It Is a Crazy Game

It Is a Crazy Game

 GOLF…that’s right ladies this is about golf.  It’s OK, you can leave, I understand, except you Patti, I expect you to stick around.

Today was my first day of the year to play.  There have been other days, but with the rain, not many.  Plus, I need some practice before actually teeing up on the first hole. 

I had it in my head to not even keep score, but that never really happens, you always know what your score is.  I figured I’d be satisfied with a 54.  No, I’m not that good, I generally only play 9 holes.  Nine holes walking and dragging a cart is enough for me, especially early in the season.

Anyway

I was playing pretty well.  Stayed out of trouble, kept the ball on the course, short game was all right and even some bad shots found the green.  After the first four holes, the toughest on this nine, I was on track to shoot 54.

Mind you 54 is not good, my “par” for 9 holes is 45 or one over "real par" on every hole.  Still, first day out I was happy.

Then I parred the par three 5^th, and the par 5 sixth.  Missed putts on the next two holes still got me a five and a four. 

Some quick math in my head and Holy Cow, if I just bogey the last hole I’ll make 45. 

Here is where golf can be such a crazy game.

My drive headed for a pond, but with the wet fairways and little roll, it stopped short.  My next shot cleared the water but was left of the green, and I thought short.

I could not find that ball. 

A bright orange ball lost in the rough.  I was not going to take all day, so I dropped a new ball around where I thought it should be.  No penalty, my rules…pretty sure if this were “The Masters” the spectators would have found the ball.  It was not in deep rough.

Anyway, I still had a tough 60 yards to the green.  I dropped a very nice wedge 12 feet from the hole.  An almost certain bogey and a 45 score, with an outside chance of par and a 44.

Walking to the hole I spied my lost orange ball, twenty yards further than I thought. 

“Oh crap.”  I was behind a sand trap.  Clearing the trap and holding the green from the angle I was on would be difficult. 

I tried to pop up a high short shot, but it was too short, landing in the sand trap.

“CRAP.” 

From a sure bogey and 45 to a probable six or maybe worse.  

I do not play traps well.  There is nowhere to practice them on this course and the sand conditions differ from hole to hole.  I know how to get out, but this shot would land down hill and perhaps run forever.

“CRAP, I wish I’d never found the damn ball!”

So, I climbed in the trap, dug in and gave the ball a firm sand trap splash of a hit.  The ball flew out softly, hit the down hill slope and ran ever so slowly toward the hole, and it kept moving, stopping just short and slightly left of the hole…and then plopped in.

PAR!!  A 44 score.

I came home ecstatic.  Mrs. C asked how was my game was?  I told her in great detail right down to the miracle shot.

“That’s nice, where do you want to go to dinner?”

That is why I am posting this.  I had to tell someone!

It is a crazy game. 

GEEK SQUAD

GEEK SQUAD

Have you ever taken your computer to the Geek Squad or some similar group of computer wizards to fix a problem? 

These people are pretty good, but not nearly as good as they lead you to believe.  You think they are complete experts, computer geniuses, those who know all about the mysteries of these frustrating machines.

Truth is, almost no one knows everything about computers.  Just as your general practitioner knows a lot about all medicine, he often has to send you to a specialist, and just as a specialist knows everything about his specialty, he is not as good as the general practitioner for everything else.

The problem is, these Geek Squad guys don’t tell you they are just computer GP’s.  Often, they are not even good GP’s.  Many know how to change passwords, move files, download porn and change fonts, but real problems they fake.

When I bring in my computer with a problem, they grab the mouse and start clicking.  Oh, they can click like a mother-trucker.  They click so fast you think they must really know what they are doing.  I only recently realized all that clicking is just guessing, and they guess really fast.  They try this…no, so they try that…no, so they try something else. 

After about 20 guesses, they look at you and tell you that your FRUMPTY FRAZZLE is Fizzled.  You will need to send the computer away for a while and it might be fixed.  Fifty bucks to try, probably $200 if they fix it.

