The Persistent Squirrel

The Persistent Squirrel

#persistentsquirrel  #randomthoughts #blogschmog

Over the past few weeks I have seen the same squirrel on my morning drive to work. It’s not like he has any distinguishing marks or he’s waving to me or anything, but he’s just in the same spot at the same time every morning. It’s like we’re on the same schedule.

What’s interesting about this squirrel is that his morning routine consists of trying to dig in the middle of the paved street. Every morning he is in the middle of the road digging around a small crack in the pavement. He very focused; to the point that you have to slow down to give him time to realize you are coming. He’ll scamper out of harm’s way and then quickly return to the task at hand once your car has cleared the work zone. All I can assume is that this little guy thinks there’s a nut in this area under the pavement. Not sure if his squirrel buddies are phucking with him; if he’s just a little slow; or maybe he’s pursuing a family squirrel legacy about the prized nut great grandpa buried before they developed Goshen Road; but whatever the reason, this guy is dedicated. 

The more I think about my squirrel friend, the more I realize he and I aren’t that different. We both get up at the crack of dawn, strap on the work boots and put our shoulder to the wheel with the hopes of bringing home the big prize. Many days I feel like I’m digging in pavement and I know that for every car that slows down for me there are three more that are trying to run over me. So if you’re still with me, (you have to much free time and you need to get your ass out in the street and start digging for your nut.) I’ll bring it full circle. We can learn a lot from this squirrel. Life isn’t easy. Rarely are things handed to you. If you want to succeed you need to be prepared to dig in pavement, to dodge the dangerous traffic and put blind trust in working your ass off for that intangible dream nut. 

The last few days I haven’t seen my squirrel friend. Sure, this could mean that he got flattened by the short, pudgy woman who can’t see over the dash of her Escalade, but I’d like to think it’s because all of his work finally paid off and he got that nut. Here’s to you, you little nut gobbler.

Paper or Plastic

Paper or Plastic

#paperorplastic  #blogschmog  #randomthoughts  #bobblog

Paper or plastic?  I’ve probably been asked that 1500 times or so and my answer is always the same… "plastic’s fine”. “Plastic’s fine”…when I say it, it’s like I know plastic is NOT fine but I’m kind of shifting the blame onto the bagger.  Like, “hey…if that’s what you have to do then I guess I’ll put up with it.  I mean, it sure wouldn’t be MY choice but if plastic is what you’re pushing, then I guess it’s “fine”.  Really, you’re only giving me two choices here and I can’t lie, I really don’t know if paper is a good choice or a bad choice.  Next to plastic it sounds like it would be a more environmentally acceptable choice but then I think, they’re killing trees to make the paper, so is that really a good choice?  Kill a tree or pick a plastic bag that I’ll see stuck in a tree on I-55 as I fly past the ever growing pile of rubbish buried North of Fairmont city.  Nothing says welcome to Illinois like 250 feet of trash.

So yeah, plastic’s fine…plastic’s…I really don’t think that’s even a word but that’s the way I say it…plastic’s. 

Yeah and please use as many plastic bags as you can.  That six pack with the easy carry handle…bag that shit…on second thought, double bag that shit, we don’t want it to break!  Yeah, I bought deodorant on my grocery trip, put that in its own bag.  We don’t want any grocery/HBA cross contamination. 

Now I’m not the greenest guy in town but how about we put a pile of recyclable bags at the end of the checkout and offer folks paper, plastic or recyclable bags for an extra $5.  I know I may be the exception but I would def pay the extra for the recyclable bags.  In fact I’d probably pay it over and over because I’d forget to bring them in on the next trip and I’d be too lazy to walk 50 yards to the car to get them.  So the store would make a little more money, there would be one less plastic bag in the tree where Fairmont golf course used to be, the checkout boy would feel better as I wouldn’t push the “plastic’s fine” guilt on him and I’d feel better about my bag choice.  Win-win-win-win.

Not The Brightest Bulb...

Not The Brightest Bulb...

#notthebrightestbulb  #blogschmog  #randomthoughts #bobblog

Have you bought light bulbs lately?  This used to be a quick, easy, mundane task.  Not anymore.  On a recent trip to Home Depot I stopped by the light bulb section to pick up a few bulbs.  The “section” is now an entire aisle.  After walking up and down the aisle a few times I realized this was not going to be a simple, visual purchase; this was going to be more of a pack a lunch pail type job.  I was going to have to put in a little time.

