Stubs 2 Berserk D’Sorbet

Stubs (see last post) don’t just pile up in my story pick up file. They also accumulate in my unfinished post file. Here are a few random snippets that never grew up into real posts.

(Which doesn’t mean they won’t someday.)

I've come to the conclusion that the baby boom generation will never be considered venerable or wise. We're just a silly generation - a roving era of flibbity gibbets; addicted to fads from the early days of hula hoops all the way to Viagra. All my life, whatever age I attain, it will be considered the age of silly people.

Oh well, no biggie.

Justice

“I know I broke up with you, but I need you to do me a favor.”

“Wha…?”

“I need you to get tested. I’ll pay for it.”

“Wha…?”

“You see my new boyfriend thinks I gave it to him, but if you don’t have it, then I can prove he gave it to me.”

“How do you want your coffee?” asked the waitress sweetly

“Black!” answered the middle-aged man as if the possibility that he might like flavor involved in his breakfast beverage was a personal assault.

Considering his attitude, why was he so surprised that his Belgian waffle was covered in baking soda instead of powdered sugar?

Excuse 483

Sorry I’m a little late, Boss

I came the other way

No, I don’t mean the side roads

I wanted to avoid the sun in my eyes

So I went west instead of east

The extra 8000 miles takes longer than you’d think

Then there that Pacific thing.

It’s a good thing I had my Yugo treated to float like a 72 bug

because the bridge must have been out.

Swiss cheese and I are tight

by Headley Hauser

Some bonds often

Are closer than all others

And Swiss Cheese binds me

So close it nearly smothers

Parting such intimates

Is a Herculean feat

Swiss cheese keeps me closer

To everything I eat

So if your meals are celebrations

Of togetherness and bliss

Forget the prunes and fiber

And eat the cheese that’s Swiss

Particle board is wood in the same way that vomit is food.

Wise Ass Beer – it doesn't make you smarter when you drink it – it just makes you think you are.

(Wise-Ass Beer Company, Hudson, Mass – drink responsibly)

What I’d Like to Hear in a Post-Game Interview

Interview: So it was a much closer game than most imagined it would be. Is this a moral victory for you?

Player: Muskrat Susie, Muskrat Sam, do the jitterbug down in Muskrat land.

Interview: I’m sorry?

Player: I forgive you.

Interview: Right… so when did you feel the momentum turn against you?

Player: And they jiggle, and they start to giggle.

Interview: Look – I’m asking questions about the game. Why are you giving me lines from a Captain and Tennille song?

Player: Because Muskrat Love is the most stupid-ass song ever, and if you insist on asking me stupid-ass questions – that’s what you’re gonna get.

Here's a video that shows why cats don't work in child care.

Pop-up Heaven

When I was nine years old, we had a pop-up trailer. It spent a lot of time sitting in the yard, snow – sometimes several feet of it, piled up on its fiberglass roof. It didn’t move till spring – usually late spring, and while our Clark Griswold station wagon got its share of roof snow, we always brushed it off, or let it blow off as we drove it to school or the grocery store.

The trailer just sat there – cold, snowbound, forgotten.

Except by our dog. Copy, whose name was a shortened form of a pretentious French phrase (he was a poodle after all,) regularly made winter pilgrimages to our little pop-up. He rubbed along the trailer’s side, jumped over the connecting tongue, and peed on it. That may seem like an action of distain, but to the brain of a poodle (or a nine-year-old boy,) it was an act of respect and commiseration.

Copy loved summer vacations with the pop-up. We’d throw our stuff into the Griswold, hook up the trailer, and pile in. Copy and I got in the back, or as we called it in deference to The Adventures of Mr. Peabody and His Boy, Sherman, the way-back machine.

The way-back was our special part of the Griswold for two reasons, a) we were the only two agile enough to climb back there, and b) the way-back machine was reliably full of exhaust fumes and our smaller size meant that Copy and I produced the least amount of vomit.

