My worst roommate (and I’ve had some bad ones) was on my semester at Tel-Aviv University. It started on the group flight there, with this obnoxious surfer looking guy who was seated next to me (I was on an aisle, he was in the middle). On the ten hour flight, he had me put something in or take something out of the overhead for him at least fifteen or twenty times. He just wouldn’t leave me alone, and was constantly begging me to change seats with him, and grab a pen, and put this card in his bag… When we got to the dorms and had our orientation meeting, it turned out that I was in the same apartment as him, though thank god not the same room (each apt was 2 double rooms with a common kitchen and bath).

This guy was unreal. He was a bleach-blond surfer, rowed crew, was well over 6′ and very muscular (I’m 5′7″ and thin), and just a total jerk. He constantly ate the food belonging to the rest of us, claiming that he had no money, nevermind the $100 packages full of crap he’d send back to his girlfriend in CA. After two weeks or so of his constantly disrespecting the other three of us, things got a bit tense. The first turning point was when he used an entire pack of my roommate’s razors to shave part of his head, and from then on he seemed to be in ever-lessening contact with reality.

About a month into his stay, he decided to adopt a stray dog that he found near the beach while surfing. This, of course, couldn’t happen, because you can’t have dogs in the dorms, and the rest of us weren’t too keen on having a stray dog around. Jason, the psycho, completely lost it when he was told he couldn’t keep the dog (”if he goes, I go, because he’s the only one who understands me”). He got right in my face and threatened to kill me if I turned him in (remember our size and strength disparities…), since I was the only one who was home when he came charging in with this poor mutt. Later that day, after the security guards and the program people told him the dog had to go, he took off, and wasn’t heard from for a couple of days.

A few days later, he showed up and was hanging out in a room down the hall, when someone called security, as we had been instructed to do should he return. From what I’m told of the incident, he went out onto the balcony (4th floor) and threatened to jump when the police arrived on the scene. After a tense confrontation, they charged him and were able to subdue him after he punched at least one officer. He was then carried - literally kicking and screaming - off the University’s property and was taken into custody. He spent about a month or so in a mental facility in Israel before he was deported back to America.

When my roommate got back to the apartment, he discovered that Jason had left us a final message. Using a razor, he had cut open his finger and painted a message in his own blood on our bathroom mirror (”you all lied to me, blah, blah, blah”), then tied the bloody razor to a rose and left it on the kitchen table.

Now that is a roommate from hell.

About the Author

Since 1989 i have helped 1000’s of people find good rooms or roommates. Need help? Contact me at www.roommateexpress.com

The downstairs classrooms of my Catholic grade school were each painted a different color. All the walls were the same uneven stucco, a bump here or there calling out to me to run my hand over them. Sometimes in the rush to line up for morning prayers, an overzealous classmate would push me into the wall and a sharp stucco glob would jab me in the arm. The classrooms of the lower grades downstairs were each painted a primary color. The first grade classroom was the garish yellow of yield signs. The second grade room was a flat tomato red, and so on. Upstairs, where the upper grades were located, the walls were painted in soft pastels, the colors of babies rooms long forgotten.

I suppose the point was to stimulate your thoughts in the low grades, and calm you down when you reached adolescence. I was in fourth grade, one year away from that prized, magical transformation everyone thought happened the minute you set foot in the upper floor classrooms. The kids that had been downstairs with us the year earlier were now admired from afar because they became part of the “upper floor.” Last year, we played on the playground with them, sat together during mass, traded brown bag lunch items, gagged together over the snot-like tendencies of the cafeteria’s turkey gravy. But now, now they were the mythical dwellers of the second floor. They seemed surrounded by a glowing aura of maturity. How I longed to be one of them.

This was my second school year at St. Agnes. I was not Catholic, nor was any of my family. But my mother, disgusted with the state of the public system after my former elementary was decorated with used maxi pads, wrote a borderline bad-check for the first year of tuition, and plopped me down into these halls dedicated to Mary, Mother of God. I had cried for two weeks straight upon arriving. My plaid uniform was strange and itchy. I was mesmerized by the single thread of neon green that ran through the otherwise somber grey plaid. All the others kids in this school seemed to start each day with a heartfelt Our Father and Apostle’s Creed. I had no idea what they were talking about. Unaware of my two- grade higher reading level, the nun who was my teacher put me in the slow reader’s corner. This nun, when reading, pronounced the letter “a” sound in a word like “ah”, as in “Jack had ah ball.

