My 50th post on this particular blog stems from a phone conversation I had yesterday afternoon about tattoos. It was suggested that I get a tattoo of something happy, like a flower, on my bum. I reasoned against it.
Let's say, for instance, I go running with the bulls in Spain. This seems like the sort of thing I'd do if ever I get back in shape. Inevitably, I'd probably get gored in the hindquarters and have to go to a doctor to get stitched up. I don't want a flower out there flapping in the breeze for some Spanish doctor I don't know.
He'd be like, "What is this flower on your butt for?" and I'd have no idea what he was talking about, because he'd be speaking proper Spanish.
This is why I would not get a tattoo of a flower on my bum. The end.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Derecho a la iglesia
Let me pose this to you:
Last night was dead at work. I took four calls in 7.5 hours. Then, I was allowed to leave an hour early. I had to wait for Gabi to come get me so we could play a little dominoes as I always do on Tuesday night. Gabi was in town for reasons that shall currently remain anonymous, but they were reasons nonetheless.
I sat for a few minutes at work until I realize I'd be sitting for quite a while. It takes about 25 minutes to drive the 5 miles from home to work in Boston. So, I decided to walk to South Station, where I normally catch the train, waiting there instead. A cabbie or two thought I might be a fare and gave me a honk and a wave and a question. I stepped back from the road.
Another man might also have seen a fare. I'm not sure exactly what he saw. He spoke fewer words of English than I did of Spanish, so amid the fumbling over language he communicated to me that he wanted to find a church, or someplace else he could sleep with his wife and child for the night. Just for tonight, on the way to somewhere else in Massachusetts. A pretty legit story since people around these parts generally don't think of sleeping at a church overnight, also because South Station is where the trains and buses come into Boston from all over.
I pointed him toward the nearest church I knew, no telling what they might do for him there since it's more likely to find a 24-hour consumer shoppe full of goods than it is to find a church with its doors open. Funny how the face of God in society is full of fear at night while the face of money is not.
Lastly, of course, he asked for some dinero por la comida. I had some cash in my wallet, but not much. I gave him 5 of my 8 ones. Even if it turns out he's just some scam artist, I got to practice my fledgling Spanish with a real live native speaker and it worked. For that, I'd pay $5. A lot of you have probably paid more than that in school taxes or tuition, or your parents have, for some b.s. lessons that didn't get you anywhere. If he was telling the truth, then a divine appointment led me to get a ride and leave early and make the decision to stand on that street corner to be a blessing, and for that I'd give everything. I think the $5 was a fair compromise. I would have missed out one way or another if I just ignored the guy.
It's how I do everything. Life is better that way.
Last night was dead at work. I took four calls in 7.5 hours. Then, I was allowed to leave an hour early. I had to wait for Gabi to come get me so we could play a little dominoes as I always do on Tuesday night. Gabi was in town for reasons that shall currently remain anonymous, but they were reasons nonetheless.
I sat for a few minutes at work until I realize I'd be sitting for quite a while. It takes about 25 minutes to drive the 5 miles from home to work in Boston. So, I decided to walk to South Station, where I normally catch the train, waiting there instead. A cabbie or two thought I might be a fare and gave me a honk and a wave and a question. I stepped back from the road.
Another man might also have seen a fare. I'm not sure exactly what he saw. He spoke fewer words of English than I did of Spanish, so amid the fumbling over language he communicated to me that he wanted to find a church, or someplace else he could sleep with his wife and child for the night. Just for tonight, on the way to somewhere else in Massachusetts. A pretty legit story since people around these parts generally don't think of sleeping at a church overnight, also because South Station is where the trains and buses come into Boston from all over.
I pointed him toward the nearest church I knew, no telling what they might do for him there since it's more likely to find a 24-hour consumer shoppe full of goods than it is to find a church with its doors open. Funny how the face of God in society is full of fear at night while the face of money is not.
Lastly, of course, he asked for some dinero por la comida. I had some cash in my wallet, but not much. I gave him 5 of my 8 ones. Even if it turns out he's just some scam artist, I got to practice my fledgling Spanish with a real live native speaker and it worked. For that, I'd pay $5. A lot of you have probably paid more than that in school taxes or tuition, or your parents have, for some b.s. lessons that didn't get you anywhere. If he was telling the truth, then a divine appointment led me to get a ride and leave early and make the decision to stand on that street corner to be a blessing, and for that I'd give everything. I think the $5 was a fair compromise. I would have missed out one way or another if I just ignored the guy.
It's how I do everything. Life is better that way.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Boycott! Protest! Yahtzee!
Hillary Clinton is now calling on George Bush not to show up at the Olympics in China. Barack Obama is "conflicted" about whether we should participate. This relates to Chinese involvement, or lack thereof, in Tibet and Darfur. Cool.
Here's one for you: We should then also boycott ourselves for failing to give the money we said we would to the Millennium Development Goals for third-world countries.
Do you know we once boycotted Rochefort cheese in France because of their policies toward Iraq or some other Middle Eastern country? Let me make this abundantly clear: WE SHOULD NEVER BOYCOTT CHEESE. Heck, we ought to start a new world organization called boycott-of-the-month club, where the only requisite is that members agree to be boycotted by other members.
We even have people who are organizing against Comcast Digital Cable for some sort of unfair practices. Comcast? Really? Power to the people over the idiot box?
Can we please get out of college at some point, dearies?
Here's one for you: We should then also boycott ourselves for failing to give the money we said we would to the Millennium Development Goals for third-world countries.
Do you know we once boycotted Rochefort cheese in France because of their policies toward Iraq or some other Middle Eastern country? Let me make this abundantly clear: WE SHOULD NEVER BOYCOTT CHEESE. Heck, we ought to start a new world organization called boycott-of-the-month club, where the only requisite is that members agree to be boycotted by other members.
We even have people who are organizing against Comcast Digital Cable for some sort of unfair practices. Comcast? Really? Power to the people over the idiot box?
Can we please get out of college at some point, dearies?
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