So I reluctantly started reading the boxes in hopes of finding a simple bulb to fit some can lights. About 10 minutes in I realized I was no closer to completing my errand than when I walked through the door.  In fact, I was worse off, as I was now slightly confused and my moral was fading fast.  I had lost my light bulb swagger.  A little embarrassed by how long this was taking me, I did a quick look around me to see if there were any families point and laughing.  There wasn’t.  There were just three other people standing in front of various sections of the aisle gazing at the bulbs with empty looks on their faces.  Kind of like the look I get when my wife starts explaining debits, credits and accrual reversals to me.

Finally after about 30 minutes I made my decision.  Partly out of being semi informed and partly out of being semi embarrassed at having spent a half a phuking hour buying a light bulb, I coolly strolled out of Home Depot with two light bulbs that cost me like $70!  IDK, they are supposed to last like 9 ½ years or something.  Yet another scam.  I can’t even remember what I ate for lunch, I’m sure not going to remember how long ago I replaced a light bulb.  And for those who haven’t been light bulb shopping recently and think I’m exaggerating, check out http://www.homedepot.com/b/Electrical-Light-Bulbs/N-5yc1vZbmbu?catStyle=ShowProducts where you can find a simple selection of 2,518 lighting choices including the Philips MasterColor 25-Watt PAR38 Integrated Ceramic Metal Halide HID Light Bulb with 1450 lumens of brightness and a life hour rating of 13.7 years for a mere $69.97.  If Humphry Davy were alive today he’d say FTN (fuck that noise).  Yeah, Edison didn’t invent the light bulb, he “improved” it and put us down the slippery slope to the Philips MasterColor 25-Watt PAR38 Integrated Ceramic Metal Halide HID Light Bulb with 1450 lumens of brightness and a life hour rating of 13.7 years. Yeah, thanks for that Tommy boy.

Death of a Postman

Death of a Postman

#deathofapostman  #blogschmog  #randomthoughts #bobblog

As a qualifier, I have nothing against the US Post Office.  In fact, for years I have said that they need to charge more for their service.  You want me to come to your house, pick up a letter and deliver it across the country for $0.49?  FTN!  Anyway, much like Block Buster and the Yellow Pages, the USPO is pretty deep into the back nine.  Yesterday my mailman knocked on my door (someone stole my mailbox…4 months ago…ha!).  I put my call on hold, got up and answered, only to get two pieces of junk mail that I immediately threw away.  When I answered the door I looked at my mailman and I could see almost an apologetic look in his eyes.  It was the same look I had on my face when I lost my virginity…sorry…I’ll do better next time.  Anyway, I kind of feel sorry for my mailman.  I think he knows that I know that he’s really not bringing much to the table anymore. Direct deposits, direct withdraws, direct billing, on-line shopping, he knows he’s dead weight.  At this point he’s pretty much just in it for the exercise.  He’s like Shaun T with a uniform.  And even the uniforms have gotten a lax.  My guy is kind of grungy but with the explorer hat.  Kind of a Kurt Cobain meets Dora.  Anyway, hang in there mister mailman.  Keep your chin up and update that resume…oh and when you send them out…use your dial up AOL email account don't mail them...nobody mails anything anymore.

You've Got Mail

#youvegotmail  #bobblog  #randomthoughts

"You've Got Mail".  Ah yes.  The first "notification".  Seemed harmless enough.  Hell, back in the day it was actually quite impressive.  The first few times folks my age heard it, it typically triggered a modern day "in my day" rant.  "Boy oh boy, have we come a long way.  I remember back in high school computer class (actually what it was called) we used to spend the entire hour on our Commodor 64's crunching Cobol and Fortran codes to get an oversized dot matrix printout of your name!  Hey did I ever show you how to spell boobless on your calculator?"
    
Anyway, somewhere between 1989 when AOL debuted "you've got mail" and today, I lost my affinity for the "notification".  In fact, I phuking hate the notification.  Actually I hate myself for my addiction to the notification. 