At my old school, it was pronounced with a long sound, like “ay.” I burst into tears at my frustration over the two, and my mother was called into school for a meeting. She was called again when the nuns became unhappy about my slanted handwriting and the messy state of my cubbyhole desk. How in the world was I supposed to fit thick spelling, math, handwriting, and religion books into that little desk, anyway? My mother didn’t show for that meeting, sending a note with me instead informing the nuns of the migraine that prevented her from attending. The nuns sort of gave up on me after that.

I was always last in line as the classes queued up for Wednesday and Friday mass. We were required to line up with partners. I was consistently paired up with the only other non-Catholic in the class. Her name was Ling and she was a refugee from Cambodia. The church had taken in her family. When she and her family first came, our school held a clothing drive because Ling’s family had left Cambodia with just the clothes on their backs. Ling did not speak a word of English, and I was sure she was the only one beside me who had no idea who Art was and why he was with Our Father in Heaven.

During my first years at St. Agnes’, girls were required to cover their heads upon entering church. Some girls had lacy mantillas to wear, delicate head-doilies with bobby pins clipping it tight to their head. One girl had an antique mantilla that had been her grandmother’s when she attended St. Agnes. The girl’s name was Roberta, but everyone called her Robbie, the ultimate cool nickname. She was always picked to play Mary during the Christmas play. Her hair was long and cascaded over her shoulders under her head covering. My hair had been that long, until last year when my mother cut it off in her frustration at my lack of hair brushing diligence. My hair was now short, and my mother was always forgetting to give me back the one mantilla I had after she washed it. Sometimes when I forgot, the teacher would let me stay behind in the classroom while the others went to mass.

But my third grade teacher, appropriately named Mrs. Hunn, found it her personal duty to fill up the pews of St. Agnes with as many young minds as possible. Mrs. Hunn was small and dusty, but she was strong through the Lord, she liked to say. The two times I forgot my head covering, she made me use a Kleenex. I had to stand at the front of the class while she unfolded it and tried to make it stay on my head. It kept slipping off, so she doubled up scotch tape and stuck it to the Kleenex, then stuck it to my hair. Once she accidentally put her finger through the Kleenex and made a big hole. So, not only did I have a Kleenex on my head, but the Kleenex had a big hole, which, to me, is not really covering my head, so what’s the point?

The uniforms for St. Agnes were so thick and hard, I longed for the comfort of a burlap sack. In the hot summertime, these uniforms of boiled wool would stand on their own, regardless of having a body inside. Up until fifth grade, girls were required to wear a pinafore jumper skirt, which had a chest flap to cover up the idea of any boob potential. In fifth grade, the pinafore was shed and girls wore just a skirt and blouse. Boob potential became more a reality after fifth grade, so I never did understand the point of taking off the pinafore. The standard issue blue uniform blouses had a rounded collar and were consistently paper- thin. Repeated washings made them even more so, so by the end of the school year, girls were going around practically topless. But, in the name of modesty preservation, girls were required to wear thick white socks pulled to the knee. The only outlet for creativity was shoes. The kids expressed themselves through colored Converse high tops, or Nikes with bright swooshes.

One year, the rage was bright white Nikes with a blazing red stripe. I wanted a pair so bad. I begged for them for three months, and finally my dad took me to the store to get some. But they were sold out. Instead, he bought me a pair of cheap white canvas shoes and a red magic marker, and told me to be creative.

One year, the fashion rage was to put metal taps on the soles of your winter boots. The taps made a delicious clicking sound on the cold, waxed stone floors of St. Agnes, and during lunchtime it sounded like a symphony of percussion ringing through the halls. In our class, Robbie was the first to get taps, and the rest of us quickly followed suit. My dad tried to just stick RC Cola bottle caps into the rubber soles of my shoes, but they kept falling out at the least opportune moments. After much begging and pleading, he finally took my shoes downtown to the shoe store and had them put on real taps.

That was the same year I had Sister Mary Margaret for my homeroom teacher. She was an old nun and still wore a wimple. Sometimes you could see her hair and it was gray and stringy. She looked a lot like the Wicked Witch in the Wizard of Oz. Sister Mary Margaret was not a mean teacher, but you could tell she had been around since the first Pope John Paul. It was always considered lucky to get Sister Mary Margaret for a teacher, though, because Sister Mary Margaret had narcolepsy. She would doze off at the drop of a hat, and would sleep for a good fifteen minutes at a time. The school principal, Sister Catherine Patience, told us that we were to simply continue with our lesson until Sister Mary Margaret wakes up, or, if that were not possible, we were to get out our rosaries and have Robbie the beautiful and perfect lead the class in a round of Hail Marys.

