My favorite words for how they sound:
Favorite Fruits in Order
Favorite Smells
Favorite Memories
I read this question on another blog today and it got me thinking about all the silly conversations I used to have concerning my good fortune to win the lottery. First, to me anything above a 3 million dollar jackpot is more than enough money. With that you can invest and start to earn serious interest.
But what would I do? The classic answer used to be to roll in 100’s while I was covered in honey!
Now … , no, wouldn’t do that. My daughter eats a lot of honey-buns or “cake” as she calls it. I have learned I don’t like sweet sticky on me let alone all over me.
There are lots of wild outrageous things people would do. It’s almost like their dirty little secret. Why is that? I believe we all hide some strange exotic little desire in us. Don’t get me wrong, we all have something that is just a bit off center, but not harmful or evil or immoral, just a little eccentric.
So what would I do …. ?
One lady, Erin I believe her name is, would have a new pair of socks every day. Not bad! I hate sorting socks in the laundry. Ughhhh! It’s the worst to me. The greatest thing to ever happen is colored athletic socks! I love my grey Starter ankle socks! Cool yet cushiony.
Hmmm, something eccentric to do with loads of money …. ?
Maybe I would buy a diamond vision for my old alma matters? Ya, I’de do that. Can you imagine San Jacinot Jr. High with a JumboTron? Awesome.
Then I would totally make the playground of my elementary school a cool place to play. Lots of trees and grass. When I was there it was a dirt field with lots of little white rocks called caleche. It hurt to fall. I would put lots of grass and trees and landscape it very well. Ya, that’s on the list too.
Then I would go pour congnac all over my body and dance in the moonlight! LOL Ok, maybe not, congnac is sticky.
Jef
Poor Terri Schiavo. Forgotten in the midst of this wrangling. I’m deeply saddened by her plight.
I have a real problem with what is going on around this story that a lot of people are not touching on or answering to my satisfaction.
So many thoughts on this that are so difficult to put my hands around until I remember one important point. What is right and what is wrong? It then becomes very clear.
I think this all disturbs me because I have a daughter. When I see her toddle down the hallway toward me I can hardly choke back the tears when I think of some other man making a decision that Mr. Schiavo made. I would not be as kind as Terri’s dear parents. They are obviously saints.
We are doomed to repeat history if we do not learn from it. We should learn that if we slowly take away and stop defending the right to life, it will soon be taken away from us. And then where will it end. What is your standard?
All the Death Mongers need to consider this. If life doesn’t start at birth then when does it? If their hearts stop beating, do they want me to call an ambulance? Because I can tell the paramedic that they aren’t alive. The Death Monger’s argument is that just because your heart is beating, that doesn’t mean you are alive.
We as a society have forgotten to respect life and we are going to sorely regret it.
Jef
find it so odd that today’s corporations further the caste system. If you work for a medium to large company (1000+ employees) you find examples of this from the bottom of the parking garage to the top floor.
Start with the top floor. That’s usually where you will find some of the most gregarious examples. I recently took a tour of a local corporations offices. The top floor was the “Executive Suite”. There were 8 offices – all for VP level and up – on the top floor. If you do the math you will notice that 8 is double the number of corners on the building thus everyone gets a corner office! How posh. As a contrast, I have a 4×4 cube. Scott Peterson’s cell is a comfy 40 square feet (5×8). In this case Mr. Peterson’s death row cell is equivalent to my supervisor’s oatmeal colored cubicle.
On the top floor I also noticed there were no Men/Women restroom facilities. Just doors with locks labeled “lavatory”. In other words, private restrooms for assistants. Officers have their own facilities. Need I add fixtures were brushed nickel and hard wood was all around. Looked better than the “facilities” in my cookie cutter home.
“We must keep expenses down!”. Is the mantra often spouted at every corporation. In response, I say, “Ok, let’s use more of that square footage on the top floor more productively.” I’ve heard Ben & Jerry’s actually puts this stuff in practice by limiting salary ranges from bottom to top by allowing bottom salaries to be no less than X% of the top salary. Good for you Chunky Monkeys!
Our final stop is at the parking garage level. Executives have their own section cordoned off with cinder blocks and a card-key pass system. I wonder if that makes it easier for disgruntled employees to corner and shoot their higher ups! Of course, I’m only joking about the cornering and shooting, but not about the separate section.
Microsoft has no separate parking. First come, first server and the one parked up front has been there longest. Way to go MS!
Membership I guess does have it’s privileges, but like the NFL, I believe there should be some parity.
Jef
Yes, I have done this before. Although the last time I did create a blog the United States was a much less secure place to run around. I guess that dates me to blogging before 9/11. I ranted and raved about silly things mostly for my own amusement. But what doesn’t seem silly after some time.
And so I continue …
Ever notice how as you get older, the music when you shop gets better? I have. It was abruptly brought to my attention when I recently spoke with a teenage checkout clerk at the local grocery bazaare ( or maybe I should say bizzaro! ). Her comment was something like, “This music is so old and stupid.” It happened to be one of my less than favorite songs, but I felt the need, not just the urge, to defend an icon of my generation, even if it hadn’t stayed on the male 1-35 charts more than 4 weeks.
The incident reminded me of a few things. One, I’m getting older and turning into my parents and two, I must have more disposable income than I once thought. Irritated at this … hmmm … looking for a word that starts with a “ch” to describe this girl … anyway I was irritated. How dare she insult stuff I like! But she did and that’s that. I felt like part of my life was being insulted. It wasn’t like I could say, “Here I am in 1988 listening to P-Diddy!” It just wasn’t there. And so I came full circle empathizing with all parents whose kids have insulted their generations music.
Point two was this, I’m reaching that demographic that has disposable income. It’s great to have everyone market to you. I plan on enjoying it while I can. One day I will be old and have to have someone who will recall being “back in the day or 2020” changing my diaper. Hopefully, my disposable income will last long enough that I can afford a descent place to go and pass on. I really hope my children don’t put me in a smelly retirement home. I’ll build my own bungalow and pass silently.
Boy, this has gotten dark hasn’t it. Next time I’ll write about more cheery things.
Jef
Edge Of The Blade 