I don't really like to talk about religion because I think it's a private thing. So, I don't like when I get assaulted by the proselytizers seeking to convince me that theirs is the right way, whether it's in print, on television, or live and in person while I have a towel on and shaving cream on my face because they wouldn't stop banging on the fucking door.
But I have finally succumbed. How did that happen? Me? Yup. What kind of mind-altering, brain-washing drugs did they pump into you after they kidnapped you, you ask? And I agree that it is shocking.
And it was subtle. I was driving on I-90. I was passing a car. A license plate frame. It said, "Another Blessing From GOD." On a fancy Volvo.
Yes! That GOD is a materialistic freak. Gimme some of that! Where do I sign up?
Then I figured that the person must be a Calvinist. Oh, well. I'll just resign myself to being damned and spending eternity in Hell without any hope at all of mercy and any break at all from the extreme tortures meted upon the damned.
Go figure.
I may have already written about my pair of periodic table socks; but to refresh my recollection, these colorful socks have the periodic table woven into each sock so that when I pick up a pant leg, the periodic table of elements is partially visible. I suppose that if I was a chemistry geek, I would wear the socks when I wear shorts. I'm not; I don't.
One day, after doing the laundry, and I don't know how it got to the point that I'm doing the laundry, but it's here, I discovered that one of my periodic table socks was gone. And that happens. It is an unalterable law of the universe that no physicist has been able to explain. One sock in a pair always disappears. There are dozens of disappearing sock theories that have never been proven.
But several months after the sock disappeared, it reappeared, not in the laundry room or under the bed or behind a dresser drawer, but, as I was pulling out of the subterranean garage, near the exit door.
I came across the rejoined pair of socks in my sock drawer this morning. I didn't think about wearing them because it was too cold to wear those socks -- 6 degrees. I had, however, avoided wearing them since I reunited them. Frankly, I am afraid to wear them. What happens to me if one sock is again lost in some wormhole of space while I am wearing it?
I don't want to find out.
My tickets to the U2 concert in Pittsburgh arrived in today's mail. I am taking Matt, who will be meeting me there.
I was somewhat surprised today to receive the following e-mail:
From: Nunnery Rentz
Subject: ORDER
Date: January 20, 2011 11:59:00 AM EST
Hello Good Day
My Name is Nunnery Rentz and I will like to know whether you carry ( Caskets) in stock for sale. If yes, email me back each size and with the prices of (1) attached to it so that i will let you know the size and quantity i will be ordering. I want to know if you do accept credit card as the method of payment.
Nunnery Rentz
Best Regards
___________________________
To follow up, I forwarded Nunnery Rentz the following e-mail:
To: Nunnery Rentz
Subject: ORDER
Date: January 20, 2011 7:59:00 PM EST
Hello and Good Evening to you Nunnery Rentz,
I received your e-mail in which you express the desire to purchase caskets. I like that little (Caskets) thing you did, but it should really be (Dead Body). I crack my shit up sometimes.
Sorry for that little joke, but I have to get what little humor I can come by in this business. I am sure that you can understand since it seems that you are looking to place a bulk order.
I presently have 7,627 7,626 (caskets) in stock of various sizes for whatever (Dead Body) needs you may have. I can appreciate that you have kept the (Dead Body)'s refrigerated appropriately and are incurring great cost therefor; and I am, therefore, ready, willing, and able to deliver my entire stock to you for the amount of US$22,878,000 FOB Cleveland, less a 10% bulk purchase discount and additional 3% new buyer discount, which will be a final cost to you, as a very special beloved favored customer, of US$19,942,494 FOB Cleveland.
While I do not accept credit cards as a form of payment because of the great incidence of identity theft by those who traffic in (Dead Body)'s, I will accept, as a special favor to you, a check in certified US funds drawn on a bank chartered in the State of Ohio, USA. Upon receiving your check and when it has cleared banking channels, I will ship your (caskets) according to the instructions you give me by return e-mail.
In the alternative, and to expedite your order, Nunnery Rentz, you may wire transfer funds directly to my account with Cayman National Bank Ltd, which is located on Buckingham Square, Grand Cayman. Call Riza at 345.949.4655 and give her the pass phrase "Caskets R Us" and secret code number 78965765764-4-6. She will enable the transfer; whereupon, the (caskets) will be shipped to your port of call. If you pay by wire transfer, we will enclose with your shipment a Starbucks card loaded to the amount of US$200,000 and registered in the name of Nunnery Rentz, together with six cases of Aqua Velva aftershave.
Please confirm by return e-mail your shipping information and acknowledgment that you have transferred the funds.
Thank you.
Sincerely,
Billy
Fact: Bill does not ski.
I noticed there was an article or, maybe, it was advertisement on cnn.com about four places to ski out west. Going to one of these resorts and skiing down mountains is orgasmic for a lot of people. Around these parts, a lot of people are enthusiastic about skiing at Alpine Valley east of Cleveland or Boston Mills south of the city.
Not me.
And acquaintances of mine who ski say that it's cool and exhilarating and all kinds of other adjectives, cooler and more exhilarating out west in the Rockies, but still cool and exhilarating and all kinds of other adjectives locally.
Yeah, right.
People fall down when skiing. People get hurt skiing. People get killed skiing. And people get stuck for several hours on ski lifts. So, what's so great about it? Is it the wind in your face when it's 3 degrees, the feeling of speed sliding down the slopes -- that sounds like a freezingly fun-filled frostbiting thing to do.
