Just Drop It In Water And Presto!

In this day and age all you need is water and you can have instant rice, potatoes, grits, and yes, even instant boyfriends. One of my coworkers returned from Florida and brought a "Grow a boyfriend" to one of the social workers (currently without a boyfriend). The "grow a boyfriend" is touted to grow to six times its original size. Then when you take him out of the water he shrinks back down. Not unlike a real man, this growing six times his size and then shrinking back down can happen again and again. "If you can't get a date, then grow the perfect mate." Well, we all had fun with the comments, double entendres, and insinuations.



It is funny how one thing will remind me of something else. Suddenly I was transported back in time to the summer of 1970 or there abouts - I was 13 and traveling with my boy scout troop to a canoe trip destination of Ely, Minnesota. Long trips can be boring, thank goodness for gas stations. The gas station attendants must have felt invaded when our orange school bus pulled up to their pumps. Boy scouts would pour out both ends of the bus and scatter like a tube of BB's poured onto a concrete floor. Some headed for the restroom, some for the coke machine, some went to browse the tiny sales office, and some to licit change from the cashier. Once the bus was fueled and the scouts were herded back onto the bus, we all compared notes about what we bought. The usual haul was soft drinks, snacks, free maps, and an odd pair of sunglasses. After one gas station stop, there was some whispering and giggling that spread throughout the bus like the ebola virus. One of the scouts purchased something for twenty-five cents from the vending machine in the men's room. This was a brave scout. We always looked at the foreboding machine, some would twist the knobs and pretend to purchase a "rubber," but we never figured anyone had the guts to actually buy one. Such an offense would bring certain punishment of unfathomable proportions. The actual purchase was not a condom, instead, it was a small envelope with two little red capsules in it. On the envelope were the words, "Instant Pussy."



Now, keep in mind, Al Gore had not created the internet yet, so boy scouts did not know about surfing porn on the net. Occasionally, a few torn out photos from a Playboy magazine would circulate from scout to scout like the smuggling of national secrets. Even more rare occasions involved someone having an entire Playboy. I appreciated the entire magazine over the single photo pages, because I enjoyed reading the articles. Hehehe. I am trying to paint a picture here of how horny we all were or thought we were. In some ways it was a competition to produce the best photo of a naked woman or even better, produce an actual female body part. I cannot speak for what everyone else was expecting. I knew it would be erotic, so I was right there when the capsules were dropped into the water. The little cup of water was surrounded by a bus load of warm blooded, heart thumping, heavy breathing, budding hard legs. We just knew it was going to be awesome. Finally, it happened - the capsule opened up and produced a small foam kitty cat.



The disappointment and sexual tension was replaced with laughter and insults for the former hero who purchased the red capsules in the first place. His fortune turned as quick as Jack's in that beanstalk story. Boy scouts want results, not just heroic effort. I did learn something that day. If it sounds too good to be true, then it probably is.







As an adult, our family was out eating at a restaurant. John was about seven years old. He always checked out the restroom in restaurants without fail. Barbara and I were still eating when John returned from the restroom with a request. "Dad, can I have fifty cents for the machine in the bathroom, " he said. He was a sucker for vending machines. I launched into my father mode. "Son, you don't need anything from that machine. That is for when you are a big boy, even bigger, a man." He dropped it and I thought little more of it other than the humor of it all. I had to visit the WC myself, so I headed in there. Exiting, I noticed the machine he must have referenced earlier - it was a cologne machine. What a laugh. All of the cologne brands required leisure suits unbuttoned to the navel and thick gold chains with hub cap sized medallions. Haven't you been in the restroom at a restaurant and seeing one of those machines you think something like, thank God, a cologne machine, my musk oil needs refreshing.



That's it, and it all started with a little $2 gag gift given from one friend of mine to another. So just add water and you can have an instant meal and even an instant boyfriend, just don't expect too much.



Links:

Bathroom Graffiti

More bathroom graffiti

Even more bathroom graffiti



Until the next time

John Strain

What Do You Expect?

Monday is the morning of the grumpy employee. The weekend is over and the reality of five more days of work is etched on the faces of those who realize it the most. Monday's are less frivolous and there is much less laughter in the work place. By contrast, Friday is often light hearted. There is a palpable energy. Good humor and happiness permeate the office. It is all about expectations.



What you expect has a lot to do with what you think, feel, and ultimately get. Disappointment can be traced to expectations set too high. The "knight on a white horse" is a set up for disappointment in a relationship. Dreams of the World Series disappoints all baseball fans save two teams and ultimately only one. This year, I had high expectations for the Kansas City Royals. They were picked to win their division. Sadly, they have not met those expectations and Royals fans are more depressed than usual.



One can set expectations too low. If you do not expect anything of your children, they will live up to it. Studies have shown students living up or down to the expectations of their teacher. Therefore, expecting something out of someone, whether a mate, child, coworker, student, or team mate has a positive impact. However, if you expect too much, it can cause people to give up, revolt, or simply become apathetic.



For those of you who have that certain person who always gets under your skin, you can alter your expectations and lessen the impact. I usually ask someone, "how many years has your brother been doing this (fill in the blank)?" If the answer is "many years," my next question is, "then why do you act surprised when it happens again?" One should expect the behavior to continue, prepare for it, or avoid it altogether.



