Archive for the ‘Humor’ Category
I’m celebrating today because yesterday I received a letter from my doctor. Truthfully, it’s not the kind of letter I like receiving but it is what it is and unfortunately for me it’s colonoscopy time again. Before I go much further I like to throw out a huge thank you to my late mother Janet. It’s her medical history and genetic inheritance that requires me to have these procedures. Her history of colon cancer and cancerous polyps has placed me at the head of the line for frequent colonoscopies. Thanks a lot Mom.
It all started for me in 2004 when my new doctor at that time was reviewing my medical history and gave me the bad news that colonoscopies were about to become a huge part of my life. I had no knowledge of what colonoscopies were at that time but I was to find out rather quickly how much fun they weren’t. As the first colonoscopy approached I was directed to pick up a “Colonoscopy Preparation Kit” at my doctors office. It contained a gallon of liquid and a couple of pouches of powder that were to be mixed together and consumed the night before the procedure. I actually laughed when he told me that I had to drink that entire gallon in one sitting (no pun intended). He also warned me not to wander too far from a bathroom which I failed to take all that seriously. Big gigantic mistake number one.
Being the obedient person that I am I followed his instructions to the letter and discovered very quickly that his warnings were not to be taken lightly. I was sitting quietly on my deck when I felt a rumble. It felt like a very small earthquake tremor at first but immediately I realized I might be more than a few steps too far from the closest bathroom. I became a cross between Mt. Vesuvius and a high pressure fire hose. I almost made to the bathroom but not quite. Big gigantic mistake number two.
After a hour of sitting, then an hour of cleanup I was cleansed inside and out and ready to go. I was very nervous about the procedure but after receiving some really excellent drugs I was ready for anything. I remember vaguely my ass hanging out in the wind and a number of people back there talking and looking around. The next thing I remember I was in the recovery room, a much more humble person to be sure.
The good news was that my first colonoscopy experience was over and the bad news was given to me later by the doctor. I’d be required to do this every three years for the rest of my effing life. I wasn’t thrilled about that fact but I understand how important these procedures are to extending my life.
Since that first experience I’ve had three additional colonoscopies and I hate to admit it but I think I’m getting used to them. The first one they knocked me out with drugs, the second one I took a lighter drug dose and was able to remain semi awake and able to listen to the doctors and nurses as they reamed me out. The third one I took an even smaller dose of drugs and was able to talk with the doctor while he was doing the procedure and they even brought in a small television so I could see exactly what the camera stuck up my butt was showing the doctor. I don’t think I’ll do that again because that was a little weird. It was like looking down a long pink and disgusting tunnel. That’s one TV show I think I’ll pass on the next time around. I’ll just stick to the good drugs, take a short nap, and deal with my sore butt later.
I should gladly note that these procedures failed to find any major problems for which I’m exceedingly grateful. They’re actually a very efficient way for early detection and treatment of what could be a life threatening situation. When your told for the first time that you need to have a colonoscopy, just smile, drink your laxatives, and enjoy the drugs. It could save your life.
As I promised a week or so ago, if I found any interesting tidbits of useless information and trivia, I would pass them along to you. I have a few here that are obscure, a little strange, but as best I can determine accurate. Read them and remember them because you never know when you might get caught up in a vicious game of Trivial Pursuit. A number of these items were researched by the late great Isaac Asimov. He was one of the smartest men alive in his day and had a habit of collecting and researching odd tidbits of information. Enjoy!
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Drilling an oil well 5 miles deep requires drilling night and day, seven days a week, for as long as 500 days.
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The total population of the earth at the time of Julius Caesar was 150 million. The total population increase in two years on earth today is 150 million.
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During the next minute, 100 people will die 240 will be born. The world’s population problem increases by a 140 people per minute.
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Many years ago a Harvard student on his way home to visit his parents fell between two railroad cars at the station in Jersey City, New Jersey, and was rescued by an actor on his way to visit his sister in Philadelphia. The student was Robert Lincoln, heading for 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. The actor was Edwin Booth the brother of the man who a few weeks later would murder the students father.
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There are 2,500,000 rivets in the Eiffel Tower.
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There is a salt mine in the Polish town of Wieliczka, near Cracow, that has been in operation for nearly 1000 years.
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While Columbus was seeking new worlds to the West, Italian engineers were rebuilding the Kremlin in Moscow.
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There are more than 100 distinct ethnic groups in the Soviet Union.
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Every cubic mile of seawater holds over 150,000,000 tons of minerals. There are 350,000,000 cubic miles of seawater on the planet.
