I own a parrot. It’s name is Maisey. Maisey is “rescue” bird, a parrot who was abandoned by it’s owner who did not realize how time-consuming a tropical bird can be. So, I have a reputation of being good caretaker of parrots.
A doctor friend of mine asked me if I would bird-sit his Naylan Conure while he and his wife visited their daughter in Equador. Connure’s are the smallest of hook-billed birds. They are very frisky, loving and devils for attention. Little did I realize that “Lorita,” this little devil, would really become a bird from hell.
They came by our house, with the bird, it’s cage, bird food and bird toys. I hovered around the buffet that I had cleared of nick-knacks for Lorita’s new home, making sure that she would be happy with the location and the view.
Lorita was delightful. She perched on my finger, tried to cuddle into my pocket, preened my hair, showing off for her mom and dad. Doctor and wife was satisfied that their little darling would safe and well cared for during the next two weeks. I hadn’t noticed the beginnings of the two horns that had appeared on the top of Lorita’s head.
They left. I cooed to Lorita. I was making little bird-baby noises to her. “Nick… nick… nick… nick…” Lorita responded back… “cheep… cheep… nick… nick.” Maisey heard the commotion and answered back with enjoyment. All was well in my parrot world. I went to bed feeling that Lorita had become a happy member of my household.
The next morning I was up early. Maisey had awakened. Maisey was screeching. “Hello… hello…” I chirped to Maisey and I paid special attention to Lorita, removing her cage cover and opening the cage door. I wanted Lorita to understand that I wanted her to feel at home. Lorita climbed out of her cage, scurried up the side, planted herself on the top of her cage and focused her eyes on mine.
“Good morning… Lorita” I said. Then that damm bird jump off the cage, fastened herself to my robe (right above my ribcage) and proceeded to bite me on my neck. I grabbed the bird (gently, as according to the way to hold a parrot) with two fingers on each side of her head, palm on her back, and I placed her back on top of her cage. Lorita paced back and forth across the top of her cage… and then I noticed the horns.
Ok… maybe she really didn’t have horns… but she should have. For the next two weeks I had to put up with six gouges into the back of my right hand, an attempt to tear off my lip, and when she couldn’t do me bodily damage, Lorita would ALWAYS manage to poop on me.
And then right on schedule, the doctor came back and stopped by to pick up Lorita. Lorita jumped onto his finger, and looked me right in the eyes. And I swear I heard the bird say “Don’t you tell the doctor anything.” And as the doctor walked out of my apartment with the bird and cage, like a possessed person I chanted… “Take a look at those little horns on her head... Take a look at those little horns on her head.” Maybe I’m getting to old to take care of pets?
Monday, November 12, 2007
If you can’t beat them, learn French.
If you have never traveled to another country, your first trip can be a real culture shock. To help you be prepared for the possible differences you may experience in another country, I offer some observations from my first trip to France in 2001.
Garbage Cans
The garbage cans in France are so small. Maybe there is some law in France mandating small garbage cans. Once a can is full, you are forced to hide your excess trash. I suspect the French have been hiding their extra garbage for about 76 years. When it reaches critical mass the whole country is going to tip into the North Sea.
The flip side of the trash issue is we Americans. We buy a five-foot tall trashcan for our kitchen, fill it to the top, and then stand there and look at it. Then we decide that we need a bigger trashcan. And then once a week a very unfriendly man comes by and hauls our trash away. And we store it someplace for the entire world to see. We are proud of our trash. We even have a name for the place. It’s called a Public Landfill.
Glasses and Ice
All of the glasses in France are very small. Certainly there must be one French person who has a stomach capacity of more than a half-ounce? But then again, most of the French are healthy, firm and fit. Maybe that has something to do with reasonable consumption and small glasses.
France has an ice cube shortage. I’ve been in France for 3 days and I haven’t seen a single cube. Maybe they grind them up and ship them off to the Alps to keep all those high priced ski slopes open. In my hotel room, I found an ice cube tray in the small refrigerator. It was empty. Even the ice cube tray was small. That makes sense. Even if the French knew the recipe for making ice, they couldn’t put LARGE cubes into those tiny glasses.
Cars
Maybe I’m being to narrow minded about this small business. It does have some advantages. Most of the French cars are very small. I live in Denver Colorado where almost everyone owns an SUV. When you have 50,000 Denverites driving downtown to see a baseball game someone always winds up having to park in Colorado Springs. There is just no place to park all those tanks. But if you drove those SUV’s down a street in Paris, the French would swear the Germans were invading again.
Day and night
Here we are in the middle of France, in Burgundy, in the middle of June. I’ve never been out of the United States before. I grew up scared to venture to far away from home. This could have been because when I was nine years old, my parents sent me out for some bread and when I got back home, they had moved.
So I don’t know a lot about other countries. France is further north than Colorado and the sun comes up and sets at different times then it does in Colorado. But I didn’t know this. Case in point. I am sitting outside of the hotel, it’s 10:30 at night and I could still see light from the sun. This didn’t make sense to me. At 11:00pm, with a glimmer of sun still on the horizon, I panic. I went to the phone booth and called the French 911. Within 3 minutes two very tired volunteer firemen drove up and saw this crazy American on his knees on the front lawn. I was performing some sort of Celtic chant, praying for the earth to regain it’s proper orbit and return the day to day and the night to night.
This of course amused the fireman immensely. With in a week everyone in the tiny village of St. Vallerin was calling me “The Sun King.” I don’t think they met that as a compliment.
Shopping carts
An interesting idea is used at French supermarkets. You pay a 10 Franc coin to bail a shopping cart out of the cart stall in the parking lot. This is automatic. There is a small box on the carts push handle. Place the coin in the box, and the cart is released from a chain.