One beautiful spring day, just as Sister Mary Margaret was starting a lesson in prepositions, her head dropped to her desk, and the snoring began. It was her longest nap yet, and the classroom became restless. When it became evident Sister Mary Margaret might be out for a while, kids got up from their desks and milled around, visiting one another. One of the most popular boys in our grade, Matt Thompson, decided to sneak along the floor under Robbie’s desk and get a peek up her uniform skirt. He was under her desk, gesturing wildly to his friends, when Robbie reacted. Her shoe, with its metal tap attached, swung up and caught Matt square on the mouth. The metal tap became lodged in his lip. He was frantically trying to get it dislodged, but Robbie thought he was only being obscene. She screamed and jerked her foot away as hard as she could, taking Matt’s upper lip with it. Blood squirted in a high arc over the room and sprayed a red mist over Sister Mary Margaret’s white wimple. Kids were yelling, Robbie was crying, and Matt lay gasping in a heap on the floor, both hands covering his massacred mouth. Sister Mary Margaret awoke with a start, surveyed the scene of blood and panic laid out before her, and promptly passed out.

For the rest of that school year, the tap and mouth incident was all anyone could talk about. It was rumored that Robbie’s parents threatened to sue Matt’s parents, and then Matt’s parents sued Robbie’s family for medical expenses. I think it would have been a great ending to the story of Matt and Robbie and the tap and the lip if they had grown up and gotten married. What a story to tell the grandkids. But I have no idea what happened to Matt and Robbie, or any one else at St. Agnes’. The following school year, my mother, disgusted with the state of Catholic schools, plopped me right back into the public school system. I never wore a uniform again.

I visited a Catholic school a few years ago when I was looking into schools for my own children. Driven, just like my mother twenty-years ago, by the sad state of the local public school. I was surprised to learn that now only one in ten families there are actually Catholic. No one covered their head during mass. Some people even wore jeans. As I kneeled down, the kneelers were cushioned and thick, unlike my brief Catholic school days when the kneelers were solid wood and extra splintery. The kids were still in uniform, but they wore navy pants and white button down shirts. I laughed to look down and notice their bright colored Converse sneakers. No taps, though. Those were probably outlawed.

It is amazing how the smell of a Catholic church never changes, no matter where you are in the world. The thick smells of incense, wax, and age. I decided to stay for the entire mass. Nothing had changed in all those years. I still looked on while the parishioners filed before me and headed to the altar to receive Holy Communion. I felt both peace and nervousness of being somewhere where I don’t belong. At first I mouthed along during the Apostle’s Creed, and then I realized that I still remembered all the words.

Copyright 2006 Carla Philpot
Editor and Guest Author for:
http://www.respectfully-pattipacifico.com

At fifty years old I felt great. The legs could do twenty miles on a bike, I could photograph four weddings on a weekend and still build a patio the next
day. Only one thing on my body was wearing out at a fast clip and that was my teeth. As I sat meekly in the dentist’s torture chair, he casually hiked his butt on the desk and gave me a choice. I could keep him filling the cavities one at a time or I could have them all pulled and get an upper.

“All?”, I squeaked. I still had fourteen teeth left in my upper jaw and I cringed at the thought of only one extraction, much less fourteen at once. He explained that it would all be done under the deadening effects of Novocain and I wouldn’t feel a thing. I would have to hide in the house only two days and the denture would be fitted immediately upon arrival. I mulled it over for two minutes and thinking that it would be great to be able to take out my teeth and scrub them up judiciously every night won me over. I said, “O.K. I’ll go for the package.

But on sale, the package was not. A specialist oral surgeon was required at a cost of three weeks salary. No wonder he had dozens of underwater photographs expensively displayed in his waiting room. Trips to Bermuda cost big bucks. I won’t go into the gory details, but one hour later, I saw in the mirror a hundred year old man, gumming his words and drooling on the floor.

Three days later, I entered our kitchen to a sympathetic wife, asking how I made out and giving me the “Let’s see your smile” bit. I grinned, she said, “Great”, and I asked, “Did you see the pflyers I made for the bulletin board?”

She said, “Pliers? I didn’t see any pliers” I said a little louder, “You know, the pfliers from Pfoodtown.”

At this point, she understood my problem and started to laugh. My new dentures didn’t quite fit properly and I couldn’t pronounce my “f’s” properly. At first I was embarrassed, but then we both had a big laugh. We laughed so hard, my stomach hurt and my eyes teared up. It’s never easy growing old.

Retired portrait photograper. What did you say?

Copyright The Quipping Queen 2005.

IT’S NUTTY NOVEMBER!

Or, in other words, “National Nudnik Month”!

Compiled by Lady Beatrice Blitterlees and edited by Lord Earl Craboon

November is the 11th month of the calendar year, so what else is new?

