albadger: (Baby Hitler)
Today begins "interestingly." Last night, I notice that the little signs are back on the side walk. NO PARKING 7AM-5PM JANUARY 21, 22, 23 they say, with the sweet sweet promise that the repaving, only half completed in November, will finally be finished... but it means I need to wake up in time to move the car, so I think I'll go out for breakfast instead of doing my normal oatmeal at home.

Castro Valley is an adorable little enclave here in Alameda County, and has several good breakfast spots, of which I pick the one by the Albertson's, because when you order bacon there, you get BACON, thick meaty slabs of it, and not the 2 or three you'd get at Denny's, but 6.

About 15 minutes in, two old farts plop down at the table right next to mine. This is 'open seating,' mind you, they could take any place in the nearly empty dining are, but they plop down right next to me. I have a waffle to conquer, so I pay no attention to their chatter until one fart asks the other, "Did you hear that asshole on the TV last night?"

(For non-Americans, last night was Barak Obama's State of the Union address.)

"Yeah, disgusting," says Fart Number Two. "Bastard just giving everything away to poor people." I contemplate the hours of stimulus-response therapy that the Fart endured before he learned to say "poor people" instead of "the coloreds," and I smile inwardly.

"Geez, yeah," ripostes Fart Number One. "What, now if you're poor you don't pay ATM fees? I swear, poor people have it so easy." I laugh inwardly, as Mr. Obama's speech challenged idiots like these to try being poor themselves if they think it's so easy, but the Farts clearly are not content-oriented.

This was free entertainment for me, until their conversation changed. "You saw about the San Mateo Bridge, right?"

(For non-Bay Area people, there was a protest on the San Mateo Bridge a few nights ago; the protestors parked their cars to block the bridge, the protest being against police violence and societal acceptance of same.)

"Hell, yeah, those creeps. Police went too easy on 'em. Shoulda just thrown 'em over the side of the bridge. Or shot 'em..." I forget if this was Fart Number One or Fart Number Two.

Something snaps in me then; I could enjoy their stupid, nasty blather, but now they are advocating murder, they are seriously loving the idea of killing people for dissenting. I call the waiter over and asked if I could move to another table farther away. "Sure," says the waiter, and carries off my waffle plate. I pick up the other plate (eggs and precious bacon), and do something I rarely do. I do under no obligation to explain the reason I wanted to move, but I do it.

To the Farts I say, "I really don't want to start my day with your hatefulness." They look a little taken aback. I'm pretty sure they spend the rest of the morning talking about the horrible dirty hippie. I have an impact!
Three points I really need to add to this sad but inspiring story:
  1. The Farts had also been talking about their union benefits, benefits they would lose should Republicans get their way, benefits that Barak Obama is protecting. Such is life in the irony-free zone.
  2. Fart Number Two, commisserating with Fart Number One's litany of Obama sins, nods and says, "We got a revolution coming, that's for sure." Oddly, he's right.
  3. The bacon really is incredible. All stories should end with bacon being incredible.
albadger: (Lisa and Bart Screaming)
Two chores today -- first, taking my beloved Soul to the Concord Kia dealership for her slightly overdue minor-maintenance. Yes, there's a nail in the left front tire, and they fix that, so I happily drive back to Castro Valley, for my second chore, depositing my last paycheck to my bank account.

Said paycheck seems to be in my blue backpack, which I had left at the dealership waiting room.

Okay, second time I drive from Concord to Castro Valley, and bring the @#$^@#@! debit card into the bank, & ask them to transfer the contents into my checking account. The teller runs the card, and it comes back DECLINED. "Sorry," she says, "we can't even try again for another 24 hours."

Outwardly my normal smiling, gentle self, I go back to my car & call the debit card company's customer service line. It's 2AM in Bangalore but the young lady, whose fake WASPy name I don't recall, seems alert enough. Apparently the card was declined because, instead of a cash transfer, the teller had done a cash advance, and they have a limit on cash advances, well less than the paycheck value.

