Miscellaneous Observations I

Some miscellaneous, unrelated observations…

Have you seen the commercial on television in which a pretty young woman, wearing a red tank top, wanders through a busy city with her arms in the air? This is apparently to demonstrate that she is very confident with her deodorant. Have you also noticed that she is wandering alone? This is because most men are not attracted to women who repeatedly stick their underarms in other people’s faces…

Father Rogue reports to me that Oscar Mayer, who for a number of years has advertised “100% All-Beef Franks, is selling franks that are now “Beefier than Ever.” Hmmm…, they might need some remedial math training over there at OM….

Daughter Rogue and I have decided too begin guitar lessons together. Given our combined musical abilities, this will certainly test the patience of our instructor. Mrs. R says that between my beloved pick-up truck Big Mo, my beloved Golden Retriever Marci, and the guitar thing, I am the walking embodiment of a country music song. Plus I have a spiffy new pair of cowboy boots (re: Suburban Rogue April 7, 2008).

Here is link to some country music song titles that you may find entertaining:

Country Song Titles

My office has decided to hire some new folks. It’s a good idea; new people can often bring a new energy and fresh ideas to an organization. Apparently the person who put the announcement for the new employees together took this fresh ideas concept to heart. Instead of announcing that Janet would work for Jim, the memo stated “Janet will be under Jim.”

Wow. They must have a lot more fun up on the third floor…

Commercials

With the Summer Olympics just a few weeks away, I am very concerned about what Madison Avenue has in store for us. You likely don’t recall, but I have been openly critical about some television advertising in the past, and have bestowed the dreaded DUMBASS (Designating Underachievement in Marketing By Advertisers Selling Stuff) Award upon deserving companies all across the land.

Some previous winners include:

Ford Motor Company, for showing that the brakes on their trucks were so strong that they could actually stop an airplane. That’s important because you just never know when you’ll be driving down the road and need to stop an airplane...

Chevrolet, for their inane commercial showing a jogger repeatedly running into a parked car. No “snarky” comment is required here…

Dodge, for showing us that their trucks are so tough that they can withstand a pummeling from a Rockem-Sockem robot. for those of you who aren't old enough to remember, Rockem-Sockem robots are plastic toys from the 1970’s…

This weeks DUMBASS Award medal winners are:

Bronze: Kentucky Fried Chicken has returned their “Whoa, didn’t see that coming” ad to the airwaves. I have to say that I too am often surprised when I bite into a hot wing and it tastes exactly like a hot wing...

Silver: Walmart for their “You can cash your economic stimulus check here, for free!” ad. Hmmmmm, I wonder if my bank knows about this? Wouldn’t that be great if banks started cashing checks for free, just like Walmart? Oh, wait, never mind…

Gold: Subway for using the term “Yum-rocket” to describe their sandwiches. Sounds like a line from a 70's porn movie. Not that that I ever actually saw one of those movies...

Stay tuned dear readers. I'm sure the Olympics will bring us even more ads to lampoon...

Real Life Part I

It has come to my attention that there is, on occasion, some exaggeration of actual events as they are reported in this blog. While I can neither confirm nor deny that allegation, I can assure you that the following events are presented as they actually occurred, without exaggeration or other distortion of the facts...

This conversation recently happened at my house:

“Honey, have you seen my green pants?”

“You mean your sage pants?”

“No, I mean my green ones.”

“They’re sage, not green.”

“Sage sounds gay.”

“I’m a woman, and I can be gay if I want to!”

I was driving down a main thoroughfare the other day in light but steady rain, following a convertible whose male driver had the top down. I was chuckling to myself when a thirty-something blonde woman pulled up beside me, also driving a convertible, also with the top down. I adjusted my speed so that she remained next to me for several miles because I believe I was witnessing the worlds first 45 mph wet t-shirt contest…

Earlier this spring, Mrs. R was fighting a nagging sinus infection that just wouldn’t go away. Her doctor had prescribed an inhaler to help keep her airways open. Something about oxygen being important.

Anyway, on our way to a Rockies game, Mrs. R became concerned that she couldn’t make the walk from the parking lot to the stadium if she didn’t use her inhaler. She put the inhaler in her mouth and pressed down once, then twice. At this point she broke into a hysterical, wheezing kind of laughter. I was thinking, “Damn, there’s some good drugs in those inhaler thingies.”

