And when do you PLAN on growing up?

In today's installment under the "Too much information" category, we wander onto the pages of the "Weekender," Northeast PA's entertainment weekly.
A regular feature is a "We asked, you answered" pool question. This week's query: "When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?"
Most answers were "normal," or at least understandable that a child would think this way...
"An astronaut."
"A rock star."
"The United States Emperor." (I liked that one!)
"A Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle..."
And then, Ms. Andee Scarantino threw in her wonderful idea: "I wanted to be a man because I was growing tired of sitting down to pee."

Great to know you always set your standards high, Andee!

Holy java, Batman!

I brought in a delivery to a local convenience store today. 3 ladies were working in there, and Thursday is always their busiest day, because all of the product for the week comes in from all the vendors. A pair of ladies were feverishly working together in one aisle, trying to price and display their merchandise, while the third was manning the register with a line of customers. (The scene is set...)
As I set about to my work of putting my sodas in the coolers, a man walked in and passed the register on his way to the coffee machine at the back of the store. Now, there's no way on earth he couldn't have noticed how busy everyone was, but that didn't stop from bellowing out in a combatant tone, "There's no coffee here! You're out of coffee!"
The poor cashier had to leave the line of waiting customers to appease Mr. Valdez. However, as soon as she made it back to the machine, she saw the man's claim was not quite true. "There's coffee here! There's half a pot!"
The man arrogantly voiced, "Yeah, but I have to fill my mug here, plus I'm filling cups for three of my friends!"
Flustered, the poor over-worked clerk said, "Fine. I'll make some more, but just give me a couple of minutes to finish with the other customers."
"No, no," the man contradicted. "You don't have to do that. It's not a big deal." Then, with a pregnant pause, he proudly breathed, "After all, I'm a Christian and a man of peace."
Such an out-of-place declaration drew incredulous stares from both the clerk and myself.

You're a man of peace, huh? Then why did you raise such a big stink about there not being any joe, drawing others away from their business just so they could lick your French-roasted boots???

Sorry! Wrong number!

Today's post comes courtesy of "News Quirks," a compilation of strange but true news stories put together by Roland Sweet. Having worked as a directory assistance operator for 7 years, I thoroughly enjoyed this one...
Japanese officials arrested a 44-year-old man who made 37,760 silent calls to directory assistance so he could hear the "kind" voices of the female operators. "When I made a complaint call once, the operator dealt with it very kindly," the man told Hiroshima police, "so I wanted to hear these women's voices." The newspaper Mainichi Shimbun reported the calls, made between March and July this year, caused psychological distress to more than 100 operators at Nippon Telegraph and Telephone Corp.
Gee. Maybe the man should have had more to complain about.

Psychological distress? You want to talk about psychological distress? Forget about the silent calls. What's really stressful is working in a room full of people who couldn't pass a psych exam if they had Thomas Edison's brain implanted in their head. Why else would operators carry around stuffed frogs and talk to them all day? ("Frog Lady") ...Or eat hard candy immediately after chipping a tooth-- on a hard pretzel? ("Big Show") ...Or screaming obscenities at your co-workers because you don't love Jesus as much as she does? ("Cricket") ...Or leer about muttering, "Bodies for dollars!" ("Vidalia") ...Or yelling across the room, "The toilet seat burned my @$$!" ("Green Gogglin") ...Or pretend-playing in construction-paper corn fields? ("Hawaiian Al") ...Or....

Remember, folks, these are the people helping you get information.

Thanks loads for your "help."