Tomorrow, three chores!
albadger: (Frontier)
  1. I am bouncy, wired and witless as I recover from California Extreme, attended today with [livejournal.com profile] progbear. A wonderful event, even if the stench of 1980s fashion can never be completely concealed.
  2. Also met there, [livejournal.com profile] e_ticket. I got a hug. Remember the episode of Beavis & Butthead where Beavis & Butthead get crushes on Todd? That's how I feel about [livejournal.com profile] e_ticket.
  3. I am channel surfing and stumble on "the Marriage Ref" and think, is that Kathy Griffin or a Kathy Griffin-like senitent being? and the other sentient beings are professional show-business persons in the Industry? and this show is deliberately produced and doesn't just happen accidentally-like? and a lot of television does seems like somebody just dropped other TV shows down the stairs and was too lazy to clean up so they just called the broken pieces a TV show the way they laid?
  4. Maybe it's just me, but if you're writing a commercial for a law firm that offers to sue on behalf of parents of children with birth defects, you might want to get an editor to go through the text and make sure it doesn't contain accidental rhyming couplets. It destroys the mood.
  5. I stopped at WalMart on the way home and solved the age-old problem of not knowing which length of shoelace to buy with the simple gambit of buying one pair of each possible correct length. If you need shoelaces, I will have extras.
albadger: (Frontier)
  1. I am bouncy, wired and witless as I recover from California Extreme, attended today with [livejournal.com profile] progbear. A wonderful event, even if the stench of 1980s fashion can never be completely concealed.
  2. Also met there, [livejournal.com profile] e_ticket. I got a hug. Remember the episode of Beavis & Butthead where Beavis & Butthead get crushes on Todd? That's how I feel about [livejournal.com profile] e_ticket.
  3. I am channel surfing and stumble on "the Marriage Ref" and think, is that Kathy Griffin or a Kathy Griffin-like senitent being? and the other sentient beings are professional show-business persons in the Industry? and this show is deliberately produced and doesn't just happen accidentally-like? and a lot of television does seems like somebody just dropped other TV shows down the stairs and was too lazy to clean up so they just called the broken pieces a TV show the way they laid?
  4. Maybe it's just me, but if you're writing a commercial for a law firm that offers to sue on behalf of parents of children with birth defects, you might want to get an editor to go through the text and make sure it doesn't contain accidental rhyming couplets. It destroys the mood.
  5. I stopped at WalMart on the way home and solved the age-old problem of not knowing which length of shoelace to buy with the simple gambit of buying one pair of each possible correct length. If you need shoelaces, I will have extras.
albadger: (Badger exercising)
I'm in San Diego right now while my Mom recovers from surgery -- I'm staying with my Dad, offering to help him with whatever, but he doesn't really need much help (we'll leave his political illness to the side, as it is incurable). I did replace some light bulbs today. I was abducted by my sister-in-law for a few hours, got to join her and her friends for a little klatch-type behavior. Also shopping, and visiting Mom at the hospital, and such.

But the best encounter of the day was a surprise. Doorbell rings around 10:30am -- I am expecting it to be two of Mom's friends come by to see how she was. One tall woman, one short. Both carrying books. Leather-bound books.

"You don't know us," says the tall one (no duh!), "but we just wanted to stop by and share with you a few verses from Psalm..." oh, heck, I don't remember what number Psalm it was.

I smile as she reads the verses, something that ends with a happy image of abundance and peace. "Abundance and peace," I quote back at her, "that sounds wonderful," deliberately ignoring the part before that about sending enemies into the Shadow or something. I thank them for sharing, and they go on their way.

You know what I'm struck by, thinking back on the meeting? I didn't use any of those zingers we all store up for door-to-door proselytizers -- I didn't even think any of them. I was just happy to share her happiness at sharing her message with a stranger. Not enough happiness in this world, I say.
albadger: (Badger exercising)
I'm in San Diego right now while my Mom recovers from surgery -- I'm staying with my Dad, offering to help him with whatever, but he doesn't really need much help (we'll leave his political illness to the side, as it is incurable). I did replace some light bulbs today. I was abducted by my sister-in-law for a few hours, got to join her and her friends for a little klatch-type behavior. Also shopping, and visiting Mom at the hospital, and such.

