Saturday, July 21, 2012

I'm a Bad, Bad Boy ~ Part 3 (Final Installment)

My sweet sister Peggy has reminded me of several more "episodes" wherein I seemed to be in fine form.

I gotta tell you that I feel a bit embarassed about reliving these little gems, (really!) but here goes...

NUMERO UNO

If I remember correctly, I was home on leave from the Coast Guard and had taken my sisters and nephew to lunch at a local pizza joint. The place was called "Numero Uno Pizza" and served a really great pizza with a thick soft crust and topped with delectable cheeses, meats and veg... well...

Anyway, our waitress was an attractive young lady  who was abnormally endowed in the upper chestal area. It was obvious that there wasn't much between her skin and her "Numero Uno" T-Shirt ~ and it must have been chilly inside because her shirt was, well, puckered in spots (2).

The waitress was fully responsible for what happend next. If she hadn't asked me what I would like, this would have been a non-event. I simply replied that I'd take Numero Uno AND Numero Dos (number one and number two) while staring pointedly at her chest.

She had a good sense of humor and giggled and jiggled herself back to he kitchen. If someone did that today, they'd be arrested. I imagine. Peggy seemed a bit embarassed to be in the same room with me. Her big brother! Go figure?

WILLIAM TELL

Another time, I think I was much younger - around nine years old or so. and it was just after Christmas if I remember. I had gotten a nice (toy - or so I thought) bow and arrow set. My sister Peggy who was around four got a stick horse. (Times were simpler back then before video games were invented)

We were out playing in the backyard. She with her stick horse and I with my bow and arrows. I got the idea to have Peggy stand still against a wall with an apple on her head and I would shoot it off with a cleverly placed arrow a' la William Tell...

Can you see where this is going? Yeah, I thought that you could.

I lined up the shot and took it, the arrow whizzing toward my poor, innocent and patently gullible little sister who was standing with a bright red apple on her head. The arrow found it's mark - right in the shaft of the stick horse which she had leaned against the wall. The stick horse broke in two.

Actually I was really aiming for the apple but I was a crappy shot at that age... My Father's hand subsequently found it's mark and I was sent to bed, never to play with my bow again. Drats! I'm sure with a little practice I could have made that shot...

FART BUG

Another time I was home from the Service driving my brand new 1967 Volkswagen Beetle. Dark green with white simulated imitation leatherette seat covers. It was a thing of beauty! I had paid just over $3000 for it right from the showroom floor. I was proud of it. It was my first car! So I took Peggy for a ride. If you've ever ridden in one of the older Bugs, you know that they were practically air-tight - and small. According to the advertisements, they would actually float! In real water!

At that time in my late teens and early twenties (and in the military), I thought that it was high humor to fart in public, loudly and with as much odor as diet and concious thought would allow. Had Peggy known this, I'm sure she wouldn't have ridden with me. BUT she did!

We were going down the boulevard and I farted. (see description above) I had been eating chili and hard-boiled eggs. She started to gag and I started to laugh. She reached for the window crank as did I. She to roll down the window and I to prevent said rolling down of the window. I won! She lost! Boy, did she lose... Picture: tears and crying-gagging sounds.

(If you are under the age of 30, a window crank did what the window up-down button does in modern cars).

CHICKEN LADY

This next Bon Mot is my all time favorite (at least until she reminds me of some more - my memory isn't what it used to be). Peggy has recently told me that on a scale of one to ten, this ranked at 100! High praise! Maybe because she wasn't the target, so to speak.

We were at the grocery store - this was in the pre-supermarket days - Mom and Dad were shopping and Peggy and I were looking to see what trouble we could get into. More precisely, I was looking to see what trouble I could get HER into.

We wandered toward the butcher counter where a nicely dressed woman was inspecting a whole chicken. No it wasn't the whole chicken. It was dead and it's innards and feathers and head and stuff were all gone. Back then they actually let the customers touch the goods, unlike today when everything is wrapped in a hermetically-sealed cocoon of styrofoam trays and plastic wrap.

Anyway, the lady was standing next to a fully-loaded shopping cart. Probably $20 worth of goods at the prices back then (early 1970s) Today the price would be closer to $350 bucks!

Our Lady of the Plucked Chicken was holding the bird up to her petite nose with the chicken's legs splayed shamelessly apart. She was sniffing the gaping cavity in order to determine if the late bird was indeed fresh.

Seriously, folks! Back then I had absolutely no social filter between my brain and my mouth, and now, the older I get the less it works, even today. I have no idea where the thought came from. Maybe the deep recesses of my primative lizzard-brain. In any case, I said: "I'll bet YOU couldn't pass that test".

The woman froze as if to let that thought register and then to decide on a reply. A dignified course of action. She had nothing! She turned, her face as red as William Tell's apple - and she walked out of the store. She left her cart sitting there at the counter. The butcher was, well, what's the term today? ROTFL. He thought it was amusing. My sister was like, OMG! I can't believe you said that! - Well, neither could I. Neither could I. But out it came like the hatching of a 17 year cicada on crack!

You've either got it or you don't. In some cases though, even if you got it, you shouldn't show it to everybody! Nah! Who am I kidding?