You will agree, because this pimply faced kid is obviously sooo smart.

Well, some may be, some not.  None will admit,

“Like I don’t really know, I tried all the stuff that works when I play ‘Mind Shaft vs. The Moron People’, but I’m really not very good at lot of computer, you know…like…stuff.”

Last year, I came yea-close to sending my computer to the smart geeks behind the screen (Pay no attention to the geek behind the screen) when a smarter geek overheard my dope to geek conversation. 

I had mentioned that the problem came about right after a mandatory Microsoft update.  My geek assured me that that had nothing to do with my problem.  The eves-dropping geek stepped in and tried something…click, click, problem fixed.

“Oh, that mandatory Microsoft update!”

Moral of this long-winded story is, always get a second or even third geek opinion.  They are not as smart as they lead you to believe. 

Many of them used to eat library paste.   

Now I Know How George Felt

Now I Know How George Felt

The other day Mrs. C and I were driving to the Racetrack for an annual Memorial Day Tradition with friends.  We were tuned into The Beatles Channel on Sirius radio.  The announcer was going through a long explanation about the production of the song, “A Day In The Life.”

“Now John and Paul were combining aspects of baroque and modern improv.  The song is broken into two parts. The first part more traditional and the second part more Avant Guard.   It is divided by a crescendo of all the instruments improvising from the lowest E to the highest E.  After the crescendo the song breaks into the second part where all the musicians were allowed to do whatever they wanted with no rehearsals, playing wherever the music took them.”

At least that is what I thought I heard; it was kind of gibberish to a non- musician like myself.  But I was still curious.

Finally, the announcer, a Beatles expert shut up and the song began.  In the middle, as he said, there was a crescendo of all the instruments from their lowest E to the highest E.  I waited anxiously for what the second half would sound like.

CLICK

“Downtown, everything is great when you go downtown…”

“WTF? Are you kidding me?”

“What?”

“I just listened to five minutes as this dude explained what John and Paul did with the second half of the song after this crescendo, and as soon as that part was about to start you just change the channel?”

“I’d heard enough.”

“You’d heard enough?  Were you not the least bit interested about all the musicians just playing what ever the Hell they wanted and how the genius of John and Paul managed to make it all work…not even a little curious?”

“I’ve heard it before, it’s no big deal.”

“But did you hear it before and listen for all the little nuances he was talking about?”

“It’s nothing, just some squeaking and squawking, it’s a little weird.”

“Oh, OK then, glad you saved me from hearing it, because Petula Clark is SOOO interesting.”

“It is really no big deal; you didn’t miss anything.”

“Then why did you let that Beatles expert drone on for so long making it sound like they did something different and special.”

“I thought that was interesting.”

“The explanation was interesting, but the actual music not?”

“Yes.”

“Say good night Gracie.”

Almost wordless Wednesday

ROSES

I have a black and brown thumb when it comes to planting.  This bush was inherited with the townhome.   Mrs. C trims it back every fall, but that is all.  We have none of the problems I often hear with roses; mold, aphids and all.  

Fingers crossed we stay lucky.

MO

MO

We enter the Wayback machine and return to May 2014 for this classic post.

When Spencer, my youngest, was 3, his older brother, Matt, was 25.  There was also an older sister and his oldest brother, but they had been driven off by their evil step mother.  Anyway, Matt remained in Spencer’s life and they were best buddies.

For some strange reason, Spencer could not say "Matt."  When he talked to his brother he called him Mo.  It was cute, but still Matt tried to teach him how to say his name correctly.

“Spencer, what is my name?”

“Mo.”

“No, it’s Matt.”

“Mo.”

“What do you use to hit a baseball?”

“A bat.”

“What do you wear on your head?”

“Hat.”

“What animal goes meow?”

“Cat.”

“What is my name?”

“Mo.”

At some point we all got used to his calling Matt, Mo.  We decided it was cute.  Sometimes we all called Matt, Mo.  It is kind of nice for a baby brother to have a special name for his big brother.  It would be something special they would always have and everyone agreed that Spencer would always call his big brother Mo. 

