Month: November 2014

Graphic Stupidity

Have you ever watched truTV? It’s filled with content such as “World’s Dumbest” and “Impractical Jokers.” Basically, it’s crap. Studly is entranced by truTV, ergo, crap entrances my spouse.

This evening’s viewing included a countdown of the world’s dumbest criminals. In spite of myself I watched to ascertain which criminals make the top 10. Will it be the naked guy who attempts to rob a convenience store saying he has a gun in his pocket, or will it be the woman who attempts to knock over a fast food place by pointing a gun through the drive in window?

I don’t know if I’m more disturbed by the content or by my willingness to watch it non-stop from 7 p.m. until bedtime. Granted, at my age bedtime is often 9 p.m., so that’s only two hours of mediocre programming.

I guess I pictured us watching quality television during middle age. Stuff with a purpose like “Planet Earth” or “Cosmos.” Yes, I could go into another room, but then I’d miss out on discovering the number one world’s dumbest criminal. I’m betting on the guy who wrote his bank robbery note, “Give me all your money” on the back of his own phone bill.

Peace, People!

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Sleeping in the Nude

Pajamas are a must for me. I’ve tried sleeping in the nude, but I always have outrageously awful dreams when I do, such as I’m shopping in a supermarket and suddenly realize I’m buck (butt?) naked. In these I try frantically to hide behind the shopping cart as I continue shopping, because everyone knows that shopping carts are super concealers of nudity.

I’ve also dreamt that I’m naked as a newborn and sitting in a classroom. As soon as I discover that I’m sans clothing I pull my knees up to my chest and continue answering test questions in hopes that no one will spy my boobs just hanging there like overripe fruit.

Other naked dreams have me attempting to put gas in my car and attempting to hide between the pumps. Another includes a dilemma in which my clothing is clearly visible, but it is on the other side of a room full of people. In this one, I attempt to move ninja style, crouching and rolling in order to reach my clothes.

When I sleep in my well-worn p.j.s I just have normal dreams of talking cats assisting in my escape from islands inhabited by spear wielding cannibals. Maybe this is why I suffer from insomnia.

Peace, People!

Fall in (Love With) Tallahassee

Our leaves don’t really do much in the way of changing here. So far I’ve seen no garnets or golds other than those on the clothes adorning the fanatical fans of Florida State football. The morning temps are much cooler, though, than they were just two weeks ago, and the afternoons are gloriously sunny and warm. If I had a friend, we’d sit out on the back porch and drink our coffee as we watched the light play across the lake. Instead, I watch Criminal Minds and CSI:Miami reruns and do laundry.

But I imagine adopting a certain languor while reclining in the early November sun, an SPF 50 or above on any exposed body part. Even in my imagination I must be skin conscious. My non-existent friend offers to fetch us a drink refill, but no, I insist on getting it. We’ve exchanged our coffee for tea now. Sweetened for her, unsweetened for me. I hang up some clothes while I’m inside the house and start another load.

When I return, Adam Levine is stretched out on the chaise longue. He tells me my other friend had to leave to do laundry of her own. I’m momentarily uncertain of my next step, but Adam accepts the tea and we continue talking as if nothing has changed. Adam begins singing a song he’s composed just for me. I might be in love. With Tallahassee.

Peace, People.

Souvenirs

As old as I am I can never resist buying a sometimes silly, sometimes significant souvenir when I visit a theme park or site of historical significance. Even if it’s not my first visit. Even if it’s my 59th visit, I still require a tangible marker of my trip.

This summer I visited Disney World twice within a span of four months and I bought a souvenir mug on trip one and another on trip two. Like I could forget that I’d been there without them.

This past weekend I went to Halloween Horror Nights at Universal Studios. I looked all that evening for the perfect souvenir–a Walking Dead hooded sweatshirt that touted a visit to Terminus. Unfortunately, this must have been an incredibly popular sweatshirt because all that remained were men’s sizes small and XL.

I’d just about resigned myself to leaving without a reminder of my visit when I saw a refreshment kiosk selling an alcoholic beverage called a “Dead Walker” that came in a souvenir glass with pulsing LED lights. Damn! I needed that. Never mind that the concoction included an energy drink that would keep me awake most of the night.

The drink was tasty and I was particularly proud of my classy glass. I kept it close to my body as we navigated the last of the houses of horror–a place called “Giggles and Gore” filled with clowns of nightmarish proportions. I used the glass as a shield against these sideshow terrors. When we returned to the hotel I placed the glass in one of our car’s backseat cup holders so I wouldn’t accidentally leave it behind. I’d bonded with that cup.

The next morning we set off for home. Studly and my brother-in-law Steve in the front seat, my sister-in-law Angie, the cup, and me, in the backseat. We stopped at a Denny’s for breakfast and then were back on the road. We hadn’t driven more than half an hour when Angie made an urgent request to stop the car. Her face was a hue of green I’ve seldom seen outside of cartoons. I realized that Studly would not be able to stop before Vesuvius spewed. With only a second’s hesitation I offered up my souvenir glass as a receptacle for her vomit. And vomit she did.

Studly, by then, had safely pulled off the road. Angie opened the door and finished her business in the wild flowers on highway 428. I’ve never been a litterer, but by golly, my souvenir glass now takes up a small space of real estate in Central Florida. I hope I can remember my trip without it.

Peace, People!

Fair Food

Few things in life can compare to the joys of foods found at a fair:

Funnel cake
–with strawberries
–whipped cream
–powdered sugar

Gigantic turkey legs, golden brown

Deep fried anything
–bananas
–Snickers

Bratwurst surrounded by peppers and onions, oh my!

Corn dogs

Sugared pecans

Caramel corn

Cotton candy
–pink
–purple
–blue

Lemon Squeeze, extra large

And I’m on a diet.

It Only Hurts When I Move

Friday night (Halloween, 2014) Studly and I, along with his sister, Angie and her husband, Steve, ventured into the frightening world of Universal Studios Halloween Horror Nights in Orlando.

Angie and Steve flew all the way from the panhandle of Texas to help me bring closure to my glorious birthday month. And how do I thank them? By dragging them through one terrifying haunted house after another.

Imagine, if you will, Halloween on steroids. The big draw for us this year was “The Walking Dead” house in which we had to negotiate the claustrophobic confines of the prison and then make our way to Terminus while keeping out of the reach of walkers and cannibals alike. It was absolutely everything I’d hoped it would be–heart stopping horror at every turn.

Studly played it pretty cool all night until we went through the “Dusk ‘Til Dawn” house. It had snakes. Dangling, coiling, lurking, slithering snakes. Fake snakes, but Studly’s worst nightmare nonetheless.

What Are We Doing Here?

Every now and then I feel like I’m on the verge of being able to answer the great ‘meaning of life’ questions.

I mean, the answers are right on the tip of my brain. It’s as if I once knew these answers, but someone has hidden them from me.

Like when you have an incredible dream that floats away in a mist before you can write down the details of how a cow spoke to you in a foreign language, like Lebanese or Taiwanese or some other -ese while massaging your temples.

I ponder these questions often: Why are we here? What is our purpose? How do I program one remote control to manage all of the functions I require?

Perhaps, if I assume the lotus position, fast for three days, and focus all of my attention on these questions I will at some time in the future be able to answer the first two. The third is well beyond my comprehension, now and forever, but that’s why I have grandchildren.

Peace, People!