Now to tell one on my esteemed sister Peggy.

SLAYER of CHICKENS

Back in the day, our family lived in Logan, Utah. Logan is still a mostly rural and college community. We had chickens and every fall we'd butcher them for the freezer (but we didn't sniff them. We just didn't - that's just wrong).

Dad had an old tree stump next to the chicken pen that he'd use for a chopping block to dispatch the chickens. (that would be a good occupation - Chicken Dispatcher: Chicken number three, chicken number three! Report to the head rooster immediately!)

Dad used an old machete. A long knife that was used to clear brush and the ever present Utah jungle vines. He'd stretch the necks of the unsuspecting chickens across the stump. I'd hold the head and he'd whack the heads off. The heads fell to the ground and the chicken would run around the yard squirting blood and bumping into things. They'd run around like a chicken with it's head cut off which is where that phrase comes from - they really do run around! They're dead but chickens are too stupid to know it. (okay, PETA, Bring it on!) Hah!

After watching this fun-time family activity (Mom and Grandma were gutting the chickens and ripping their delicate little feathers out by the roots) Peggy decided that she wanted to "Chop one". (she was around four)

Dad patiently took a chicken and stretched it's poor little neck across the stump and I held it there. Dad placed the edge of the machete on the chicken's neck and told Peggy to chop it right there.

Peggy, being the little thing that she was, couldn't lift the machete up but then and there showed us all a hidden mean streak that she'd been harboring. She began to use the machete as a saw. Back and forth went the sharp blade across the chicken's neck. The chicken started screaming. Dad started laughing his ass off. Blood was squirting EVERYWHERE! (I never knew there was that much blood in a chicken - and under such pressure!) Mom started praying. I'm sure that's what she was doing. I heard, "Oh! God! Oh my God! BOB!  We all looked like we'd been in a scene from the movie, Carrie.

(Picture Hannibal Lechter asking, "Do you still hear the chickens screaming at night, Clarisse?")

I'll bet a hundred bucks that you didn't know that chickens could scream. Oh, they can. They can!

Dad ended up finishing off the poor test subject with a well placed whack!

After that, we never let Peggy near a knife without adult supervision.

It's fun being a GEEZER! I don't even have to remember these pivotal times in my history. As long as I have my little sisters to remind me, my life is an open book. Maybe it should be closed and burned?

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

I'm a Bad, Bad Boy - Part 2

After a recent post of mine, my dear sister reminded me of some of the other questionable things that I had done in the past. Things that I should share here with you...

A number of years ago I worked as a Security Officer at a gold mine here in Nevada. The mine was owned entirely by British Petroleum (BP). One of my duties was to drive a van from the town where I lived to the mine and back at the beginning and end of my 12 hour shift.

There were two Security Officers on duty at any given time. One of us would drive to work and the other would drive home. Also on the van with us were 12 or 13 other miners. On the trip home they would always sleep. The distance from town to the mine was 75 miles each way, at least 1 1/2 hours of sleep each way.

My partner and discussed that it didn't sem fair that we should have to drive while the rest of the crew was able to sleep, so we devised a plan... oh, we were sneaky.

We decided that I would drive the crew back to town. When I walked to get in the van already loaded with the mine crew, my partner, Jerry would come out of the building offering to drive home loud enough so that those in the van could easily hear.

When we got inside they asked what was going on. Jerry replied: "Steve forgot that it was his turn to drive home tonight and, well, he's been having problems sleeping so he took a sleeping pill and now he wants to drive but he won't let me take over for him."

Needless to say EVERYONE on the van was now wide awake and offering to drive for me but I wouldn't allow it. They were all talking to me on the way home in an effort to keep me awake and several times I "accidently" drifted toward the other lane or to the edge of the roadway or I would drop my chin to my chest as if I was dozing off. This would result in the screams and shouts of my passengers. Lovely. No sleep for them on this trip!

When we got to town (safely, I might add) Jerry and I told them that we were just having a bit of fun with them and that I hadn't actually taken a sleeping pill.

They were not very amused. Death threats were uttered. Bodily harm was attempted. We laughed. They eventually got over it... I think.

Another time, when I was stationed at the U.S. Navy base in Key West, Florida (I was in the U.S. Coast Guard but was attending a year-long Navy school) I had been corresponding by mail with my next younger sister Peggy, who was in High School. 

Through the course of this correspondence she asked me if I could send her a souvenir from Key West. I was happy to do so. But what to send?

I thought about it for at least a week when, during the task of cleaning our barracks room it struck me! I would send her some Florida green-eyed blow flies! I carefully swept several of the little (dead) buggers from he window sill of my room into an envelope. I added a short note explaining what they were and dropped them in the mail. I honestly thought she would be excited!

I then called her and let her know that her Key West souvenir was in the mail! She was excited since I wouldn't tell her what I was sending. Her anticipation level was high.

Really! She KNEW how I could be! She set her expectations WAY too high. When she got the envelope she was apparently disappointed. So much so that my mother called me and kinda chewed me out for being so cruel. What? Me cruel? Hardly! I'm not sure that she's ever forgiven me. She sort of laughs about it now but it's one of those laughs that has no humor behind it. The kind of laughs that says: "Just wait (insert slang term for rectum here)! You'll get yours!"

