Old People the DMV and Pointless Conversation:
Thought for the Day:
We do not know what we want and yet we are responsible for what we are - that is the fact.
Jean-Paul Sartre French author & existentialist philosopher (1905 - 1980)
I spent the morning…
At the DMV. Need I say more? I went early, thinking to myself that I would beat the rush, oh dear reader I was sorely mistaken. How was I to know that IHOP had an early-bird AARP special, so every old person in the county was jacked up on coffee and sweet and low, thus thought it would be a good time to go to get their drivers licenses renewed.
I shit you not, there was a line of 30 people when I went in, and the average age was about 70. I just wanted a temporary handicapped parking permit, you know something easy. Silly, silly me. Now I must add at this point that there were a few girls there, and I mean girls, as in 16 year olds getting their license.
Now, I don’t know about you, but I will be damned if they were building girls like that when I was 16. Holly shit, and the crap they were wearing, it would make a stripper from the place over by the truck stop blush.
One girl was in there with her mom, I guess it was her mom because they were both wearing daisy dukes, had bad dye jobs and also had matching cute little butterfly tattoos on their ankles. What are parents thinking these days, if I am ever blessed with a daughter she will be sent off to convent school at the age of 7. Oh well, I digress.
I don’t know about you, but I always bring a book to any appointment. I helps me not come un-glued with the un-godly amount of waiting that I have to do, you notice these days for any appointment its like your waiting in a bread line in communist Russia? Plus how many times can you read True Life Adventure and Humor in Uniform from last years Reader Digest anyway?
Oh, and did you ever notice, that you can go to two appointments with two different doctors in two different offices and they will still have the same year old Readers Digest and a few Sports Illustrated from they early 80’s (How about those Bears). Not to mention the airplane magazines, like WTF, so many of us in the general public are private pilots.
Well, there I was at the DMV, with my brace, my air cast, and my ice water pump/pack, that allows me to hobble along on crutches without my knee swelling to the size of a human head within ten minutes. I sit down, and immediately notice that I am sitting next to the smelly guy, there is always one waiting in every DMV and I always happen to sit next to them.
You know what I am taking about, that over powering smell of poverty (dirty socks, sweat, cigarette smoke, grease, stale beer, and cat piss), I get it enough in my line of work, but to run into it sitting in a waiting room, shit.
I further more it always happens, once I was waiting with my beautiful and loving wife, and sat next to a malodorous person, she insisted we move which we did, and in no more than 10 minutes another even worse smelling person came and sat down next to me, I don’t know why, but there is always something worse about a woman who smells than a man, and this lady preceded to yell at the three rabid monkeys she brought with her that she called her children, oh, that was a fun one, her changing diapers while sitting next to me in a crowded waiting room.
So, anyway there I was sitting. It really doesn’t matter where I am at, people like to talk to me, I don’t know why, my family says its something I inherited from my grand father, he was one of those never met a stranger kind of guys, but it is kind of odd, people will make a bee line to come and talk to me, more often than not it will be the craziest person in the place to, its like I have an invisible sign on my forehead that says, “I have all of life’s answers, just come ask esp. if your fucking nuts”.
Now one thing about old people you all know is they like to talk, and a man on crutches with a back pack with hoses going out of it plugged into his leg is all the introduction they need, so dear reader form the next two and a half hours I sit there with a book in my hand that I could not read, telling about my surgery and knee transplant (ten minutes of the total 2 ½ hours wait) and listening to the old people tell about their surgeries and illnesses, to the point of showing me scars, lots of scars. Nothing like looking at a 75 year old woman’s scared knee first thing in the morning, or the wound an 80 year old man got in Normandy.
Needless to say, when I got called up, I found the doctor had not finished filling out my form, so I will have to call him, have him mail me a new one and go back to the purgatory of the DMV if I want to be able park in the front row. At this point I don’t know if it’s worth it.
AndThen...
After that, I went over to Occupational Health, because it was time for my annual TB and HIV/AIDS test for work (more of the joys of being a public servant). Now this place wasn’t full of old people, it was full of people who were there for drug tests and because they hurt their back on the job, at least that’s what I discerned from the conversations. There were people in there who were sweating bourbon, just the kind of guy you want running heavy equipment on your work site, or driving the kids school bus.
So, another easy one hour wait, I was even able to read a little of the book I brought with me (my current chewing gum for the mind is the crime stories of Michael Connelly, not to bad, he does keep you guessing, and he’s an easier read in noisy waiting rooms than Sartre or Ayn Rand).