Well for one thing this month features a good many things for knuckleheads, ninny-hammers, and nudniks to engage in since their attention spans are usually shorter than the bat of an eye or a flash in the pan.

They can all take heart from the fact that this month is full of merry-making for morose mavens and munchkins…after all it’s only one month away from the biggest gift-giving gala of the year!

So without further adieu, here’s what’s in store for you to do to celebrate odd occasions and weird events this month.

November 1 - National Who’s Been Eating My Porridge Day (For Goldilocks and the three bear types who can’t get their fill of cream of wheat, oatmeal or bran man!)

November 2 - Are you sure that’s the Road to San Jose Day? (In honor of all those who despise analogue devices such as maps, and would rather use their handy-dandy new digital high-flying GPS gizmo that fits in your pocket, talks, and comes in 45 colors!)

November 3 - National Grin & Bare It Day (Everyone needs a lack practice in the art of stoicism and steadfastness …after all “suck it up” is better than “spit it out”!)

November 4 - Scorpio Awareness Day (Time to spot those fixed water signs who rule the world of magical matters like taboos and voodoo…you know the intractable, inscrutable, impenetrable secretive souls who have things good things going for them… they have magnetic personalities, are unshockable, and understand failure…yee haw!)

November 5 - Guy Fawkes Day (The second time this year you can officially light firecrackers under the seat of any nosey nemesis or naughty nudnik naturally).

November 6 - One Toy That Should Never Have Been Invented Day (Okay now it’s time to figure out what tawdry toy you’ve encountered sometime during your stay on planet earth should quite frankly never have seen the light of day).

November 7 - Worst Workplace Décor Day (Time to nominate someone for this prestigious award in your office - prize a weekend pass to the nearest petting zoo for some pointers from a bunch of beasts that probably couldn’t care less!)

November 8 - National Tom Thumb Day (So if you were six inches tall for a day, exactly what would you do besides twiddling your thumbs for twenty-four hours?)

November 9 - National Animal Crackers Day (A pleasant alternative to “Girl Guide Cookies” …but everyone must also share the name of the animal with whom they would share the rest of their life with if that’s the way the cookie crumbled!)

November 10 - National Ho-Hum Body Part Day (For those who haven’t a clue what biology’s all about but can tell you all about the least erotic part of the human body!)

November 11 - Thirteenth Month of the Year Day (Time-starved individuals should use their imagination to come up with a name for the thirteenth month, not to mention where it’s supposed to be inserted in the present calendar if you please!)

November 12 - National Pick Your Favorite Movie Prop Day (Is it the Wizard of Oz’s wig, a seagull from “The Birds”, a shower-stall from an Anthony Perkins thriller?)

November 13 - Gift of Magic Day (Okay you’ve got the gorgeous-looking genie in a bottle…and he/she pops out and grants you three wishes…what are they and why?)

November 14 - Nicest Compliment You’ve Ever Received Day (It’s one of those rare occasions, but check your memory bank and figure out the nicest compliment you’ve ever received in your entire life…that you don’t mind sharing with the rest of humanity).

November 15 - License Plate Appreciation Day (The government has just informed you that you could have your license plate say anything at all…what would it be?)

November 16 - Rename Your Family Day (To meet the growing demand folks who want a new lease on life…it’s now time to rename each family member…good luck!)

November 17 - Dig That Derriere Day (Forget the botox…if a fairy godmother dropped by and told you that you could have anyone else’s gluteus maximus, posh posterior or tight buns…just who would you choose?)

November 18 - National Lazybones Awareness Day (Okay it’s payback time for the laziest person you know…if you could pick one thing that this person would have to do for the rest of their life - who would it be and what would this individual have to do?)

November 19 - Three Least Favorite Words Day (This will definitely appeal to blabbers, blatherskites, and motor-mouths who will never be short on words!)

November 20 - Goosebump Awareness Day (So pray tell, what gives you Goosebumps? …and how come no one ever has Goosebumps on the face?)

November 21 - Computer Modification Day (The folks who manufacture the best thing since sliced bread come to ask you what one thing you’d like to see changed on your computer…what might it be … now think hard all you dweebs and dingbats!)

November 22 - Hardest Position to Play in Sports Day (For all the sports jocks, couch potatoes, and sideline critics…what would you say is the most difficult one, c’mon…)

November 22 - Nifty New Appliance Day (Advertisers are having a field day with a brand new appliance…what’s it called and exactly what will it do to make life easier?)

November 23 - National Jockstrap Collectible Day (Your favorite sports league has just announced a new fantasy prize for an upcoming contest…the jockstrap of your favorite fantasy player…hmmm…who might that be and in what sport?)

