Down the Hall on Your Left

This site is a blog about what has been coasting through my consciousness lately. The things I post will be reflections that I see of the world around me. You may not agree with me or like what I say. In either case – you’ll get over it and I can live with it if it makes you unhappy. Please feel free to leave comments if you wish . All postings are: copyright 2014 – 2019

Archive for the category “Fun”

Throwback Thursday from October 2015 – “Halloween, Schmalloween”

Throwback Thursday from October 2015 –

 

Halloween, Schmalloween

OK. THAT SOUNDS A LITTLE CYNICAL, I SUPPOSE. I’m not against Halloween or anything like that. It’s just that it paints me into a corner every year. What kind of costume should I have?  Should I buy something or make it myself? Should it be in good taste or just the usual?

I haven’t gone “Trick or Treating” for years. I finally figured out that people don’t like to part with their Snickers when the bag is being held by a guy with a white beard – a real white beard.

Nowadays I wear a costume when I’m handing out the goodies at the door or when we go to a party. Neither one is as much fun as hitting up the neighbors for a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup.

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Throwback Thursday – From June 2015 – “Four Corners”

Four Corners

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THERE IS AN ODDITY of cartography that draws thousands of people to a dusty, flaming hot and remote spot on the desert land of the Navaho Nation.

I really can’t tell you what state it is in because it is, and it isn’t, in four different states simultaneously.

This spot of dusty Navaho land is called “The Four Corners Monument” and it is where the borders of Arizona, Colorado, Utah, and New Mexico meet in a pinpoint of bureaucratic, “I’ll be darned.”

For some reason, thousands of people every year drive out into the desert, fork over the price of admission to the Navaho land, and the pose for pictures while trying to stand exactly on the spot of congruence.

I was there myself not long ago. It was a hellishly hot day and there was no shade. There was a line of people (couples, families, bikers – I don’t understand that one either) all waiting to have their pictures taken.

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Reblog Special: From ‘The Whirly Girl’ – “How I Spent Christmas Night.”

Today’s posting is a reblog from “The Whirly Girl. Her post,” How I spent Christmas night” is one of the wittiest and flat out funny things I’ve read in a looong time.

A direct link to her blog:  https://thewhirlygirl.com/2017/12/27/how-i-spent-christmas-night/

 

 

: how I spent Christmas night :


With a laptop stuck in my pants.

You might think I’m kidding; I’m not. See, I decided Christmas was an ideal time to do laundry. I’d have the laundry room all to myself; it’d be a wonderfully peaceful place, maybe even offer a little redemption (what with the washing of stains and all), plus I could jam to any music I pleased. I’d not only complete a chore, but dance in the process.

I cheerfully sorted my clothes into two loads — whites and colors — packed them into laundry bags, grabbed the detergent and fabric softener sheets and a handful of quarters. Then, although it was slow to dawn, I realized I’d no third hand to schlep the laptop safely. So I did what any self-respecting genius would do: I stuffed the laptop into the back of my pants. Not only was it a tight fit, it also looked ridiculous, a problem easily solved by pulling my shirt over it. Tada, and off I toddled.

How did I get to be so smart, you wonder. Well, it comes from a lifetime of being single — you learn to invent new and unorthodox ways to manage on your own. I can, in fact, haul impressive quantities of household goods hither and yon, things like groceries, cleaning supplies and appliances. I can also fall off  ladders, trip circuit breakers, mow lawns, paint ceilings, shuttle furniture like a plow horse and look completely ill-suited to every task.

The laptop in the pants trick is just the latest example of my do-it-yourself inclinations. Except, this time, I couldn’t do it myself. After loading the washers, I couldn’t get the laptop out, it was trapped in my pants. I couldn’t wiggle it out; I couldn’t yank it free; I couldn’t pull or push; I couldn’t sit down or breathe, either.Turns out, it’s impossible to get a good hold on anything behind you, especially something with no handle wedged inside a waistband. I twisted and contorted myself into unnatural positions seeking a better angle, but to no avail.

I was forced to admit defeat and seek assistance. My go-to responder, the office, was closed. The halls were deserted. Even the parking lot was empty. I was certain I’d die, felled by a laptop cutting off my breath and my circulation — my hips had long ago gone numb. I leaned against a wall to rest.