The next day after everyone decided that Spencer’s name for Matt would always be Mo, he started calling him Matt.

“Spencer, what is my name.”

“Matt.”

“I thought it was Mo.”

“No, Matt.”

“Yeah, but you can call me Mo.”

“Matt.”

From then on it has always been Matt.

Mo was no mo.

I sort of wish it had stuck.

Trebek’d

Trebek’d

My wife has this thing she does.  If I ever make a mistake in telling a story, she steps in and immediately corrects me.  It does not matter if the “mistake” has any effect on the story, she just has to correct me.

I.E.

“I can’t believe what some jerk did today when I was making a turn on Washington Street.  I had just…”

“Washington AVENUE!”

“OK, Washington AVENUE, as if it matters.”

She does not do it to show me up, or to ruin a story, she just can not help herself.  I call it being Trebek’d.

Alex Trebek is the host of the TV show “Jeopardy.”  He is a very good quiz show moderator; except he does have a way about making contestants feel stupid. 

Often a contestant will buzz in and guess at the answer. 

When he is wrong, Alex cannot just say no, he has to throw in additional facts to make him look stupid.

“This Planet is the furthest from the Sun.”

BZZZZ “What is Pluto?”

“Oh no! Pluto is not even a planet.”

or

“This author from Baltimore was known for macabre stories.”

BZZZ “Who is Steven King?”

“Oh no! King is not from Baltimore, and it is Stephen, not Steven.”

Hence, whenever Mrs. C corrects me mid story, I say she Trebek’d me.

The other night she tried to pull a fast one.

She allowed me to finish a story where I got the day wrong.  I said Tuesday when I should have said Wednesday.  When I was finished, she said,

“I want credit.”

“Credit for what?”

“I could have Trebek’d you because you said Tuesday instead of Wednesday, but I let it go.”

“Oh yeah, thanks for…wait a minute, you just Trebek’d me by taking credit for not Trebeking me!”

“No, I didn’t interrupt.”

“But you still corrected me, you just delayed the correction, that is a delayed Trebek!”

“Well it was still Wednesday, and you’re a jerk!”

ARE YOU HAPPILY MARRIED?

ARE YOU HAPPILY MARRIED?

I just read one of those self-help magazine articles that take up space but really offer nothing that will improve your life.  These articles are always “Five Things Blah Blah Always Do.”

For instance, “The Five Things All Successful People Do.”

When I see these articles I think, “I’d like to be successful, let me read that and find out how.”

It almost always turns out the five things are things that I’d rather eat glass than try to do.

1.  Successful people start the day early.  Hmm, not going to happen.

2.  Successful people work their ass off.  Hmm, that sounds hard.

3.  Successful people take something they like and then figure out how to make that activity profitable.  Hmm, I like to sleep late and not work my ass off, I just can not figure out how to make money sleeping and being lazy.

You get the idea.  Self-help magazine articles are never any real help.

The article I just read was “Five Things All Happily Married People Do.”

I thought this should be interesting.

“Kare, want to find out if we are happily married?”

“Aren’t we?”

“I don’t know, this article says there are five things all happily married people do, if we don’t do them, then I guess we just think we are happily married.”

“Well then, let’s find out, what are the five things?”

“The first is they compliment each other.”

“We complement each other, I buy food, you eat it.”

“Very funny. I think they mean we say nice things to and about each other.”

“Oh, well then no…OK, maybe sometimes”

“Number two is they touch each other.”

“Well you grab my ass all the time, and I twist your titty when you’re a jerk, so yes to number two.”

“Three is they give each other alone time.”

“Hmm, I kick your ass to the basement every day so I can nap, does that count?”

“I think so. Number four is they trust each other.”

“Ha! who else would have you?”

“Good point.”

“What is number five?”

“Do things for each other.”

“What genius wrote these?  For crap sake what couple does not do things for each other?”

“Unhappy couples.”

