So last Saturday, I spent the day with my girlfriend and her family, which was a great time. On the way back from my girlfriend’s sister’s house upstate, we stopped back at her parent’s house in Jersey. Just putzing around, Michelle (my gal), myself, and each of her parents are in different rooms. Michelle decides to plink about on her old piano, which she hasn’t played with in a while, and no one in the house plays it at all. So she opens the cover of the piano (the thing that covers the piano keys, I’m talking about), and from the next room I hear something spill out. I come in, and there’s dog food on the floor!
She tells me that it came out of the piano, and I ask her if she’s mistaken, if it was on top, she says no, and there’s only one way to find out. So she opens the cover, and she can’t even open it all the way, because the entire bass side of the piano is crammed full of kibble!
This is bizarre, okay? Words can’t do it justice. It’s surreal, like something out of a Dali painting or something. It’s just two things you wouldn’t expect to see juxtaposed.
So Michelle calls her mother in, because frankly, the first thing we think is that someone did this on purpose. She of course expresses shock. Michelle asks her if they should ask her father, and her mother says that she thinks they have to.
Michelle’s father comes in, and he’s the person who actually figures out what happened, in that a mouse was taking the dog food, and storing it in the piano.
Just an odd story, really, but I think that image of dog food packed in between the black keys of a piano will stay with me long after I forget the particulars of this story.
Monday, June 29, 2009
You know what I hate?
You know what I hate? Really, really hate with a burning passion? Hand cart luggage. You know, those suitcases that people have on wheels, and drag them around by a handle? Somehow, over the past couple of years, these things have become prevalent, not only among travelers in airports, but amongst commuters travelling in the city. I know where this comes from, actually, as a few years ago there was a fairly big news report on how back packs were bad for your kids, that they led to back problems, and these were marketed as an alternative. From the kids they went up to the parents, who use them instead of backpacks, shoulder bags, or briefcases. I can’t wait until a study in five or ten years reveal how bad these things are for your shoulder.
You know why I hate them? Well there’s not just one reason. Firstly, and primarily, they take up two people’s spaces in a crowd, because people drag their belongings behind them, instead of carrying them like an adult who’s not crippled. Secondly, as a corollary, in a crowd, because they’re so low, you can’t tell they’re there, so you see what you think is an empty space, attempt to move towards it , or get angry at those in front of you who do (and you know how anger on commutes builds and builds, leading to explosions on someone over the course of your week). Also, people have no idea what’s going on behind them, so these things are usually directly in your way as you attempt to walk like a normal human being. Also, it just says something about those people who use them (and if you do, I’m sorry, this is the impression I have of you) , that these people are completely self-absorbed, because they don’t realize what an unbelievable hassle these things are.
Now, I know backpacks are sometimes no great shakes either, but at least you can see them coming, and do something to get yourself out of the way, if a 10th grader with fifty books swings that thing in your face while you’re sitting on the subway.
So you know what I do when I see people with these fucking things? I kick them. Or step on the backs of them. Not hard, not to break anything inside of them, just to maybe turn them over, or cause them to skip, something to break up the rhythm of the person dragging their personal belongings behind them to save all that insane stress on their back or shoulders, and let them know, if just for a second, the annoyance I deal with every day.
Man, I hate those fuckers.
I'm back, baby!
You know why I hate them? Well there’s not just one reason. Firstly, and primarily, they take up two people’s spaces in a crowd, because people drag their belongings behind them, instead of carrying them like an adult who’s not crippled. Secondly, as a corollary, in a crowd, because they’re so low, you can’t tell they’re there, so you see what you think is an empty space, attempt to move towards it , or get angry at those in front of you who do (and you know how anger on commutes builds and builds, leading to explosions on someone over the course of your week). Also, people have no idea what’s going on behind them, so these things are usually directly in your way as you attempt to walk like a normal human being. Also, it just says something about those people who use them (and if you do, I’m sorry, this is the impression I have of you) , that these people are completely self-absorbed, because they don’t realize what an unbelievable hassle these things are.
Now, I know backpacks are sometimes no great shakes either, but at least you can see them coming, and do something to get yourself out of the way, if a 10th grader with fifty books swings that thing in your face while you’re sitting on the subway.
So you know what I do when I see people with these fucking things? I kick them. Or step on the backs of them. Not hard, not to break anything inside of them, just to maybe turn them over, or cause them to skip, something to break up the rhythm of the person dragging their personal belongings behind them to save all that insane stress on their back or shoulders, and let them know, if just for a second, the annoyance I deal with every day.
Man, I hate those fuckers.
I'm back, baby!
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