Veeda
Will you go to the prom with me?
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Will you go to the prom with me?
Just before I left work today I was sitting at my desk passing the time and I heard my boss make a whooshing sound kind of like a little kid playing with a toy jet or shooting a lazer gun. It kind of caught me off guard. Then he did it again and I pictured this little man that my boss is in his three piece suit, gray hair and mustache and glasses, playing with his toy airplane. I almost started laughing out loud. Then I figured out that he was just sneezing but it was still a funny image and I'm glad I didn't immediately think of it as a sneeze.
San Francisco has quite a homelessness problem. They're everywhere and they come in all ages and all stages of delirium. Many of them ask for change while performing dubious services such as cleaning windshields with their spit or telling you where to find a good restaurant. Some of them merely smile and talk to dogs. I think most of us would like to do some thing to help them. Maybe even for less selfish reasons than because they "creep us out." Well, most of my associates can afford do little more than donate the change in their pockets on occasion. Still, there seems to be more that we could do. Some small token to alleviate the burden of the homeless.
There is a sub-group of homeless so far to the edge of the the normalcy bell-curve that there actions make most people uneasy. These people yell at no one at all and have conversations with people no one can see. Many "normal" people look on this group with fear and disgust. Meanwhile, "respectable" people walk around talking to the air and no one bats an eye cause they probably have cell phones with headsets. I imagine it's bad enough not having a home and being hungry/insane all the time without everyones shame and fear heaped on top of it.
I got this idea the other day when I saw a woman talking on a cell phone while crossing the street. She had a nice phone but was dressed like a homeless person. Then I thought of the two old cell phones I have sitting at home not being used. It struck me: If everyone donated their old cell phones to the homeless then we could alleviate the shame of the insane who can't stop talking to the invisible. It's okay to talk to people you can't see as long as you're holding a little plastic box up to your ear. Not all of the homeless can be rehabilitated and mainstreamed back into society but perhaps we can make the divide appear a little narrower.
Google is a wonderful thing. You can insert your name and find out just how insignificant you really are in the great wide world around you. You can also find great things like recipes, do-it-yourself repair instructions and how to contact the most recent merchant who has ripped you off or made you physically ill.
You may remember reading my post about my Totino's Pizza induced depression a couple Sunday's ago. It was a pretty popular post apparently. It even made it to google. Currently it sits about 5th in the list of sites if you search google for "totinos" without the apostrophe. Seriously, try it if you don't believe me. The official pillsbury totino's page is only third. The first listing is ebay where apparently you can auction your favorite pizza to the highest bidder. I understand that there are people who make their entire living off of buying pizzas wholesale and auctioning them. People will pay loads more for stuff under the influence of an exciting auction. It's like that show Elimidate , they really aren't dealing in high quality goods but competition drives up the prices. I'm losing the thread though.
Last night I got an e-mail notice that a comment had been posted to my site. I enjoy that. I am embarrassed a little that people read my drivel but I would rather that it was read by others (and hopefully enjoyed). I thought it was a junk comment made by some crappy internet marketing guerrilla that leaves fake comments with links to their websites like little flecks of poo on my otherwise pristine weblog because the e-mail address had some odd characters in it but then I read the comment:
"Hi my name is Denise Richardson my brother in law got one of your pizzas in Albertsons and we came home and cooked it went to go eat it and it smells and tastes just like 409 cleaning solution. Normally I would just dismiss it and throw it away if it was me eating it, but he just recently got control of his OCD and this seems to have bothered him a lot. So you need to contact me at 239-***-****.
* OCD= Obsesive Compulsive Disorder"
You can go back and read it yourself. I quoted it verbatim (except that I removed her phone number since she obviously intended it to reach someone more important in the pizza wolrd than i happen to be). I thought it was a joke and I wondered who posted it and then I decided to call the number and see if it was even a working number.
A gentleman answered the phone and I asked to speak with Denise Richardson. He asked me who I was and I told him I was responding to her complaint about the Totino's pizza. Then I was handed over to the actual Denise Richardson. I merely told her that I was not affiliated with Totino's and that she would have to contact the company with her complaint.
Ahh, google. I guess my link could've been at the top when she happened to search for totino's to complain cause nothing else could explain the logic of confusing my site for a food company complaint department. Or could it?
Bathroom etiquette is one of the most complex webs of unspoken law out there. It's based on shame and embarrassment and relies on such for its enforcement. Due to the subjective nature of shame and embarrassment there are times when conflicting ideals come into conflict. I think most people agree that if you are alone in a bathroom you can do what you want. You can lean or stand, crumple or fold, etc. If you’re in a private bathroom you can drop your pants all the way to the floor. Most people do not do this at a public urinal unless they are trying to be funny or are retarded (I mean that in the most clinical way possible; shame on you for laughing). My friend Josh has pointed out one of the major unspoken rules of the urinal code of ethics. Food is not allowed! The reason these rules are unspoken is because they are beyond obvious to any reasonable intelligent being without prior warning and because bathrooms are gross and we don't want to get into too many details most of the time. Some people just don't get it.
I do have a little confession. I often play games on my phone whilst on the throne. I don't play with sound and I don't play if anyone else is in the bathroom. I wouldn't think of it.
Yesterday, I was in the stall and hoping the guy next to me would hurry up so I could play my game. The toilet flushes and he's still sitting there. A minute and a half later he's still sitting there and the toilet flushes again. These are not infrared auto flushing toilets; these are regular manual flush toilets. I've had the infrared toilets flush early on me and it was totally uncool. The thing is, I don't want feces (now, it's pronounced "fessies" as in, " there were "fessies" all over public bathroom) hurled back at me with such force. I've heard a rumor (I think this was on Oprah) that fecal matter (feces) is sprayed out as far as 6 ft. from the toilet when flushed. It is for this reason that my friend Chaz keeps all his private toiletries in a toiletry bag in his room. What’s the point of brushing your teeth if there's tiny pooh particles all over your toothbrush? The man next to me flushed three times before I left the bathroom. He was still sitting there as I left.