My sister loves me...  oh yeah she does.

The Geezer sometimes has to watch his own back when around family!

Be good!

Friday, July 13, 2012

Hello Foreign Readers!

Writing this blog has been a great outlet for me. It allows me to get things out into the open that have been bothering me and to share stories from my life.

I periodically check my "Stats" page to see where my readers are from and I have been surprised to find that just over 25% of my fans are from countries other than the U.S.A.

I suppose that this shouldn't surprise me so much since the Internet or World Wide Web is just that: World Wide.

What surprised me the most is that other than the United States, the country that shows the most readers is Russia(!) with Canada being a close second place.

To me, this is amazing. To think that the words that I write are read by people from all over the world is truly humbling and I thank you all who see these words!

This brings up a question though.

I wonder how much of what I write is lost in translation to other languages? Do American cultural references translate to other cultures? Do my foreign readers understand fully what I write?

I try not to use slang or other forms of language that may confuse someone without attempting to explain myself and I hope that this helps you to understand my thoughts and feelings.

If not, I want to help.

What I propose is this:

   If there is anything in any of my posts that a foreign reader does not understand, please ask me to clarify myself in the "Comments" section of the post in question. I will attempt to help you understand any cultural reference or other problem you may be having with the words that I write.

As a Geezer, I want you to feel the full impact of my twisted mind!

Once again, thank you all for reading my Blog. I hope that we can become friends and comrades!

Thursday, July 12, 2012

Using Someone's Fears Against Them

It's very common these days to see people's fears used against them. We see it every day and we're all victims of this tactic.

You say, "No one uses my fears against ME! I have no fears!"

Well, sorry to say, "Yes you do." Otherwise you wouldn't have purchased insurance for your life, your car, your house your family or your health.

We're all victims.

Buy insurance for your car and you're saying that you have a fear of being involved in an accident and don't want to be faced with the enormous repair or medical bills that follow - or you're afraid of having your car impounded for not having insurance.

Insurance is a big gamble. When you buy it, you're gambling that you WILL be in an accident, that you Will be injured (or someone else will be) and that you WILL have your car stolen. The insurance is gambling that none of these things will happen. The insurance company is usually right and you lose! (your money!).

Actually insurance is a legal form of extortion. Think of it that way and you'll get pissed off. I know I do every time I pay my premiums. In my lifetime I have only been in one accident in all of the many vehicles that I've owned. Also, my wife hit a coyote on the highway and we had to make a claim against the insurance to get the damage repaired.

Even in these cases, the insurance companies still win. They will pay to have the damages repaired but your rates go up and you still lose. Sit down sometime and figure out just how much money you have spent in your lifetime on insurance premiums alone. I figured that I spent over $68,000 on insurance just to pay for $6,000 in repairs.

It doesn't seem quite fair. There has to be a better way. I just don't know what it is. Do you?

Using some one's fears against them CAN be fun at times, though.

Several years before I retired I worked for a mining company. The mine was located over 70 miles from town - out in the sticks.

During the summer, we had a young girl working as a geology intern who had just graduated from High School. Her job was to assist the field geologists with whatever they needed to do. Haul soil samples, tag sample bags - whatever.

Before going out with the geologists she let it be known that she was deathly afraid of ticks - those little blood-sucking parasites that almost always get attached to you when working in the sagebrush.

The story was related to me by the geologist involved. (they are a fun-loving bunch of reprobates as ever there were)

The girl, Allison, was very shapely and pretty with long blond hair and large... umm... attributes. The geologist, Mike, was just a horn dog.

In the sagebrush one day as she was loading sample bags into the bed of the truck, Mike came up behind her and said, " Allison, you have a tick on the back of your neck."

"Get it off me" she said in a panicked tone.

Mike fiddled at the nape of her neck and said, "It's fallen down your collar. It's inside your shirt."

Allison began jumping up and down screaming, "Get it out! Get it out!" and stripped off her T-shirt.

Mike told her it was now just above the waist band of her jeans. She was almost in a full panic by this time.

Mike touched her lower back and told her that the tick had slipped down into her pants.

The pants came off along with her shoes.

"It must be inside your underwear. I don't see it".

The underwear came off. Allison was in tears by this time.

Mike told her, "I don't see it. Maybe it's, you know, like between your cheeks."

The cheeks got spread apart. Allison was sobbing and quite beside herself.

"Nope. Little bugger must have fallen off. You're okay now."

Allison got dressed and made him swear that he would tell no one about the incident. He did so swear.

When he got back to the mine, well, guess how I found out?

Turns out there was never a tick to be seen but he apparently saw what he wanted to see and liked what he saw. They're now married and have three kids.

I don't know if he ever told her that the tick-trick was a fabrication. Probably not. He's a man of his word and they are still married, after all.

The Geezer asks: Is it ever right to use some one's fears against them? Not in this case. It's just plain cruel!

However in the case of Allison and Mike, it turned out okay.