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by Richard Timothy | Dec 31, 2009 | I Think There's a Point, Observationally Speaking, When I Was a Kid
There are two things that always happen when I tell someone for the first time that I was born on January 1st. The first thing is the verbal exclamation, “Oh, you were a new year’s baby.” or some variation therein. However it is said, it always gets expressed to me that I am, in fact, a “New Year’s baby.”
The second thing that always happens, if people are seeking additional conversation about this, is the story me being born under a bad sign. The story has nothing to do with angels and demons battling over my soul, or how my parents tried to sell the privilege of naming me to the highest bidder on eBay. Nor did I end up being placed in the wrong baby bin, and spent the first 5 years of my life under the assumption that I was the offspring of Peruvian immigrants. No, it’s nothing like any of that. The story is mostly about presents and only a little about me.
This story actually begins long before I before I was born. In Afton, a small town in western Wyoming, there was a tradition of giving gifts to the first baby of the new year. In fact this is a fairly common tradition across the US from what I’ve been told. All the local businesses would donate gifts and then all those presents when to the first child of the new year and its picture was taken and placed in the local paper. It was a tradition that showed community unity and support, and overall just made people feel good. This tradition had been around for years. It was a staple of the community that everyone could count on and looked forward too.
Now take that tradition up to the year before I was born. As the story was relayed to me there was a couple traveling through town on their way home after the holidays. This couple just so happened to be expecting sometime in the near future… or as it turned out immediate future. Say 10 minutes into the future after pulling into town to gas up their car. And this strangers water broke, so did years of community tradition. Yes, these travelers popped out the first baby of the new year.
The thing is, I don’t think the couple really cared about our tradition. Outsiders usually don’t, but damn it, it was the communities tradition and they were not about to let themselves think of themselves and breakers of tradition. The hospital and present donors had a debate on how to handle the gift distribution. The people were not part of the community, but the tradition never had specified what to do in this type of situation. Eventually the decision was made that in order to keep to community tradition, but to also be fair, the gifts would be split up. Half went to the “strangers” and the other half would be given to the “local” first baby of the new year.
Because of the conflict between the traditionalists and communalists it was decided that this tradition was creating contention and separation in the community and should be disbanded. All debaters involved agreed and the tradition of giving gifts to the first baby of the new year was dissolved.
Now move ahead one year to January 1, 1974 the evening where I made my grand entrance onto this little ball of earth. As my little screams filled the delivery room, discussion started about the tradition that use to be in place were the first baby of the new year would be given gifts from the community, and what a wonderful tradition it was. The conversations were carried around town. Apparently, there was even a meeting.
Everyone seemed to agree, it was a great tradition to hold on to. Thus it was brought back so that the next year’s first baby of the new year would be bestowed with a bounty of gifts.
And that was it. I mean, I still got my picture in the paper, so that was nice. Granted, I was a sleep so I really don’t remember, nor would I had I been awake. But I have a copy of the newspaper article with my picture in it that was cut out and glued in one of my baby books.
So, there you have it, every year before I was born and every year after, the tradition has been alive and in full effect. Did I care? Did this even result in me sending therapy bills to the city of Afton? I was a baby. Of course I didn’t care. All I was able to handle at that point in my life was eating, pooping, sleeping, and crying in the event one of those first three things was out of sync.
So do I believe it? My being born under a bad sign I mean. No, not at all. The truth is, well, my truth is, is that my grand entrance onto this planet got people talking and working together again. They reinstated a dead tradition that made a small town happy. And since my birth is has continued to make people happy, even after all these years. Yeah, I’m pretty bad ass. Besides, it makes a pretty good story, and a true story at that.
Cheers and Happy New Year! Oh, and you’re welcome.
So, any thoughts? Any traditional mishaps rectified or dismissed as a result of your birth?
Image Source:
Google Image, key words: new years baby, group hug, and Afton Wyoming.
