Signs You Are becoming Cranky

Signs You Are becoming Cranky

My blogging friend, The Chubby Chatterbox http://thechubbychatterbox.blogspot.com/ , has in recent posts shown signs that he is creeping into the land of crankiness.  This normally smiling, friendly, understanding, lover of art and humanity recently complained of annoying bumper stickers and (gasp!), even pointed out his wife’s failure to throw away a nectarine pit in defense of his own indiscretion.

I’d hate to see Stephen fall into this unhappy pit of crankiness, so I offer to him some warning signs that he may need help.

1.     Signs, bumper stickers, and anything Kardashian makes you angry.

2.     You yell at kids for cutting across your lawn.

3.     You wear pants too large at the waist and constantly hitch them up above your belly button line.

4.     You land by mistake on an all porn TV channel and declare “That’s disgusting!”

5.     You landing by mistake on an all porn TV channel, declare “That’s disgusting!” and you mean it!

6.     You Say “I remember when” or “That used to be a ____” several times a day.

7.     You watch a movie and ask of the multiple Oscar award winning actor, “Who the fuck is that?”

8.     After every TV commercial you ask, “What the hell are they selling?”

9.     Dreams of Paris Hilton are considered nightmares, while dreaming of Judge Judy has you waking up with a smile.

10.  You don’t want to see a doctor because, “What the hell could that kid    know?”

     

If you are experiencing six or more of these symptoms you might consider moving to Florida, buying one of those metal detector things and walk up and down the beach looking for coins and lost rings while mumbling unintelligibly.



NO CHIPPING!!

NO CHIPPING!!

A CRANKY RANT

Why are people dicks?

I went to my County golf course today for a little practice.  It is a nice course; it has two 18 hole courses and for a public course gets relatively little play.  The greens are nice, a little slow but nice, the tees are well maintained and the fairways are mostly grass.

The best part of the course is the cost.  As a senior, I can play for only $13 a round.  There is a driving range and to hit a small bucket of balls only costs $3. Golfers will recognize this is a great value.

The only drawback to the course is half of the people working there are dicks!  I go to the desk to pay my fee and sometimes the dude at the cash register is on the phone.  He ignores me for five minutes.  Ok, he’s being a dick, but I don’t say anything.  I let it go.

Then I go to the range and bang out a bucket of balls.  Next I want to practice some putting, but it is some kind of kids “First Tee” thing and the green is covered with children.  I go off to the practice chipping green and the same thing.  The green is covered with kids.  No problem, I think it is good they are getting kids interested in this great game.

To practice chipping, I go about 50 yards behind the first tee and work on my short shots.  Apparently you are not supposed to practice in this area.  I have no idea why, the grass is just rough.  It is not watered or maintained beyond cutting, there is no danger of hitting another golfer that I could discern, and there is no sign saying no practice in this area.

Anyway, I’m chipping back and forth for about 10 minutes and am about to wrap it up and the “Starter”, the guy who checks your tickets, comes out of his little shack and starts hollowing at me, “No chipping…NO CHIPPING!”

I wave at him, an “OK, I hear you kind of wave” and punch my last practice ball back towards my cart.

“HEY!!! I said NO CHIPPING!!

Now I was a little pissed. I put my clubs away and pulled my cart up to the starter’s shed.  I’m about to give this guy, a little fat douche by the way, a piece of my mind.  I get to the shack and there is another starter.  Apparently the little fat douche left for the day, his last act was to play the big shot and tell me “NO CHIPPING!”

The new starter was actually a nice guy.

“Excuse me, I’ve got a complaint.”

“Yes.”

“Apparently I am not supposed to chip in that area even though there is no sign.  I’m OK with that, but why does the guy that was just here need to holler at me like I’m a little kid that just hopped the fence and was stealing apples?”

“Oh, that’s Ernie, pay him no mind.”

“Do me a favor, tell Ernie that the 70 year old man he was just hollering at like a kid stealing candy does not appreciate him playing Mr. Big Shot at my expense.  He should learn to say ‘Excuse me sir, I know there is no sign, but you are not supposed to be practicing in that area.’ Oh and tell him that this old man says he is not a big shot, he is a miserable, little fat dick.”

“Sorry about that sir, you have a point.”

The whole thing had me fuming for a couple of hours.

I will see Ernie again, and I will mess with his head.

Cranky must have his revenge!

A Squirrel In The Chimney

A Squirrel In The Chimney

A post by Susie @ http://peakedinjuniorhigh.blogspot.com/ got me to thinking about squirrels.  They are fascinating creatures.  I like watching them climb, fight, run along wires and I even like watching them steal food intended for birds.  They are fun to watch…outside.

A bunch of years ago I had a squirrel visit me inside the house.  I don’t like watching squirrels inside the house.

I was minding my own business watching a Yankee game when I heard a thump in my chimney.  Then I heard scrapping as if something was trying to climb up the chimney. 

This couldn’t be good. 

I slowly went to the fireplace, gingerly opened the flue and jammed closed the fireplace screen.  A minute later, a small squirrel, clinging to the flue peered head first right at me. 

This was not good.

The squirrel was going nowhere, but neither was I.  I knew that left alone a squirrel would quickly find a way through the fire screen and I would have a climbing screeching scratching biting creature in my home.

That would not be good.

Using chairs, cushions, pillows and whatever I could find to use as a barrier, I formed a path from the fireplace imprisoned squirrel to the back door.  I opened the door, and I crept to the fireplace, where the squirrel was getting…well squirrelly.  Using the fire poker, I reached out and pulled the screen back.

If this worked it would be good.

The squirrel cautiously peeked though the open screen, looked at me, looked at the open door, paused some more and then made a mad dash to freedom.  I followed him to the door and slammed it shut right behind him.

That was good.

The Yankees lost.

That was bad.