Hand Jive

So I’m driving to work the other day and some yokel on a motorcycle in front of me lifts up his left arm, bends it and just holds it in place…

Power to the People?

Heil Hitler??

What the fu…I’ll run you right off the road you asshead mother fu…

Oh…. it’s a hand signal.

My rage is somewhat dissipated and lost in the wonderment that anyone still uses hand signals these days as I continue to watch the arm show.

A little down the road, he sticks his left arm straight out….and just keeps it there.

Okay, either start the Fosse routine pal or shut the hell up.

Finally the turn is made.

Sheesh….all this anticipation for a measly left turn.

Imagine if he had to scratch his ass too?

Then comes the red light….

Waiting...waiting...

Nothing.

WTF?

Now I’m all disappointed that he’s not giving me full on jazz hands while waiting for the light to turn green.

Oh wait….here’s something….

His left hand is waving erratically…

Is he having a seizer or something? It’s been a while since I spoke this language.

I’m a little rusty.

Wow, look at that left hand go.

This guy’s a real hand talker.

Oh…wait...I get it now; he’s waving me to go ahead of him.

I might get to work on time yet.

So I roll up slowly ahead because I always have to see the person who causes me aggravation…It’s not enough that I get to pass him; I have to give them the evil eye first.

It’s in the Road-Rage hand book in case you didn’t know.

So I look over and what do I see?

The cutest little grandma wearing a Harley helmet!

Awwwww how cute, she’s driving motorcycle!!

The guy behind me beeps and screams for me to hurry the hell up.

I turn and give him the finger.

Take that Mr.Turd Signal!

Hey, this hand stuff really works!

I wonder why did we ever stopped?

(-:

Duck Trek

When I was about ten years old I heard the term bleeding heart. I didn’t know what it meant other than some possible bad medical condition that went far beyond my young comprehension level.

As I grew up, this phrase was tossed at me… a lot.

Why?

Because I’m like that girl on The New Star Trek TV series (which is now the old New Star Trek TV series) who felt and took on every swirling emotion around her.

I’ve always found it hard to read or listen to sad stories.

The sadness attaches itself and becomes part of me and I can do nothing to stop it.

No amounts of ‘Just let it go’s’ can chase them away until my brain says uncle and gratefully releases the images.

I’m genetically and un-futuristically flawed.

Sue me.

I can remember every bad thing I’ve ever heard on the news and think of them years later when, clearly, they should have been erased by all the daily crap that goes on in my life.

You’d think anyway.

I don’t read the news and I stay away from child horror stories. Those suffocate me the worst.

As you know, most of the time, I can stamp out these images with laughter. Laughter at me, laughter with me…laughter at you…whatever it takes.

It is the best and only way….

For me anyway.

This week, my whole heart went out to a fellow blogger.

This week, I think we all wore her sadness.

And although I do a really good job in keeping my well-worn, emotional cape deep in the coat-check, sometimes it emerges all on its’ own.

Damn lazy Attendants.

Can’t help it. It’s as much a part of my own personal makeup as the laughter.

Daffy, I hope draping some of my random thoughts over your strong shoulders and deep sadness warms you just a little.

We all have you in our hearts.

Depends Anyone?

So here’s what I learned while on vacation:

The world is broken down into two distinctive groups of people:

Oh, how fun!

And

What damned idiot thought of that crap?

I clearly fall into the latter group as I watch an electric roller coaster car vertically shuttle a brave group of well insured fear factor maniacs high enough to see all of their individual Gods.

And can someone please tell me why are there soooo many Gods and only one devil anyway?

I mean, what if they had to choose up teams for a baseball game or something?

“Okay” Jehovah shouts “I’ll take Allah, Buddha and Jesus. Christ, hurry up will ya, I have to watch my people go knocking on doors”

Devil gives them all the evil eye and Team God captain shouts,

“Well, looks like it’s just you against us again Devil.”

“Hell, I ain’t worried; you guys are all scared to death of me anyway. All I have to do is throw one fire fastball and you preaching pansy asses will go running like bitches under Mother Nature’s skirt”

Way off track.

Sorry.

But I do worry about these things.