Today, my job took me to a local American Vets Post today, aka bar. I had never delivered to this particular place before, and I had 10 large tanks for a soda fountain to bring in. I decided to leave the tanks in the truck until I could ascertain where exactly they were going to be kept. I wandered inside, and made my way into a lounge, where 4 drunk men (it was only 3:30 PM) and a female bartender sat, watching "Family Feud" on TV. (Apparently, this was as much stimuli as they could handle.) I asked the barkeep where to carry the tanks to.
She said, (sans any type of hand gestures) "First, you'll have to go downstairs, and then make a right turn--"
I could see she was going to turn the journey to the tanks' destination into a novel, so I interrupted, "OK, so where are the stairs?"
My query made no impact. "Alright. You go downstairs, right?"
Again, I sought to clarify. "Yes. But where are the steps?"
Coyote Ugly started getting upset, but still would not abandon her robotic stance. "No, listen to me. You go down the stairs---"
Forcefully, I pressed, "Yes! Where are they? I can't go down the stairs if I don't know how to find them!"
Exasperated, she threw up her hands and gasped, "Aw! Fine. I'll have to show you. I can't explain it to you."

Can't explain it??? BTW, turns out the steps were about 25 feet directly to her left side, but I guess she couldn't find the words to explain it.

Survey says, "X!"

More potty talk?

Today, I entered a convenience store to make a delivery. As the clerk was checking me in, a man exited the restroom, which was off to one side of the store. He had a harrowed expression painted across his face. Obviously of a strong, deep-Southern heritage, he sauntered up to the clerk and declared, "Yew wuz raht... Ah done didn't dare go in thar..."

First off, T.M.I!!!!!
Second, if you're the store employee and you know the bathroom was in less than ideal condition, isn't it your responsibility to do something about it beyond telling folks, "Hey, you don't want to go there"???

Well, thank God for THAT!

Upon a shopping trip to Wal-mart yesterday, my wife discovered a particular toilet deodorizer... BOWL FRESH Toilet Deodorizer. Pleasantly Scented!

What a relief. I'm glad I didn't buy a product that said, "Smells like a restroom on the Interstate used by a bunch of truckers eating bean burritos!"

The other funny thing about this product is a warning on the back: "This product contains a chemical known to the State of California to cause cancer."

Ahh. Seems nobody else has made this acknowledgement yet, so we'll just go ahead and sell this junk to the other 49 states...

Stinking to high heaven

The city of Scranton, PA has been going through an identity crisis ever since the 1950s when the anthracite industry died off. Scranton has been trying to figure out how to re-invent herself from that day to this. Recently, the current moron-- I'm sorry, I meant mayor-- has been attempting to create the "Electric City" as a tourist destination. Good folks, I can tell you with full assuredness: T'ain't gonna happen! Anyhoo...
The most recent attempt to draw folks to the downtown (on life-support) region is by holding big parties on the roofs of the parking garages. (Ooh. Sounds like fun to me. Not!) The funniest part of this is that the city took out a full-page ad in the weekly entertainment paper. Now some of the benefits listed about this get-together are common sense, but others, well... You be the judge.
RAISING THE ROOF 2, Friday, October 13 at the Medallion Parking Garage. $20 Admission includes cocktails, hors d'oeuvres, live music, free parking.
...Same basic rooftop concept as our wildly successful (debatable) party on August 18, with a few minor adjustments...
1st- MORE ROOM! This party is moving to the top of the newer and larger Medallion Garage... Good idea. Take away much-needed parking spots from city employees so you can have a party!
2nd- MORE BARS! [blah, blah, blah.] Great. Load folks up and then take them to the top of a garage with a VERY short fence around the perimeter.
3rd- MORE PARKING! See analysis #1. Not only do workers lose spaces to the party itself, but also to the party-goers' vehicles.
4th- MORE FOOD! OK, makes sense. I'll leave this one be.
5th- MORE DRINKS! We're planning an Octoberfest theme, etc, etc, etc! See point #2! Gravity works!
6th- MORE RESTROOMS! This time we're calling in a crane to lift the Port o' Potties to the top floor.
Much to say here! First, nothing adds to the ambiance of a rooftop party full of drunks falling to their deaths than the putrid smell of Port-o-lavs. Second, not only will people have a hard time finding a spot to land their car for work, but they'll have a hard time just getting to their jobs because cranes will be blocking all the streets around the garage. Finally, the last time a crane was used downtown (remember folks, the city is built over several old abandoned mines) the sidewalk collapsed under the weight, causing the crane to crash into the building it was in front of, resulting in tons of damage to facility, walkways and machinery alike.