Long story short, a stranger did, finally, come to my rescue. Oddly enough, she didn’t seem surprised or incredulous or the least bit curious, she acted as if pulling a laptop out of someone’s pants was common practice. I adore people like that — the ones who don’t get all sniffy when confronting stoopidity.

copyright © 2017 the whirly girl

Throwback Thursday from Oct. 2015 – I Told You This Was A Bad Idea

Throwback Thursday from Oct. 2015 

I Told You This Was A Bad Idea

20151028_135610WELL, I NEVER THOUGHT THEY COULD PULL IT OFF. I was right. Today was the day at St. Arbucks when the baristas were planning to dress up as the customers. It was supposed to be a real laugh riot. It wasn’t.

First of all, I never expected The Boss to give her imprimature on the whole idea. “Dress up like the customers? I don’t think that is a good idea.” But she did give it her OK. Something I’ll bet she now regrets.

I thought that it would be a bad idea because there are some customers around here who are just a tiny step away from an extended visit to the Thorazine Hotel, and seeing someone looking like them staring back at them from across the counter might be enough to push them over the edge.

I now know that I shouldn’t have worried about that because, as they say in the closing credits of most movies, – “Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, is strictly coincidental.”

When I walked into the Chapel earlier this morning I was met by one of the crew wearing a tee-shirt and blue jeans and sporting what was planned to look like a white moustache. The moustache was painted on. I didn’t say anything because, at first look, I was concerned that the white stuff on her upper lip was some kind of medication.

Did she burn her upper lip? If so, how? Perhaps I shouldn’t ask. She might be sensitive about it, being so obvious.

It never occurred to me that it was part of a costume meant to look like one of the Drive-Thru customers. My bad. When I asked The Boss about it she told me that she thought it looked like an application of “Nair” –  there in an effort to get rid of the gal’s real moustache. Ouch.

It was several minutes later when one of the other members of the crew began to berate me.

“You’re not wearing a Hawaiian shirt!” she snarled at me.

“It’s 50 degrees out there and raining – of course I’m not wearing a Hawaiian shirt.”

That was when I was finally informed that today was “Customer Costume Day” at St. Arbucks. You could have fooled me, and they did, I guess.

As far as I am concerned it all looked more like, “We All Dressed in the Dark Day” at St. Arbucks. Is how they have dressed today what they think we, the customers, really look like?  I’ve always felt that I have a bit of dash and flair in my wardrobe, and not like I’ve been Dumpster Diving after a nice three-week camping trip in the City Park fighting with the squirrels over loose chestnuts.

So far today the barista who is allegedly dressing like me has not shown up for work. At least I don’t think so. I see no Hawaiian shirts, no baseball caps, no remarkably outstanding example of Machismo and Adonis-like good looks.

I won’t be surprised if the “other me” doesn’t show up. After all, who wants to go out in a cold, rainy, blustery day while trying to maintain a persona like mine? I have enough trouble keeping the Original together. I just can’t envision some amateur trying to do it.

Uh-Oh, she just showed up. This is one brave girl. She dresses impeccably, as you can tell. The only problem is – she is so slim that she makes me look like The Hindenburg. For those of you under fifty – look it up.

Next year I will suggest that the crew at St. Arbucks all dress up like The Boss. I think that would be fun – if The Boss doesn’t fire them all, that is. If she does fire them all, then it was a bad idea and I will disclaim any knowledge of it.

It Has Been A Slice

pizza1WHO SAYS WE DON’T KNOW HOW TO BE SOCIABLE? We can be just as sociable as any other group of semi-civilized men who spend their Golden Years discussing the important issues of the day: Which was better – “The Man From U.N.C.L.E.” or “The Bionic Woman?”

The “Usual Suspects” as I call them, or my “Play Group” as my wife, the lovely and sarcastically fine tuned, Dawn, calls them, hold our meetings in the Chapel at St. Arbucks almost every morning over coffee.

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I Always Cry At Weddings

wed1THE WEATHER IS BEAUTIFUL RIGHT NOW and I am longing for Springtime. You know what they say – “Springtime when a young man’s fancy turns to thoughts of Chimichangas.” No, that’s not right, but then again…

Las Vegas, the Disneyland for Adults, is always striving to top itself. It all started out as a dusty desert gas station and has transformed itself into the tangible definition of “Will you look at that!” It is the only town where Elvis, Howard Hughes, and Liberace all felt at home. And they’re all dead.

