Tuesday Mental Chex Mix

  • Some days, you just know you should've stayed in bed.  Others, you can just tell it's going to be a great day.  My Sunday was both.
  • I should explain.  Job One keeps me busy from 1630-0100, Wednesday through Sunday.  It's a good job, with great benefits, and after the last two years–which lacked both–this is a good thing.  Job Two is an occasional thing.  I'll be called upon to do a weekend airshift, or fill-in if one of the other jocks is unavailable, and I frequently end up running the controls for our 0900-1300 Sunday Brunch show.
  • This is a fine arrangement, except that I end up working both jobs on Saturday and Sunday.  This leads to me being absolutely beat by Sunday.  Anyway, so I worked till 0100 Saturday night, then couldn't fall asleep till nearly sunrise.  I couldn't get my socks on.  It was bizarre.  I've been wearing socks since I can remember, and I rarely have difficulty applying them.  Sunday morning, I awoke tired at 0830, and I was struggling to put on my damn socks.  They simply wouldn't cooperate.  Granted, I was trying to cram my size-15 EEE feet into a sock designed with the tiny human foot in mind, but normally I can accomplish this. 
  • So Sunday, I left my apartment at 0845, sockless and grumpy, and headed off for the station.  A Land Rover pulled out in front of me, and averaged about 5 miles per hour all the way through my complex, stopping completely at each speed bump. 
  • If you drive a Land Rover–one of the big ones, like they use on African safaris–you should be able to make it over our speedbumps at a minimum of 10 mph.
  • When I drank, there were occasions I was able to negotiate them at 25 or 30.
  • Anyway, on Fourth Street, there were 13 vultures holding some sort of carrion eaters Sunday service on the roadside.  I counted 13.  I would never make that up.
  • I made it through my four hours, came home, took a shower, and  crawled into bed for a two hour nap.
  • I had a really cool dream, although I can't remember it.  My socks went on like they were supposed to, and when I got into the USS Nimitz (my truck), I found that the Tampa Bay Bucs had just finished winning their game.  Nice.
  • I switched from AM to the FM rock station, just as they started "Hair of the Dog," by Nazareth.
  • "Hair of the Dog" does not, to the best of my recollection, mention hair or dogs.  The rousing chorus is "Now you're messin' with a son of a bitch! Now you're messing with a son of a bitch.  Now you're messin' with a…A SON OF A BITCH! Now you're messin' with a son of a bitch!"
  • Inane, yes, but really great if played loud.
  • So I'm blasting the crap out of a 30 year old Nazareth song, and as I drive south on Dr King Blvd, I see this fly in front of my truck:

  • A roseate spoonbill flew across the street safely in front of me.  These things are about the size of Airbus A-300's, or so they seem when you're driving.  It was far enough away not to endanger itself or scare me, yet close enough to be freakin' awesome.  Maybe it likes Nazareth.
  • I saw Nazareth many, many moons ago.  I was in high school, and they headlined a double-bill with another minor 1970's classic rocker.  I went mainly to see the opening band, who cancelled, but Nazareth was pretty good.  They did their usual set, then went backstage for the prescribed period before the encore.  I was about six feet back from the stage–stupid standing-only general admission–and the guitar player threw his towel out into the audience.  There was a scrum for the towel.  People of every size and gender crowded into position to catch it.
  • Part of my youth was spent playing basketball.  If there was something flying toward me, I'd damn sure try and rebound it.  As I did with this towel.  I snagged it out of the air and, in a cleanly poetic motion, pulled it down into my body while throwing my right elbow backward. 
  • Shaquille O'Neal couldn't have executed a better rebound. 
  • For some reason, girls kept trying to grab my towel.  I shoved my way through the crowd, protecting my towel all the way.  I'm sure some people were bruised and angered, but I didn't care.
  • Until I got back home.  Then I thought, "BLEH!" I washed the towel, and for years, it was my guitar-care cloth.  I polished lots of guitars with it.  It was a good towel, despite the fact that some Scottish guy had sweat all over it.
  • So "Hair of the Dog" ended, and the rock station segued straight into Nirvana's "Come as you Are."
  • Oh, HELL yeah!
  • It really was a great day at work.
  • Roseate spoonbills used to be endangered in Florida.  Evil craft people used to kill them and make hat decorations from their plumeage.  Over the past ten to 15 years, they've come back in droves here in the Tampa Bay area.  So now, it's not uncommon to drive around and see this:

  • I'm not sure, but I'd bet money the pink plumeage looks far better on the roseate spoonbill than on some old lady's hat.
  • More about the roseate spoonbill's return here
  • I came home from work and fired up the Interwebs only to see this shocking headline:
  • Can a girl sexually abuse herself?

  • Based upon various things I've seen–live and on video–the answer would be affirmative: sometimes, very enthusiastically (see IFeelMyself.com if you don't believe me).
  • The story was talking about something else, though.  A 15 year-old Ohio girl was charged with various child pornography crimes for taking and distributing nude pictures of a minor…
  • She was the selfsame minor.  She took nekkid pics of herself and e-mailed them to people.  Now, she's in trouble.
  • This story brings into question several different issues: right to self-expression, right to privacy, right to take nekkid pics of yourself and send them to your friends, even if you're underage.  There could be great fodder for discussion on any of these topics.
  • The story is interesting, but I couldn't read anymore after I read that the girl attends "Licking Valley High School."
  • The stock market had a very bad week, losing as much as 22% of its value at various times.  This doesn't portend well for the economy.  However, another headline rings forth good news:
  • Prostitution has not suffered drop-off despite economic meltdown

  • Thank God for prostitution.  In these grave economic times, it's heartening to know that people can still find enough cash to pay hookers for sex.  Your 401(k) might be limp, but you can still take solace in 38-D's.
  • It would be funnier if the prostitutes in question lived in Licking Valley, too.
  • Have a great week.

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9 Responses to “Tuesday Mental Chex Mix”

  1. [this is hilarious] Licking Valley High School! Say it isn't true…

  2. Some things, I just can't make up, like the only high school in the Licking Valley.

  3. The spoonbills are beautiful!

  4. OMFG! "Licking" Valley High School?? No, you can't make this shit up. can't wait to get home and tell this one – snorting laughs all around!

  5. LOL!!!! almost choked with laughter……keep that mental chex mix coming!!!

  6. "Anyway, on Fourth Street, there were 13 vultures holding some sort
    of carrion eaters Sunday service on the roadside. I counted 13."Ya know.If I saw an omen like that I would be tempted to just drive back home and barracade myself in the basement…(Licking Valley HIgh???OMG)

  7. They estimated we were down to 20 nesting pairs in the state not too long ago. Now they've come back nicely. They are beautiful. The only thing is, whenever I see them I wonder which zoo they've fled. Silly nature.

  8. It really looked like a worship service–there was a preacher vulture, and his congregation all watching him. I figured they wouldn't notice me if they were busy preying. (grin)

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