Which takes me to now. I just got home, took my pain pills and elevated my knee, and am chilling out a bit. While I was gone the doctor called, to let me know they faxed my return to work stuff, with the don’t over do it speech plus called in more drugs, if if don’t end up some kind of pill junky I will be lucky.
A Passion Play for our Times:
An absolutely stunning 23 year old girl form Ohio wanted desperately wanted to be rich.....but she certainly didn't want to have to work.
She didn't like the thought of marrying a rich guy, because it would only put a damper on all her party action. After a lot of thought, she decided her best bet was to marry some really old rich guy so that her departure from the party scene would be brief.
After a good deal of searching, she set her sights on the richest hog farmer in the state of Indiana, who I might add was pushing 90 years of age.
After wooing the man with all she had, they were married. He took her to French Lick for the honeymoon, taking her to the fanciest suite in the best hotel in town. After getting to their rooms, the old man wandered into the bathroom. The girl draped herself in the sexiest teddy she had and stretched out on the bed thinking how after only one night, she was bound to be a very rich widow.
Presently the old man walked out of the bathroom sporting the most enormous erection (12 inches, and that was across) the girl had ever seen, and it was sheathed in a condom. The old man had wads of cotton stuffed in both ears and a clothespin on his nose, and an knowing smile on his face.
Jumping off the bed, the girl asked "Why the hell do you look like that?".....The old man chuckled and said "Sweet Pea', there are two things in this world that I just can't stand...
...the sound of a woman screaming and the smell of burning rubber".
I heard that one this morning in the waiting room at occupational health, I thought it was a cute.
Todays Bill:
I pray you bear me henceforth from the noise and rumour of the field, where I may think the remnant of my thoughts in peace, and part of this body and my soul with contemplation and devout desires.
William Shakespeare Greatest English dramatist & poet (1564 - 1616)
Quote of the Day:
That which you call your soul or spirit is your consciousness, and that which you call 'free will' is your mind's freedom to think or not, the only will you have, your only freedom, the choice that controls all the choices you make and determines your life and your character.
Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged US (Russian-born) novelist (1905 - 1982)
I remain, pretty with full pouty lips:
JQP esq.
We do not know what we want and yet we are responsible for what we are - that is the fact.
Jean-Paul Sartre French author & existentialist philosopher (1905 - 1980)
I spent the morning…
At the DMV. Need I say more? I went early, thinking to myself that I would beat the rush, oh dear reader I was sorely mistaken. How was I to know that IHOP had an early-bird AARP special, so every old person in the county was jacked up on coffee and sweet and low, thus thought it would be a good time to go to get their drivers licenses renewed.
I shit you not, there was a line of 30 people when I went in, and the average age was about 70. I just wanted a temporary handicapped parking permit, you know something easy. Silly, silly me. Now I must add at this point that there were a few girls there, and I mean girls, as in 16 year olds getting their license.
Now, I don’t know about you, but I will be damned if they were building girls like that when I was 16. Holly shit, and the crap they were wearing, it would make a stripper from the place over by the truck stop blush.
One girl was in there with her mom, I guess it was her mom because they were both wearing daisy dukes, had bad dye jobs and also had matching cute little butterfly tattoos on their ankles. What are parents thinking these days, if I am ever blessed with a daughter she will be sent off to convent school at the age of 7. Oh well, I digress.
I don’t know about you, but I always bring a book to any appointment. I helps me not come un-glued with the un-godly amount of waiting that I have to do, you notice these days for any appointment its like your waiting in a bread line in communist Russia? Plus how many times can you read True Life Adventure and Humor in Uniform from last years Reader Digest anyway?
Oh, and did you ever notice, that you can go to two appointments with two different doctors in two different offices and they will still have the same year old Readers Digest and a few Sports Illustrated from they early 80’s (How about those Bears). Not to mention the airplane magazines, like WTF, so many of us in the general public are private pilots.
Well, there I was at the DMV, with my brace, my air cast, and my ice water pump/pack, that allows me to hobble along on crutches without my knee swelling to the size of a human head within ten minutes. I sit down, and immediately notice that I am sitting next to the smelly guy, there is always one waiting in every DMV and I always happen to sit next to them.
You know what I am taking about, that over powering smell of poverty (dirty socks, sweat, cigarette smoke, grease, stale beer, and cat piss), I get it enough in my line of work, but to run into it sitting in a waiting room, shit.