“Listen, couples don’t complement each other, touch each other, spend some alone time, trust each other, or do things for each other IN ORDER to be happily married, they do those things BECAUSE they are happily married!”

“So, are we happily married or not? ... WELL?”

“I’m thinking!”

“Now who’s a jerk?”

SPELLINK

SPELLINK

Me blog friend Mr. Catalyst, I say Mr. as I respect my elders rare as they are, had a funny cartoon on his “Funny Friday” regular post.  It involved people writing “congrats” because they could not spell “congradulashuns.’  I thought it was funny, but it also hit home.

I am not a good speller.  If not for spell check I would not even attempt this blog.  My good friend Scott would say,

“You couldn’t spell ‘CAT’ if you were spotted the ‘C’ and the ‘T’!” 

He is not far from correct.

The thing about spelling, is if you misspell a word, many people assume you are stupid.  Sometimes that is probably true.  Some people cannot spell worth beens because they have lexdyxia.  I do not have that excuse.

If spelling is so dam impotant, perhaps we should forgo Presidential debates and just have a spelling be.

I disagree with the bad spellers are stupid theory…of course I do, I am a bad speller.

I think bad spellers are too intelligent to worry about how to spell a word.  We know what the word is and what it means.  The spelling is just not important to us superior intellects.  Hell, if people know the word is misspelled, then they must know what the word is.  If you know what the word is, then why does the spelling matter?

People of lower intellect get wrapped up in the spelling because their low intelligence does not allow them to move along in the thinking process.  A misspelled word stops them in their tracks. 

“THAT IS SPELLED WRONG!  This person must be stupid.  I can not continue to read this!”

We of a higher intellectual order see the misspelled word and move right on.

“Is that word spelled correctly?  I’m not sure.  Oh, what is the difference, I know what the word means let me concentrate on what the person is saying.”

Spelling is so unimportant to people of high intellect that it is the very reason we are poor spellers.  When we read, we do not see spelling, we do not dwell on letters, we see a word and know what the word is…we do not care about how it is spelled…we are to smart too worry about letters, we concentrate on the big picture, WHAT THE PERSON IS SAYING!

Anyway, that is my story and I am sticking to it.

This post may contain some incorrect spellings solely for the purpose of aggravating spelling Nazis…like cold air on a tooth ache.  

Pillow Talk

Pillow Talk

Damn, I had a thing for Doris!

Returning on a several hours trip from the wake of a family friend, my wife had Sirius Radio tuned to the seventies channel.  A song came on, “Pillow Talk.” 

“I’ll bet you’ve never heard this song.”

“Of course not, you know I had three children all under ten in the seventies I missed that whole decade and most of the eighties!”

“Do you know what pillow talk is?”

“I know what it is in our house.”

“What?”

"Let’s see, how about:"

“Can you turn down the volume, I’m trying to sleep, what are you deaf?”

“What?”

“Very funny, turn it down.”

Then later.

“Why did you change the channel?”

“What?  You were asleep, I don’t want to watch “Family Feud” I want to catch up on “Wicked Tuna.”

“I Can’t sleep to “Wicked Tuna”, it wakes me up!”

“So, I have to watch a show I don’t like so you can sleep because my show wakes you up?”

“Yes.”

“That’s crazy, and how do you go from sound asleep to wide awake just because I change the channel to my show?”

“I like the background noise from ‘Family Feud.’  ‘Wicked Tuna’ has too much excitement, it wakes me up...JERK”

“OMG!! OK, I’ll watch “Family Feud.”

Pillow Talk!  How the hell did they make a song about that in the eighties?

From The Urban Dictionary:

Pillow Talk can be any variety of things. It can be before or after being intimate, or without that at all. The point of pillow talk, though, is for two people to enjoy each other's presence through conversation, in a somewhat spontaneous way, but in a way that will let both parties go to bed with clear heads.

OH!  That pillow talk.