Turns out Mrs. R forgot to remove the cover from the mouthpiece of the inhaler…

I recently finished reading a book about a writer’s account of his real-life adventures through the rugged Sierra Madre Mountains of Mexico. The book begins with the author being chased through the woods by some drug-crazed bad guys who are trying to kill him. The next chapter begins the long story of how he got into that predicament. It is a thrilling adventure and I became completely engrossed in the story, and began to wonder if the author, who, you know, wrote the story, would make it out alive…

Yikes, it’s going to be a long summer…

Clubs, 'Vettes and Turbulence

When Son Rogue was younger, he and I started a tradition of going to a Rockies game each year near his birthday and Father’s Day, since those two occasions are often only a few days apart. In recent years, as our lives had become busier, we had gotten away from that tradition. This year, SR surprised me with a birthday gift of club level seats to a Rockies game the day after Father’s Day.

Let me just say this about that. The club level at Coors Field is really nice. I mean really nice. The club area, behind the seats, is indoors, air-conditioned, carpeted, tiled and staffed with very polite people. Oh, and there is lots of good food to choose from, much better than the options that the poor unwashed masses sitting in the “regular” seats have.

In addition to the nice surroundings, the people sitting in the club seats seem to be better behaved than elsewhere in the stadium. It was quite refreshing to not sit near some guy that thinks he knows everything about baseball because he "almost made his high school junior varsity team…"

The view of the field is terrific from up there, and it’s a great location for foul balls. The gentlemen sitting in the row in front of us brought his glove along, just in case. He also took out a second mortgage to buy a beer. Somewhere around the third inning he set his glove down to take a sip of beer. Unfortunately the batter didn’t see him do that and sent a foul ball towards our section. Our mortgagee instinctively reached for the ball, spilling his beer in the process. Our section heaped a lot of good natured abuse on the guy, and he laughed it off.

During in the middle of the game, some ominous looking helicopters started flying near the stadium. SR and I guessed that it was some sort of practice for the upcoming convention here, and SR verified it on his blackberry. About 2500 police officers were involved in the exercise, except for the three sitting behind us, who were in plain clothes and enjoying the game. Since they carry guns for a living we decided not to ask them why they weren’t training with their fellow officers…

One of the risks of the club level is that it attracts frat-boy types of all ages, including the father-son duo sitting a few rows in front of us. Dad, let’s call him “Dick” (the reason will become obvious), was well-dressed, wearing tasseled loafers, nice slacks, suspenders, and an expensive shirt and tie. He was well coiffed and thought that he “had it goin’ on.” It almost worked too, except that instead of removing his tie, he just loosened it and spun it around on his neck so the tie was pointing toward his ass. Not to be outdone, Dick’s son wore his glasses backwards on his head for most of the game. They were not sunglasses, but regular glasses, you know, for seeing. Ahh, frat-boys…

Oh yeah, the game. The Rockies didn’t play well, and were shut out until the bottom of the 9th inning. The only highlights were when Willie Taveras nailed a runner at the plate with a terrific throw from center field, and pinch-hitter Aaron Cook, who is a pitcher, hitting a first pitch single to left field. Other than that, it was a tough night for the Rocks…

Thirteen hours after the game ended I was on a plane heading to Nashville. I to had help solve some construction problems at a place north of Bowling Green, Kentucky. You may know this pace as Mammoth Cave National Park.

I had never heard of Bowling Green, Kentucky. I always thought that Bowling Green was in Ohio. Apparently, there are at least two Bowling Greens.

Bowling Green, Kentucky is the home of

Western Kentucky University

and, interestingly enough, the

Corvette Assembly Plant

and the

National Corvette Museum

Some of the people I met with suggested that I take a tour of the assembly plant, but I was afraid that I would’ve been compelled to purchase a new Corvette after the tour ended. And since I don’t have “65-large” sitting around that I don’t know what to do with, I thought it best to stay away. Besides, I probably couldn’t afford the gas to drive it home.

The highlight of the trip for me was on Thursday when my colleagues and I ate lunch at the Pig Diner in Pig, Kentucky. I would provide a link to their website, but Pig and the diner are located in

Edmonson County, Kentucky

which is in a very impoverished part of the United States. Nonetheless, the food at the Pig diner was outstanding, and I highly recommend it. Oh, and while some of the folks that eat there wear suspenders, don’t show up at the diner wearing your tie ass-backwards…

The trip back home was uneventful, except for the severe turbulence our plane experienced over southeastern Colorado. We hit a pocket of rough air that must’ve caused the plane to drop several hundred feet. When it happened, everyone let out an involuntary “Ooooooooo” and the plane shook and rattled.

At least that’s what I’m told.

You don’t hear too well when you’re curled up in the fetal position, screaming like a little baby…

Huh?

Spanning the globe, bringing hard-hitting news directly to your screen. Here are the stories you could probably do without….


