I DID NOT type that!... My password has obviously been hacked!)
Idiosyncrasies, that bug me, by Henry Gibson.. Incessant. Working around someone that verbalizes everything, EVERYTHING, they do. Talk as they think/do. Again, and again, and again. Do they still make corks for things other than to shore up a wine bottle? Is it at all possible that the ears don’t work when the mouth is open, cause I think this be the case.
Loud. Don’t get me wrong, I hear a gamut of songs, I crank. I’m talking ‘work loud’, no, not incessant person.. nudder.. Yes, what one is working on is THE MOST IMPORTANT thing in your day/moment, but it’s not so important that folks 17 cubicles over haveta hear too. I comprende folks have no idea the volume with which they speaky, but I’d love to see everyone bring a tape recorder with ‘em to work (do they still make ‘em?) and replay at day’s end. Insert turning head side-to-side, exhaling thru bouncing lips here.
The old guy (prolly my age) in the way too GD (gosh darn) tight lycra outfit on his bicycle at the 4-way stop on the Western edge of town. When I was a kid, I think I remember “right turn, left arm extended, bent at 90 degree angle, with palm, upper arm pointing upward. And left turn, simply extending arm horizontally to the left. Hot. (More on the heat later).. Hot. A hunnerd. I traverse the 35 minutes (no AC) back to my hometown, come to the 4-way 6 blocks from home. Said “too GD tight lycra outfit guy on bicycle” and I next up to go. No signal from him. Repeat, no signal from him. So, my brain thinks, “the guy’s wearing “too GD tight lycra outfit on a bicycle” (remembering rules from yesteryear), he’s obviously going straight. (He going South, I North).. So I go. Straight. At the same time, he turns left.. gives me this astonished snarl, lifts his palm up mid-chest, palm up as if to say “what gives you idiot”.. I take a deep breath, and then lapse into that person I don’t wanna be and yell “SIGNAL!” at the “folks 17 cubicles over” can hear level.
I go to Mickey D’s every Saturday/Sunday morning. It’s my fattening treat to me. I walk in, 5 snotnoses (said lovingly) behind the counter, all faithfully refilling whatever spoon, straw, condiment, whatever it is they’re supposed to refill. This goes on for two minutes as I stand wantonly bellied up to the counter (which probably equates to 45 seconds, but whatever, too GD (gosh darn) long for a paying customer (ain’t that “why we’re here?”) to go without an order being taken. Twenty, even ten years ago, this woulda never popped out.. but to the oblivious ones (and no one in particular) I verbalized “I’m ready to order now.”…
Little redheaded gal comes to the register, gives me onea those overly fake “ya grumpy old bastard” smiles, and takes my order. She then goes back to refilling whatever it is she’s refilling. Roughly a full minute after I see the gal place my goodies in the “I’m ready tray” (I love this gal, the cook.. She GETS customer service”).. my order-taker is back filling whatever it is she’s supposed to fill. Ten years ago I’da never said “I think my order is ready”, but I said it, and redheaded gal goes, fetches, anudder plastic smile that bodes “Wow, you are REALLY a grumpy old bastard (topped off by "have a GREAT day!").. and perhaps I am/can be a grumpy old bastard..
Then again, I’m perfect. My well maintained car has no AC. Today, the driver’s side windows decided (both) “eh, we’re gonna take a break, sorry.. good luck fixing” (They’re down btw).. I go to the dadgum hangout too frequently.. I don’t eat right.. I smoke like a chimney… Without using the word “shit”, when at work I deem management to be UPON OCCASION fulla shit, off base, I relate same.
I have sheetrock falling down in my home ‘cause I ain’t got the $10K tucked away for a new roof (I know, I know, “insurance”.. I know it’s due to age.. I couldn’t consciously “turn it in to insurance”
I ‘waste’ hour after hour on the internet.. My neighbors keep the city on speed dial as my grass approaches “that length”.. my backyard is atrocious (was once a nice underground pool, shrubs, yada yada).. I have stinky breath, and upon occasion I probably have skid marks (VICTOR! You’ve relatives that read this!)…
Once again, I’m glad I’m perfect, and it’s really everyone else that’s messed up.