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by Richard Timothy | Dec 29, 2009 | Holiday Banter, I Think There's a Point, Observationally Speaking
A miracle is, according to dictionary.com, an effect or extraordinary event in the physical world that surpasses all known human or natural powers and is ascribed to a supernatural cause. There is also the additional addendum to this definition that includes linking said events to some form of deity. The thing I find the most interesting about this is that the term miracle seems to carry with it a positive connotation, even when the negative is the more miraculous. Interestingly if a miracle causes bad things to happen, it’s usually referred to as a coincidence and nothing more.
Case and point, look at tornadoes. One might come down and out of all the open areas in Kansas where they could land the tornado destroys a field of crops next to a farm house but misses the farm house completely, or it changes it direction from heading straight into some small town. This is a miraculous event. Likewise, isn’t it just as much of a miracle if the tornado hits the farm house and doesn’t destroy the field of crops next to it, or if the tornado changes direction at the last second and destroys a small town when it was originally going to miss it completely? Based on the definition I’d say both are miracles, its just that one is a shitty miracle, and the other is more of your traditional happily ever after miracle because nothing and no one was hurt, killed, maimed, or destroyed.
I’m not meaning to harsh anyone’s buzz; I just want to point this out so that when I explain my Christmas miracle, you’ll understand why I’m calling it a miracle, even though some might consider just a coincidence.
So as Christmas day at my parent’s house sauntered into the “it’s time to go home” hour, my brother and his family headed home. As we gathered our things and packed up the car we realized that a fondue power cord mix-up resulted in my cutie-baby-sweetie-pie-wifey-pooh and I needing to head over to my brother’s house to exchange the misplaced cords.
As we drove down the side streets of the tract home neighborhood Angela told me to watch out for the animals in the middle of the street. About half a block down the street I saw a collection of fluffy movement, and began slowing down the car. As we got close enough to clearly see what was happening I stopped the car completely. I blinked twice. I looked at Angela and then back to the scene unfolding before us.
“You see that too?” I asked.
Angela nodded. Standing in the middle of the ice packed road was a standoff between a white cat with some orange spots, and a white rabbit, with some orange spots. The cat’s back was arched in that “pissed off and ready to attack” way. The rabbit just stood there, wiggling its nose and waiting for the cat to make its move.
Odder still was the fact that both the cat and rabbit had back up. Standing on the side of the road, behind the rabbit was another rabbit, which looked a lot like the first one, same color scheme I mean. And behind the cat standing next to a fence by the sidewalk was another cat, sharing the first cats same color scheme.
It was as if we drove into some obscure animal kingdom reenactment of West Side Story. Although, seriously, what would you get if you crossed a rabbit and a cat… a cabit I guess, or maybe a rabat. I’m just it would fall just into the same realm as a jackalope or wookalar. Then again maybe it wasn’t West Side story at all. Maybe it was two gangs of cute fuzzy creatures about to rumble for the sake if proving which creature would win the right to wear the white and orange gang colors. Crazy adorable fluffy animal gang warfare during Christmas, I swear, don’t these mammals have any respect for human tradition and holidays? Rude little varmints!
So before an more bunny nose wiggle taunts could be made or any foul mouthed cat hisses could be, well, hissed, I revved the engine and clicked my brights on and off a few times causing just enough of a scene that both parties retreated ran back to their own side of the street. As we drove past I rolled down my window and yelled at both of them, “You two play nice, it’s Christmas damn it.”
And that was it. That was my Christmas miracle. No, not the cat vs. rabbit stand off in the middle of the street bit. For all I know maybe that happens all the time. Maybe they are sworn enemies. No, what I mean is actually seeing it. To be one of two humans on Christmas night to see the first rehearsal of Bugs and Sylvester’s production of West Side Story for the fluffy woodland creature kingdom in Utah is more than amazing… it’s a miracle!
Call it a coincidence if you want, but I’m sticking to my story. Sure it might sound a little odd. Sure it has a bunch of personal interpretation of what I thought was happening verses what was really happening with the animals involved. Hell, maybe the cats were just trying to score a little catnip from the rabbits. Regardless of the reality, miracles are all about the perspective of the person telling the story, and I’m telling you, as Elvis is the king, as Lennon is the walrus, as Popeye is the sailor, this was a bloody miracle.