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It was proposed in the Rhode Island legislature in the 1970’s that there be enacted a two dollar tax on every act of sexual intercourse.
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Morocco was the first country to officially recognize the United States in 1789.
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Some Eskimos use refrigerators to keep their food from freezing.
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In 1978, more than 1000 deer were accidentally killed in Connecticut by automobile drivers. Only 948 were killed by hunters.
Well there you have it. More useless information for you to cram into your brain so you can amaze your friends and family and possibly win a few bar bets. More to come I’m sure.
I thought today I’d live up to this blogs name by providing a few items of really useless information which you could no doubt live without. I need to have a fun posting day for a change that will provide absolutely no useful content to any discussion about anything at all. How’s that for a total and complete disclaimer.
I’ve always been a huge trivia fan and anytime I find a few tidbits that are new to me I immediately send them along to you. So sit back in your nice soft chair with your refreshment of choice and read on.
1. Potatoes have more chromosomes than humans do – 48 versus 46.
2. The steam rising from a cup of hot coffee contains the same amount of antioxidants as three oranges.
3. Cleavage has nothing to do with breast size or shape. Women with concave ribcages exhibit cleavage, while those with convex ribcages don’t.
4. There are roughly 144,000 mosquitos for every person on earth.
5. Dr. Seuss wrote Green Eggs and Ham after his editor challenged him to produce a book using fewer than 50 words.
6. William McKinley was the first president to ride in an electric car – the ambulance that took him to the hospital after he was shot by an assassin.
7. In 2004, the glossy Ikea catalogue overtook the Bible as the world’s most distributed publication.
8. The Bible is the most shoplifted book in the world.
9. The actress Liz Sheridan, best known for her portrayal of Jerry Seinfeld’s TV mother, was briefly engaged to James Dean.
10. One of every five meals in America are eaten in cars.
11. The largest human cell is the female ovum. The smallest is the male sperm.
12. You can tell the temperature by listening to a cricket chirp. For the temperature in degrees Fahrenheit, count the number of chirps in 15 seconds and add 37.
13. In the summer of 1967, Jimi Hendrix was the opening act for the Monkees seven times.
14. A falling object travels slower at the equator than it does at the North and South poles.
15. Winston Churchill had a heart attack in the White House while straining to open a window.
So there you have it. Fifteen more golden nuggets of useless information to use up what space you have left in your memory banks. The month of March is sure to be long and boring and to make it complete I’ll send a few more tidbits your way in a few weeks. I just know your thrilled.
Have you ever had an identity crisis? Do you really understand what the term means? I thought I did but as often happens I really had only a general idea and never looked at the dirty little details.
As a young child we have an identity but it’s really just a temporary one until we’ve reached an age where real decisions about our future can be made without the undue influences of family. My father wanted me to be a jock at first. He was an outstanding athlete in school and always hoped I could excel as he did. I didn’t. I liked playing baseball but for me most of the other sports were a distraction from my real passion for fine art and commercial art. My first major identity issue occurred when I realized I didn’t want to be what he wanted me to be. I was just a kid who was afraid to speak out so instead I acted out. It was my way of saying, I don’t want to be a jock, I really don’t like playing football and basketball, I can do it if I want to but I don’t want to. It took him years to get over my actions but it had to happen eventually as it does with everyone and their parents.
We go through many of these identity issues during and after high school. Do I want to go to college? Do I want to be a part of a religious organization? Do I want to be married? What kind of job do I want? Do I want to have kids? It’s no wonder we have so many issues with family and friends as they try to push us in one direction or another. The real problem comes after you’ve made these life decisions for yourself and then find out you’ve made a terrible mistake. To me that’s a real ‘identity crisis’ and the others are just normal growing up things we all must deal with.
I’m writing about this topic in a semi-serious manner and don’t want to get bogged down and depressed by it. I’ve grown up and survived all of the decisions I’ve made. Some were good, some not so good, but that’s life in a nut shell. I’ve had my mid-life crisis, been divorced, been happy, been miserable, and survived them all just as you all will.
I took early retirement a few years ago and now I’m again faced with a new question. Who am I now? I sat down to think over a few things and suddenly realized that a person’s name and nicknames help them to find and maintain their identity. If Sean Combs can reinvent himself at a whim from P-Diddy to Puff Daddy then why can’t I do the same.
