Grocery Carts...Friend or Foe??

Since the invention of the wheel, carts of all shapes and sizes have been used for multiple purposes

and have helped advance civilization as we know it.  It's just been in the past few years when social

media has become so popular, that I actually began noticing all the different uses for carts and the

area's they're stored in at local stores.  For example, did you know it could be used as a changing

table?  Hmm-mm...now I know why there's plastic bags in the fruit and veggie section.

When we were young and broke, 'improvise, adapt and overcome' were the keys to survival in

our daily lives until such time we got good paying jobs and could afford the nicer things life had

to offer.  And as such, young people found new ways a metal grocery cart could be utilized

to serve as both a tool to carry items AND entertain friends at the same time.

 And as we got older, we also obtained a 'taste' for the finer things in life and aren't shy in the least

about lavishing ourselves in the luxury we feel rightly so deserving.  However, there are those seniors

who go overboard at times and cause the rest of us to be the laughing stock of the community.

Depending on where the person lives, will dictate as to what you can and cannot purchase for personal consumption.  For example, here in south Texas we have access to some of the best fruits, vegetables and hot peppers in the United States.  But when you live in Colorado, they're able to purchase volumes of product on the open market that isn't allowed in Texas.

When shopping carts were equipped with more than two wheels, and fitted with electrical

power, not only were they capable of carrying goods but also people.  This addition was well

received by those individuals who unfortunately are handicapped, but they also got a warm

welcome from people who, shall I say, over indulge themselves on items that aren't good for

their health.  When this type of individual is utilizing the 'motorized shopping cart' and doesn't

take into consideration the rules of gravity, disaster kicks in and it's going to be a bad day at

Black Rock for sure.

So, what happens to these marvelous works of metal and wheels upon the conclusion of their

task?  Do they return to the same place in which they were retrieved upon entering the store?

Or, is there a 'special place' for them to reside while resting for the next happy customer?  In

an attempt at answering this puzzling question, I paid a visit to my local grocery store and this

is what I found.

My findings on the location of the carts didn't come as a shock to my nervous system; however, I was

rather taken aback on where the people who operate these carts park their vehicles.  One

individual completely defied the law of physics and logic.

In conclusion, I must admit that shopping carts and some of the people who

operate them are a continuous stream of humor for all to see.  Furthermore, I

think that if common sense could be turned into dirt, a few of these folks

would have enough to cover just about an acre.

I Don't Remember These At Career Day!

My very first paying job was delivering circulars when my family lived in Amarillo, Texas when I was 11-years old and it was a sweeeeet job in deed.  I made $1 a day and all the cookies, Moon Pies and Honey Buns I could choke down in a 5-hour work day.  My salary, such as it was, is not much by today's standard; however, keep in mind that at that time in my life gasoline was 13-cents a gallon; cigarettes were 10-cents a pack; one Coca Cola was 5-cents out of the machine and I paid 25-cents to get into the movies - and they were double features most of the time too.  This particular job was strictly seasonal (only in the summer) and when payday rolled around Saturday afternoon, I had a whopping $6 in my pocket!  Man, you would've thought I was a regular Diamond Jim Brady!

Fast forward 42-years later and I'm now in that group of people who have to figure out what they want to do with the rest of their lives before turning into 'worm food' for the cemetery.  With just a few months away from retirement, I'll be the first to admit I didn't have a damn clue what I wanted to do.  But one thing was for certain, I WAS going to continue to work and it HAD TO BE FUN or else I wasn't doing it....period, end of discussion.  For over three decades I had worked too hard, too long and sacrificed too much to end up just sittin' on my big fat country ass somewhere waiting for the buzzards to carry me off.

I'm the sort of person that truly requires lots and lots of structure and planning, or else boredom sets in and that's not a pretty sight to see.  Nope, it's just plain butt ugly.  Therefore, applying all those analytical skills I learned in my 'other life' for 36-years, I sat down one morning with pen and paper; the Yellow Pages and went page-by-page to get a cursory glance of what jobs I could and could not do.  I was truly amazed at the outcome.  There were approximately 30 places I could go to work that day and there were a few others that would've required me to go back to school for....like that's going to happen....Not!!!

Ok, I've gathered a lot of data and now comes the task of sorting this information into categories of: (A) jobs I'm qualified to do; (B) jobs I would enjoy doing; (C) jobs that would require getting additional training or education for; and (D), not a snow balls chance in Hell am I going to do that.

Here are the jobs from column D:

- Dietitian at a Louisiana snake and alligator farm;
- Bulldozer operator for a landfill in Nigeria;
- Lightning rod inspector for the Empire State building
- Symbol player with a Hare Krishna band doing gig's in airports, bus and train stations; and
- Marketing Director for the Medellin drug cartel

And from column C - jobs requiring additional training and/or education:

- Finding a cure for stupidity;
- Gynecologist for grizzly bears;
- Lead tracker for an expedition to capture Big Foot;
- Janitor at a Leprosy clinic;
- Rickshaw driver in China Town in central San Francisco; and
- Athletic Director for a convent.