So, did you witness any miracles on Christmas or during this holiday season? What are your thoughts on the miracles of bad outcomes?
Images Sources:
Google Images, key words: rabbit and cat, driving at night on snow, miracle, jackalopes, and catnip.
by Richard Timothy | Dec 23, 2009 | Holiday Banter, I Think There's a Point, Observationally Speaking, Public Service Announcement
With the holiday season well underway I am now starting to get a flux of the Happy Holidays cards and eCards. These cards vary in their themes and messages. Some cards have the traditional Peace on Earth and Good will towards Men (and women, and transgenders, and puppies, call center agents that really are not calling to piss you off but are calling because it’s the only job they could find and they have bills to pay too you know, and small fairytale creatures, and pygmies, and so on). Other messages suggested we forget peace on earth and goodwill towards men and play with a clockwork train instead.
I’ve received a few nativity cards, two of which were identical and from the same family name. It made me wonder if somebody’s kid was selling them for a school fundraiser or something like that. My guess is that the kid went to all their aunts and uncles for support and they bought the same cards. Or… the kid’s parents were really competitive and wanted their child to take first place in some holiday card selling competition. So they bought a bunch of cards and then gave as Christmas gifts to all their siblings last year… which, by the way, is a crap gift.
If you have done this, send an apology to everyone you gave card sets to. And if you are are planning on doing this, stop right now! Sure the recipients might smile and say thanks, but under their breath they’re probably going to call you a cheap mother ffffluffer, yes fluffer. You know, the people that work at department stores fluffing display pillows to attract the types of people that believe every possible space in a home where one might place their butt should be accompanied by a pillow. Besides, it also means that all of these friends are going to be sending you the same damn holiday card for the next five years.
I have gotten quite a few Winter solstice and Yuletide cards this year. All of which were made with recycled paper or would have been had a few of them not been eCards. I think the eCards still had that little recycled symbol on them though. Pagans love their symbols, but then again so does everyone else. Not that the recycle symbol is pagan in origin, but the message of reuse instead of waste, and caring for the planet seems acutely pagan. All the recycle bins around the world are the new pagan alters trying to get humanity back to their roots! Woo Hoo! Pagans! Wooo! Sorry about that, but I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for pagans. I mean they are singlehandedly responsible for all of the religious based holidays… well most anyway. And crap Hallmark holidays like Bring your Daughter to Work Day, Secretary’s Day, National Doctor’s Day, Flag Day, or Citizenship Day don’t count either. Hell, they don’t even count as real holidays.
I did get one Hanukkah themed card so far this year, which my friend decided to write in Yiddish. I thought it was a sweet gesture. Gut Yontiff to you as well. As for Kwanzaa, sadly no, no cards yet this year, but I am thinking of buying one and sending it to myself just for the inclusionary factor, but I’ve heard that’s cheating.
Now, I have heard on more than one occasion people proclaiming their annoyance that the other December holidays are infiltrating and taking the Christ out of Christmas. Posh! If you are one of these types of Christians celebrating Christmas, then hey, look at that, there it is… Christ right at the beginning of the word Christmas. Who knew? This complaint usually comes as a result of people getting all butt hurt when a local store, airport, city building, or likewise puts up a Happy Holidays sign instead of the Merry Christmas sign they use to put up.
I would like to say though, that if you are the type of person that is getting all bent out shape because some place replaced your singular holiday greeting with a more universal holiday greeting that still includes your holiday, well then you are bit of a douche and personally responsible for making baby G cry. Seriously, what kind of person does that? And to you people that are that way, let me just tell you, “NO! Bad human. No!” and you should really be smacked on the nose with a rolled up newspaper.