As always the web has the answers. I found these two web sites which are really helping me and my better-half to re-identifying ourselves. Check them out if you want a cool nickname or two.
http://www.myrapname.com/
http://www.getnicknames.com/nicknames.php
Here are a few of the selections we must choose from:
Our Bad Ass Biker Names: CARLEY CRANK – BEARDSLEY BONES
Our Pop Star Names: JULIA STEFANI – GORDAN ANGEL
Our Vampire Names: SELENE CALLISTO – DAMON NIX
Our Goth Names: ADARE – DE DEMI
Our Mobster Names: Lucia – ROCCO
Our Pirate Names: BOOTLEG BETTY – CAPTAIN SCURY
It’s obvious we have some serious decisions to make. Who do we want to be now? I’m leaning towards my vampire identity since that seems to be the current trend but my better-half is looking hard at the pop star identity. This could take forever.
As winter continues I always find myself looking forward to summer and spending time at the beach. It’s also impossible for me to accurately guess what kind of beachwear I’ll be seeing this year. More thongs to be sure and bikinis with as much material as a man’s handkerchief (I hope). It seems from my past experiences that the younger the women are the less clothes they are likely to wear. I’m all for showing a reasonable amount of skin but at a certain point it begins to lose it’s allure for me. There’s a fine line between sexy and slutty and for me near naked is much sexier than almost naked.
Coming of age in the sixties and seventies might make you think I’m a child of the free love generation. It’s not true at all. I do still harken back to bare feet, long flowing hair, and a full length light cotton dress (sans panties) but other things work for me as well. I’ve always been a big fan of the woman who can dress herself and be sexy without having all of her more interesting parts hanging out in the wind. I just love to be tantalized as part of the foreplay to really get me interested. An ankle peeking from beneath a long dress can be just as sexy as a low cut top or a super short skirt.
I’ve always been a fan of the Victorian times where people appeared to be a bit stuffy and non-sexual in their dress and comportment but once they entered the bedroom they dropped the goody-goody routine altogether. The women wore their hair long but rolled tightly in a bun and in the bedroom the bun was unrolled, the many articles of clothing were throw about the room, and the real fun could begin. It took more than a few minutes I’m sure to get them out of all the petticoats, slips, corsets, and high button shoes but in the end it was all good.
I was recently reading a few writings by Gwen Raverat (1885-1957), the granddaughter of Charles Darwin, who described sharing a room with a young lady in her younger years who was wearing the following listed undergarments. Just imagine yourself as a Victorian gentleman with sex on his mind trying to work his way through this outfit to get to the Promised Land.
1. Thick, long legged, long sleeved woolen combinations
2. Over them, white cotton combinations (this is a chemise and drawers combined into one garment), with plenty of buttons and frills
3. Very serious, bony gray stays, with suspenders
4. Black woolen stockings
5. White cotton drawers, with buttons and frills
6. White cotton "petticoat-bodice", with embroidery, buttons and frills
7. Rather short, white flannel petticoat
8. Long alpaca petticoat, with a flounce round the bottom
9. Pink flannel blouse
That wardrobe would take me at least an hour to work my way through. Hopefully I’d have enough strength and stamina left to finish the job after all that undressing. Those Victorian guys must have been incredibly persistent with the sex drive of Superman.
It doesn’t change anything for me though, I still find Victorian ladies sexy as hell but I would never discriminate against our modern women. I’ll also make this promise. I solemnly pledge to give the women of our younger generations my full attention and respect this summer as they prance along the beach wearing not much more than an attitude and a smile. It’s the courteous thing to do and I’m nothing if not courteous.
Women. As any experienced man will tell you they are impossible. Impossible to understand and impossible to deal with at almost any level. It must be genetic because they develop their skill-set at a very early age and spend years fine tuning them. So as a public service to you younger gentlemen out there who are naively preparing to enter the fray, listen up!
Flirting – Women are forever flirting with almost any man who will pay attention to them. I was in line at a food store recently and a young girl no more than 4 years old was sitting in a cart in front of me. She was smiling, being coy, giggling at me for at least fifteen minutes. She was as cute as a button but God help the boys she meets in another ten or fifteen years. She’s already learning the skills needed to befuddle and manipulate them. And now for the big warning guys, don’t let her catch you flirting or you’re a dead man.
Opinions – Learn when to answer and when to stay quiet. A head nod at the right time can save you a great deal of aggravation. Also be careful when asking for an opinion from them. It can be difficult to get a straight answer because they constantly sidestep the question and throw it back to you for your feelings on the matter. Immediately after you give your opinion they disagree and spend ten minutes explaining to you in great detail how misinformed you are.