I had dinner with an old acquaintance -- our children went to elementary school together, so the wives were friends and I guess we'd be hangers-on at events, and I coached a women's softball team his wife played on. That's the acquaintance part. He didn't come to the softball games. I guess the dinner was more like the wives wanted to have dinner so they could catch up and then I was stuck listening to him. And I must admit that I wasn't always listening to him, tuning out most of the time. And the food wasn't that great, either, by the way. He picked the place.
He skis a lot. In fact, I think that is all he talked about all night, taking weekend trips to Vail, Breckenridge, Park City, Las Vegas, all kinds of places, and how he has had several knee surgeries and broken legs and ... well, I'll leave out the extra-curricular activities he described, as if I really want to know that stuff with the wives chatting about the kids and stuff like that just right over there, across the table. I thought that he should have been discreet about his indiscretions; and as he droned on and on, my mind wandered; and I wondered why I was there. And did I mention that the food wasn't very good? But that may have been a function of him. Whatever.
So, I decided I'm not going to go skiing or even try it out. It could be the fear of falling and suffering pain in the process that is the obstacle.
What is the more likely reason is that I just don't like the way "SKIING" is spelled. It's something about those two i's in the middle of the word that makes me cringe every time I see it.
As a public service, I am reminding you that the PPAI Expo is January 12 - 14 at the Mandalay Bay Convention Center in Las Vegas. I have no idea what the PPAI could be.
But I was invited by Spectrum Uniforms to see Richard and Sam at Booth 416 there. Why did I get an e-mail from Spectrum, "Home of Value Priced Medical Apparel and Accessories?" I'm not even in any kind of medicine-related field or endeavor.
I do go to the doctor, however, except that on my last visit, he was out of town; and I agreed to be seen by a physician assistant. Now, I am having a battle with the P.A., whether she knows it or not. It started when I had to point things out to her in my medical records -- but perhaps I should not have expected her to have done that before walking in to see me.
It's not like I'm not appreciative, but she doesn't have to have that "I told you so" attitude every time she calls me on the phone to tell me what the fuck is wrong with me after the blood tests came back and what she wants done to me. And I question her about what she wants done to me, and she's all insistent that I'm like not on my death bed, but walking down the hall outside the bedroom, which is not the way I'm feeling.
And then, when she calls me after I have them stick things down my throat while I'm all drugged up (I have a distinct recollection that the "doctor" had greyish skin with an oddly shaped head and six fingers on each hand), she doesn't have to have that "I told you so" attitude when the "gastro-enterologist" says I have an ulcer.
She's like all excited about her triumph and prescribes me medication; I call her back after I find out the pre-packaged antibiotics/Prevacid treatment has a $395 co-pay, and I'm not paying for her drug-company-sponsored trip to Cancun and to prescribe the two antibiotics individually and I'll get the Prevacid over the counter and take two of them. She acceded to my request -- maybe, I was somewhat harsh -- but set up an appointment to see her next week; so, she gets the last laugh again.
But upon reflection, maybe she is just trying to help me; maybe I have misjudged her. It's barely possible, but it could be.
So, I'm going to take a different approach. Instead of offering her a peace pipe because Cleveland Clinic doesn't permit smoking on the premises, which extends from about East 83rd to halfway to Buffalo, New York, and mainly because I don't have a peace pipe, I was thinking a stethoscope might be an appropriate peace offering.
From Spectrum.
I watched a blue Saturn Ion car drive away from me.
It's sometimes so hard to put into words what is in my heart.
My therapist drove a blue Saturn Ion. He died 10 months ago.
He saved my life. I miss him.
The hike to my seat tonight seemed a lot longer and much steeper than usual. Maybe it's because I walked through the tunnel from Tower City and took the steps up to the arena. Maybe it's because since I got back from Atlanta, the Cavs have won one (1) game. That's one for December and January.
I made it to my seat. The people I invited counted a vegetarian among them. I discovered from my customer service rep a concession stand serves veggie-burgers at section 123; so, I got that going for me.
And the Cavs lost once again. It's enough to make me want to start drinking at games, but the beer guy doesn't visit way up where I'm sitting anymore.
It's not as easy to give away tickets as it was last year, which was before LeBron Jones left the unwed mother of his two children, all of whom he directed to take care of his 23,000 square foot house, his life-size statue serving as a companion. Enough of that.
As I said, it is not as easy to get people to go to games.
On the walk home, I formulated a plan. I'm certain Bella will be happy to go to the next game with me. I'm not sure about Scout. If I bring treats, she might come along. Sheba will absolutely not go to the game. She hates basketball.
I know dogs aren't allowed in the Q. And I am not going to claim that they are service dogs. That would be lying.
Disguises. They will be in disguise -- Bella will be Cameron Diaz; and Scout, well, I know this is pretty nasty of me, but she's going to have to go as Danny DeVito because she is so short.
That's the plan. It'll work, so long as one of them doesn't try to bring a gun.
HAPPY NEW YEAR!! to my two regular readers.
To anyone else who stops by, you have a happy new year, too, but not in CAPS.
As my New Year's resolution, I will be pronouncing 2011 as "twenty eleven," which is a change in form from last year when I used the long form, "two thousand and ten," to say 2010.
And I just now learned how to type the "pi" symbol. That is so cool. Dude.
What an interesting and exciting life.
π.