November 24 - Murfle Appreciation Day (Time to see who has the most freckles among your family, friends, and faithful colleagues at work).

November 25 - National Jeepers Creepers Day (What’s the biggest surprise you’ve ever had in your life? …Sponsored by the “Holy Cow Cooperative” & “The Holy Smoke Alliance of Spirits and Other Figments of Your Imagination”)

November 26 - Look Before You Leap Day (In honor of all those who took a flying leap from the frying pan into the fire …just to get a taste of “S’mores”!)

November 27 - National Hold Your Horses Day (Celebrates all those faithful plodders who are always chomping at the bit, but never quite make it out of the stall to win a race)

November 28 - National Slam-Dunk Contest Day (Time to try out your waste-paper basket skills - there are no prizes just the title “The Hottest Damn Slam-Dunker”!)

November 29 - World Finger Snapping Day (In honor of fuss budgets and slow restaurant food service …now you get to practice it all day long!!!)

November 30 - Tickle Me Pink Day (A social networking day of course!)

Love and romance, mankind has paired into couples ever since Adam and Eve, but what makes some relationships sizzle and others fizzle? Some say it may well be the romantic nature of the individuals who make up the couple. However, whether you are single, searching or happily married, it is human nature to seek romance and love.

So why don’t you take my quiz and test your Cupid Quotient?!?

1. In what country would a man send a woman a Valentine letter containing a rhyme and signed with a series of dots to represent his name? According to this country’s tradition, if the woman guessed his identity correctly on Valentine’s Day he would reward her with a gift.

A. Denmark

B. Italy

C. England

D. America

A. Denmark

QQ. In Denmark, a man would send a woman a Valentine letter containing a rhyme and signed with a series of dots to represent his name. If the woman guessed his identity correctly on Valentine’s Day he would reward her with a gift.

2. In what country would young ladies awaken before sunrise and look out their window? According to tradition, the first man they saw would be either the man they would marry or someone who looked like their future husband.

A. Denmark

B. Italy

C. England

D. America

B. Italy

QQ. In Italy, young ladies would awaken before sunrise and look out their window. Tradition said the first man they saw would be either the man they would marry or look like their future husband.

3. In what country would a suitor leave a basket of gifts on his beloved’s doorstep and run off?

A. Denmark

B. Italy

C. England

D. America

C. England

QQ. In England, a suitor would leave a basket of gifts on his beloved’s doorstep and run off.

4. In what country would young ladies write their names on slips of paper and at Valentine’s Day party young men would draw names. According to this country’s tradition, the young man would then wear the name of his lady on his sleeve for days to claim her as his valentine, originating the saying “wearing your heart on your sleeve.”

A. Denmark

B. Italy

C. England

D. America

D. America

QQ. In America, young ladies would write their names on slips of paper and at a Valentine’s Day party young men would draw names. A young man would wear the name of his lady on his sleeve for days to claim her as his valentine, originating the saying “wearing your heart on your sleeve.”

5. The tradition of pairing lovers in February comes from:

A. A pagan festival called Lupercalia when young men and women drew names to choose partners, exchanged gifts and often married after the festival pairing.

B. Geoffrey Chaucer who chose the date because the 14th of February was the day birds began to pair for the spring nesting season.

C. Pope Gelasius chose Feb. 14th as the day to honor St. Valentine.

D. The Romans once honored Juno, the Roman goddess of women and marriage, and Pan, the god of nature, during a festival on Feb. 15.

E. They are all true

E. They are all true

QQ: Interesting how many reasons there are to become a couple on a specific date!

6. Valentine’s Day-celebrated Feb. 14-is a festival of love and romance. Its history can be traced back to which civilization?

A. Rome

B. Greece

C. Celts

D. None of the above, it was created by the greedy card, chocolate and flower companies.

A. Rome

QQ: While admittedly the holiday has become excessively commercialized, it is not a manufactured holiday but one with a long tradition extending back to Rome

7. Why was Cupid chosen as the symbol of Valentine’s Day and lovers?

A. He was the Roman god of love.

B. A celebrated marksman from Greece, he won the hand of his beloved through an archery match.

C. According to Celtic tradition, Cupid was an unfortunate suitor killed by the arrow of an outraged father who refused to let his daughter wed for love.

D. There is no reason other than the fact greedy card, chocolate and flower moguls thought that was the cutest design created by their marketing staff.