The mistake that these Happy Holiday anger balls are making is that the term is not diminishing anyone’s Christmas or sentiment about it. Happy Holidays is an inclusive term, meaning everyone. Not to mention, it allows for a level of personal laziness. Happy Holidays is a simple phrase that lets you to wish happiness and joy to someone without having to take the time to get to know them well enough to have the “What do you believe” conversation. Or at the very least, having to remember what they said when you did have that conversation. Because in my experience that conversation usually happens when there is a lot of alcohol involved. Also, using this phrase enables you to avoid guessing what others believe who might get pissing off if you guess wrong.
I personally dig this time of year. The food banks get restocked, and the homeless shelters get new blankets and clothes to help their fellow people who are experiencing hard times. People not only say they want peace on earth and good will towards others, they actually practice it. Sadly, the season usually ends in a drunken evening were everyone wakes up the next day with a hangover and a new year staring them in the face. I think the mass alcohol consumption causes most people forget about the humanity movement they were taking part in during the past month. But it only takes about 11 months and people start to remember they good feeling they got from helping others and start doing it again. You may call this sad, but it is 1 out of 12 is a lot better than 0 out of 12.
So, Happy Holidays to all of you and if this time of year doesn’t hold a holiday you care about or that applies to you personally, just make one up. That’s what I usually do. Its fun, its easy to do, and it doesn’t cost anything. Not to mention, if it results in the exchange of fresh baked goods between friends, family, and/or neighbors, well, that’s just pretty damn groovy.
What are your thoughts on this whole Happy Holiday thing?
Image Sources:
Google Images, key words: Happy Holidays, Hanukkah, nativity, Happy Solstice, all holidays together, and cookies.
by Richard Timothy | Dec 18, 2009 | MST3K, My List of Things that Don't Suck, Observationally Speaking
Last night some friends and I gathered at one of our local theaters to spend two hours surrounded by thrills, chills, smirks, and an assortment of laughter simply by watching a collection of short Christmas themed films being made fun of by some of the cast of the cultastic MST3K.
Most of the films came to us from Castle Films vault of misfit films. “Castle Films, pouring boiling oil into the eyes of their viewers for over 30 years.” I believe is how Mike put it at one point. Sadly, he wasn’t far off. Most of the films carried with them the visual equivalent having a bad acid trip being triggered as a result of watching Jack Black attempting to act. That’s the problem with Jack’s acting, even if you’ve never taken any drugs at any time in any of your lives, the second you see him appear on the big screen your skin starts crawling and your brain starts screaming, “TURN IT OFF! TURN IT OFF!” but you can’t because it’s, well, a bloody movie.
Thankfully though, the banter and quips that Mike, Bill and Kevin kept making helped diminished the visual trickle that we had to endure. This is the magic of what MST3K started and that RiffTrax has continued to carry on, the ability to create joy and laughter out of a pain invoking situation, which is exactly what the evening was all about.
The audience’s laugh track was already in full swing as my friends and I walked in to the theater. There were some snickers and even some wide open-mouth bursts as we began watching the preshow screen displaying a slide show of RiffTrax themed and made up movie quotes, trivia, and observations. Say what you will, but the audience is the great adjuster. They can either greatly diminish your watching experience or they can greatly improve it. My audience, the audience I was with, was ready to laugh and knew the evening would not disappoint. The energy was static with smiles standing on end.
And it was their flowing fountain of laughter that I began to pay attention to once I was settled into my seat. Some of the laughs were a bit premature, as if the laugher was so full and ready to giggle that they would start laughing at the expectation of the unknown, thinking the humor was bound to be there. Turned out their timing was a bit off and they started laughing too early. Like at the very beginning of the show when Mike, Bill, and Kevin walked out on stage, there was one chap that started laughing, in a sort of up then down pitch. Starting high where he was unable to hear anything he’s then drop the pitch so that he could hear a few words before laughing high again.
I figured he was expecting the humor to begin with the first syllable, instead of having the show begin with a few announcements from the cast. I believe the chap realized this during his second low pitched laugh. He was able to hear what was being said and stopped shortly after. He did keep “open mouth smiling” though. You know that smile, the one you’re never comfortable looking at, but you always get a picture of in your mind due to the sound of every exhale they make. You can actually hear them smiling.