This is a bad day…

Nude Man Rescued from Portable Toilet

A frat party gone terribly wrong…

Thong-Masked Robbers

But Daddy, I’m the princess!

Horseplay

We all get cravings from time to time…

The Wild Asparagus is Ready

It might be time to drop a few lbs….

Moonshot

Roots

In 1937, a young man left his farm near Bethany, Missouri and came to a small town in northeastern Colorado. Shortly after arriving in Windsor, my grandfather purchased a service station on the edge of town and began to build a new life. In March of the following year, his wife and 7 children joined him in Colorado.

Grandpa R was an interesting guy. In his forties, he enlisted in the Army during WWII, and served with the Persian Gulf Command in what is present day Iran. As I mentioned previously, in the February 8, 2007 edition of Suburban Rogue , I remember him telling me about seeing the Queen Mary while in that part of the world. Upon his discharge from the Army, Grandpa R returned to Windsor and opened Roy’s Market, a grocery store near the east end of Main Street.

In April of 1958, a few weeks before I was born, Grandpa R was elected Mayor of Windsor. Highway 392, which leads from I-25 down the hill into Windsor, exists largely because of his efforts while Mayor. Grandpa R also was the Fire Chief for awhile, and later in life he drove a school bus. He was also very active in his Army alumni group, frequently traveling to conventions throughout the U.S.

My brother, who has built a very successful electrical contacting business, and his family live in Windsor. Last Sunday, my niece graduated from Windsor High School, the latest in a long string of “R’s” to do so. My relatives have been graduating from that school for about seven decades.

I’m glad to report that my brother and his family are safe and uninjured after today’s terrible events. Their home, which is located about 1 mile from the worst of the devastation, suffered some minor damage, as did their cars.

The beautiful, tranquil cemetery where my grandparents are buried is located in the heart of the most affected area. Many of the large trees in the cemetery were uprooted by the tornado.

I’m sure many you have seen pictures or video of the devastation caused by the tornado today. The people of Windsor are in for some difficult times in the coming weeks.

They’re gonna to be ok though, there’s a legacy of strength to draw upon…

Daiquiri de Naranja

At the completion of my 50th trip around the sun, having traveled over 29 billion miles,* give or take a few million, I found myself on a beach, looking at the turquoise blue waters of the Caribbean Sea. A beach seemed like a good place to rest after such a long journey…

Our trip started with a 2:00 am wake-up. I don’t recommend heading out on vacation with just three hours of sleep. Mrs. R and I arrived at a deserted airport at about 4:30 am, easily found parking, checked-in to our flight, and were assigned seats 1A and 1B. They give that kind of treatment to rock stars and old farts celebrating their birthday. If you’re an old fart - rock star celebrating your birthday, you receive, in addition to preferential seating, a full can of soda on your flight…

We arrived at the Cancun airport early Wednesday afternoon. It was overcast, and there was a very light rain falling. By the time we had made it through customs and negotiated the gauntlet of timeshare salesmen and taxi drivers, the rain had stopped. We found our pre-arranged transportation to the resort,

Iberostar Paraiso Maya

and were standing in sunny paradise about 45 minutes later.

The Iberostar Paraiso is located about 30 or 40 minutes south of Cancun, on the Yucatan Peninsula. The Yucatan Peninsula was home to the Mayan empire, and there are several spectacular ruins in this part of the world, including the UNESCO World Heritage site

Chichen Itza

Many of the people that live and work on the Yucatan Peninsula are direct descendants of the Mayans. These are beautiful people, friendly, warm, and with smiles that could light up the darkest of rooms.

As we were checking in, we were served a delicious tropical drink, with pineapple and orange juice and I don’t what else. The young lady at the check-in desk then offered to upgrade our room, from the “Lindo” to the “Maya” at no additional cost. The Maya rooms are suites, and the building we were assigned to had its own private pool. Heck, even I could do that math…

After we got the luggage up to our room, we went to the lunch buffet, were enjoyed a 6000 calorie lunch, and then wandered around the resort, trying to figure out where everything was. We strolled along the beach were I enjoyed the, ahem, “scenery,” while Mrs. R enjoyed the water and the sand and the sun.

On Thursday morning we headed out to the beach. Mrs. R worked on her tan while enjoying a tropical beverage and I went snorkeling. The swim beach was roped off, to keep motorized craft such as jet skis away from the swimmers. I snorkeled out to the rope, and then along the boundary for awhile, and then turned and headed back toward the beach. Mrs. R apparently lost track of me while I was in the water, but soon located me when hundreds of people ran screaming from the beach as a large, pear-shaped, alabaster-white creature carrying snorkeling gear emerged from the sea…

By the time Mrs. R reached me, I was watching the chef’s prepare a large pot of paella over an open fire on the beach, while simultaneously observing (in the name of science) the gals preparing for the bikini contest. I told her I was just trying to take in the whole beach experience, but Mrs. R is not one to be fooled easily, and this day was no exception…

We spent Thursday afternoon at the pool,

and discovered the swim-up bar and the delicious Daiquiri De Naranja. Mrs. R also took this photo where my right arm appears to have become detached from the rest of me. Musta been those Daiquiris….

Friday we spent the entire day at the pool where Mrs. R sipped Margarita’s and I took an impromptu Spanish lesson. I had some trouble at first pronouncing “Naranja.” Fortunately our poolside waitress, who was a very sweet young lady, took some time to teach me the correct pronunciation. She also made sure that our drinks were kept fresh throughout the day.

When our waitress went on her lunch break, the swim-up bar took on an added importance. Here is Mrs. R leaving the swim-up bar, heroically rescuing a couple of drinks from drowning…

Saturday we once again headed to breakfast buffet. As we entered the restaurant, we were handed mimosas, as was every other adult. It was very thoughtful of the resort to give everybody a mimosa on my 50th birthday… I ate a celebratory breakfast which included, among other things, a large bowl of Kellogg’s Froot Loops. Hey, just because I’m 50 and a card carrying member of AARP doesn’t mean I have to give in to the whole “Senior Citizen Thing.” Besides, I took all of my medicine before breakfast and was wearing my orthopedic shoes, so I thought it would be ok…

We decided to head back to the beach after breakfast; I really wanted to try snorkeling again. Unfortunately, I forgot to check with Mother Nature about my plans. The red flags were flying at the beach, which means no swimming. It was very windy and 3 and 4 foot high waves were rolling in. A couple of the lifeguards tried swimming in the roiling water, but even they turned back after a short distance. To a novice snorkeler, the water looked very intimidating. We hung out at the beach for awhile, were I continued my “monokini” observations and Mrs. R worked on her tan.

We left the beach, and then did a couple of laps on the lazy river. Let’s just say the lazy river is appropriately named…

There is some interesting wildlife at the resort. The

Coati

hung out along the boardwalk from the pool to the beach. They seemed like friendly little guys, as long as you had some food to give them.

The

Yucatan Jay

spent their time in the tropical forest between the beach and the pool.

Speaking of wildlife, Mrs. R experienced an unfortunate Speedo incident at the pool bar one afternoon. It seems a rather large gentleman, who was clearly old enough to know better, thought he looked good in a tiny black Speedo. I’m guessing he was the only person who thought this. Anyway, while Mrs. R was at the pool bar one sunny afternoon, this guy came up next to her and ordered a drink. However, instead of sitting on the stool, he put one leg up on the stool, apparently to show off his, ahem, “asset.” Mrs. R broke into hysterical laughter, spilling her and several other people’s drinks, and causing a minor commotion at the pool bar.

Sunday came all too quickly, and we headed to the airport. It was an entertaining ride, since we had the pleasure of riding with Stanley and Sally Sanctimonious who passed judgment on most everything.

As we passed the resort conference center, I remarked that it looked like a great place to hold some meetings. Sally informed me that they “had been in the conference center last night and it was very modern. Very modern.” Golly-wollickers Sally, you mean they got E-leck-tricity, and runnin’ water, and all them newfangled thangs?

As we got closer to the airport, we had to make a couple of stops at some other resorts to pick up more travelers. To get to one of them we had to drive on a dirt road, past dozens of acres of dead forest. Sally wondered why all the trees were dead. I suggested that it was caused by

Hurrican Wilma

which struck the Yucatan in 2005. Sally wasn’t buying it, because she had never seen anything like it before, so therefore it couldn’t possibly be…

We reached the resort, and Stanley hopped out to have a look around. He came back to the van and pronounced “our hotel is much nicer than this one.” To which Sally responded in hushed tones “I think it’s because this place is for Spanish people…”

Yikes. Apparently you don’t have to look too far to find ugly Americans...

We had a great time in Mexico. The beach and the pool and the people and the Daiquir de Naranja's were all very therapeutic and I left feeling a lot younger than my 50 years.

Can't wait to get back down there...

* For those of you interested in checking my math, first of all, get a life; here’s my logic:

The circumference of the earth at 40 degrees north latitude is approximately 19,000 miles, so living near Denver you travel a 19,000 mile circle in one day. One trip around the sun is an additional approximately 584,000,000 miles. To account for leap year, use 365.25 days per year. Combining both the rotational and translational distances:

[584,000,000 + (365.25 x 19,000)] x 50 ≈ 29.5 billion