Happy day, love Victurd
(Victor, maybe you need to simply get laid) <-- HEY! NO FAIR.. to all my relatives who perhaps happen by here, I DID NOT type that!... My password has obviously been hacked!)
Thursday, July 07, 2011
Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things
Color me a simpleton. A dog’s tail wagging. Hugs. Pecks. Strawberries & Cream Cheese.. Peanut butter and banana sandwhich.. The beginning of a Rolling Stones song.. The Pledge of Allegiance with hand on heart..
Cream colored ponies and crisp apple streudels
Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings
These are a few of my favorite things
Acapella’s that I’m envious/thankful for hearing.. Friends.. Cold beer in a glass.. Laughing so hard u must cover orifices before something leaks out.. Puppy breath.. Waking up.. Going to bed.. A full gas gauge.. Facebook.. Email..
Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes
Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes
Silver white winters that melt into springs
These are a few of my favorite things
Family, loved ones. MY GRANDDAUGHTER. . VICTOR, NO!! walking behind a lady with a fantastic derriere. .. Cuckoo clocks.. Walking into the AC on a 90+ day.. Walking into the warm home on a sub-zero day.. dresses.. gals that do their hair up cool and in different ways..
When the dog bites
When the bee stings
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad
My best friend Sanford.. The Mill (you’d haveta see it).. The peaceful noise of a river/stream.. Watching two in love.. determination on a kid’s face.. Writing.. Did I mention women?..
I simply remember my favorite things – and then I don’t feel so bad..
Love, Victurd
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things
Color me a simpleton. A dog’s tail wagging. Hugs. Pecks. Strawberries & Cream Cheese.. Peanut butter and banana sandwhich.. The beginning of a Rolling Stones song.. The Pledge of Allegiance with hand on heart..
Cream colored ponies and crisp apple streudels
Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings
These are a few of my favorite things
Acapella’s that I’m envious/thankful for hearing.. Friends.. Cold beer in a glass.. Laughing so hard u must cover orifices before something leaks out.. Puppy breath.. Waking up.. Going to bed.. A full gas gauge.. Facebook.. Email..
Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes
Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes
Silver white winters that melt into springs
These are a few of my favorite things
Family, loved ones. MY GRANDDAUGHTER. . VICTOR, NO!! walking behind a lady with a fantastic derriere. .. Cuckoo clocks.. Walking into the AC on a 90+ day.. Walking into the warm home on a sub-zero day.. dresses.. gals that do their hair up cool and in different ways..
When the dog bites
When the bee stings
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad
My best friend Sanford.. The Mill (you’d haveta see it).. The peaceful noise of a river/stream.. Watching two in love.. determination on a kid’s face.. Writing.. Did I mention women?..
I simply remember my favorite things – and then I don’t feel so bad..
Love, Victurd
Wednesday, July 06, 2011
Parking... it is a signifcant life factor
Parking. Never discussed. You don’t pickup the newspaper, read about parking. You don’t drive into work, go to break with friends, talk parking. It’s a mundane, thoughtless, have to kinda thing for us all.
I kinda sorta disagree. I think parking is a very interesting topic.
Back in the High School day, parking meant going to the low road at the college, pulling into the lot, a fully clothed adventure, where arms, lips, tongues went bonkers.. and pretty much anything could happen up to knocking the 11 sizes too big class ring adorned with 42’ of yarn to affirm it to your finger was in jeopardy of falling off. Innocent, yet oh so passionate.
To many, parking is an afterthought. Not so to some. BY GOD I’M GONNA GET THE VERY CLOSEST SPOT TO WALLYWORLD even if I haveta spend $12.73 in gas to do so. And some do.
My pa usedta tell me, since he didn’t really exercise, on sale’s calls, he’d pick the furthest spot, park, walk in.