One of my favorite parts about this power keg of giggles was the humming laughter. It’s kind of like the “open mouth smile” but nothing like it. See, its more of an energetic, or quantum smile, as if all the atoms that make you up are vibrating happily as positive “happy atom aura” charges, which permeate from you, allowing others to feel you smiling without seeing your face or hearing your breath.
As the first short film, or as the profession calls them… “short”, the audience began to chorus in laughter, and it is this laughter that I want to talk about.
- There was the “ha ha that is truly funny” laugh, for the many bits that were in fact very funny.
- There was the “ha-AAA” laugh, where you are laughing in amusement and then something funnier happens and you keep laughing, but all you have breath for one last blast of projecting laugh and then you have to stop laughing so your body can take a breath or you DIE!!! Ok fine, or you’ll pass out! (See not nearly as dramatic.
There was the “wheezing” laugh, where people who are forced to breathe in, because they have laughed all their breather out, do so but have the genetic ability to laugh while breathing in. Unfortunately those laughs sound more like one scared Troy hiding from cultists under the floorboards a garbage house belonging to one Mike Pipper.- There was also the mid range “cackle” laugh, like that of a middle aged to oldish witch about to bake two Swedish children in her oven because it’s fun and funny.
- There was the little girl high pitched “hehehehe” giggling, which all my friends know I am very capable of and proficient at. I’ve been told when I start laughing like that it is a bit infectious. However, I think it’s mostly because men over six feet tall (1.83 meters for my metric friends) with thick facial hair are not suppose to laugh like that. So when I do, the site and sound is so baffling yet comical, giggling along is really the only option that comes to mind.
Then there was the full bodied “ha ha ha” laugh. The type of veteran laugh that men in the 50s would share with other men to identify themselves as manly men who laugh at manly things, or, ohhh I know, like Ed McMahon would use on the Tonight Show back in the day. “Ha Ha, YES!”- There was also the “silent” laughter, which I also took part in. This is the laughing so hard that your voice gives out and you entire body is shaking with laughter, but no noise is coming out. This is usually accompanied by some thrashing about in your seat in a bought of uncontrolled humor trying to escape.
- Don’t get me wrong, there was the occasional “ha, ahh” laugh. The kind, were you start laughing because you expectation is making you laugh, but half way though you realize you expectations were set a little too high and it turns out it really wasn’t that funny. It’s kind of like that one friend that is always telling a funny joke they heard, but isn’t any good at telling jokes, so they laugh though the whole thing and then screw up or have forgotten the punch line and whole prospect of being humorously entertained is sucked away in an uncomfortable silence. At least until someone else shares a joke that brings the laughter back.
I could keep going, but at risk at making a longish post longer I’ll just wrap things up by saying to Mike, Bill and Kevin, “Thank you for a brilliant, festive, and joy filled show.” It’s truly a rare experience when at the end of a show you can get out of your seat, and hear people around you say, “That was sooo bad.” all the while grinning uncontrollably and then adding “I can’t wait to see it again.” Well done men, well done.
Did any of you catch this show? If so, what did you think?
Image Sources:
Google Images, key words: RiffTrax Christmas Shorts, MST3K Final Sacrifice, Ed and Johnny, audience laughing, and quantum.
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by Richard Timothy | Dec 16, 2009 | Observationally Speaking, When I Was a Kid
This past Sunday was another snowfall day, which some people say is good because we need the moisture… or something. All I can say is at least there wasn’t 14 inches of the stuff, I think it was about 5, but it was that really thick and heavy snow. The kind Buddy would tell you makes the best snowballs. Which is sort of want I want to talk about. I say sort of because I know at some point this tangent is going to get lost in another tangent and then you’ll go off on a tangent wondering what the hell I’m talking about. Then there we’ll all be… three tangents to the wind… whew, I don’t know about you, but I could sure use a drink.