E. All are correct

A. He was the Roman god of love.

QQ: Sometimes we get a little silly

8. The original Valentine, who was sainted after his death, was:

A. A Christian priest who lived in Rome and was jailed and later beheaded for aiding persecuted Christians in 270 AD

B. Was killed on the site of ancient altar to Juno (the Roman goddess of women and marriage).

C. A bishop of Terni who was persecuted for converted Romans to Christianity and performing Christian marriages.

D. Was actually two different Christian martyrs.

E. All are correct

E. All are correct

QQ: You couldn’t miss!

9. Deep red carnations tell your loved one that…

A. Your heart is broken.

B. Celibacy

C. Friendship

D. True Love

A. Your heart is broken.

QQ: Your heart is broken because they mean “alas, my poor heart”.

10. Roses are among the most popular flowers for lovers to give, but what does the gift mean?

A. Hopeless love

B. Be mine

C. Love

D. Farewell

C. Love

QQ: That one was easy, wasn’t it?

11. However, the combination of white and red roses sends what message?

A. Unity

B. Declaration of love

C. Farewell

D. Distrust

A. Unity

QQ: You could get bonus points for that!

12. If you hope to propose, what flowers should make up the bouquet you present to your intended?

A. Ivy

B. Blue violets

C. Globe amaranth

D. Rose

E. Any and All

E. Any and All

QQ: I think combining all these flowers would make a beautiful gesture as: Ivy means fidelity and marriage, Blue violets mean faithfulness, Globe amaranth means unfading love, and Roses mean love

Early one morning last week while sitting at a traffic light, I watched a man eating a bowl of cereal. He carefully lifted each spoonful to his mouth and then drove off when the light changed.

I’ve been known to eat while driving - wadded up hamburger wrappers under the front seats give ample testimony. The large brown coffee stain on the carpet tells the tale of a sharp turn and a drink carrier stability problem. Occasionally, I clean out the neat little take-out boxes that once held prime rib sandwiches. I know about eating and driving but even I have never eaten cereal while driving, although I was once tempted to sample some doggie-bag spaghetti while driving home from a restuarant.

In our rapid-paced auto-erratic world many people save time by eating on the run. We don’t want to eat right . . . we want to eat right now!

Like cell phone use, eating is a distraction and is the cause of many auto accidents, especially in the morning. Food is not so much the culprit, but rather the vehicle. Drivers on their way to work don’t want to arrive at the office with a chest full of dribbles. So, they watch for globs, gobs, and drips - taking their eyes off the road.

Taco Bell has taken the need for fast-food driving to heart. Many of their new products are designed to be more drip-dry with thicker shredded cheese and crunchier taco shells that hold together better.

Here are the worst food/accident offenders:

Coffee

Hot soup

Tacos

Chili-covered food

Juicy hamburgers

Barbecue

Fried chicken

Jelly-and cream-filled donuts

Soft drinks

Chocolate
(Source: Haggerty Classic Insurance)

To me, chocolate is the shocker on the list. It’s so easy to nibble on a chocolate bar or bon bon while driving. It seems so innocuous, but stop and think how chocolate can stain, specially on a hot day. A piece of Brown & Haley Bavarian Crme smeared on your shirt front and you’re marked as a sloppy person. Dressing for success does not include food stains.

What can you do to protect yourself . . . if you want to continue to eat and drive?

Here are six things that will allow you to continue driving in the fast-food lane:

Keep a big linen napkin in your automobile - Use the large napkin to tuck into your collar so any drips fall onto the napkin — like a baby’s bib it will help protect your clothes.

Keep a roll of paper towels in your car - Paper towels can not only give you something to wipe your hands on, but they’re also great for soaking up spills.

Use a hardside drink container with a lid - While you can get a paper cup with a plastic lid and drink from that, what sometimes causes a spill is the weak sides of the container colapsing. A hardside container is easier to control . . . and safer.

Find a cup holder to accomodate your favorite beverage - In most auto parts stores you can find cup holders for almost any size drinking container. By purchasing one that fits your container you will feel extra safe knowing that your cup holder will keep your container from falling, under normal conditions.

Keep a bottle of club soda in your car - If you do spill something on your clothes, knowing that you can possibly clean it up will help alleviate some of your fears about making a mess.

Keep a clean shirt or blouse in the auto - It’s always smart to have a second set of clothes, just in case . . .

By eleminating potential problems and preparing for food accidents you can hopefully reduce distractions and worry. If you do have a massive spill, you’ll feel much better knowing that you can still make that morning meeting looking nice, neat and professional . . . if you started out looking that way.

Author Don Doman: Don is a published author of books for small business, corporate video producer, and owner of Ideas and Training (http://www.ideasandtraining.com), which provides business training products. Don also owns and Human Resources Radio (http://www.humanresourcesradio.com), which provides business training programs and previews 24-hours a day.

