Rainy Day

Weather does strange things to people.

It rained on Monday. I happened to be working. Outside. On Monday. I heard the sky open with an echoing crack and watched the deluge that followed. The water poured off the vestibule, making a hundred-foot wide Costco Wholesale waterfall. And a sea of humanity gathered underneath. 

The huddled masses milled about, supporting their general sense of awe with off-handed comments to their new friends; all united by the common desire to stay dry, the atmosphere was pleasant. 

Until all hell broke loose. 

I think Mother Nature has a switch that turns people's brains off. She must have flipped it. All at once the parking lot was full of cars. It must be an instinctual reaction to go shopping when the weather is the worst -- a sort of hibernation/famine gorging instinct. The affable crowd that had once so peacefully exchanged smalltalk, turned on itself. Friends were suddenly mortal enemies in the jostle for vehicle loading position. Grandpas with two items in their carts looked to be the first because, "we'll be finished the soonest." And Soccer moms with two arms and two carts full waved their husbands into the newly-created loading zone because, "we would be out in the rain longer than the rest of you." 

Now, I wasn't in Vietnam. But I'm sure the war here, spoken and unspoken, raged just as fitfully. Spoken because some elected to justify their wrongdoing with loud logic, and unspoken because some just double parked and loaded their cars with a solemn stern expression, saying not a word to anyone. I was engulfed in horror. Cars piled and parked with no regard to the cones so carefully set in place to keep the peace. Cars and people covered the fire lane like moths. I even saw a grandma punch a baby.  

We've all experienced this. The first day of snow is just as bad. Traffic crawls for no apparent reason. People drive in a manner that seems to say, "what is all this white slippery stuff on the road?" Even the most seasoned, Ice-Road-Truckers-watchin', badass in a huge SUV is scared to turn into an intersection for some reason. Again, Mother Nature flips the switch and people go brain dead. Just you wait for it. 

At some point, my heroic instincts kicked in. I raised my hands and said in my most calm but firm voice, "you aren't allowed to park or load your cars in this area." And there I stood, glorious in my victory. My head held high, I was triumphant.

But no one responded.

So I did the next best thing. Now slightly flustered, I started tipping empty carts over on their handles along the road. As soon as a car moved, I silently wheeled into place and tipped a cart over. Thus sealing off the entrance to the precious dry-zone. I seem to recall wearing an American flag as a cape during my endeavor. This act was much to the distress of the water-droplet-hating clientèle. I soon heard spiteful cries of, "what are you doing?" and, "you can't do that!" and, "listen pal, I pay your wage..." and so on. But the law needed to be upheld. And I withstood the mob to do so. 

[Keep following, I hear there is a new candidate for the Nobel Peace Prize.]

Fruits Of My Labor

I have recently been on the hunt for rad t-shirts. I think I called them appropriately ironic t-shirts on facebook. And I just wanted to share with all of you the bountiful harvest which I have experienced. I braved the sweet sickly smell of Savers and Deseret Industries. I braved the crying children and harsh fluorescent lighting. I braved the unhappy cashiers and mustard-stained clothing racks. I braved the wash of cold, odd guilt that came over me as I realized that I have the money to shop elsewhere. I braved the unorganized ruddy shelves and piercing sideways looks from observers in my furious quest. All for these gems. The beacon and source of artesian hope. I had a large budget, yet this is probably the best $2 I have ever spent.

Ok, Donny and Marie Osmond are cool enough in their own right, right? But what about the Osmonds you've never heard of? The coolness is simply exponential. They are even clad in 90's regalia. The 2nd Osmonds have a phallic 'G' as their symbol. It is a symbol of prowess, kinda like The-artist-formally-known-as-Prince. The color scheme is a delight to behold, as are their shining, quasi-toughguy  faces.

There isn't much to say about this one. Maybe it is the unintentional play on words, that makes us read: "Right on! Freedom!" Or maybe it is the fact that everything is starred and striped, but the fact remains, this shirt made my day. I don't know if Lady Liberty has ever ridden a Chopper. But maybe she should consider it. After all, she looks dang good. This shirt also makes me want to Ride On Freedom. I also ride on the fact that America will continually ruin its own patriotism with strange mash-ups of revered symbols. I love freedom just as much as the next guy, but now I can wear it on my chest. Right on!
 