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I Can See It All Now

newsflashNEWS FLASH!

Terre Haute (That’s French for “99¢ Shrimp Cocktails!”) is seriously considering leaping into the 21st century!

The local Chamber of Commerce, a body with all of the power and influence of a grilled cheese sandwich, has expressed its support for the idea of having a casino open here. This is an idea that gets floated about every two years. So far that’s all it has ever done – floated – like a dead fish.

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Throwback Thursday from October 2015

Throwback Thursday 1From October 2015

Start Planning Your Vacation Now!

Casey windchimeIT IS PART OF HUMAN NATURE to want to excel, to be the best, at whatever one attempts. That is why we keep records of achievement. Sports keep records of just about every facet of a game, important or not. This mania for record keeping is why there is such a thing as the Guinness Book of World Records.

Starting in 1955, the Guinness Book of World Records now keeps track of more than 6,000 records with 50,000 attempts annually to break into The Book.

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Throwback Thursday – I Meant To Do That – Really

Throwback Thursday 2

From September 2015

I Meant To Do That – Really

frankenstein monsterIMAGINE WHAT A DULL AND BORING WORLD it would be if there were never any accidents. I don’t mean those accidents like plane crashes or ships sinking – no, those kind of accidents we could do without. I’m thinking more in the line of “I’ll be darned. How did that happen?”

Some of those small, seemingly innocuous, accidents can bring about world shaking changes. Others just elicit a giggle, a snigger, and a chilled bottle of wine – things important in their own way.

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I Spy Something…

watching-bush-babyDESPITE THE UPSETS AND WOES OF EVERYDAY LIFE there is one thing that can still be enjoyed no matter where or when you find yourself: People Watching.

Unless you are in the middle of nowhere or alone on a deserted island it is likely that there are people about – and they are free for the watching. Of course, if you don’t do it properly and be discreet, it can get costly in black eyes and those pesky restraining orders.

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It’s Only Fair. 

fairIT IS AUGUST IN THE MIDWEST. That can mean only one thing: State Fairs and Deep Fried Food. OK, I guess that’s two things, but who’s counting?

When the gates to the fairgrounds open some people will head to the livestock exhibits, some will rush to get their seats for the entertainment shows, but thousands will head right to the food midway so they can see what’s new on this year’s menu – and there is always something new.

If there is a way to deep fry it – into the fryer it will go.

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Getting An Oil Change – Not At Grease Monkey

Jag1I LIKE CARS, BUT I CAN’T BUILD THEM. I can’t repair them. I can’t even sell them. I just like driving them and I do appreciate them as an Art Form. The Jaguar XKE was once exhibited at the New York Museum of Modern Art.

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I’m Only Here For The Cake

wedding1I WENT TO A WEDDING LAST SATURDAY. A lovely couple, a lovely setting, and everyone wondering who in the hell I was and what I was doing there. The answer to that question was that I was the Rev. Dawn’s Roadie, Security, Driver, and – oh, yeah – her husband.

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From The North

4I’M SITTING HERE AT A LARGE WOODEN DINING TABLE in our home for this next week. As I look out the windows what I see are waves crashing on the rocky shoreline near the village of Glencolumcille in County Donegal in the northern rural reaches of Ireland.

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What Should I Do With It All?

Leap 1Leap Year

Leap Day

Take a Flying Leap

I’ve heard talk of the first two from the TV about February 29th (Today – unless I am seriously mistaken).

The third I hear from several people each day. Today is nothing special in that regard. While the third is more personal, the first two are more interesting.

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Halloween, Schmalloween

costumeOK. THAT SOUNDS A LITTLE CYNICAL, I SUPPOSE. I’m not against Halloween or anything like that. It’s just that it paints me into a corner every year. What kind of costume should I have?  Should I buy something or make it myself? Should it be in good taste or just the usual?

Read more…

I Meant To Do That – Really

frankenstein monsterIMAGINE WHAT A DULL AND BORING WORLD it would be if there were never any accidents. I don’t mean those accidents like plane crashes or ships sinking – no, those kind of accidents we could do without. I’m thinking more in the line of “I’ll be darned. How did that happen?”

Read more…

I’ll Have An Espionage Latte, Please

droneTHINGS ARE GETTING JUST TOO WEIRD, even for me, and I have a pretty high threshold for weird. After all, I lived in San Francisco for 25 years – the Ground Zero for Weird.

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