It’s not so much the snowballs I want to talk about, it’s more, it’s… ok so here’s what happened. My cutie-baby-sweetie-pie-wifey-pooh and I were heading to my parents house for dinner. It’s a monthly ritual we do on the second Sunday of each month. As we were heading out of the neighborhood I saw a group of kids with these little plastic devices in their hands. They looked like plastic sticks with a cup at the end. Then I saw the kids sticking the cup end in the snow and then they’d wield the stick as if they were about to throw it at their friends. They would stop at the last second, still holding the stick, but the packed snow in the cup would fly out of it towards on of the other kids.
Yep, it was a damn snowball making and dispensing weapon of mass destruction… or snowballing, and it’s probably only minor snowballing at that. “Those lazy little buggers!” was the first thing out of my mouth. My cutie-baby-sweetie-pie-wifey-pooh looked over to see what I was referring to and laughed.
I mean sure, hooray for progression (insert waving flag here), but, well, I’m not sure if I was bothered by this because those kids were missing out on a key part of the growing up in a snow visited climate experience, which is making snowballs by hand. Then again maybe it was because I never had the option of having one of those while growing up, and the memory of the many evenings of painfully numb fingers being warmed by the fire because of day long snowball fights left me a little bitter. Regardless the reason, it just wasn’t fair… stupid cheap plastic snowball maker things.
This did get me thinking about the whole, “When I was a kid…” train of though. Problem with that train is that eventually you are going to derail and end up taking out a small plastic building in the process, or maybe falling on your keys. Either way there chance you might need a band-aid at the end is pretty high, or at the very least, a nap.
I started thinking about a spoken word piece by Ernie Cline I had heard a few years back that takes on this whole “When I was a kid” topic, but from my generations point of view. I hope you like it… enjoy. 
Take it away Ernie… Actually wait a second Ernie. I think I should point out that this piece does contain some NSFW language in it, unless your a sailor. So if you are of the disposition you might want to have your kids, or your grandparents that do not have an appreciation for tourettes language, follow the Storm Troopers example, namely the one in the back. Also, if you have an abrasion to colorful metaphors, you might want to skip it yourself. Ok, so now you can take it away Ernie!
Ahh, bugger, there’s no video of Ernie performing this piece himself, just some poser putz. Ok actually click here to go to his site and listen to an audit recording of this piece. It’s even written out as well so you can follow along, if you want too.
I’ve come to the conclusion that the little snowball maker sticks can fall into obscurity, along with really thick florescent yellow shoe laces, and Bill & Ted’s Excellent Cereal. I don’t care, and it has nothing to do with asking one of the neighbor kids if I could borrow his snowball maker for a minute to try and him saying no… I’m still going to call his mother. No, it was the realization that I was outside in the bloody snow attempting to research the equivalent of a Texas sized ball and cup game without the damn string.
Lesson learned, I hope, because I’m not going out to play in the snow again.
All snow related things put aside, I just wanted to say today is going to be a fabulous day! Sure it sounds a little Doctor Seussian, which only makes today that much better, but I am going to see some RiffTrax tonight, at a theater! I you have the time and are in a location with a theater that this even is being streamed to, go check it out. It should be brilliant. I’ll let you know what I though about it tomorrow.
What are some products out there that you have seen that are making the young people of today more lazy?
Image Sources:
Google Images, key words: buddy elf, throwing snowballs, hands in snow, hear no evil, and cup ball string.
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by Richard Timothy | Dec 14, 2009 | I Think There's a Point, Observationally Speaking, Public Service Announcement
One of the things about the weekend, weekends in general I mean, is that you are typically home over longer periods of time than you normally are during the regular week. Meaning, you are much more apt to be at home when the occasional vagabond makes their way into your neighborhood and begins tapping at your front door.
Now when I was little and heard someone knocking at the door I would jump up and make a mad dash to see who it was going to be. The front door was a kind of random surprise and gift dispenser… with a doorknob. The knocking was the signal letting the entire house know that in what was previously an empty location now held the unknown.