Hillary Clinton, long famously popular among Democrats but obsessively excoriated by Republicans, has decided to turn the tables on her opponents by becoming one of them.

In an interview, Senator Clinton told us, “There’s an old political axiom that you never spend any time trying to get the votes you already have. So I decided I didn’t have to spend anymore time as a Democrat. Since I would very likely not get even one Republican vote by continuing to tarry in that wannabe-President party, it seemed that the logical thing to do is get all their votes by becoming a Republican. Of course, since I can still count on getting all of the Democratic vote, I think I’m finally Presidential timber.”

Rumor has it that she was advised to make the deft switch from by her husband, who told her, “Look, sweetie, we’ve already had one Democratic President, and you know one of the reasons we’re still together is we don’t like to compete with each other. So how about this? Let’s get you in there as a Republican.”

Generally, Democrats reviled her for the decision but one of the cannier ones noted, “I think it’s a brilliant strategic move. Once she’s elected as a Republican, we’ll finally have a Democratic President.”

Tom Attea, creator of NewsLaugh.com, has had six shows produced Off-Broadway and has written comedy for TV. Critics have called his writing “”delightfully funny” and “witty” with “good, genuine laughs.”

BLISSFUL SHOPPING

or

HOW TO SAVE TIME, BUT PROBABLY NOT MONEY

by

Karen A. Lech

His name is Claude, my Schwan’s man. He visits me every two weeks on Monday. The pale, yellow truck with the Swan painted on the side pulls into the driveway and I know it is time to make decisions.

“Can I interest you in anything today”, he politely asks. And, being the smart aleck I am, I think of a lot of responses, but tongue in cheek I simply say, “May I see the catalog?”

Schwan’s, a door to door grocery store of sorts, is a company based in Marshall, Minnesota and has been in business since 1952. Their trucks are stocked with numerous items, nearly from soup to nuts, breakfast to ice cream desserts. All items are frozen (thank God I have a huge freezer!). They carry a smorgasbord of products to help a busy mom, delight a single person’s sweet tooth, tempt bachelors into two weeks of gourmet food (then they really don’t have to cook for themselves, and hey, it has to be healthier than pizza every night). Of course, Schwan’s boasts convenience, and sometimes, by golly, it is TOO convenient. You can order on line and your Schwan’s man will have it on the truck on visiting day!

The prices are comparable to the school’s version of Market Day. Some are a little bit less expensive and some are a tad more. The variety is better, as you can stock up your ice cream supply without the worry of it melting on the way home from the Market Day pick up. Plus, what if your Market Day order comes in on the Saturday that you have to attend that nephew’s wedding?

Peapod is another version of door to door sales that comes to mind, but you have to make a list and they shop for you. I wish they had had Peapod when my twins were infants! I felt like shopping day was a caravan across the vast desert of what was then Omni. Three shopping carts, twins in stroller, the two-year-old’s hand placed firmly on the stroller handle and a six-year-old and nine-year-old helping me to push the other shopping carts. And you KNOW they filled the carts with things they wanted. Check out time was an eye opener to cost, especially as the two older boys loved to pack the bags, thereby bypassing mother’s watchful, frugal eye. By the time the cashier had rung everything up, my bleared eyesight and mind took it all in stride as I somehow, dazed, paid my bill. Of course when we got home, there was the revelation. I soon learned the advantages of shopping at 1-2 a.m. - alone.

Home delivery/door to door sales brings to mind the Fuller brush man, the Avon lady (who would actually come to your door!) and Watkins products. Looking back through history, this all is a throw back to times of yesteryear with the “medicine man” selling his wares out west, vegetable peddlers in the city, the tinker who would sharpen knifes, scissors, etc. I am sure we have all read stories of medieval England, when a man and his cart - and at times his family-would travel from town to town, kind of like a door to door or town to town market place.

What if all companies were to change to a home delivery/shopping service today? Microsoft comes to your door with disks, software, or hardware or printer ink companies with an assortment of HP, Epson, Lexmark, etc.? This could be a boon to America’s economy! Wouldn’t you love it if a gas truck pulled in to fill your car? “Knock, Knock…” “Hello?” “Good morning, Ma’am or sir, how is you fuel tank today?” This is would make me ecstatic! No more filling my gas tank at the gas station in bad weather!! Pharmacy lines… think of it! A traveling pharmacist… complete with your prescriptions right on board! This could be endlessly enchanting and time saving. I would NOT let my children answer the door for the Toy Salesman, though. And what could we do with all the time we save? The possibilities are endless…

Again, this bird brain has opened a can of worms.

thanks for reading! Karen A. Lech, copyright 2005

Let’s face it - most brochures go straight into the bin. But if you know the big mistake to avoid, as well as the secret to make people keep your brochure - and read it, over and over again - you’re laughing.

