While walking to work today, I was waved to a by a young man down a side street using a hose. I waved back. He waved more. "Nice day we're having," he called down the street to me. "Yup," I called. He waved some more. Wanting to end the waving, I gave him a solid "We're done here" thumbs up and kept walking. Thirty seconds later, from behind me, I hear him trying to get my attention the way one might hail a streetwalker in another country. I slowly turn around. He is running towards me. He repeats "Nice day we're having" about three times and I agree three times. Confused about his intentions and in a hurry, I start to walk away, but he is insistent we keep talking about the weather. He reaches out and shakes my hand (limply, like maybe he's trying to imitate something he's seen in a gangster rap video) and says his name is "J, or J, or Jarve. My friends call me J". Right. Shortening your name to your first initial. Very gangster indeed, sir. You've clearly read all the rules about how to impress a lady, including using a gardening implement to first get her attention. He asks me where I am going and I tell him "To work" and I turn to leave. I am about five paces away when he calls out, "Are you married?"


I have been trying to unload a bunch of stuff from the garage onto craigslist. For some reason, everyone I have been dealing with this past week has been a complete and utter flake. I've had really good luck in the past making deals on craigslist, so I was completely unprepared for the amount of people who just didn't show up when they said they'd show up. And I know, too, that the common feeling around craigslist is that, Hey, it's craigslist! It's not a binding agreement or anything! But, seriously, douchebags. Don't make me wait around on a gorgeous Sunday afternoon and then tell me, via text, of all things, fifteen minutes after you were supposed to show up, and after you've ALREADY NOT SHOWN UP TO OUR FIRST APPOINTMENT THAT DAY that you can't because of... you know what? I don't even give a flying fart why you're late. A heads-up would have been nice.


I dropped off a package at the post office this morning, and I got to thinking about a recent news report I heard about the USPS reporting close to a 5 BILLION dollar loss for the first half of 2011. And I thought to myself: am I hearing this right? 5 BILLION? As in, it should probably cost about $28.50 to mail a letter for the next seventeen years for the Post Office to break even? I'm not one of those Down With Big Government types. I support public safety nets and socialized medicine and all that other good stuff that makes me a baby-killing, job-hating liberal. But, seriously. The Post Office? Why don't we hand this over to the already existing, mostly-well functioning businesses that deliver packages around the world and say, "Here. You seem to have a grip on how to make this profitable. YOU do this." I mean, no offense to my lovely local mail carrier, but what the hell do we even need the post office for anymore anyway? You can do online nearly everything you can do at the actual post office. And there are tons of FedEx and UPS stores around the country for those times when you feel like standing in line for half an hour to find out you need just three more cents in postage to mail your letter. Why aren't the corporate giants fighting to buy the USPS like they did Skype or AOL? It's not like they would be eliminating EVERY job with the buyout. I mean, SOMEONE's got to deliver all those Publisher's Clearing House notices, credit card offers, and supermarket flyers, right?

I've been making quite a few cultural references lately that people even just a few years younger than me just don't get. I'm starting to sound like that weird uncle at family reunions that makes all the dumb jokes that just make people groan and roll their eyes. Only instead of groans, everyone just stares at me blankly and then goes back to checking their Facebook statuses on their phones. This became particularly obvious to me when a friend of mine wore a thrifted Ghostbusters shirt in front of her young student and the student commented, "Oh, I get it! No ghosts!" AAAGH, KID! It's not "No ghosts"! If it's anything, it's "I ain't 'fraid o' no ghosts"! Geez! I mean, it was only one of the most phenomenal movies of our young lives! Get it straight, kid! NOW GET OFF MY LAWN!

-Ironic mustaches
-Cupcakes as adult food

The End.


Lo - Maybe you can find a Gran Torino on Craig’s List. Got news for you - it only gets worse with age…but then, it becomes more entertaining than insufferable.-J