Driving – Some women insist on driving all of the time which is a vaguely veiled attempt at control. If you’re dumb enough to let them chauffer you then be prepared for the payback. Intentionally driving ten mph under the speed limit while fixing their hair, putting on makeup, texting, or searching the car for a misplaced item, is truly passive-aggressive. OMFG! You watch as she constantly drives with her left tire directly on the centerline of the road. Say nothing as you watch other drivers swerving out of the way to avoid being side swiped. You should know by now that your wrong no matter what.
Double standards – You’ll find her getting annoyed over some trivial issue that you did just once to her but that she does all the time to you. If you call her on it be prepared for a lecture on why your mistaken and why you shouldn’t be annoyed.
Asking impossible questions – Does this dress make my butt look too big? Do you like my hair this color? Does this big gaudy broach look good with this yellow blouse? Does this bra really make my boobs look perky? What are you thinking? Are you staring at that girl in the thong bathing suit? Do you really love me? Need I say more guys?
The Boss – They all want to be the boss. They claim it’s a need to be independent. They desire independence in all things but expect you do everything for them. They will attempt to lecture you on hundreds of things you’ve already accomplished with no experience of their own to draw from. They’ll spend much of your life explaining to you how things should really be done and how they would do it. It’s just another grab for control.
So, I hope you’ve all learned a few things here that might save you a great deal of grief later. If you’re a true masochist like most men are required to be and can put up with all of their BS and control issues you might just get laid one day.
For your sake I hope the sex is mind blowing. Even if it isn’t tell them it is, just saying.
Another "Storm of the Century" is upon us and since this is the third one in the last twelve months I guess we should all be hiding in the root cellar (if we had one). Weather forecasters in Maine don’t do much more than repeat whatever is relayed from the National Weather Service and then hope for the best. Maine is so lame at times they look for any excuse to exaggerate the facts and use all the panic inducing buzz words to scare the crap out of the uninformed.
Having lived in Maine for more than ten years I thought there could be no surprises left for me. I’m able to translate their weather speech almost immediately and then go on about my business. Unfortunately I underestimated them again.
My better-half arrived home from work and immediately began explaining to me the grand weather controversy being discussed by the local media. They seemed to be all pissed off that the National Weather Service has begun naming large snow storms as they do for hurricanes. Maine is such an important place in the grand scheme of things (sarcasm) that they feel they should be permitted to name their own storms. I hate to even think what those names might be. Something really sophisticated yet down to earth (more sarcasm) like Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John. They may be right in their thinking however because who in their right mind would name a storm Nemo? Only the all seeing, godlike government of the United States could be that lame.
After giving it some thought my better-half and I decided that the so-called Maine weather experts really shouldn’t be permitted to name them either. So effective immediately this “Storm of the Century” will be named by the two of us. Let’s just call him JOHNSON. Read into that what you will you bunch of perverts. We ended this terrible controversy in less than two minutes with no help from either the government or the state of Maine’s weather idiots. Come on JOHNSON.
Now on to something really important. I had to go to the dentist today. A trip to the dentist for me is always an adventure since the age of 13 when playing sand lot football my best friend knocked most of my front teeth out. That required two bridges and a few false teeth which have plagued me ever since. My mouth is similar to having a old car and it requires much more maintenance. I could have bought at least three new cars over the years with what I spent on dental work. My dentist’s office is a family concern with my dentist the father, the hygienist is his ex-wife, and the dental assistant/receptionist is their daughter. Over the years I’ve become good friends with them all and it’s been a real hoot but the bottom line never changes. As nice as they all are I still hate going to the effing dentist.
After injecting me with enough Novocain to keep my face numb for a week he proceeds to do what I hate the most, drilling my teeth. The sound of that high-speed drill makes my skin crawl and if I never heard it again it would be too damn soon. Also if he honestly thinks that shooting cold water down my throat is helping me breathe he’s very much mistaken. Not only is my face numb but I think he’s subconsciously trying to drown me.
After a few kind words and a pat on the head I was escorted to the door, given a new tooth brush, and my next appointment date. Thanks for nothing Doc. I drove straight to the closest Dunkin Donut where I ordered a hot coffee and a sandwich. As I left their parking lot I took a quick bite of the sandwich and that was mistake number one. My mouth was still so numb I almost bit off the end of my tongue. I was forced to pullover to compose myself and check for damage. A few miles and a few dozen curse words later I opened the coffee container, took a giant swig, and burned the shit out of my mouth and tongue. I also scorched my crotch a bit when I spilled the coffee there too. I finally arrived home, sat down in a nice soft chair and refused to eat or drink anything until the feeling returned to my mouth and tongue.