Now, column B had some potential and they were:

- Manage a nudist colony for the vision impaired;
- Drive a margarita truck in 'dry' counties;
- Media Director for Al Sharpton and Jessie Jackson; and
- Try out for a spot on the Chippendale dance teams.

And finally column A, jobs I felt were in the bag:

- Night watchman at Sleepy Hollow cemetery;
- Be a judge for a lawn bowling tournament in Scotland; and
- Night Manager at a Motel 6 or 7-11 convenience store in downtown Detroit.

Needless to say, my list certainly pointed out my short comings and that nothing I had written down up to this point was going to work.  But, there was one job that I certainly felt was attainable and that was being a flagman on a highway crew!  And the more I rolled the idea around in my head the better I liked it.  I wouldn't have to wear a coat and tie anymore; computer skills not needed; no more doing personnel evaluations for promotion; the only money I would care about is what's in my pocket; I'd be outside enjoying Mother Nature vice being inside a window-less building with guards sitting at the front desk with guns strapped to their waist; I would meet new people everyday; and I could wear a hard hat with both an American and Texas flag painted on it.  Damn!  Is this a great country or what?  The only down side to this job though is --- butt crack!  My young bride would have no sense of humor about this whatsoever...dead man walking.

 Alright, I'm back in Texas....finally....and I've followed through with the promise I made to myself about ONLY having fun jobs and life is good.  Since leaving the east coast in September 2002, I've worked as a medical technology salesman - wasn't worth a damn at this job; spent 36 months as a shuttle driver for a large Chevrolet dealership; this will be my 9th year as an usher for a Double-A baseball team; working on my 5th year as a panel member for the county Appraisal District; and partnered with my lovely young bride 9-years ago in starting our own medical consulting business....to talk about this job requires a mother load of super nacho's and multiple pitchers of beer.  So, yeah, I've worked multiple jobs so far in my life, but as a very dear friend once said to me "Until the wife shoves a pork chop up my ass and have the dog's drag me to the funeral home, I'm going to enjoy life to the best of my ability."  I agree completely!!!

Little Known Facts Of Life

As we go through life there are many things we read, see, hear and learn that enable us to know what the best solutions might be in various situations, and these pearls of wisdom are certainly handy later on in our lives.  For example, I'm sure most of us remember the Roger Miller song Can't Roller Skate In A Buffalo Herd or the infamous Will Rogers quote Never Squat With Spurs On.  That same care and methodology comes into play as we go through the aging process and here are just a few things to avoid along the way.

- A nose ring and bifocals;
- Thongs and Depends;
- Spiked hair and bald spots;
- A pierced tongue and dentures;
- Mini-skirts and support hose;
- Ankle bracelets and corn pads;
- Speedo's and cellulite;
- A belly button ring and a gall bladder surgery scare;
- Unbuttoned disco shirts and a heart monitor;
- Midriff shirts and midriff bulge;
- Bikini's and liver spots;
- Short shorts and varicose veins;
- In-line skates and a walker;
- Loose toupee while riding with the top down; and
- Preparation H lying next to the Poligrip on the night stand.

Never eat at a diner where the special is the same animal pictured on the nearest road crossing sign.

I Don't Do Well In Crowds...Not At All!

During my entire 66 years on this lovely planet Earth, I cannot think of one instance in which I have ever enjoyed being in large crowds during the holiday shopping season.  It's about as enjoyable as watching a pile of dirt.  By the time my young bride and I get home, I'm fightin' mad and ready to open up an industrial size barrel of whoop ass; thus, the reason why she normally leaves me at home if at all possible because I don't play well with others.

My jaws begin to tighten as we turn into the parking lot and all I see is an ocean of cars, pick-ups and people in various stages of insanity with grocery carts roaming about the asphalt lot like a stampede of African Wilder Beasts.  This is NOT a good sign of things to come...nope, not good at all.   With it being just a couple of days away from Christmas, everyone is in a hurry and have procrastinated to the point to where they're now in a do-or-die situation and all common sense and politeness is tossed to the wind.  Every lane in the parking lot resembles a stacked up JFK airport with people driving around trying to find an open space and then all of a sudden, the whole damned line comes to a complete halt.  Oh for God's sake!  What now?  Three cars ahead of you has come to a complete stop and is now waiting on the people who are loading their groceries into their car to finish, so they can have their spot.  Oh, and of course, the person who is loading all these groceries just so happens to have four children under the age of 8 with her and they're bouncing all over the cart like monkey's on a yo-yo!!  So, where is the father during all of this?  Well, he certainly is not with his wife and kid's that's for damned sure.  Bastard!

Once I got the car finally parked, my young bride and I start bobbing and weaving our way towards the entrance to the store, dodging runaway carts and people driving with handicapped plates.  Geezus, it's like dancing through a mine field wearing a blind fold!  As we entered the store with a list of just a few last minute things to get, every aisle was jammed pack with people of all sizes, ages, mental disorders and personal hygiene.  Well, butter my butt and call me biscuit!  There's more crazy twits and dysfunctional people in this grocery store than the entire movie One Flew Over A Cuckoo's Nest for cryin' out loud.  It's a damned good thing I took my Charles Manson pill this morning or else it would be a bad day at Black Rock and I'd be strangling the crap out of a bunch of ignorant people.  God they're gratin' my nerves!