It could have been mom with groceries… and cookies… YES! It could have been friends popping by to see if I could play. Maybe it was the pizza guy, or cousins with pizza, or maybe just the grandparents coming over to dinner. Hell, if the season was right I could have even been Santa. The possibilities were endless. Then again, there was always the chance that it was just some bloke wanting to talk to your dad. But you never knew for sure. All you had to do was twist the knob and see what was on the other side.
I’ve noticed something though, as I’ve gotten older a knock at the door, or ringing of the door bell, just doesn’t hold the same urgency it once did. Now days if I’m expecting company I either leave the front door open or I leave the front door unlocked and they know to just walk in. And if I’m not expecting company, let’s just say I no longer run to the front door to see who is there.
At the same time, it almost seems that people expect others to deal with a knocking door with the same fervor as a ringing cell phone. I’ve taken up to a minute to answer my door after an unexpected knock, and by the time I open the door, people are either back in their car and about to drive away, or are just not there. It’s as if they knocked, counted to 3 and assumed no one was home, so they leave. Unless of course it’s Halloween, then the little codgers will stay there and keep knocking for a good minute straight.
So, not to long ago, on a Saturday afternoon while I was home alone, there was a knock at the door. I even had pants on, so I was at the door in a reasonable amount of time. As I opened the door the first thing I noticed was a man in a suit. Now, living in Utah has resulted with me opening my door to a number of door to door salesmen, or women, that always travel in pairs. And I’m always willing to debate, hypothesize, philosophize, or banter about the finer points of selling gods and/or defining personal opinion and belief as universal truth.
Yeah, it always ends with people agreeing to disagree, and really does nothing to help evolve anyone opinions on the matter, but at least it’s entertaining, and the salespeople get a chance to get out of the weather and sit down for a while to talk and enjoy a beverage.
So you can imagine my initial joy at the prospect of one of these pointless entertaining conversations when I first opened the door. Turns out this chap had a lady standing next to him, which is nice because it automatically lets you know which Christian club house these people are from. Then, as I began to open my door to invite these people in, I noticed something that stopped me mid swing and made me swallow down the “Won’t you come in.” sentence I was about to say.
It was their kid, a little three or four year old boy standing next to their parents. I pointed at the kid, and almost said, “Hey! That’s cheating.” Instead I paused for a minute, and poorly covered up what I wanted to say with, “Oh, um, well done? I mean congratulations.” The Jehovah’s Witness parents looked at each other and then back at me and the husband offered a half confused thanks.
Damn, nothing but awkward small talk at this point. I was about to say something else, but that little person staring up at me kept throwing off my game. The husband took the lead during this lull in conversation and handed me a flyer, inviting me to an event their church was having next week.
I wanted to tell them to either save it or if they needed to pass all those out before going home they could just put them all in my recycling and go home early and enjoy their afternoon, but again, there was that little kid.
So as a public service announcement, to any door to door sellers, sharers, or preachers everywhere, please do not take your small children with you when you go door to door. It’s playing dirty is what it is. It greatly inhibits the conversation, and profanity professionals, such as myself, are left unable to practice their trade, well, to the full extent of their ability that is.
Have any of you experience this type of situation before? Did you go ahead and continue the conversation or did the little person with them trip you up too?
Image Credits:
Google Images, keywords: red door, Jehovah’s Witness, door to door salesman, little boy in suit, mom with groceries 50s, and debating.
There are two things that always happen when I tell someone for the first time that I was born on January 1st. The first thing is the verbal exclamation, “Oh, you were a new year’s baby.” or some variation therein. However it is said, it always gets expressed to me that I am, in fact, a “New Year’s baby.”
Everyone seemed to agree, it was a great tradition to hold on to. Thus it was brought back so that the next year’s first baby of the new year would be bestowed with a bounty of gifts.
So do I believe it? My being born under a bad sign I mean. No, not at all. The truth is, well, my truth is, is that my grand entrance onto this planet got people talking and working together again. They reinstated a dead tradition that made a small town happy. And since my birth is has continued to make people happy, even after all these years. Yeah, I’m pretty bad ass. Besides, it makes a pretty good story, and a true story at that.