Yep, another brilliantly thought-out nightmare by Mr. Artsy-fartsy mayor! What's next, a public fundraiser, complete with celebrity emcee, generating money for the destruction of condemned, blighted buildings which fester on every corner of the town?

2nd today: Incoherent protest

On my travels every Thursday, I pass a house with an old bread truck in front of it. The man decided to use the vehicle to stage his dissatisfaction when the local phone company visited his property to perform repairs on phone lines in the area, and painted the truck with this large-print rant posted on it:
"(Company X) smashes/destroys slate sidewalk, replaces with cheap concrete. House devalued by $20,000. Notice the receipts I have. Where are your answer receipts?"
Um, what kind of receipts? Is that in contrast to a question receipt?
OK, so your house was greatly devalued. Sorry to hear that. So in response, you spend a bunch of money for an assessor, or maybe two, seeing as how you have multiple receipts; and then you spend more money to retrofit your truck into an angry billboard?

Apparently, you didn't spend money on a grammar tutor. Or a financial advisor.

Who's keepin' this guy's books?

Today, Pat called me on the road moments after this bizarre happening...
Pat made a soda delivery to a small, rural market. As the proprietor wrote out a check to pay for the product, Pat-- as per custom-- took the invoice to mark "Paid" on it. The store manager saw this, and told Pat, "The check number is eleven-triple four-nine."
Ok, thought Pat, and he proceeded to write "#114449" on the bill.
"What are you doing?" the dude stammered. "I said triple four."
Taken aback, Pat said, "Right. I wrote 1-1-4-4-4-9."
"But that's three fours. I said triple four," the man indignantly phrased. "If I meant 3 fours, I would have said 3 fours." (WHAT???)
At a loss, Pat shrugged. Then the man took the invoice and pointed, "There's 2 fours! The check number is 11449."
Pat's mind raced with two thoughts. First, Call [Mr. I] and tell him about this! Second, Don't laugh in this guy's face! Don't laugh!

The transaction completed, Pat couldn't resist a dig of logic. "I just assumed that there were three fours in the check number, because in baseball, when a player hits a triple, he gets 3 bases."

With a blank stare, the man hesitated, ".....Oh..."

2nd today: Vaguely redundant

Our beloved local TV station, WNEP-16, has a regular evening feature called "Talkback," which gives viewers a forum to express their take on the stories the station reports on.
A piece on a local sportsman's club wanting to sponsor a live pigeon shoot generated a lot of responses this week. Seems the club wants to privately rent out its grounds to a group of "professional" skeet shooters to do a live shoot. (Yes, I find this rather barbaric and unnecessary, but I don't let it ruffle my feathers either, no pun intended.)
One elderly watcher from Wysox, PA got her undies in a bunch and called the Talkback line, recording this: "Don't you DARE... let those men shoot those birds! Where's the humanity in the human race?"

Hmm... The humanity in the human race...
I understand the point she was attempting to drive home; it just ends up sounding ridiculous, though!

More stupid human tricks

Today, my buddy Pat and I were tag-teaming on soda deliveries. We happened to stop at the convenience store just 1/2 mile from my house. A group of teens, who I've seen hanging around before, were "collaborating" (aka loitering) in front of the store, discussing a myriad of topics. Suddenly, one voice rose above the din and vibrantly declared, "I like to open doors with my head."
Where in the name of Alfred E. Newman did that come from?
I'm sure that contribution to the world will open doors for you someday!!!

Pat told me that next time I see those kids around, I should ask, "Who here is good at opening doors with his head?" and see if I get a response...