How can people think storm JOHNSON is the big deal. It’s all about me and my trip to the dentist. People are so self-involved at times.
Just sitting around today waiting for the next uppercut from Mother Nature who is sending another huge snow storm our way. I sure hope those alleged weathermen and women are wrong but you know how that goes. When they say it will be sunny and fair they’re almost always wrong. When they say it will sleet or snow, they’re almost always right. If we get the 16-24 inches they’re predicting it will be a long few days of snow blowing, shoveling, and waiting for the roads to be cleared.
Yesterday’s posting seems to have struck a nerve in some quarters. Closest to home my better-half was less than thrilled about being mentioned in what she thought was a somewhat derogatory manner. I kept trying to explain to her that every time I refer to her in a post, it’s complimentary. She just doesn’t realize after all of our time together when I ‘m being serious and when I’m being funny. She’s thinks I should be more careful when discussing our personal life but I just can’t seem to help myself. Our life together is great but at times it’s also hysterically funny. She’s either purposely giving me a bad time or she’s all of a sudden lost her sense of humor. Truthfully I think she’s trying to be sarcastic and hasn’t quite gotten the hang of it yet. She’s a sarcastic work in progress.
I had a great half hour of meditation this afternoon (as described yesterday) which always makes me feel terrific. My cat has picked up the habit of climbing onto the meditation platform (couch) while I’m meditating (napping) and stretching out to his full length and purring like crazy. That tells me he’s found his "happy place" which is probably somewhere near the Portland fish market. He so loves his seafood.
We both then retired to my man-cave for an hour of tax preparation. After a great deal of bitching and profanity the cat left in a huff as I finally e-filed my returns. That damn cat’s getting way too sensitive in his old age and needs to lighten up a little. There was a time when he would only respond to "Hey Dumb Ass", so I just don’t get his recent snotty attitude. I suppose he’s just feeling the "tax time" pressures vicariously through me. Dumb ass cat.
I would also like to send out a quick thank you to a few of my newest followers. Welcome to the blog that’s just “full of it”. I hope you enjoy your visits here and come back as often as possible. Thanks go out to: hayleyhobson, happsters, evanstang, puravidaeh, craftedincarhardtt, russelldeasley, hollisplample, and silkroadcollector. If the rest of you get a chance please give their blogs and profiles a look see. I’m sure you’ll enjoy them as much as I do.
I guess it’s time for me to gas up the snow thrower and begin preparations for the storm that’s scheduled to start sometime early tomorrow. Winter in Maine is a trip but I never said it was always a good trip.
I have a huge and life effecting announcement to make today. My better-half has renewed her gym membership and is again on the road to physical improvement. Poor Planet Fitness may never be the same again. I especially love her analysis of their programs when she returns home after each visit. Her fashion review and critique of all the new outfits being worn by her peers is always soooooo exciting.
I’ve noticed over the years that we humans are a strange and peculiar bunch. Not only do we need to have a modicum of physical exercise to stay healthy but we’ve got to look good doing it. You see it in the groups of early morning mall walkers. Huge numbers of senior, prego’s, and misfits arrive at the mall in their power walking uniforms. They’ve created their own little subculture of weirdly dressed individuals marching in unison around malls all across the country. Most seem more interested in the socializing aspect than the walking.
The same phenomenon is happening in gyms around the country. Cutesy little outfits being worn by what for the most part are folks with issues of weight and bad taste. I decided long ago that to do Pilates properly I’d need to spend a few hundred dollars on wildly colored outfits and OMG, special exercising sneakers, just to fit in. Why is it that we need a uniform for any and all activities we participate in. It’s imperative that we look better than all of the other masochists because weight loss all of a sudden becomes the secondary goal.
Our society has slowly but surely become infatuated with weight loss, exercising, and various forms of meditation techniques. I agree that something is necessary to fight this epidemic of obesity but we’re bombarded with a constant stream of programs like the Biggest Loser along with dozens of early morning hour long commercials for exercise techniques like Zumba and Insanity. It really is insane.
I recently considered giving Yoga a try but after pricing a new outfit, new sneakers, and a rather expensive Yoga mat, I had to let it go. Not only was I expected to deal with pulled muscles and many stiff and sore body parts but I had to invest a substantial sum to do it. I was forced by circumstance to develop my own meditation technique which I’ll explain in detail momentarily.