I further more it always happens, once I was waiting with my beautiful and loving wife, and sat next to a malodorous person, she insisted we move which we did, and in no more than 10 minutes another even worse smelling person came and sat down next to me, I don’t know why, but there is always something worse about a woman who smells than a man, and this lady preceded to yell at the three rabid monkeys she brought with her that she called her children, oh, that was a fun one, her changing diapers while sitting next to me in a crowded waiting room.
So, anyway there I was sitting. It really doesn’t matter where I am at, people like to talk to me, I don’t know why, my family says its something I inherited from my grand father, he was one of those never met a stranger kind of guys, but it is kind of odd, people will make a bee line to come and talk to me, more often than not it will be the craziest person in the place to, its like I have an invisible sign on my forehead that says, “I have all of life’s answers, just come ask esp. if your fucking nuts”.
Now one thing about old people you all know is they like to talk, and a man on crutches with a back pack with hoses going out of it plugged into his leg is all the introduction they need, so dear reader form the next two and a half hours I sit there with a book in my hand that I could not read, telling about my surgery and knee transplant (ten minutes of the total 2 ½ hours wait) and listening to the old people tell about their surgeries and illnesses, to the point of showing me scars, lots of scars. Nothing like looking at a 75 year old woman’s scared knee first thing in the morning, or the wound an 80 year old man got in Normandy.
Needless to say, when I got called up, I found the doctor had not finished filling out my form, so I will have to call him, have him mail me a new one and go back to the purgatory of the DMV if I want to be able park in the front row. At this point I don’t know if it’s worth it.
AndThen...
After that, I went over to Occupational Health, because it was time for my annual TB and HIV/AIDS test for work (more of the joys of being a public servant). Now this place wasn’t full of old people, it was full of people who were there for drug tests and because they hurt their back on the job, at least that’s what I discerned from the conversations. There were people in there who were sweating bourbon, just the kind of guy you want running heavy equipment on your work site, or driving the kids school bus.
So, another easy one hour wait, I was even able to read a little of the book I brought with me (my current chewing gum for the mind is the crime stories of Michael Connelly, not to bad, he does keep you guessing, and he’s an easier read in noisy waiting rooms than Sartre or Ayn Rand).
Which takes me to now. I just got home, took my pain pills and elevated my knee, and am chilling out a bit. While I was gone the doctor called, to let me know they faxed my return to work stuff, with the don’t over do it speech plus called in more drugs, if if don’t end up some kind of pill junky I will be lucky.
A Passion Play for our Times:
An absolutely stunning 23 year old girl form Ohio wanted desperately wanted to be rich.....but she certainly didn't want to have to work.
She didn't like the thought of marrying a rich guy, because it would only put a damper on all her party action. After a lot of thought, she decided her best bet was to marry some really old rich guy so that her departure from the party scene would be brief.
After a good deal of searching, she set her sights on the richest hog farmer in the state of Indiana, who I might add was pushing 90 years of age.
After wooing the man with all she had, they were married. He took her to French Lick for the honeymoon, taking her to the fanciest suite in the best hotel in town. After getting to their rooms, the old man wandered into the bathroom. The girl draped herself in the sexiest teddy she had and stretched out on the bed thinking how after only one night, she was bound to be a very rich widow.
Presently the old man walked out of the bathroom sporting the most enormous erection (12 inches, and that was across) the girl had ever seen, and it was sheathed in a condom. The old man had wads of cotton stuffed in both ears and a clothespin on his nose, and an knowing smile on his face.
Jumping off the bed, the girl asked "Why the hell do you look like that?".....The old man chuckled and said "Sweet Pea', there are two things in this world that I just can't stand...
...the sound of a woman screaming and the smell of burning rubber".
I heard that one this morning in the waiting room at occupational health, I thought it was a cute.
Todays Bill:
I pray you bear me henceforth from the noise and rumour of the field, where I may think the remnant of my thoughts in peace, and part of this body and my soul with contemplation and devout desires.
William Shakespeare Greatest English dramatist & poet (1564 - 1616)
Quote of the Day:
That which you call your soul or spirit is your consciousness, and that which you call 'free will' is your mind's freedom to think or not, the only will you have, your only freedom, the choice that controls all the choices you make and determines your life and your character.
Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged US (Russian-born) novelist (1905 - 1982)
I remain, pretty with full pouty lips:
JQP esq.
posted by John Q. Public esq. at 10:12 AM
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