Biggest. Ever.

For those who are interested in this kind of stuff, check out what my pops is holding:


That is like a chinese squash...it's all over chinese supermarkets and chinatowns. usually they grow 4 to 6 inches long. This on is about 3 feet. That's a yard of squash. It's heavy too.

Apparently one of my sisters grew this in her backyard...she has more. People have been asking me what did they use to grow it. Love and affection. Love and affection.

Does it taste good? Dunno.

Will I eat it...probably not. I'm afraid of it.

Coke, 1993.

This happened a while ago, but I am just now posting this...because that is how I roll.

After coming home from Holland in early May, I went back home to visit my parents...and like any good son, asked if they needed and groceries while I was there. Easier for me to go get them than them.

My pops said, " Get me some coke...I'm out"
Me, "OK."

Then I go into the kitchen to look around.

Sitting on the counter was a bottle of soda. A glass bottle, small, filled with brown liquid. I say to myself...that looks like the coke I bought in a commemorative bottle a long time ago. Actually it looks like one of six I bought long ago.

I turn the bottle around...label = Coke, Christmas, 1993.

Hmmmmm.

So I talk to my dad...here is the conversation (while my pops is watching TV):

Me, "Hey, where did you get that coke?"
Pops, "Found it, in one of the kitchen cabinets."
Me, "You mean, all the way in the back of the cabinet, like someone was trying to hide it?"
Pops, "Uhhh, sure."
Me, "What happened to the other 5 bottles?"
Pops, "They're in my stomach."
Me, "Did you know that Coke is from 1993? It's 13 years old."
Pops, "Uhhh, no. Is that a problem?"
Me, "Uhhh, no...It's just old. You feeling OK? How did it taste?"
Pops, "I'm OK...tasted fine."
Pause
Pops, "Was it worth something?"
Me, "No, just to me holding it for 13 years...but that's all."
Pops, "Mmmm-hmmm." Going back to watching TV.

Then I go talk to my mom.

Me, "Did you know Dad drank Coke from 1993?"
Moms, "Yes. I said do you know how old those are?"
Moms, "He said yes...but it's OK."
Moms, "Crazy old man."

Moral of the story...never hide 13 year old Coke in the back of a kithcen cabinet...or my dad will drink it.

That ain't the German Flag, pops.

During the "Gay Pride" weekend I drove my parents through Downtown San Francisco, after a day in Chinatown.

At a stoplight on Market St. my dad asks me, "When did they put up all these Germany flags, everywhere?"

Me: "Uh, those aren't German Flags, pop."
Dad: "Who's flags are those?"
Me: "They're just flags."
Dad: "Hmmm:
Mom: "What's going on?"
Dad: "Nothing, the city put up all these German Flags, that's all."
Mom: "German Flags? Why?"

Silence.

Green light.

We drive off.

It was easier not to explain, as I lack the Chinese language skills to do it justice.

Driving With Your Breasts

The other day I was driving behind this Cadillac Escalade. You know, those big honking caddy SUVs that can double as someone's home, sometimes adorn with spinners. Very nice. But this one was going like 40 mph...which isn't bad, unless you're on the freeway. Which we were.

So I go around the moving building and I give the require long stare at the driver. I look over and this is what I see, words will do this no justice, but here:

1. what appeared to be a latin woman driver, mid thirties.
2. from what I can tell, she was probably 5 foot 1 inch tall.

Now you ask, "How do you know how tall she was?"

Good question.

Her chest was seemingly attached to the steering wheel. Her seat was moved forward all the way up, probably as far as it could go and she was still sitting on the edge of the seat. Her back was at least a foot away from the seat-back.

One hand on a cell phone and I think her other hand was holding a cup of coffee.

I believe she was driving with her teets. Amazing.

This is not the first time I've seen this combination...small elf-ish women and big honking monster trucks. They got to have a driving school for that, right?

This creates nothing more than moving death mobiles trolling out highways, controlled by stressed out soccer moms, the chase after ungrateful kids all day, cooking dinner, and worrying about how much gas their death-tanks eat up.

There should be a rule/law that specifies a height to car size ratio.

Now, you say that's wrong...we can't tell women what kind of car to drive, this is a free country.

Well, if it's so free, why do we have those, "You must be taller than me" signs in front of rollercoasters, forbiding shorter children and some small people to ride?

Oh, for SAFETY.

Exactly.

What Ever Happened To "The Customer Is Always Right"?

At Applebee's today. Yes, Applebee's. Facking Applebee's.

Here is a conversation we had with our waiter:

Waiter: Can I get you two something to drink?
Trace: Do you have diet Sprite?
Waiter: Uhhh...no. There isn't such thing as diet Sprite.

Now, at this point I wanted to tell him there is such a thing, but I didn't want to get into a irrelevant argument with a middle-aged waiter at Applebee's. Besides he seems so confident there is no such a thing...didn't want to shatter his view of the world.

Waiter: But there is a diet 7up.
Trace: Oh...OK, I'll have that.
Waiter: We don't have diet 7up.

What. The. Hell. Now, it wasn't like this waiter was rude about it or anything along that line. It was just as we walked into this Applebee's, we were rubbed the wrong way. I don't know if any entire restaurant can do that to a person, but this one did.