Interested in joining a Facebook Blog Group? See Mimi's post and join the "Old School Bloggers Group"

https://magicalmysticalmimi.com/2019/05/20/ad-itude/ 

The Origins of SAYINGS

The Origins of SAYINGS

A rework of the best in a series of posts from 2011

Do you ever wonder where the many common sayings we use every day come from?  What are the origins of expressions we hear all the time?  You may be surprised.  Here are more of Cranky’s “ORIGINS OF SAYINGS.”

"Break a Leg"

Meaning: Wish an actor good luck. 

Origin: To bend or break one’s leg was an archaic phrase for taking a bow.  In the theater, a successful performance means taking a curtain call bow, so “Break a leg” is to wish an actor a successful performance.

"Buy The Farm"

Meaning: Die

Origin: Farmers were notorious for having a large mortgage on their property.  When a farmer died and he had life insurance the neighbors would remark, “At least the insurance will pay off the mortgage.  Hence – He bought the farm!

“Don’t yank my crank”

Meaning: Don’t try and fool me.

Origin: Fisherman knew they had a fish on when their crank moved.  As a goof it was common for another fisherman to pull on the line which moved the crank and made the fisherman think he had a fish.  Fisherman used the expression anytime someone tried to fool them, “Hey, don’t yank my crank.”
 

“There is more than one way to skin a cat”

Meaning: There is more than one way to get a job done.

Origin: This was obviously first said by someone who was not a cat skinner as it turns out there is actually only one way to skin a cat.

“Use your noodle”

Meaning: Think, be smart; use your head.

Origin: In some cultures, pasta is the main course and served from the head of the table. Pasta or the noodle became synonymous with the head.  Thus, to be smart you use your head, or use your noodle.  (Also see “She gives really good noodle!”)

“A stitch in time saves nine”

Meaning: A little precaution saves time in the long run. 

Origin: To stitch a hem before it unravels will save many more stitches in the future.  This phrase makes very little sense to Germans.

 “Get outta the fucking car”

Meaning: Police jargon for “Sir, please exit your vehicle.” 

Origin: First used when Rodney King did not understand “Please,” “Exit,” or “Vehicle.”

 “Pissed off”

Definition: Very angry

Origin: The Pizdoff family of Scranton Pa. was known for their loudness. One day a stranger in town noticed Mrs. Pizdoff arguing boisterously with her husband.  The stranger asked a local what was the argument all about.  The local replied, “oh, it’s nothing, there just Pizdoffs.”

 “Two wrongs don’t make a right”

Meaning: Retaliation of a wrong doing will not make things better.  

Origin: In 1880, two Chinese inventors attempted to develop the incandescent bulb.  The Wong brothers failed and finally gave up on the dream.  Americans mis-interpreted a Japanese article about the effort and 

“Two Wong’s no make a rite”

Turned it into a philosophical saying. 

“I before E except after C or sounds like ay…”

Meaning: A spelling rule. 

Origin: There used to be only three “ie” words in the English language, believe, receive, and neighbor.  This rule is currently useless.

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth”

Definition: Accept a gift graciously and unconditionally

Origin: Kansas farmer Seth Travers was given a plow horse as a wedding present from his father-in-law.  Before he said thank you Seth checked to see the horse had all its teeth.  He was shot by his insulted father-in-law.

“It’s raining cats and dogs”

Definition: A really heavy rain storm

Origin: Harvey Katz and Charlie Docks were roofing a farm house when a sudden heavy rain storm came up.  Both roofers slipped on the wet shingles.  When the farm owner looked out and saw Harvey and Charlie fall by the window he remarked,

“Look, it’s raining Katz and Docks.”

"Smart as a whip”

Definition: Pretty fucking smart.

Origin: Ever been hit with a whip?  It Fucking SMARTS!

“Dumb as a stump”

Definition: Someone is really stupid.

Origin: Most people believe this refers to a tree stump not being very smart. Actually, it originally came as a reference to a 1900's Akron Ohio resident who was known to be the stupidest man in Ohio; Thomas A. Stumb.


As these are the "best of," aren't you glad I weeded out the bad ones!