Arrogant parkers. Never fails. You’re in a lot with 492 spaces, you FINALLY see a lone, empty space, you drive there, you turn.. Oh shit, that guy’s tires are like 12” over the line. Arrogant bastard. I mean really, how can one do that? (Victor, it’s JUST parking, ease up).. NO! it’s TIME, it’s ARROGANCE, it’s HOWINTHEHELL can you consciously take up one and one-third spots and walk into wherever you are walking into? (Occasionally I’ll purposely park right beside ‘em so close you’d have to be Twiggy to get into your passenger door.. a fitting/deserved lesson: “Crawl urass into the passenger side door Mister, and I hope the gearshift crunches your kahoona’s as you move to the driver’s side!)
Tonight at the Dish Pizza joint. (Victor, you went there again? Didn’t you just go last night?) Uh huh, did. Tonight at the Dish. A smoke and a beer on the patio, and parking observance.
Family of four. Pull in, parking not bad. Ten seconds, mom/dad/two snotnoses outta car, dad is like 10 yards in front leading the pack, with no apparent regard to the remaining family behind him.. Made me think “hmmm, I bet he’s the guy that says “oh honey, that meal was great, go prop your feet up and American Idol” I'LL do the dishes!.. or mebbe, “Hey, you cooked last night, I got it handled tonight.” Uh huh.
Anuther family of four. Out jumps pops, the driver, and before anyone else’s car door opened, his at the right rear door unstrapping the carseated baby to haul her in. Way cool Mister, I bet you ARE onea those guys to do/say all that in the above paragraph.
The drop off illegal parker. Gulty, I am/have been. Rather than communicate, “I’ll be down that row at the first available space I find” I’ll challenge a yellowed curb, park right up next to the building, absorb dirty looks, to wait for “I’m just getting a couple things, I’ll be right back.” Hey, I don’t have AC in my car OK? I get mad when it ain’t me, but justify it when it is.
The ding-ding, not-so-great-depth perception parker. We’ve all been there. We pull in, we get too close, or mebbe the wind catches our door as we open it.. BOOM.. oh shit, there’s a mark from my door on the car next to me! Uh huh, I’ll back out, go find another spot. Had a buddy in college, no names (Bill Day) one time, he pulled into a parking spot, actually winged the rear bumper of the car on his left leaving a very noticeable dent… he peeked around.. mebbe six people saw this… he got out a piece of paper, scribbled jibberish on it.. placed the ‘note’ under the windshield wipers of the car he just smashed, and all six who observed this thought “awwww. What a nice guy, he’s fessing up.”.. Then, he backed out, moved 7 rows to the East, and on about his way.
Parking at work. We (on the West side) have rules about which direction to enter, go, turn, park… “high visibility vehicles must park away from the building so as not to obstruct the view”… patooey…
Even worse.. our West Side football field sized lot (hourly) and an East Side a basketball court sized lot hella close to the door (Salaried, commissioned, must have a penis, $40K+ car).. I honestly love where I work, what I do, and who I do it for.. however… we’re still in the 1950’s on this one.
In closing, thanks for parking your eyeballs here for a short. Mebbe u too can have some fun observing fellow future parkers. (I know… I lead a horribly boring life.) Pulling in, parking, getting out now.
Love, Victurd.
I kinda sorta disagree. I think parking is a very interesting topic.
Back in the High School day, parking meant going to the low road at the college, pulling into the lot, a fully clothed adventure, where arms, lips, tongues went bonkers.. and pretty much anything could happen up to knocking the 11 sizes too big class ring adorned with 42’ of yarn to affirm it to your finger was in jeopardy of falling off. Innocent, yet oh so passionate.
To many, parking is an afterthought. Not so to some. BY GOD I’M GONNA GET THE VERY CLOSEST SPOT TO WALLYWORLD even if I haveta spend $12.73 in gas to do so. And some do.