[Keep following children, I'm saving for a motorcycle.]

Our Sprinklers Were Installed By Sadists

Seriously. Take a gander.

The Branbury Apartments, aside from being an apparent magnet for rapists, has also hired evil, wet-sock-loving sprinkler installers. What did they pay these people to do exactly?  Last time I checked, concrete sidewalks did not need watering. But hey, perhaps times have changed.

To their credit, they were creative in their devilry. The sprinklers only come on at night. That is the worst kind of diablerie because it is freezing cold at night. At least little children would glory in running through the streams of water during the hot day. These people must have been hell-bent on spreading their malign influence on all who choose to keep hours that are different from a third grader.

There is no sound that strikes more terror into my heart than hearing the sporadic popping and hissing of a lumbering and spiteful midnight sprinkler program coming to life. It engenders a panicked cry of, "RUUUUN!!!" like some third rate action-adventure movie. The sprinkler heads rise slowly from the grass, hissing all the while like plastic snakes before spraying their cold venom on any innocent bystanders. If you are unfortunate enough to arrive after they are in full cycle, an impenetrable obstacle course awaits. Shooting scatter-patterns of death, each sprinkler head seems like it is manned by the last Nazi gunner at Normandy. Last night they had me bobbing and weaving like some frantic, novice boxer.

But I braved the crossfire. A mad courage and longing for home possessed me. I performed spin moves that would make Adrian Peterson blush. I deftly avoided each homicidal stream only to get caught by an unforeseen pernicious trap.

It has been called many things.

I call it the puddle of sullied hopes.

You see, not only are the sprinkler men evil, they are sly and smart. They outwitted me. I am defeated. They must have broken the regulators and extended the cycles in such a way that it causes excess water flow. The water slowly builds to create a mini Lake Michigan every night in the middle of our lawn. The grass can't take it. And there the water rests. Luring the lone traveler before splashing in and seeping to the toes. In an instant your feet are sopping. In an instant you flash back to the last time your mother held you, and you wish that you had held on a second longer.

Beware the Branbury sprinklers. But if pass through you must, abandon all hope. And bring extra socks.

[Keep following, Ris does.]

If at first you don't succeed, don't reproduce.

So I may have just seen the best YouTube video that I have/will ever seen/see. But before I embed it, a few remarks. First of all, I know that none of my readership will ever go into motivational speaking so this may all be moot. But just in case any of you ever consider it, please remember: "The motivational speaking profession requires no formal training or certification, however skills in public speaking in many cases addressing large audiences are vital" (Wikipedia).

This is one of those things in life that encourages dumb people because they think, "No formal training required?! Bonus bonus bonus! I can do that! Easy!" What they fail to recognize is that this is exactly what should discourage, rather than encourage them. If the movie "Little Miss Sunshine" was any lesson, not just anyone can be a motivational speaker. If something requires no education, it is usually the hardest thing you can possibly do. Things like being an inventor, entrepreneur, or freelance writer should be viewed with more caution. If you are amazing at any of these things naturally, then by all means, jump in. But if you don't have anything more to say besides:
1. Figure out what you want to do
2. Believe in yourself
3. Formulate a plan of action
4. Follow through with it
5. Never give up
you should probably consider trade school. Well enough babble, just watch. And hold on, or you may fall out of your chair, as I.



Also, some things just can't be done. Or at least without maiming yourself. Maybe he should change #1 to: Figure out something USEFUL AND PREFERABLY NOT UTTERLY ASININE that you want to do. Watch the hilarious follow up. It won't disappoint.



[Keep following. And I promise you will be inspired to climb Everest. Naked.]

A Fair Warning

This is a bathroom story. I had to pee. It happens sometimes. This time it happened at work. I walked in and saw this old guy standing at the middle of the three urinals, in clear violation of proper urinal etiquette. Rather than opting to wait, I just went to the closest to the door. So I done did ma' business, and was zipping up when said old guy (STILL at the urinal) turned to me and said, "Be grateful for your young days. A steady stream and strong flow doesn't last long." To which I replied chuckling, "Thanks. I'll remember that."