From the way-back machine, we watched the pop-up trailer come to life. First, the trailer hobbled up and down as the flat side of the tires rediscovered their round identity. Then, the leaves and pine needles impressed by months of snow and repeated applications of bird poop worked their way free and flew joyously onto the windshields of cars behind us. Finally, the connecting chain, carefully wrapped around the tongue unraveled and sagged enough to strike sparks from the roadside, bathing the Griswold gas tank with pyro-splendor.

Copy and I eyed each other in those first stages of our carbon-monoxide highs and knew that summer vacation had begun.

And in that state of rapidly diminished brain activity, we knew the pop-up, so long cold and neglected, was happy as well.

There are those that tell me inanimate objects like pop-up trailers have no moods, no hopes, no disappointments, no desires. That the glow we saw bathing the trailer’s smiling front was just a combination of partial asphyxiation augmented by the flames intermittently expelled by the Griswold exhaust system.

Maybe they’re right; maybe little pop-up trailers have no souls; they don’t go to heaven when they die. But if one did, a pop-up’s heaven would be a place where it is always the first day of summer vacation, the leaves and pine needles of depressing winter are stripped away, and oxygen-deprived dogs and children constantly appreciate the roundness of its tires, the gleam of its fiberglass, and sparking majesty of its camp-providing glory.

Kind of like time machines.

The Thirty-Seven Reasons I Never Had Children

It’s surprising how many times I’m asked why I never had kids. I’m inclined to check their pupils and ask if they have any more of the medication they must be on. I’m told that’s not polite, so instead I’ve compiled this list of reasons (in no particular order,) for those who might be curious – or might be thinking of starting a family.

1) Changing diapers – I mean that’s the obvious guy response; I might as well get it out there first.

2) I don’t want to share my toys.

3) The smell of spoiled milk and vomit in friend’s cars.

4) What exactly, is tender and loving about having a woman you adore torn open by a parasite?

5) Difficulty finding a woman I adore enough to have her torn open by a parasite.

6) Glasses, braces, camp, uniforms, allowance, emergency room visits, broken windows, broken bicycles, two hundred dollar must-have sneakers, car insurance, car repair, COLLEGE TUITION!

7) Murphy’s law states that children will automatically gravitate to the type of music most likely to annoy their parents.

8) I don’t want to hear myself say, “because I said so.”

9) Toddlers most want to cuddle when their nose is running and your shirt is clean.

10) When I was born, Father Knows Best was a hit. Now every TV dad is a moron.

11) When I tell somebody “it couldn’t have been my child,” I know I’m not lying.

12) Not a lot of faith that the clowns we elect will leave much of a country/world for my kids to live in.

13) Fear that my imaginary friends will run off with their imaginary friends. Oh c’mon! Don’t give me that, “you need help,” look. I see it all the time in the mirror.

14) That moment when they realize I don’t know everything.

15) Getting beat at video games.

16) After hours of frustration, being told by an eleven-year-old, “sure I know how to work (fill in high tech device.) A baby could do it.”

17) Being judged for my fashion sense.

18) That look in their eye when they first feel betrayed.

19) Trying to explain to a six-year-old why the pet died.

20) Trying to convince a two-year-old that lima beans are good by eating two helpings – yuck!

21) Tonka makes wimpy trucks compared to what I had in the sixties.

22) Schools and quacks trying to medicate discipline.

23) It’s no longer safe to let a kid ride their bike all over the neighborhood from breakfast to dinner.

24) Being the bad guy when my kids want something that isn’t good for them.

25) I can’t afford to buy them a pony.

26) Shopping mall Santas creep me out.

27) “Some assembly required.”

28) Did I mention projectile vomit?

29) I’ve seen what happens to Dad when little Timmy gets a paper route.

30) The terrible twos.

31) “Whatever.”

32) (Girl specific) Boys - two years older.

33) (Boy specific) Having to admit, “I’ve got nothing,” when he asks about girls.

34) Seeing them leave home.

35) Knowing how old I look in their eyes.

36) Having to go through all that again when they have kids

and

37) Because only someone without kids can say to stressed parents, “You know what works with kids is…”

   Oh, and then there's this video,