My pa usedta tell me, since he didn’t really exercise, on sale’s calls, he’d pick the furthest spot, park, walk in.
Arrogant parkers. Never fails. You’re in a lot with 492 spaces, you FINALLY see a lone, empty space, you drive there, you turn.. Oh shit, that guy’s tires are like 12” over the line. Arrogant bastard. I mean really, how can one do that? (Victor, it’s JUST parking, ease up).. NO! it’s TIME, it’s ARROGANCE, it’s HOWINTHEHELL can you consciously take up one and one-third spots and walk into wherever you are walking into? (Occasionally I’ll purposely park right beside ‘em so close you’d have to be Twiggy to get into your passenger door.. a fitting/deserved lesson: “Crawl urass into the passenger side door Mister, and I hope the gearshift crunches your kahoona’s as you move to the driver’s side!)
Tonight at the Dish Pizza joint. (Victor, you went there again? Didn’t you just go last night?) Uh huh, did. Tonight at the Dish. A smoke and a beer on the patio, and parking observance.
Family of four. Pull in, parking not bad. Ten seconds, mom/dad/two snotnoses outta car, dad is like 10 yards in front leading the pack, with no apparent regard to the remaining family behind him.. Made me think “hmmm, I bet he’s the guy that says “oh honey, that meal was great, go prop your feet up and American Idol” I'LL do the dishes!.. or mebbe, “Hey, you cooked last night, I got it handled tonight.” Uh huh.
Anuther family of four. Out jumps pops, the driver, and before anyone else’s car door opened, his at the right rear door unstrapping the carseated baby to haul her in. Way cool Mister, I bet you ARE onea those guys to do/say all that in the above paragraph.
The drop off illegal parker. Gulty, I am/have been. Rather than communicate, “I’ll be down that row at the first available space I find” I’ll challenge a yellowed curb, park right up next to the building, absorb dirty looks, to wait for “I’m just getting a couple things, I’ll be right back.” Hey, I don’t have AC in my car OK? I get mad when it ain’t me, but justify it when it is.
The ding-ding, not-so-great-depth perception parker. We’ve all been there. We pull in, we get too close, or mebbe the wind catches our door as we open it.. BOOM.. oh shit, there’s a mark from my door on the car next to me! Uh huh, I’ll back out, go find another spot. Had a buddy in college, no names (Bill Day) one time, he pulled into a parking spot, actually winged the rear bumper of the car on his left leaving a very noticeable dent… he peeked around.. mebbe six people saw this… he got out a piece of paper, scribbled jibberish on it.. placed the ‘note’ under the windshield wipers of the car he just smashed, and all six who observed this thought “awwww. What a nice guy, he’s fessing up.”.. Then, he backed out, moved 7 rows to the East, and on about his way.
Parking at work. We (on the West side) have rules about which direction to enter, go, turn, park… “high visibility vehicles must park away from the building so as not to obstruct the view”… patooey…
Even worse.. our West Side football field sized lot (hourly) and an East Side a basketball court sized lot hella close to the door (Salaried, commissioned, must have a penis, $40K+ car).. I honestly love where I work, what I do, and who I do it for.. however… we’re still in the 1950’s on this one.
In closing, thanks for parking your eyeballs here for a short. Mebbe u too can have some fun observing fellow future parkers. (I know… I lead a horribly boring life.) Pulling in, parking, getting out now.
Love, Victurd.
Parking.. a significant life factor....
Parking. Never discussed. You don’t pickup the newspaper, read about parking. You don’t drive into work, go to break with friends, talk parking. It’s a mundane, thoughtless, have to kinda thing for us all.
I kinda sorta disagree. I think parking is a very interesting topic.
Back in the High School day, parking meant going to the low road at the college, pulling into the lot, a fully clothed adventure, where arms, lips, tongues went bonkers.. and pretty much anything could happen up to knocking the 11 sizes too big class ring adorned with 42’ of yarn to affirm it to your finger was in jeopardy of falling off. Innocent, yet oh so passionate.