But the best encounter of the day was a surprise. Doorbell rings around 10:30am -- I am expecting it to be two of Mom's friends come by to see how she was. One tall woman, one short. Both carrying books. Leather-bound books.

"You don't know us," says the tall one (no duh!), "but we just wanted to stop by and share with you a few verses from Psalm..." oh, heck, I don't remember what number Psalm it was.

I smile as she reads the verses, something that ends with a happy image of abundance and peace. "Abundance and peace," I quote back at her, "that sounds wonderful," deliberately ignoring the part before that about sending enemies into the Shadow or something. I thank them for sharing, and they go on their way.

You know what I'm struck by, thinking back on the meeting? I didn't use any of those zingers we all store up for door-to-door proselytizers -- I didn't even think any of them. I was just happy to share her happiness at sharing her message with a stranger. Not enough happiness in this world, I say.
albadger: (Killing Spree!)
I'm out of windshield wiper fluid, so I goes into the Kragen's to buy a Mr. Clean jug of windshield wiper fluid. $3.28 total, says the pimply clerk. I give him 3 dollar bills, a quarter and 3 pennies. He takes the money and puts a dime on the counter.

"Uh... I don't need the dime back," I says.

He stares at me sullenly. "You gave me a quarter," he explains.

"Yes," says I, "3 dollar bills, a quarter and 3 pennies. That's exact change. I don't need change back." I turn to the customer behind me in line, hoping to exchange an isn't-it-always-the-way look, but she is fascinated by the ceiling tiles.

Pimply clerk rips the receipt from the printer and hands it to me. He still doesn't pick up the dime. I leave.

So... What happened here? Is this a secret signal? Do the cognoscenti pick up the dime and are then ushered into Kragen's Sanctum of Delights? Did I walk past a turning point in my life without realizing it... again?

Yeah, I know, it's just poor math skills and pride. Leave me my fantasies.

Posted via LiveJournal.app.

albadger: (Killing Spree!)
I'm out of windshield wiper fluid, so I goes into the Kragen's to buy a Mr. Clean jug of windshield wiper fluid. $3.28 total, says the pimply clerk. I give him 3 dollar bills, a quarter and 3 pennies. He takes the money and puts a dime on the counter.

"Uh... I don't need the dime back," I says.

He stares at me sullenly. "You gave me a quarter," he explains.

"Yes," says I, "3 dollar bills, a quarter and 3 pennies. That's exact change. I don't need change back." I turn to the customer behind me in line, hoping to exchange an isn't-it-always-the-way look, but she is fascinated by the ceiling tiles.

Pimply clerk rips the receipt from the printer and hands it to me. He still doesn't pick up the dime. I leave.

So... What happened here? Is this a secret signal? Do the cognoscenti pick up the dime and are then ushered into Kragen's Sanctum of Delights? Did I walk past a turning point in my life without realizing it... again?

Yeah, I know, it's just poor math skills and pride. Leave me my fantasies.

Posted via LiveJournal.app.

albadger: (Sparky the Devil Cat from Mars)
A wolf spider is crawling across the pile of used socks and shirts on my bedroom floor. "If you're still there this afternoon," I say to the spider, "I'll move you outside, okay? Better hunting there."

My cat pounces on the spider and eats it.
albadger: (Sparky the Devil Cat from Mars)
A wolf spider is crawling across the pile of used socks and shirts on my bedroom floor. "If you're still there this afternoon," I say to the spider, "I'll move you outside, okay? Better hunting there."

My cat pounces on the spider and eats it.

Profile

albadger: (Default)
albadger

April 2017

S M T W T F S
      1
2345678
9101112131415
16 171819202122
23242526272829
30      

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 21st, 2017 12:23 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios