Multimedia II

After attending a seminar yesterday with 80 other socially inept structural engineers, I thought the next multimedia edition of Suburban Rogue might be in order. If you think that spending a beautiful fall day trapped in a windowless meeting room with a bunch of structural engineers is a violation of the 8th Amendment you would be correct.

If you think spending any time, regardless of weather or location, with any structural engineer(s) is cruel and unusual punishment you would also be correct…

Speaking of the Constitution, one of the benefits of being an old fart who is a card-carrying member of AARP is that they make personalized videos for you, whether you request one or not. I recently received this unsolicited e-mail:

A Strange Video

In an interesting coincidence, I have a physical scheduled for next Tuesday. For me, being asked to turn my head and cough on Election Day seems rather symbolic of the current state of affairs…

The holiday catalogs have started to show up and I received an LL Bean catalog in the mail today. One of the items listed in the catalog is a “Snowball Maker Set.” Lest you think I’m making this up:

Snowball Maker

Yikes… We sure don’t want junior to get his hands cold, or wet, or to have any fun or to grow up with hair on his chest now do we?

A few days ago I was watching an interview with a country music singer/songwriter whose name escapes me at the moment. Anyway she was plugging her new album and told the interviewer that she “co-wrote that song by myself.” This must be the new definition for ghost-writer…

Alright, enough of this nonsense. Here’s some good music to help us all relax…

The Wilson sisters cover Elton John:

Mona Lisa and Mad Hatters

Kenny gets back to his roots:

In A Small Town

JT re-works a Drifters classic:

Up On the Roof

Very Interesting

So I’ve been away from blogging for awhile, I’ve had some other stuff going on. Plus my cousin, who is a very brave person, is putting together a family history and asked me to write my autobiography, and I spent a lot of time working on that. I might’ve finished sooner, but I kept nodding off while I was working on it…

Anyway, now that my autobiography is finished, it’s back to blogging. Here’s the latest snooze…

I recently helped Son Rogue and his buddy move some furniture. They lured me into helping by offering me free food. (Note to reader: I can easily be tricked into lifting heavy things and other unpleasant tasks by being offered free food). Anyway, after the heavy work was done, the guys took me to a barbecue joint in the northwestern suburbs. We ordered our food, and soon some piping hot plates of delicious barbecue were brought to our table.

Within about 10 seconds of receiving our food an elderly couple was being seated in the booth next to ours. The gentleman stopped at our table, looked at our food, and began rubbing his sizable tummy (and I know from sizable tummies). He then muttered something along the lines of “Fellers, ‘at looks like some kinda eatin’ rye-chare.”

I consulted the same linguistics experts I have used in the past (re: Suburban Rogue September 30 2007 ) for a translation. As best as can be determined, what our hungry friend was saying was: “Gentlemen, you have been served a delicious variety of barbecue dishes. Bon Appétit’!”

Staying with the food theme for a moment, Mrs. R and I were recently enjoying lunch al fresco at one of our favorite Mexican restaurants. The couple seated next to us was served their food and began to eat. A few moments later, the Mrs. asked the Mr. “Would you like to try one of these tortillas? They’re very interesting.”

I started to laugh and almost spit my drink out of my nose. Fortunately Mrs. R, who was also laughing, kicked me in the shins a couple five or six times until I regained my composure…

Speaking of Mrs. R, she has decided to make some Christmas gifts for a few people and needed some yarn from the local “Yarnery.” I brazenly threw caution to the wind and decided to enter the “No Unaccompanied Males Zone” with her.

We browsed through about 8 million different skeins of yarn. Surprisingly, I became a little impatient. Anyway, as she was deciding what kind/how much yarn to purchase, she wasn’t exactly sure on the how much part. She said “Wait a second; I need to check the pattern.”

I naively thought she would pull a paper out of her purse. Instead she pulled a book out of her purse. And this wasn’t your normal paperback sized book; this was a giant, hard-bound, limited edition, coffee-table size, 18.5 pound book of knitting patterns. I again started to laugh, and was again kicked in the shins…

Imagine a well-written transition paragraph right here…

A few days ago I drove past a lovely suburban home where the owners were proudly displaying an American flag, right next to their Denver Broncos flag. That’s when it hit me – nothing says America like showing your allegiance to your favorite sports team…

And finally, I thought you might be interested in this story. One of the six bureaucracies in charge of the bureaucracy I work for decided we needed new “smart-card” ID badges, you know, “for improved security.”

These new, high-tech, badges have a computer chip in them. Embedded in this chip is some personal information, including my SSN and fingerprints. I have to keep the new badge in a spiffy plastic case with some kind of special shielding “to keep people with wireless devices from stealing your personal information.”

I think it’s important to point out that the badge I surrendered for “improved security” had only my photograph and name on it. It did not have my SSN or my fingerprints or a computer chip. It was a “dumb-card,” and it would’ve been impossible to steal my identity from it. But now, I have a smart card and “improved security.”

And to think I was feeling insecure…

The Unfortunate Underwear Ordeal

So it turns out that I haven’t bought new underwear since Ronald Reagan was president.

Mrs. R reminded me of this recently when she said it was time to “throw away those things and get some new ones, or go commando!”

Men my age should never go commando, I think it is Man Law # 461.

For a whitey-tighties guy like me, purchasing new undies is more art than science. Get ‘em too small and you’re a soprano; get ‘em too big and you’re support network is non-existent…

Anyway...

A few days later we headed off to the local suburban mall, my mission was to purchase new underwear. Mrs. R’s mission was to contain her hysterics until we were no longer in public. It would prove to be a challenge for both of us.

As we entered the store, two small children ran in front of us. They were being chased by their mom, whom we’ll call “Bouncing Betty.” It seems that Betty was wearing a tube-top type dress and was well, not as slender as she once was. Betty was frantically bouncing across the store, desperately trying to catch her children. I took this as a bad omen.

We reached the men’s underwear department where I was confronted by a bewildering choice of styles, cuts, colors and sizes. Now the pressure was on. I made my choice and grabbed several packages of new underwear.

Men’s underwear are not packaged discretely. In my case the package said in big bold letters, “Caution – Contains Men’s Underwear for Old Guys.” On top of that, the nearest open checkout stand was across the store, about 6 miles away and right next to the “Misses” Department.

Misses is where all the cute young women shop, and this day was no exception. Mrs. R and I patiently waited in line as several attractive young women walked past me, whispering and pointing and laughing.

Mrs. R and I finally made to the checkout stand where the young lady behind the register asked “Did we find everything okay?”

This was too much for Mrs. R who broke into hysterics, knocked over a couple of racks of dresses and had to leave the store.

I got checked out and we headed for the bookstore, with me carrying a bag full of 15 pairs of whitey-tighties. I am not making this part up – as we entered the bookstore the shoplifting alarm went off. As if I wasn’t self-conscious enough…

So now I had to have my bag searched by some 16 year-old girl who may never have seen old guy undies before. It would have been embarrassing if it weren’t so humiliating.

We made it home, I threw my purchase in the washing machine, ran ‘em through the dryer, and smugly thought that I would be all set to go the next morning.

Well it turns out I had let me ego override my better judgment and got ‘em too big. So I spent a few days without support and being crankier than normal, if that’s possible.

I went back to the store to purchase the correct, i.e. smaller, size. This time the checkout counter in the Men’s Department was open and was staffed by a young man.

As I approached the counter he asked “So how is your Saturday going so far?”

Being as articulate as I am, I cleverly replied “fine.”

After I checked out he told me to “enjoy.”

And I thought to myself “Oh I will, Sparky. I will enjoy these brand-spanking new whitey-tighties for the next 20 years or so. By the time they’re worn out, I’ll probably be wearing diapers…”

At least I got the right size this time…

Mid-Olympics

The Suburban Rogue mid-Olympics report:

1. The opening ceremonies were incredible, in spite of the digital dubbing of some of the fireworks and the lip-synching children.

2. Michael Phelps is a stud. It is possible that I have a man-crush on him.

3. Dara Torres is amazing. Kinda makes you feel like a loser when you decide not to exercise because you’re forty and there was something good on TV…

4. Fencing is a cooler than you might think. Congrats to the USA Women for sweeping the medal stand.

5. I’ve yet to see any horses in the pool with the water polo teams…

6. Jennie Finch can strike me out anytime…

7. Arby’s gets the first week DUMBASS (Designating Underachievement in Marketing By Advertisers Selling Stuff) Gold Medal for their lame commercial “You mean I can get any 5 for $5.95.?” We get it Arby’s, we freakin’ get it…

8. Olympic Badminton bears little resemblance to the backyard barbecue game we’ve all played.

9. I refuse to watch Women’s Gymnastics. Because I’m an equal opportunity curmudgeon, I also refuse to watch Men’s Gymnastics.

10. As soon as they invent an Olympic Sport for out of shape pear-shaped men in their fifties, I’m going to get a job at Home Depot since they seem to have a lot of Olympians on their payroll...

Go USA!

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…