To many, parking is an afterthought. Not so to some. BY GOD I’M GONNA GET THE VERY CLOSEST SPOT TO WALLYWORLD even if I haveta spend $12.73 in gas to do so. And some do.
My pa usedta tell me, since he didn’t really exercise, on sale’s calls, he’d pick the furthest spot, park, walk in.
Arrogant parkers. Never fails. You’re in a lot with 492 spaces, you FINALLY see a lone, empty space, you drive there, you turn.. Oh shit, that guy’s tires are like 12” over the line. Arrogant bastard. I mean really, how can one do that? (Victor, it’s JUST parking, ease up).. NO! it’s TIME, it’s ARROGANCE, it’s HOWINTHEHELL can you consciously take up one and one-third spots and walk into wherever you are walking into? (Occasionally I’ll purposely park right beside ‘em so close you’d have to be Twiggy to get into your passenger door.. a fitting/deserved lesson: “Crawl urass into the passenger side door Mister, and I hope the gearshift crunches your kahoona’s as you move to the driver’s side!)
Tonight at the Dish Pizza joint. (Victor, you went there again? Didn’t you just go last night?) Uh huh, did. Tonight at the Dish. A smoke and a beer on the patio, and parking observance.
Family of four. Pull in, parking not bad. Ten seconds, mom/dad/two snotnoses outta car, dad is like 10 yards in front leading the pack, with not apparent regard to the remaining family behind him.. Made me think “hmmm, I bet he’s the guy that says “oh honey, that meal was great, go prop your feet up and American Idol”.. or mebbe, “Hey, you cooked last night, I got it handled tonight.” Uh huh.
Anuther family of four. Out jumps pops, the driver, and before anyone else’s car door opened, his at the right rear door unstrapping the carseated baby to haul her in. Way cool Mister, I bet you ARE onea those guys to do/say all that in the above paragraph.
The drop off illegal parker. Guilty, I am/have been. Rather than communicate, “I’ll be down that row at the first available space I find” I’ll challenge a yellowed curb, park right up next to the building, absorb dirty looks, to wait for “I’m just getting a couple things, I’ll be right back.” Hey, I don’t have AC in my car OK? I get mad when it ain’t me, but justify it when it is.
The ding-ding, not-so-great-depth perception parker. We’ve all been there. We pull in, we get too close, or mebbe the wind catches our door as we open it.. BOOM.. oh shit, there’s a mark from my door on the car next to me! Uh huh, I’ll back out, go find another spot. Had a buddy in college, no names (Bill Day) one time, he pulled into a parking spot, actually winged the rear bumper of the car on his left leaving a very noticeable dent… he peeked around.. mebbe six people saw this… he got out a piece of paper, scribbled jibberish on it.. placed the ‘note’ under the windshield wipers of the car he just smashed, and all six who observed this thought “awwww. What a nice guy, he’s fessing up.”.. Then, he backed out, moved 7 rows to the East, and on about his way.
Parking at work. We (on the West side) have rules about which direction to enter, go, turn, park… “high visibility vehicles must park away from the building so as not to obstruct the view”… patooey…
Even worse.. our West Side football field sized lot (hourly) and an East Side a basketball court sized lot hella close to the door (Salaried, commissioned, must have a penis, $40K+ car).. I honestly love where I work, what I do, and who I do it for.. however… we’re still in the 1950’s on this one.
In closing, thanks for parking your eyeballs here for a short. Mebbe u too can have some fun observing fellow future parkers. (I know… I lead a horribly boring life.) Pulling in, parking, getting out now.
Love, Victurd.
I kinda sorta disagree. I think parking is a very interesting topic.
Back in the High School day, parking meant going to the low road at the college, pulling into the lot, a fully clothed adventure, where arms, lips, tongues went bonkers.. and pretty much anything could happen up to knocking the 11 sizes too big class ring adorned with 42’ of yarn to affirm it to your finger was in jeopardy of falling off. Innocent, yet oh so passionate.