Life in the stopped lane

On Mondays, my work route takes me in such a way that I need to return to the warehouse via a toll highway. Each toll booth has designated (key word here) lanes for E-Z Pass, an electronic "ticket" or box which is placed in your windshield and scanned as you pass through the booth at a low speed, negating the need to actually stop and pay a toll each time. It's kind of like a credit card for the toll road.
I guess this technology is a bit too much for some to handle, however.
As I pulled into a lane to pay my toll, I got stuck behind a Honda Accord with a young woman driving it. She had an E-Z Pass, but did not pull into the correct lane. The attendant was a bit annoyed. "I only take tolls with tickets," he notified the driver. "I can't do anything with your Pass."
"Oh," the woman fretted. Then, trying to be helpful-- so to speak-- she handed the box to the attendant. "Well, can't you just deduct it off my credit total?"
"No!" the booth man emphatically declared. "You'll have to pull forward and off the side of the road until the supervisor can figure out what to do about this."
The doofus was not about to be swayed. "Look, I'm in a hurry. I need you to charge my Pass so I can be on my way!"
Now the attendant was steamed. "What part of NO don't you understand? Pull forward and off the road so the people behind you can get through!"
"I can't DO that!" the driver answered. "I need to pay my *%^#!! toll!"
Resolutely, the toll worker stated, "I... can't... help... you, Miss!"
"OOOOOHHH!" the driver angrily exclaimed, and took off.

Fines for failure to pay tolls in PA are $250. I hope she can get that credited off her Pass.

2nd today: Thanks for "your help."

Today I went into a local CVS pharmacy, a large, franchised chain of stores. My business (soda delivery) brought me there, but it was an elderly customer which caught my eye and held my attention. She was continually pacing the aisles, looking confused. Finally, she approached the store clerk, and asked, "Excuse me, but where can I find ACE bandages?" Without batting an eye, the clerk shot, "In a hospital?!" ...and walked away...

I guess that sign on the front door reading, "No shirt, no shoes, no service" also applies to those of us who are wearing shirts and shoes, huh?

Say that again?

I had to laugh when viewing this last week's copy of People magazine...
Steve Irwin's Tragic Death
A stingray barb through the heart kills the beloved Aussie adventurer, who leaves behind a wife and three small children. How did this happen?

Um, refer to the first sentence.

Taking pride in one's non-accomplishments

The following exchange took place between a young proprietor (tattoo parlor) and a youth on a beat-up bicycle outside a local convenient store in Northeastern PA this afternoon.
PROP: "Hey, Jimmy, why aren't you in school today?"
JIMMY: "'Cuz I dropped out last year, loser!"

Oh, I see. The shop owner is a loser because he's got a successful career and some cash in his pocket. That makes sense. Yeeeeeeaaaahhhhhhh....

The lesser tragedy of 9/11

Today is the 5-year anniversary of the 9/11 attacks. Everywhere you turn, one couldn't help but be reminded of the horrors which occurred that fateful day. It got me thinking back and recalling how my life was forever changed...
The day after the Towers collapsed, members of our church met to pray. The first thing that really shook me was that while ours was a 200-member congregation, only 15 souls showed up to pray for friends and families of those who died, injured, or were still unaccounted for. It didn't make sense to me. The few of us were also the ones deeply involved with ministry and activities at the church. At that time, I was a board member, youth group leader and Sunday school teacher. Most of the others there were leaders of some type.
At the conclusion of our prayer time, the senior pastor talked with the rest of us, and said, "We're going to be leaving the front doors of the church unlocked this week. A lot of people will be looking for a place of sanctuary and peace in this dire time."
OK, I thought, makes sense, but something's missing... "Are we going to have church members available to be here to pray with and talk with these people?"
Puzzled, the pastor shook his head. "No, I really don't see the need for that."