The next time you are down, angry, or stressed, examine your expectations related to the emotion. My guess is you expected something to happen and it did not OR you expected something would not happen and it did.



Today is Monday. We have five days until Saturday, but only four until Friday and Friday's are always happy. Expect not to be feeling on top of the world, but expect you will survive and steel yourself to be part of the solution today. Throw around a few smiles and compliments. I never wear a new shirt on a Monday. Nobody ever notices. They are too pissed it is Monday. On the other hand, on Wednesday or Thursday, everybody notices.



What you feel has a lot to do with what you expect. Don't be passive and take the feelings lying down. Work on those expectations and change how you feel.



Until the next time

John Strain

Bass Ackwards

Normally, I like to get my yard work finished on Saturday, drink a cold brew in the afternoon and contemplate the rest of the weekend. Yesterday, after my run, I sat at the computer and goofed around, since I had all day to get the yard done. Just about the time I was going to go outside, it started raining like a cow peeing on a flat rock. It rained all day. At the time, it was nice, because I just kept playing around on the computer. Notice the little tweaks to my sidebar. It hardly seems worth the better part of a day when you look at it, but at the time, it seemed worth it.



Today, I ran 10 miles at a 7:48 pace. Total time 1:18:07. Saturday I ran 3 miles at a 7:16 pace and my fastest mile was 7:00. So my times are improving and I give a lot of credit to my coach, Mad Dog Mike Schreiber. Right now, I weigh 177 which is down from 195 June 1 and from 214 September 2003. Along the same lines, my cholesterol is down from 223 in September 2003 to 164 last week. I have about 4 months until my next marathon and everything is right on schedule.



I need to package up my scanner and camera and mail them to Canon. I learned the hub was the culprit and it has a lifetime warranty. So far, I am very impressed and pleased with the way Canon is working with me. If it keeps going like this, I will have to put their logo on my website or something. They are restoring some of my lost faith in the overall customer service of today. On the other end of the spectrum is Cingular. I called yesterday for some info and talked to a woman who was so flat and unfriendly. I would ask a question and she would say nothing. I would try to rephrase the question figuring she did not know how to respond. I think she was being passive aggressive. Some people love to not know the answer to your question. I could go on about the lousy service of Cingular, but I need to let my blood pressure normalize.



I barely saw the blue moon last night. There won't be another one until 2007 according to my sister over at Down a Country Road. A blue moon is defined as the second full moon in the same calendar month. She wrote a nice description about it.



Two weeks from yesterday, we are going to have a garage sale. I would rather take a beating than have a garage sale, but we have to declutter. Barbara has watched some show on HGTV or something where a crew comes to a house and helps them declutter. One of the techniques is to make three piles of your things. One is toss, another is keep, and the last is sell. I will have to think about how nice it will be to get rid of all of the accumulated crap for motivation. The thing I hate is having people show up when you are trying to put things out. If I say the garage sale begins at 8:00 AM, people show up at 6:00 AM. I think what bothers me is they let their desire to get something override the value of respecting someone's wishes. It is like eating out of the pot that is sitting on the stove instead of waiting for the table to be set. And they eat out of the pot because they want the best cut of meat. Screw everyone else. Greeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed drives people to act like animals. Come to think of it so does, anger, sex, and alcohol.



Enough blabbering, I have to get behind the lawn mower before the afternoon rains roll in.



Have a nice Sunday and don't forget to go over to What's Up Down South and wish Miss Brenda a Happy 50th Birthday.



Until the next time

John Strain

Weekend Replay: The Plastic Bag

This was first posted Wednesday, August 20, 2003. It is a tribute to our seniors. After listening to this post you may want to download a song which goes well with the post's theme. It is by Beth Lodge-Rigel and is entitled Look Out My Window

Read the post

A Passage From: Smoke On The Mountain by Joy Davidson

This is another great passage to make you think about how we treat our seniors.

For those of you who cannot receive the audio post, here is the passage:



Once there was a little old man. His hands trembled when he ate, he clattered the silverware continuously, missed his mouth with the spoon as often as not, and dribbled a bit of his food on the tablecloth. He lived with his married son, having nowhere else to live. It was apparent that the son's wife didn't particularly care for the arrangement.



Things finally reached a breaking point and she said, "I can't have this, it interferes with my right to happiness." So she and her husband took the old man gently but firmly by the arm and led him to the corner of the kitchen. There they set him on a stool and gave him his food in an earthenware bowl. From then on he always ate in the corner looking at the table with wistful eyes.



One day his hands trembled more than usual, and the earthenware bowl fell and broke into hundreds of pieces. The daughter-in-law blurted out, "If you are a pig, you must eat out of a trough." So they made him a little wooden trough, and he got his meal in it each day. This family had a four-year old of whom the parents were very fond. One evening the father noticed him playing intently with some bits of wood and asked what he was doing. "I'm making a trough," he said, smiling for approval, "to feed you and momma out of when I get big."



The man and his wife looked at each other for a while and didn't say anything. Then, holding back tears, they went to the corner and took the old man by the arm and led him back to the table. They sat him in a comfortable chair and gave him his food on a regular plate, and from then on nobody ever scolded him when he clattered the silverware, spilled food on the table, or broke things.