Blowers, Blinkers and Hallucinogens

Who are those inconsiderate bastards and bastardettes who improperly use leaf blowers?

I’m talking about those people who, after giving their lawn a good mowing, blow the clippings and other shit into the street in front of and/or onto their neighbor’s property. What gives? I’m not sure I understand that mentality: “Fuck you. It’s your grass now, bitch.”

I never thought much about it until The Warden brought it up a couple of years ago.

Someone make me understand.

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While I’m on a rant, let’s talk about blinkers; a.k.a. signal indicators, turn signals, etc. Here’s my advice to those who don’t quite get their purpose:
1. They are used to let other drivers know where the hell you’re going. Use ‘em.
2. Blinker before brakes. Turn on your blinker before you hit the brakes. Slowing to a near-crawl and then turning on your blinker is pointless.
3. When turning into a drive, parking lot, etc., use your fucking blinker, especially if there’s someone waiting to exit.
4. Don’t bother turning on your blinker halfway through the turn you should have signaled 50 yards ago.

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I suffered through Deal or No Deal tonight. I did it for the kids. It was the season finale. One of the Vanna White wannabe bimbettes (Tamika) said this before opening her case, one of the last four: “...This is the craziest game I ever opened a case for.”

I know the terms of Tamika’s hiring probably didn’t include having more than two operable brain cells, but come on. Wow. Thank you Tamika. Thank you for reminding me that pretty women can still be stupid if they wanna be.

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Memory Du Jour:
Arizona, Christmas 1979 or 1980
My mom was out of town sometime before Christmas. Being the delinquent teenager I was, I invited a few friends over to my house for a mellow little party. In attendance were Darla, Nancy, Dennis, Cheryl (GF at the time), a couple of people whose names I can’t recall, and my neighbor Kenny, who showed up unexpectedly. We all had a little Vitamin “A” and were soon launched into a psychedelic adventure. Herb and Jack Daniel’s were involved, to take the edge off.

We sat in the living room for what seemed like a couple of hours, talking, and enjoying the colorful glow of the Christmas tree, floating somewhere way above the ionosphere.

Then there was a loud knock at the front door. Being teenagers and paranoid, we all shit our pants and panicked until someone said something profound like, “be cool man.” I got up and answered the door as calmly as possible. It was neighbor Kenny. I don’t remember what was said by anyone there, including me, but I’m sure it included either the exclamation, “You fucker!” or “You dick!” Kenny came in and smoked some herb with us. A few minutes went by and then there was another knock at the door. We all looked at each other; everyone except Kenny who said, “My mom!” and hauled ass to the back of the house.

I answered the door and was surprised (probably more like petrified) to see Kenny’s mom there. She looked at me suspiciously and said, “Where’s Kenny.” “I don’t know” didn’t cut it. She let herself in and asked me what we were doing, knowing my mom was out of town. “Just sitting around watching the Christmas tree” was the strategic, intelligent response I offered. She looked deep into my eyes, gave a knowing “Uh huh,” and headed for the back of the room to fetch Kenny. I followed. She found him hiding in my closet. It was so fucking funny, but I couldn’t laugh. She hauled his ass back home next door and everything was cool again.

A couple of hours later there was another loud knock on the door. We all shit our pants. I got up and answered it. Kenny was standing there, leaning against the doorframe, eating a bowl of cereal. More “You dick!s” and “Asshole!s” were uttered.

I don’t recall much of the rest of the night but we had much fun.

Graphic Du Jour:
Due to technical difficulties beyond my control (i.e. Blogger is fucked up), I am unable to upload today's picture. Instead, I offer a short
political rant.

Quote of the Day:
"That's called, 'A Charge To Keep,' based upon a religious hymn. The hymn talks about serving God. The president's job is never to promote a religion." —Showing German newspaper reporter Kai Diekmann the Oval Office, Washington, D.C., May 5, 2006