9/11 was the day hundreds perished due to religious zealotry and intolerance.
9/12 was the day the Church became officially irrelevant due to religious indifference.

The pastor actually thought the building was important to make available to the community, but not the people??? I spent the next 3 1/2 years screaming within the Church walls to wake up and reach out to the "world," rather than shut herself inside to "protect" herself from it. Nobody listened. Finally, I gave up.
I deeply regret I ever sold myself out to such an organization that was so self-serving and said it cared, but clearly didn't.

God love$ me more than you!

Like you're really so important... From AOL news come these excerpts of luck and messed up theology. (Now, I know what you're thinking: "Good for her, and Mr. I, you're just a bit jealous, now, aren't you?" No, it's actually not that at all: I'm just sick of people who attribute every single thing that happens in the universe to the will of whatever cosmic being you may believe in, and I'm tired of folks who hint that God is favoring them over others...)
NEW YORK (Sept, 9) - A woman who won $1 million from a state lottery game four years ago has improbably hit the jackpot again.
Valerie Wilson, who works at a Long Island deli, said she won another $1 million on a lottery scratch-off game last month. "The first time I couldn't believe it," Wilson told Newsday. "This time I said, 'God's on my side.'"
The prize will be paid out in $50,000 installments over 20 years. Wilson said she used her first winnings to help buy homes for her three children. (Well, seriously, that's very nice. I'm glad for her and her children. Until...)
"This one is going to be for me," she said. "I'm going to live a little bit."
Oh, really? Let me educate you a tad, Val.
First, what about when the Bible says, "No one can serve two masters... You cannot serve both God and money." (St. Matthew 6:24) So I guess God really didn't grant you this money for you to blow, eh? Additionally, what do you do about Malachi 3:8 and 10? "Will a man rob God? Yet you rob me. But you ask, 'How do we rob you?' In tithes and offerings... Bring the whole tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in My house." (I'm not necessarily saying give the money to the church; just consider those who truly need some cash...)

Millions of people are living in dire poverty, even within the boundaries of our own nation, but God chose you, huh? I don't think so!

Don't judge a cop by his cover

About a decade ago, my wife and I briefly (Thank the Lord!) lived in Philadelphia. One day, while my wife was teaching her class of 7th grade hooligans, I was waiting for a bus down by city hall so I could meet her at the end of the school day. A drag queen was hanging out in front of a building across the street, and was telling everybody who walked by that he was an undercover member of the Philly police force.

Um, not anymore, "dude!"

QUESTION: What do you get...

...When you combine blunt stupidity with greed?

Our family was in desperate need for a new car-- the trannie on our old one was dying a rapid death. So, reluctantly, we piled into the car and drove down to a local lot. Due to financial limitations, we could only afford a used car; precisely, a minivan. As we looked around the lot, there were only a couple to choose from, and we knew they'd be out of our price range. But before we could leave, the salesman, Dave, asked us, "How about a nice sedan, folks?"
"No," I factually answered. "I've got 3 growing kids, and I need to think about 3 years down the road, not just now."
So he follows that up with, "You know, we've got brand new vans starting at $XX,000!"
"That's about 10 grand more than we can afford!" I rebutted. Next, he tries to play the psychological "only-a-little-bit-of-money" head games, for which, unknowingly to Dave, we were fully prepared for. "Well, what's the absolute most you can afford on a monthly payment?" he purred.
I bluntly stated, "$(x)."
"Ohhh," he soothed. "So then, would just $(x+40) really be that much of a stretch?"
"YES!" my wife and I boldly retorted in unison.
Not willing to let go of a purported chance to fleece someone, Dave offered, "Well, how about a nice Buick Rendezvous? It's top-of-the-line at a sweet price!"
"Yeah?" I barbed. "Where's the third-row seat that we need?"
Dave finally showed signs of hopelessness. "Oh, you're right! It doesn't have one!" Brilliant deduction, Blind Willie!!!
Needless to say, our new vehicle did NOT come from this dealership.