My technique is simple to do and requires much less actual physical activity. You won’t need any special equipment of any kind and if done properly you’ll have no additional costs. It can be done in any living room or bedroom in less that a half hour and clothing is optional. Let me take you through the process.
Step 1
Remove as much clothing as you’re comfortable with and stand in the middle of the room. Close your eyes and stand erect thinking only of your "happy place". Once you’ve arrived there you can begin to breath deeply and slowly.
Step 2
Take any old blanket or afghan and lay it across the divan, sofa, bed, or floor where you’ll be most comfortable. All the while maintaining your trance-like state in your "happy place".
Step 3
Assume a prone position on that covering with your legs straight out and your arms at your side. Very quietly hum to yourself the song "Desperado".
Step 4
Maintaining your trance-like state is crucial at this point. Slowly take an alarm clock and set the alarm for twenty minutes and set it aside.
Step 5
Very slowly pull a second cover over yourself. Breath deeply and slowly for 1 minute and then TAKE A FREAKING NAP.
Follow the instructions closely and complete them at least four times a week. I guarantee you’ll feel better about yourself and others almost immediately. You can also play background music of your choice but not very loudly.
I explained my meditation system to my better-half but she was no help. She thought it was stupid and ridiculed me a little longer than I thought was necessary. She stated emphatically that having sex until you drop was a much better way to go than my plan.
We agreed to disagree.
Are you ready for the big celebration to begin? It’s Ground Hog Day eve. As I’ve mentioned many times before I was born and raised in western Pennsylvania from good sound German stock on my mother’s side of the family. February 2 was always celebrated and remains a well known and enjoyed holiday for us. I never bothered to search out the origins of the holiday because to me it didn’t really matter. So I found this little tidbit of information which is a little interesting and might tell you something you didn’t already know.
The celebration, which began as a Pennsylvania German custom in southeastern and central Pennsylvania in the 18th and 19th centuries, has its origins in ancient European weather lore, wherein a badger or sacred bear is the prognosticator as opposed to a groundhog. It also bears similarities to the Pagan festival of Imbolc, the seasonal turning point of the Celtic calendar, which is celebrated on February 1 and also involves weather prognostication and to St. Swithun’s Day in July.
I’ve written about my close association with Ground Hog Day a number of times in the past but it’s a fun story and bears repeating (in my humble opinion).
The holiday means only one thing in Pennsylvania and that is the appearance of our old friend ‘Punxatawney Phil’ on Gobbler’s Knob. He’s scheduled to show his furry little face on the second of February every year to let us know whether we’ll have six more weeks of winter.
To reminisce a bit, way too many years ago I was a rookie state police trooper in Pennsylvania. To a newbie that means getting stuck with every crappy police detail they can find for you. One of the crappier of those was being sent to Punxatawney to guard “Phil” and for crowd control in and around Gobbler’s Knob. I thought they were kidding me but they weren’t.
A few of us rookies were ordered to make the trek to Punxatawney, PA along with a veteran sergeant who must have lost the coin toss. We arrived in our cleanest and well pressed uniforms, met with all of the local politicians, and then were introduced to ‘Phil"’. He was cordial enough for a stupid gopher but we were well advised to keep our hands away from him. He was a touch cranky and known to nip off a finger or two if provoked.
Believe it or not the crowds were huge. I’ve never understood why every local politician from miles around flocks to that ceremony. I guess they’re just hoping to get some free TV face-time or maybe even an interview with some of the local media. I met some mayors, some councilmen, and a few political hacks which unfortunately weren’t even as interesting as meeting ‘Phil’.
The only good thing I experienced that day was a rather buxom news reporter from a nearby town who took an immediate liking to my manly stature and my pretty uniform. She was much less furry than ‘Phil’ which was a plus and she also paid for my dinner. She even convinced me that dating her was the right thing to do. So I did.
It’s sad to say but we all know any relationship built upon a Groundhog Day Ceremony was doomed from the start. She couldn’t understand why I didn’t care to drive to Punxatawney (a three hour round trip) every weekend. I finally explained to her that long distance relationships just never work out no matter what. It wasn’t her, it was me. I dragged out all of the old clichés I could remember and disappeared from her life.
They tried to send me on that detail the following year but I had a court appearance and was able to dodge that bullet. I wasn’t too concerned about meeting “Phil” again but that blond had me seriously concerned. Besides, do we really need a gopher to let us know we’re going to have six more weeks of winter. We really are stupid sometimes.