Some how, some way we managed to get those few things on our list up to the check-out counter without me shoving my entire fist up someone's ass and make them look like a sock puppet.  All 22 check-out lines are packed to the maximum, lines snaking back into the aisles and those that have the sign of '15 items or less' above them, well, they're meaningless today.  Each cashier has no less than a dozen or more people each waiting their turn to be checked out and stroll to the parking lot.  I would rather polish and buff a bob cat's ass with barbed wire than stand in this line.  It's sssooo boring!

Have you ever noticed that when people are literally jammed together in a public place, they're not real comfortable in making eye contact?  It's as though they've withdrawn themselves into a mystical world while waiting and that's when they're the most vulnerable.  Lucky me?  It's during this "Twilight Zone" effect, I've seen people pick their nose, stare off into space, have a one-way conversation with themselves and men playing pocket pool by sticking their hands into the front pocket of their pants to scratch their scrotum or whatever else feels good.  I'm always tempted to say, "Hey, Scooby!  You do away games and tournaments?" And if a woman is wearing a thong that's riding her a little high, you can take it to the bank they'll go digging for that bad boy like it was made of gold.  You betcha'!!

Did I mention the clientele that frequent my local neighborhood grocery store aren't, shall I say, very sophisticated when it comes to what not to wear out in public?  They're not as bad as the Walmartians we've all seen (sleeveless Lynyrd Skynrd t-shirts, plaid Bermuda shorts pulled up to the middle of the chest and knee length black socks worn with ragged sandals), but they're close to it.  They're certainly a constant source of humor for me.

It's Not That Difficult

My introduction to computers was in 1982 when my entire job as an analyst was done on a Wang Word Processor and I didn't get to the universe of the Internet until about 18 months before I retired in 2002.  Over the next five years, I built myself a network of other Yahoo users to share cartoon's, jokes, pictures, stories and it was a fantastic method of staying in contact with close friends and relatives. I soon discovered, not everybody who used the internet are equipped with common sense, morals, scruples or good judgement; therefore, I took it upon myself to make a few rules of engagement when it come to what kind of information I would and would not share with my network of friends and relatives.  I had to become a censor of my own digital data and information.

Over the past 16 years, the number of internet buddies that I share jokes and pictures with has grown significantly and has gotten to the point in which people "ask" me to add them to my "funny list".  I'm very proud of the fact that at my age I still have the ability to bring a good belly laugh to a lot of people and brighten their day, even if it was for only a few seconds.  But, alas, not everyone thought my material was uplifting or funny, and of all the thousands of humorous things I've posted, there has only been "4"people who had any complaints.

Thus far, I've only had to use other alternative methods of discipline on one person who felt the need to treat me as though I were an unruly five year old.  It all started when I sent an email to everyone that had a 1950's era booklet on "How A Woman Should Treat Her Husband" and the contents were so idiotic it was funny.  The woman, however, found no humor in that email whatsoever and told me not to send her anything like that again.  I certainly didn't mean any harm, but I would respect her wishes and try my best not to get her upset with me again.  A few months later, this same woman sent me a very angry email that said "I told you not to send emails like this to me anymore.  Don't make me have to tell you again."  Let....the....games....begin.

In Texas mileage this woman lived about a days drive (8-hours) from my house, so whatever I planned on doing had to be long distance.  I came up with a four-pronged plan to demonstrate to this individual that talking to me in that fashion was not only uncalled for and not very wise on her part, but would result in a resounding, aggressive tactical encounter of the highest caliber.

Seeing as how this person of interest was somewhat a religious fanatic, I decided to send her every religious email of every type, regardless who sent it to me, and nothing else....no jokes, no cartoons, no comical pictures....just religious material.  And somewhere in those emails the word God had to appear no less than four times.  This 1st step was either going to demonstrate that I had once again bowed to her wishes or else drive her to drink, I was hoping for the latter.  My 2nd step involved going on the internet and having every free Mormon religious magazine and newspaper I could find sent directly to her home.  If by some chance steps one and two didn't get results, then I would proceed with step three in which I would order a dump truck full of crushed gravel delivered to her house and dumped in the middle of the driveway.  And if everything up to this point had failed, then I would be forced to initiate step four by calling the ASPCA and say there were a lot of strange people chanting in her backyard in the middle of the night and I could hear unusual wild animal noises.

All of this discomfort could have been avoided had this individual of questionable intelligence and integrity simply hit the delete button and went about her way. As a wise person once stated "it's not what a person says, but how they say it that will impact the outcome."  And just for the record, I've only had "four" people tell me that my emails were offensive, filled with innuendo's, sexists and anti religion.

I can say in all honesty and without any fear of contraindication, that far more people enjoy and look forward to my emails than the mere handful who do not.  This pleases me greatly.