To many, parking is an afterthought. Not so to some. BY GOD I’M GONNA GET THE VERY CLOSEST SPOT TO WALLYWORLD even if I haveta spend $12.73 in gas to do so. And some do.
My pa usedta tell me, since he didn’t really exercise, on sale’s calls, he’d pick the furthest spot, park, walk in.
Arrogant parkers. Never fails. You’re in a lot with 492 spaces, you FINALLY see a lone, empty space, you drive there, you turn.. Oh shit, that guy’s tires are like 12” over the line. Arrogant bastard. I mean really, how can one do that? (Victor, it’s JUST parking, ease up).. NO! it’s TIME, it’s ARROGANCE, it’s HOWINTHEHELL can you consciously take up one and one-third spots and walk into wherever you are walking into? (Occasionally I’ll purposely park right beside ‘em so close you’d have to be Twiggy to get into your passenger door.. a fitting/deserved lesson: “Crawl urass into the passenger side door Mister, and I hope the gearshift crunches your kahoona’s as you move to the driver’s side!)
Tonight at the Dish Pizza joint. (Victor, you went there again? Didn’t you just go last night?) Uh huh, did. Tonight at the Dish. A smoke and a beer on the patio, and parking observance.
Family of four. Pull in, parking not bad. Ten seconds, mom/dad/two snotnoses outta car, dad is like 10 yards in front leading the pack, with not apparent regard to the remaining family behind him.. Made me think “hmmm, I bet he’s the guy that says “oh honey, that meal was great, go prop your feet up and American Idol”.. or mebbe, “Hey, you cooked last night, I got it handled tonight.” Uh huh.
Anuther family of four. Out jumps pops, the driver, and before anyone else’s car door opened, his at the right rear door unstrapping the carseated baby to haul her in. Way cool Mister, I bet you ARE onea those guys to do/say all that in the above paragraph.
The drop off illegal parker. Guilty, I am/have been. Rather than communicate, “I’ll be down that row at the first available space I find” I’ll challenge a yellowed curb, park right up next to the building, absorb dirty looks, to wait for “I’m just getting a couple things, I’ll be right back.” Hey, I don’t have AC in my car OK? I get mad when it ain’t me, but justify it when it is.
The ding-ding, not-so-great-depth perception parker. We’ve all been there. We pull in, we get too close, or mebbe the wind catches our door as we open it.. BOOM.. oh shit, there’s a mark from my door on the car next to me! Uh huh, I’ll back out, go find another spot. Had a buddy in college, no names (Bill Day) one time, he pulled into a parking spot, actually winged the rear bumper of the car on his left leaving a very noticeable dent… he peeked around.. mebbe six people saw this… he got out a piece of paper, scribbled jibberish on it.. placed the ‘note’ under the windshield wipers of the car he just smashed, and all six who observed this thought “awwww. What a nice guy, he’s fessing up.”.. Then, he backed out, moved 7 rows to the East, and on about his way.
Parking at work. We (on the West side) have rules about which direction to enter, go, turn, park… “high visibility vehicles must park away from the building so as not to obstruct the view”… patooey…
Even worse.. our West Side football field sized lot (hourly) and an East Side a basketball court sized lot hella close to the door (Salaried, commissioned, must have a penis, $40K+ car).. I honestly love where I work, what I do, and who I do it for.. however… we’re still in the 1950’s on this one.
In closing, thanks for parking your eyeballs here for a short. Mebbe u too can have some fun observing fellow future parkers. (I know… I lead a horribly boring life.) Pulling in, parking, getting out now.
Love, Victurd.
Parking.. a significant life factor….
Parking. Never discussed. You don’t pickup the newspaper, read about parking. You don’t drive into work, go to break with friends, talk parking. It’s a mundane, thoughtless, have to kinda thing for us all.
I kinda sorta disagree. I think parking is a very interesting topic.