Between the hours of 5 a.m. to 10 p.m. my cell phone is always on my person.  And in those 17 waking hours I probably look at my phone 100 times.  Hey, that's less than six times an hour or once every 10 minutes...not too bad.  Actually it's frickin' horrible.  Text notifications, WhatsApp notifications, email notifications, Words With Friends notifications, SongPop notifications, Facebook notifications, Timehop notifications, voicemail notifications...it never stops!  When it's time for me to reboot, I turn on my digital clock app and prop my phone up on the nightstand where it vibrates throughout the night as important emails from Nordstrom, Amazon and Zappos roll in. 

Now I know, this is a me problem.  I am the one who has all of the notifications turned on.  I am the one who feels compelled to look at my phone every 10 minutes to see if anything new has happened.  I mean, I can't take a chance on missing someone on Facebook posting a beautiful sunrise or a picture of their effing dog, can I?  That's crazy talk. 

Ok, so the good news is, they say admitting you have a problem is the first step towards a cure or something like that.  Not sure I totally buy into that bs though because I've know for a long time that I drink more than I should and here I sit as a proud member of three wine clubs.  Anyway, I think I'm going to try and tackle my phone addiction first.  Partly because it will be easier and partly because I really like wine.  Ok...never mind...I can see this isn't going to work.  I think it's best if we don't spend too much time on fixing me.  I'm kind of a lost cause.  But for all you others...it's not too late!  Unplug.  Turn off your notifications.  Set your phone down for at least 3 hours a day.  Make it a rule to never look at your phone while your kids are talking to you.  Look out your window not at your phone when you want to see a sunrise (notice I didn't say "go outside"...baby steps...let's not get crazy).  Let's spend more time "making" memories and not "capturing" them.  Make the most of your day today!  Oh...before you do all that living in the present bullshit, please click the follow me button on this blog.  What?  I only have two followers and I think one of them is trying to sell me something!

naked and affraid: September 27th two thousand phucking fourteen. ...

naked and affraid: September 27th two thousand phucking fourteen. 

...: September 27th two thousand phucking fourteen.  Blogging...let's give this shit a try.  For the record, I've never read or wrote a...

September 27th two thousand phucking fourteen. 

Blogging...let's give this shit a try.  For the record, I've never read or wrote a blog.  So if there is a proper protocol that I should be following and I don't...my bad. 

"My bad".   You have to love "my bad".  It's kind of like a 2014 version of "I know I really fucked up, probably don't give a shit that I did, but by admitting that I acknowledge, it's "my bad", I really hope you feel better that I fucked up.  "My bad" is probably one of the most powerful phrases you can use today.  Embrace it.  Love it.  Learn it. 

"My bad" can get you out of most uneventful situations you put yourself in.  "My bad" admits ownership to a bad situation but in a way that almost makes others feel sorry for you.  It allows you to take ownership of a fucked up situation but in a casual kind of way.  Like, "oh shit, I engaged the nuclear code...what?...for real?...oh wow, my bad."

Think about how different you would feel if some folks would have used "my bad" instead:

Bill Clinton:  "But I want to say one thing to the American people. I want you to listen to me. I'm going to say this again: I did not have sexual relations with that woman, Miss Lewinsky. I never told anybody to lie, not a single time; never. These allegations are false. And I need to go back to work for the American people. Thank you."  Hey Bill, we know what you did, you perv.  I'm not judging but I'm just saying, a simple "my bad" would suffice. You had me at Hillary.

Tiger Woods:  "I was wrong. I was foolish. I don't get to play by different rules. The same boundaries that apply to everyone apply to me."  Hey Tiger, it's not like your buddy just asked you if you were playing a Pro Staff 3 and you said, ...ah...Pro Staff...3...uh...yeah,...yeah, that's mine." Bitch, we're not taking about your ball, you screwed some hookers!  But, in hindsight, I think a simple, "my bad" would suffice.

The point is, we are all flawed individuals.  Some more so than others...you know who you are! 

So let me be the first to say, let's all do the best we can to live in this effed up world and make the best decisions we can.   But we when don't make the "right" decisions and we all won't...let's do our best to cut our peers a little slack and let them slide with a simple "my bad".   And if they continue to fuck up, then let's take those sick bastards to task!  Sorry.  I got a little emotional there.   My bad.