Anyway, back up in crap-your-pants-land… you can feel their heartbeats thrumming with fright and anticipation as each drawled out clack clack clack gets higher and higher to the peak of their imminent doom.

OHMYGODS are murmured throughout the crowd of craned necked-onlookers as they silently thank their own higher ups that their feet are firmly planted on concrete and not in some rising death trap.

And then it comes, the well awaited fiercely, dramatic coaster downfall back to earth.

Yeah, you won’t ever catch me on that line.

The other thing I learned while on vacation?

….I am THE biggest white cracker chicken ass you will ever wanna meet.

How about you? Are you a daredevil?

Blog TV

“So how do you know these blog people are real?” my girlfriend asks while flipping the TV channels.

“Real as in how? Like breathing real or word verification real?”

“What if they are lying?”

“Lying about what?”

“What if it’s a trap? You know like an internet scam.”

Mmmmkay. I’m sure every blogger out there wants my three dollars in the bank.

“There’s really no need to lie on a blog. That kind of defeats the whole purpose. They wouldn’t do that.”

“You’re talking about these people like they are real. What’s the matter with you?”

Other than the usual?

“They are real and they are friends.”

“I think you are getting a little carried away with this whole thing. You don’t know who you’re dealing with out there and it could be dangerous”

Is this the same girl who went back with a cheating boyfriend three times? What’s more dangerous than catching crabs?

“There’s really nothing to worry about but I’ll be careful. Don’t worry”

We both turned to look at the television determined to leave it at that.

A few seconds pass.

“Soooo….” She whispers while looking down and toying with the remote “Do they think you’re like…normal?”

“Hell No!” I laugh.

She giggled “And they still come visit you huh?”

“Yup. Just like you pal…just like you”

A good friend that blog-non-understander-hater. (-:

Out Of The Closet

“Hi, I’m Red” the still price-tagged shirt announced after adjusting herself on her hanger “I’m new!”

“Heyhowyadoinhowareya” the faded black shirt hung limply on her hanger and grumbled.

“What’s the matter with her?” Red asked.

Slightly-stained-but-nobody-ever-notices-white shirt looked over and said “Aw, don’t mind her, she’s just mad because she’s tired of being worn every other day”.

Red puffed up importantly and replied “Well, no need to worry, I’m here now”.

“Don’t get to cocky there Red” a pair of faded blue tie died jeans called out from the lower rung “I’ve been here since the eighties and haven’t seen the light of day in years.”

“I’m too young to remember the eighties” Red answered “Didn’t you guys have more flair back then?”

“No that was me” A retro pair of slacks from the seventies piped up.

“Shhhhhh…here she comes, here she comes” they all whispered.

The closet door opened and they all watched with multi fabric anticipation as she stood perfectly still, eyes darting left then right then left again…

She reaches for the red shirt then changes her mind.

Her hand jumps back to the hanger and stays on it for another second in mid-decision then quickly hooks it back in place.

A swift arm decidedly pulls Black shirt off the hanger and the closet door is closed once again until tomorrow.

“What the hell? But I’m NEW!” Red shouts indignantly.

“You may be new sweetheart but you’re not black.” Blue 1991 velvet Christmas shirt enlightens “You were just an impulse buy like the rest of us”.

“I want to go back! Take me back to the store this instant!” Red demanded.

And the next day, that is exactly where she went (-:

Anybody else have their finger on the impulse button?

Blogroom Eyes

“We should have sex,” I announce to my husband throwing my unpacked bags on the bed.

“What? Are you crazy? we just got back from vacation. I’m tired.”

“I just feel like we didn’t fulfill our vacation sex quota. I need more to look back on. Come on, we have a few hours left before it’s back to prison.”

“I thought I was already back in prison”

“What?”

“Um….your hair has highlights like a …prism?”

“Yeah right, I thought so. Sex requires effort you know”

“So what say you take your effort and go make me something to eat and we’ll call it even….hey, where are you going? I thought you wanted to have vacation quota sex?”

“Never mind, I’m gonna catch up with my friends online….you can have it by yourself”

Vacation officially ovah yo!

(-:

And was it so wrong that I was mentally huffing and puffing to get back to you guys?

Oh, and can someone kindly remind me next time that going cold blog turkey can have some side effects?