Back in the High School day, parking meant going to the low road at the college, pulling into the lot, a fully clothed adventure, where arms, lips, tongues went bonkers.. and pretty much anything could happen up to knocking the 11 sizes too big class ring adorned with 42’ of yarn to affirm it to your finger was in jeopardy of falling off. Innocent, yet oh so passionate.
To many, parking is an afterthought. Not so to some. BY GOD I’M GONNA GET THE VERY CLOSEST SPOT TO WALLYWORLD even if I haveta spend $12.73 in gas to do so. And some do.
My pa usedta tell me, since he didn’t really exercise, on sale’s calls, he’d pick the furthest spot, park, walk in.
Arrogant parkers. Never fails. You’re in a lot with 492 spaces, you FINALLY see a lone, empty space, you drive there, you turn.. Oh shit, that guy’s tires are like 12” over the line. Arrogant bastard. I mean really, how can one do that? (Victor, it’s JUST parking, ease up).. NO! it’s TIME, it’s ARROGANCE, it’s HOWINTHEHELL can you consciously take up one and one-third spots and walk into wherever you are walking into? (Occasionally I’ll purposely park right beside ‘em so close you’d have to be Twiggy to get into your passenger door.. a fitting/deserved lesson: “Crawl urass into the passenger side door Mister, and I hope the gearshift crunches your kahoona’s as you move to the driver’s side!)
Tonight at the Dish Pizza joint. (Victor, you went there again? Didn’t you just go last night?) Uh huh, did. Tonight at the Dish. A smoke and a beer on the patio, and parking observance.
Family of four. Pull in, parking not bad. Ten seconds, mom/dad/two snotnoses outta car, dad is like 10 yards in front leading the pack, with not apparent regard to the remaining family behind him.. Made me think “hmmm, I bet he’s the guy that says “oh honey, that meal was great, go prop your feet up and American Idol” I'LL do the dishes!.. or mebbe, “Hey, you cooked last night, I got it handled tonight.” Uh huh.
Anuther family of four. Out jumps pops, the driver, and before anyone else’s car door opened, his at the right rear door unstrapping the carseated baby to haul her in. Way cool Mister, I bet you ARE onea those guys to do/say all that in the above paragraph.
The drop off illegal parker. Gulty, I am/have been. Rather than communicate, “I’ll be down that row at the first available space I find” I’ll challenge a yellowed curb, park right up next to the building, absorb dirty looks, to wait for “I’m just getting a couple things, I’ll be right back.” Hey, I don’t have AC in my car OK? I get mad when it ain’t me, but justify it when it is.
The ding-ding, not-so-great-depth perception parker. We’ve all been there. We pull in, we get too close, or mebbe the wind catches our door as we open it.. BOOM.. oh shit, there’s a mark from my door on the car next to me! Uh huh, I’ll back out, go find another spot. Had a buddy in college, no names (Bill Day) one time, he pulled into a parking spot, actually winged the rear bumper of the car on his left leaving a very noticeable dent… he peeked around.. mebbe six people saw this… he got out a piece of paper, scribbled jibberish on it.. placed the ‘note’ under the windshield wipers of the car he just smashed, and all six who observed this thought “awwww. What a nice guy, he’s fessing up.”.. Then, he backed out, moved 7 rows to the East, and on about his way.
Parking at work. We (on the West side) have rules about which direction to enter, go, turn, park… “high visibility vehicles must park away from the building so as not to obstruct the view”… patooey…
Even worse.. our West Side football field sized lot (hourly) and an East Side a basketball court sized lot hella close to the door (Salaried, commissioned, must have a penis, $40K+ car).. I honestly love where I work, what I do, and who I do it for.. however… we’re still in the 1950’s on this one.
In closing, thanks for parking your eyeballs here for a short. Mebbe u too can have some fun observing fellow future parkers. (I know… I lead a horribly boring life.) Pulling in, parking, getting out now.
Love, Victurd.
I kinda sorta disagree. I think parking is a very interesting topic.