Trace: What diet sodas do you...
Waiter: We have diet Coke.
Trace: OK, I'll have that.
Waiter: And you, Sir?
Me: Iced Tea.

This conversation also reminded me of the time we toured the Scharffen-Berger Chocolate Factory. It's no Willy Wonka let me tell you. Nice, but their people seemed a little full of themselves. I guess high the price of chocolate, the higher their noses go. On the tour, which was led by a young, 20-something woman, we passed by two silos, which we were told were filled by cocao beans. As the young lady finished her spiel about beans and silos, a gentleman asked how they vent the silos, seeing that there were not vents, to keep them from exploding. The girl said in a very succint and condesending voice, "Silos don't explode." Now the question was valid as most people know about exploding silos. Another gentleman tried to educate the woman by telling her, "Yes, they do." She replied, " No. They. Don't. Let's move on."

She used the "Let's Move On" move to quell the mini-tour rebellion. Nicely played.


What ever happened to listening to customers or at least being aware enough to know no one knows everything? What ever happned to "Customer Is Always Right"?

Besides that conversation with the waiter, the guy at the next table totally got screwed over. A guy, his wife, and two kids were at the next table, serviced by the same waiter. As their orders come in, the husband tells the server that he didn't order whatever swill they put in front of him. Our waiter takes it back, then minutes later brings his real order. Fixed? Apparently the guy's slab of ribs was ice cold. After that, the guy didn't want any more food brought his way. They took the ribs back and he ate his wife's leftover salad. Sad.

I haven't been to many Applebee's in my life and I don't think that will change.

Yes, I have added Applebee's to my list of banned/do not patronize establishments, which includes Best Buy and my local McDonald's. I'll get into the others in due time.

Pocket Kids...Get One Of Your Very Own

Kids these days really have no sense of self, self-awareness sort of speak. No sense of respect. No common sense in general.

Is it all kids? No. But I guess we only notice the ones like above and good kids fade away.

Like today.

Trace and I were at a KFC (yes, Kentucky Fried...it's bad, but ooooh so good). No one else in the place. We were in front of the cashier/ordering section of the counter. We were in the process of ordering when more people come in. Trace are I were standing side by side...just so you know the orientation.

I spy a lady out of the corner of my eye. She's standing behind us to the right (same side Trace is on, I'm on the left) about 3 feet away...a good distance. The setup of the store lends to no structure on how to line up for ordering...which lead to this...

A second person comes in, while we are still ordering/paying. This cat didn't line up behind or next to the lady who was standing behind us to the right. Instead this guy sidles up next to me.

When I say next to me. I mean NEXT to me. Trace and I were standing side by side...like arms touching. This cat, which I can now see as a 16 year old kid, is standing just as close to me...almost touching but not.

Now I don't know about you...but that is very uncomfortable. If you read my other "too close for comfort" article...then you know. He was so close and so small, he could have been in my pocket. It was like he was cold and decided to jump into my pocket for warmth. Pretend you had this big poster of some kid in baggy-ass jeans, a ski cap, and a jacket that looked like it would fit John Goodman, roll in up, and stick it in your pants pocket. That's what it felt like.

I cock my head back...to give him the idea that I know what he's doing and I don't like it, but either he was trying to freak me out or he was oblivious of all things. I was holding my wallet out to pay...and I'm sure he was sneaking a peek to see what was in it. Just in a curious kind of way...not I'm gonna rob this mother type of way. Besides, he was no more than 5'2" tall. Now he knows what a grown man carries in his wallet...no money, a coupon for Cherrios, 1000000 receipts...look forward to adulthood, boy.

Lucky for him that I'm a nice guy. What if I just came out of prison...those guys don't like people up on them. I don't know personally, but I'm going to say that is a safe bet.

Anyway...we got our snacks and we were on our way.

What ever happened to personal space...do we really have to teach that to kids? Shouldn't just being around your parents make you pick up on things like that?

I guess he has parents that stand right next to people at the ATM booth.

But just to let you all know, Pocket Kids are now available at a high school hang-out near you. Get them while they're hot.

Growing Old Sucks Ass

My friends and I ventured out to play some basketball today.

A bunch of 30 somethings, who haven't played ball in about 6+ months. This was not going to be fun.

We get to our usual court...planning to take it easy.
Our usual court was inundated with many heads playing...so we run a full. 5 on 5.

5 teen-twenty somethings (early twenties) vs us, a bunch of tired walking to the court, it's too cold to play, old farts.

Up and down we go. 1o mins in...score 1 to 1. DAMN! This is going to be a long ass game.
3rd time up and down...my ass is tired.

Basically is me and the boys plodding up and down for 45 min...there's a lot of walking and half running (you know...the fake run people do when they cross a cross-walk, but there is a car waiting to turn, so you speed up by moving your arms in a running motion fake run).

Near the end of the game...I sidle up to the cat that was guarding me...let's say he was around 25, to make me feel better. I huff and puff and the cat says: "I know how you feel...I'm getting up to your age soon."

Now that is funny.

Afer the game, i wasn't feeling so good.
My boy, JM, thought he was going to puke. He didn't.

Growing old sucks ass. Amen!