So what do you get when you combine stupidity with greed? ANSWER: Augmented stupidity, proving that while you can buy all sorts of great things, you can't buy common sense.

Looking for a bargain

Last week, I was delivering sodas to a store. A customer had grabbed a bag of chips which was priced with a big red sticker at 99 cents, and asked the store clerk, "Hey, are these 50 cents?"
Slightly taken aback, the clerk politely hesitated, "...Um, no. They're 99 cents."
I thought to myself, OK, so maybe this guy is illiterate. Not everyone can read. My doubt was soon confirmed as unfounded, however.
"...Oh," the man moaned, and after a two-second pause, pressed, "Are you sure these aren't 50 cents?"

Yeah, maybe they were, dude, in 1996!!!

Pressing your luck too far

Excerpts in black courtesy from the AP.
"Crocodile Hunter" Steve Irwin was tragically, but not surprisingly, killed early Monday by a stingray during a diving expedition. While it is sad that this happened, I find it most regrettable, in the sense that this was so preventable. There's a fine line between fascination and respect of nature!
Irwin was at Batt Reef, off the remote coast of northeastern Queensland (Australia) state, shooting a segment for a series called "Ocean's Deadliest" when he swam too close to one of the animals, which have a poisonous bard on their tails, his friend and colleague John Stainton said.
"He came on top of the stingray and the stingray's barb went up and into his chest and put a hole into his heart," said Stainton, who was on board Irwin's boat at the time. Stingrays have a serrated, toxin-loaded barb, or spine, on the top of their tail. The barb, which can be up to 10 inches long, flexes if a ray is frightened. Stings usually occur to people when they step on or swim too close to a ray and can be excruciatingly painful but are rarely fatal, said University of Queensland marine neuroscientist Shaun Collin.
Collin said he suspected Irwin died because the barb pierced under his ribcage and directly into his heart.
"It was extraordinarily bad luck..." Collin said.
Bad luck, or a bad choice of activity?

...Reminds me of a comic book I saw years ago entitled, "Unpleasant Ways To Die."

2nd today: Keep on hand-truckin'

Just moments after the occurrence of the previous post, I went on to my next delivery. I loaded up my hand-truck with the cases ordered, and wheeled it toward the front door. An older gentleman had walked up to the door just a few steps before me. He looked at me hauling my load, and asked, "Hey, buddy, you going in?"

No, dude; I figured I'd just take this baby out for a spin on the half-pike, seeing if I could qualify for the next X-Games!!!

Chew on this

Upon entering a mom-and-pop store this past week, I took notice of a new product set upon the counter. While Gummi-bears and Gummi-worms are nothing new, this variant of the popular candy was most unusual.
"NEW Gummi lightning bugs!" The cloudy little treat came with a pair of plastic tweezers. Apparently, a child pinches the bugs between the tweezer tongs, and a little light bulb in the tong causes the gum to glow with luminescent light. The problem with this amazing new concept was the disclaimer printed on the packaging.
"WARNING: CHOKING HAZARD."

OK, who conceived this purple haze of intellectualism? Offer candy to children that supplies a choking hazard? (Not) Brilliant!!! Yeah, I'm sure this idea will sell like gang-busters!

Gee. What shouldn't they think up next?

What's for lunch?

As I made a delivery to a small hoagie (or, if you prefer, hero or sub) shop, I took notice of the owner, who was behind the counter, looking exasperated. Meanwhile, a middle-aged woman longingly studied the menu board. I got the idea that these two had been in the same position for quite some time. After a long pregnant pause, accompanied by much eye-rolling of the shopkeeper, the woman hemmed and hawed a bit, then vacantly quizzed, "OK, 'ham and cheese.' Now, what do you mean by that? I mean, what is it made up of?"

Um... ham... Oh yeah, and cheese!

"Looks like somebody missed snack time!"