And I will. I was grateful for that small reminder that the clock is always ticking. I've been in a contemplative mood all day since then. I was walking up my stairs on my way home from a vigorous run (partly still motivated from the bathroom incident) and I was remembering, not thinking, I miss my freshman year in college. Things were fun then. After having that thought I had to laugh at myself because I didn't think things were all that grand when I was in the moment Freshman year. In reality, a lot of really crappy things happened freshman year. The funny thing about time passing is that it automatically and simultaneously also applies a rose-tinting. We forget pain. We forget heartbreak. We forget stress. We don't forget happy moments. I think the function of this paradox is to try and remind us that we are in "the good ol' days" right now. Today. If we keep in mind that we will look back with longing on days like today 20 years from now, we will live differently.

None of this makes problems go away or pain any less real. But maybe we can react differently and perhaps even preemptively apply that rose-tinting. This is advice so often heard and repeated that it is much worse than cliche. It is also that way for a reason. Every one of us needs this lesson. We all should keep in mind that "a steady stream and a strong flow doesn't last forever." I am grateful for a normal sized prostate.

[Keep following. I know where Jimmy Hoffa is buried.]

Did I ever tell you of the day that I lost faith in humanity?

I had just started my new job at the Costco(mpany) and I was enjoying my simple yet satisfying job as a cashier's assistant, when my bubble was broken. And old man and his wife muscled their overladen cart towards our stand and I offered my services like usual. As I began unloading their items the grandma (who was pleasant enough) noticed that their was a hole in her over sized bag of dinner rolls. She told me that she wanted to get a new one and promptly started to make her way to the back of the store.

Her husband, upon observing this little interaction, then tore into me with a bitter tone usually reserved for persons who have killed close relatives or pets, "I can't believe you would let her do that herself!"
Astonished, I replied, "Uhh, I'm sorry, wha...?"
"NO, sorry doesn't fix this. I can't believe you would let an old woman do that herself. She has a bad knee you know!"
"..."
"There is no way to fix this now. Is it or isn't it store policy that you run back and get things we need?"
Not knowing that it isn't store policy, but rather a service that we choose to render, "Uhh, I guess so."
Now even more livid, "NO! Is it or isn't it? Give me a straight answer!"
"Yes?"
His lips curled as he revealed a mouth full of aging teeth and asked, "Then why didn't you do it?"
"I don't know, sometimes we go back for stuff if the members want us to..."
"You're a mistake! I should talk to a manager!"
Now getting fed up with this belligerent old fool, "Do you want me to? Because I can go get one!"
"You're lucky I don't!"
"Well, then I'll remember next time..." Just then a supervisor told me it was time for me to go out and push carts before I said ".. to do better." Or was it, "to avoid jerk old people who feel entitled to hand and foot service because they survived the Great Depression?"  I can't remember which. 

So, to this old guy: if sorry doesn't make it better and there is no way to fix the problem in your mind, why bring it up? I just can't understand how people can be this way. I can understand mentioning to me that you would rather have me go back and get something, but to lay into me like that? It was something else. If someone goes to do something themselves, I am not about to physically stop them. And apparently I was supposed to tap into my omniscient powers to know that this particular sixty five year old woman had a bad knee. In a place that is often labeled as happy valley this kind of thing happens way too often. What took me aback was the venom with which he addressed me right out of the gates. You would honestly think I had punched his wife in the face by the way he spoke to me. It was so amazing I can't even get upset about it.

I may have lost faith in humanity that day if it had not been for a sweet old mexican woman who was lost in the parking lot. She couldn't find her car and I offered to help her. When we finally found her car she wrapped her wrinkled hands around my cheeks, looked deep into my soul and said, "God bless you." And all of the rancor about the days proceedings that had been driving my legs simply slipped out of me.

Sometimes the outliers of society, the murderers, slanderers, and liars tend to shape our opinions of humanity at large. This was a lesson to me that for every grumpy old man there is out there, there are fifty sweet old women.

[Keep following. Next time I'll tell you about the time I met David Hasselhoff.]