Back in the High School day, parking meant going to the low road at the college, pulling into the lot, a fully clothed adventure, where arms, lips, tongues went bonkers.. and pretty much anything could happen up to knocking the 11 sizes too big class ring adorned with 42’ of yarn to affirm it to your finger was in jeopardy of falling off. Innocent, yet oh so passionate.
To many, parking is an afterthought. Not so to some. BY GOD I’M GONNA GET THE VERY CLOSEST SPOT TO WALLYWORLD even if I haveta spend $12.73 in gas to do so. And some do.
My pa usedta tell me, since he didn’t really exercise, on sale’s calls, he’d pick the furthest spot, park, walk in.
Arrogant parkers. Never fails. You’re in a lot with 492 spaces, you FINALLY see a lone, empty space, you drive there, you turn.. Oh shit, that guy’s tires are like 12” over the line. Arrogant bastard. I mean really, how can one do that? (Victor, it’s JUST parking, ease up).. NO! it’s TIME, it’s ARROGANCE, it’s HOWINTHEHELL can you consciously take up one and one-third spots and walk into wherever you are walking into? (Occasionally I’ll purposely park right beside ‘em so close you’d have to be Twiggy to get into your passenger door.. a fitting/deserved lesson: “Crawl urass into the passenger side door Mister, and I hope the gearshift crunches your kahoona’s as you move to the driver’s side!)
Tonight at the Dish Pizza joint. (Victor, you went there again? Didn’t you just go last night?) Uh huh, did. Tonight at the Dish. A smoke and a beer on the patio, and parking observance.
Family of four. Pull in, parking not bad. Ten seconds, mom/dad/two snotnoses outta car, dad is like 10 yards in front leading the pack, with not apparent regard to the remaining family behind him.. Made me think “hmmm, I bet he’s the guy that says “oh honey, that meal was great, go prop your feet up and American Idol” I'LL do the dishes!.. or mebbe, “Hey, you cooked last night, I got it handled tonight.” Uh huh.
Anuther family of four. Out jumps pops, the driver, and before anyone else’s car door opened, his at the right rear door unstrapping the carseated baby to haul her in. Way cool Mister, I bet you ARE onea those guys to do/say all that in the above paragraph.
The drop off illegal parker. Gulty, I am/have been. Rather than communicate, “I’ll be down that row at the first available space I find” I’ll challenge a yellowed curb, park right up next to the building, absorb dirty looks, to wait for “I’m just getting a couple things, I’ll be right back.” Hey, I don’t have AC in my car OK? I get mad when it ain’t me, but justify it when it is.
The ding-ding, not-so-great-depth perception parker. We’ve all been there. We pull in, we get too close, or mebbe the wind catches our door as we open it.. BOOM.. oh shit, there’s a mark from my door on the car next to me! Uh huh, I’ll back out, go find another spot. Had a buddy in college, no names (Bill Day) one time, he pulled into a parking spot, actually winged the rear bumper of the car on his left leaving a very noticeable dent… he peeked around.. mebbe six people saw this… he got out a piece of paper, scribbled jibberish on it.. placed the ‘note’ under the windshield wipers of the car he just smashed, and all six who observed this thought “awwww. What a nice guy, he’s fessing up.”.. Then, he backed out, moved 7 rows to the East, and on about his way.
Parking at work. We (on the West side) have rules about which direction to enter, go, turn, park… “high visibility vehicles must park away from the building so as not to obstruct the view”… patooey…
Even worse.. our West Side football field sized lot (hourly) and an East Side a basketball court sized lot hella close to the door (Salaried, commissioned, must have a penis, $40K+ car).. I honestly love where I work, what I do, and who I do it for.. however… we’re still in the 1950’s on this one.
In closing, thanks for parking your eyeballs here for a short. Mebbe u too can have some fun observing fellow future parkers. (I know… I lead a horribly boring life.) Pulling in, parking, getting out now.
Love, Victurd.
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