The big mistake I’m talking about is that brochures too often focus on the company itself. They describe, in great detail, the company’s commitment to excellence, how pro-active the company is, how many awards the company’s products or services have won and how innovative they are.

Prospective clients, of course, couldn’t care less.

Prospective clients want to know what’s in it for them. They want to improve their bottom line. They want to make their lives easier. That’s what’s important to your clients. To get their business you must fulfill their needs. And that’s what your marketing materials must communicate - how you can help them. And don’t just tell your clients about the benefits of your services - show them. Nothing is more convincing than a good demonstration of how you can help. So use your company brochure to do just that.

By offering information your client can use, you’ll demonstrate the benefits of your services and create a “value added” brochure. The more useful the information, the stronger your demonstration will be. For example, if you’re a web design company, include a section: “Top 7 Questions to Ask Before You Hire a Web Designer”. Then outline problems bad web design can create. Explain how your client can spot inferior service. If you’re a printer, give some advice on “How to Get The Best Results From Your Printer”, possibly with tips on formatting text and graphics.

A “value added” brochure accomplishes several goals:
1.Your prospective clients will keep your brochure. Your name will be in front of them every day of the week.
2.By providing free, useful advice, you start building a relationship based on trust.
3.You establish yourself as an expert in your field. If your prospective clients have questions, chances are they’ll get in touch with you to ask.

Well, I hope you found this idea useful for your marketing efforts. If you’re interested in more marketing hints like this, you can subscribe to my free monthly e-zine by visiting my web site at www.creativecats.com or email me at frauke@creativecats.com to sign up today.

Copyright The Quipping Queen 2004.

THINGS PERFECTLY NORMAL BEASTS DO

It’s amazing what “Perfectly Normal Beasts” will do in a pinch. Being a “Beast” is one thing, but being a “Perfectly Normal Beast” is quite another.

And being a Perfectly Normal Beast in a pinch, well that’s a fate worse than death (especially if hunter-matadors are involved).

Now, if you’re the least bit curious about “Life, the Universe and Everything” (including a blessed Bob-fearing planet that shall remain nameless), then you probably know all about Perfectly Normal Beasts.

But, if you’ve never hazarded a guess about Life, the Universe and Everything and are slightly overwhelmed by such an XL-thought, fear not.

If lost …then follow these simple instructions:

The following list will help you to navigate the very first stage of this protracted process called, “Discovering Life, the Universe and Everything”.

Take a deep breath, think nice thoughts, and follow these instructions (remember — no ands, ifs, or buts).

Ahem! May I have your attention please!! LISTEN UP TWATS!!! Enough with the tah tah, tally ho, pip pip and all that … just work with me people and:

(a) show up at any airport,

(b) bring along your passport and a small bag (that you’ve packed yourself naturally) and,

(c) obtain a boarding pass for the next “Flight of Fancy” (departing whenever enough folks like you show up to take it for goodness sake).

Meanwhile back at the ranch…

Getting back to Perfectly Normal Beasts — (PNBs for short) — and the perfectly normal things that they do.

Well for starters, you’ll know when you’ve run into them if they:

(1) appear to be huge, hot and heaving hoofers (that you’ve never set eyes upon in a petting zoo or better yet, never even accosted in a dank, dark, and dreary alleyway — thank your lucky stars and get your buns outta there!)

(2) are hanging out in herds on the back nine — far removed from hunter-matadors (swinging golf clubs, what else!)

(3) seem to be galloping at full speed toward you

(4) are doing a lot of snorting, panting, sweating and sniffing (while galloping at full speed toward you)

(5) occasionally are found breaking wind with ease (incidentally, some fetid-oriented folk consider them a “bullish” investment opportunity)

(6) are known to enjoy lumbering forward with little momentum when happy (or perhaps sick in their tummies from eating far too many hunter-matadors)

(7) are compatible with “one-eyed-one-horned-flying-purple-people-eaters” (although no one can remember their Latin name, let alone their nickname)

(8) are lurching up off their knees and standing, swaying ever so gayly and giddyly (especially if they’ve had one too many whiffs of grass)

(9) get a tad crimson in the neck (because they simply can’t abide being called, “perky”, “cute” or heaven forbid, “bellicose”) and

(10) show no remorse about thundering around the universe and scaring the pikka birds half to death, hurtling hunting-matadors all over the place, and then galloping off into nothingness or vanishing into thin air (whichever comes first).