Myriad Randomness

Sour Notes
Every day, there is a different busker at the 12th Street BART station in Oakland.  Sadly, the only one worth listening to is the guy with pipes of Pan.  He must be one of those Peruvian musicians they featured on South Park.  Just thinking about it makes me throw up a little in the back of my mouth.  Today was the homeless drunk guy.  He was doing “She Loves You” (Lennon-McCartney) in a vaguely familiar strum on his guitar and a throaty “Please buy me an Olde English 800 40oz” voice.   It was seriously sickening.  If big brother was watching, he should have done something.  Something severe and final in the name of public safety.  My ears were violated and my tummy still hasn’t recovered.  Jello might be the only thing I can eat today.

Social Consciousness in the New Millennium
Remember when cities put up the “don’t block the box” signs?    I guess as a society we figured out that blocking an intersection was not a terribly bright idea.  Of course we needed legislation and penalties to help make the behavioral change.  I get coffee at Peet’s every morning.  They have their own version of an intersection.  The line goes out the door and the counter is awkward, making it often difficult for patrons to leave and the baristas to move to the floor from their works space.

I have figured out that if I stand just outside the door opening, I can leave enough space for the wondrous workers to go back and forth easily and the departing patrons have plenty of room.  I was waiting in this spot the other day, leaving copious room for traffic.  I was waiting for enough room on the far side of this retail grand canyon.  There were 5 or 6 people behind me.  The older Asian woman behind me tapped my shoulder and said “you can move up.”

I was writing an email on phone and demonstrated with my arm that I was leaving room for the staff to move through and the other patrons to leave.  As if on cue, my favorite barista walked by with an arm full of empty milk and cream dispensers.  I got a smile from the barista and  an “oh” of understanding from the woman behind me.  Perhaps I had made the point and made a small change in the world.  A moment later,  there was room to cross the aisle and be out of the way;  I moved forward, leaving room for others.    Then the older woman moved forward as did the rest of the line, forming a near impenetrable barrier. Why do I bother?

Brother can you spare a fish?
Lambchop and her family went deep sea fishing.  Of course I was invited and of course I said, “WTF? On the dock at 5:30am, sea sickness and fish guts?  I’m honored you thought of me, but I’ll be asleep.  Thank you kindly.”  Rational thought says I’d be asleep.  Reality, sadly, was different.  On those nights when you get up differently – Lambchop wouldn’t be gently waking me, there’d be an alarm – you rarely sleep soundly.  The whole night is spent on edge, trying not to oversleep.  Add in another waking up at 4:30 and no matter how hard they try to be quiet, sleep is vanquished.  At least a little.

So that didn’t go the way I planned.  And I got home from work to a sleeping princess, recovering from a long day of fishing and swaying.  And lots of fish.  Lambchop was a fishing star, catching almost twice the limit.  Some went back. Others went to the family to make their limits.  Rock Cod, Ling Cod and Red Snapper.  Last night I concocted a Thai inspired sauce for a large fillet of Ling Cod.   It was indeed, Spicy and delicious.  We’ll be eating fish at least once a week for a few months.  Just don’t ask me what kind. I don’t think the bags in the freezer were labeled prior to deposit.  But it will be fresh.  And you know what they say about fresh fish – it doesn’t taste like fish.

Ewww
All the men, please take one step back.  You are excused.  For those of you left, have you read Fifty Shades of Gray?  Please, don’t lie to me.  Much better.  What is it with that book?  Suddenly everyone’s reading it.  As I understand it, it’s got as much to do with consensual kinky relationships as Rosie O’Donnell’s dominatrix in “Exit to Eden” had to do with any reality.  So why is everyone reading it?  I guess it takes fake BDSM to capture the mainstreams fantasies. (I only know what I read in EW.)

The other night in Costco, a woman that reminded me of my MieMaw (in her 70s or so) was so caught up in a book that she was oblivious to people walking by.   I saw it was a table of 400 copies of Fifty Shades Darker.  Really?  At Costco?  We all know – at least you should –that I am not a prude.  Do we really want our daughters picking up this book at Costco?  Shouldn’t our MieMaws be forced to at least go to Barnes and Noble or Amazon.com to pick up this titillation?  Its like breaking the fourth wall.  I don’t want to know.

I had the willies after seeing this.  What do you think Pat Robertson, Rush Limbaugh or  the Southern Baptist Convention would think of this scene? Has Fox News documented this wonderful new book for its female views?  I’m guessing a protest is coming to a Costco near you.  Maybe they could put the books by the pharmacy.  I don’t go to that section of the store.

 

For reference Sheldon Cooper calls his grandmother MieMaw.

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