After you are finished shopping, you bring your cart back to the jail, hook the chain up to the cart and your 10-Franc coin pops back into your hand.
I wonder how they keep you from walking off of the property with the cart? After all, 10 Francs doesn’t seem a whole lot to pay for a sturdy-shopping cart.
Shopping
I was wondering how the populace in these small French hamlets acquired their department store type items. It’s easy. Instead of having a shopping mall every 2 miles, Sears, so to speak, comes to the town.
Once a week travelling merchants set up stalls in the early morning, up and down the ancient streets. They hawk everything from furniture to clothes, housewares to CD’s. No parking lots, no traffic. The sun for lighting, the breeze for air conditioning and the streets for storefronts. And by lunchtime they are packed up, moving out of town leaving nothing but the quiet peace of a small French village.
Category Culture – Language
We have heard so much about the language barrier between the French and the rest of the world. But after my first 5 days in France, I suspect that the only barrier anyone has between the culture of one nation toward another is fear.
I am sitting here in the hotel reading “Le Journal De Saone-et-Loire.” See that word “Journal,” it means newspaper, pretty simple.
Other words from the paper jump out at me. Reduction, voyages, transport, grand, gala, solitaire, France, sanctions, confrontation, nature and so on and so on.
In the same paper I see English words peppered though out the pages. Donald Duck, Mickey Mouse, Macdonald’s, Colgate, Marlboro, Winston, Kentucky Fried Chicken and the list goes on.
France has given us many of the words that we use on a daily basis and we have given them loan words that represent American consumerism. That seems like a fair trade… language barrier, I don’t think so.
Unisex Restrooms
I found a unisex restroom today. It was Sunday, June 10th 2001 and we were eating lunch at La Gourmandiere in the little town of Germangy in Burgundy. This was the first Sunday of my trip. The restaurant was filled with after-church families, children in their Sunday clothes and young French couples.
After eating lunch, nature called. I didn’t have a clue. I scanned the room and saw a door marked “Toilettes” (pronounced “twah-lets” in French). Clue number one should have been that the word was PLURAL. So I passed through the door into a rather large room. On the other side of the room was a stall marked “Hommes.” I was so proud of myself. I had been studying my French before I left the states and I knew that “Hommes” translated to “men.”
I open the door and went in and sat down. My second clue should have been “why is the word men hanging on the stall door INSIDE OF THE RESTROOM.”
So here I am sitting, waiting for that great big one, when I hear the restroom door open and two chatty restaurant patrons walk in.
They are women! I figured that my limited knowledge of French had failed me and then at that moment my bladder failed me. I couldn’t control it. Now I know why the French call restrooms “water closets.” I almost pissed all over myself. I tucked my feet up on the toilet seat, wrapped my arms around my knees and assumed a fetal position balanced on top of the shit can. I didn’t want them to get a peek of a pair of men’s shoes planted on the floor tiles of the stall.
I broke out into a cold sweat and went on an auto pilot prayer vigil. “Please God, don’t let them find me in the woman’s restroom. I don’t want to get to know the local police and end up wasting away in some rural version of the Bastille.”
I heard another stall door open and shut, two minutes of silence, toilet flush, door open and shut again and then the whole sequence repeated. If I were paying any attention my third clue would have been the fact the two women had used the SAME stall, never even peeking into my little cell.
They left the restroom. I wipe, zip up and bolt out of the stall. I looked around the room to make sure that one of the women had not stayed behind to powder up or fix her makeup.
And then I saw the light. A sign on the other stall read “Femmes.” Of course, this is a typical European co-ed restroom. I sauntered out and sat down with my fellow travelers, bragging about how much I understood the French culture.
Garbage Cans
The garbage cans in France are so small. Maybe there is some law in France mandating small garbage cans. Once a can is full, you are forced to hide your excess trash. I suspect the French have been hiding their extra garbage for about 76 years. When it reaches critical mass the whole country is going to tip into the North Sea.
The flip side of the trash issue is we Americans. We buy a five-foot tall trashcan for our kitchen, fill it to the top, and then stand there and look at it. Then we decide that we need a bigger trashcan. And then once a week a very unfriendly man comes by and hauls our trash away. And we store it someplace for the entire world to see. We are proud of our trash. We even have a name for the place. It’s called a Public Landfill.
Glasses and Ice
All of the glasses in France are very small. Certainly there must be one French person who has a stomach capacity of more than a half-ounce? But then again, most of the French are healthy, firm and fit. Maybe that has something to do with reasonable consumption and small glasses.
France has an ice cube shortage. I’ve been in France for 3 days and I haven’t seen a single cube. Maybe they grind them up and ship them off to the Alps to keep all those high priced ski slopes open. In my hotel room, I found an ice cube tray in the small refrigerator. It was empty. Even the ice cube tray was small. That makes sense. Even if the French knew the recipe for making ice, they couldn’t put LARGE cubes into those tiny glasses.
Cars
Maybe I’m being to narrow minded about this small business. It does have some advantages. Most of the French cars are very small. I live in Denver Colorado where almost everyone owns an SUV. When you have 50,000 Denverites driving downtown to see a baseball game someone always winds up having to park in Colorado Springs. There is just no place to park all those tanks. But if you drove those SUV’s down a street in Paris, the French would swear the Germans were invading again.
Day and night
Here we are in the middle of France, in Burgundy, in the middle of June. I’ve never been out of the United States before. I grew up scared to venture to far away from home. This could have been because when I was nine years old, my parents sent me out for some bread and when I got back home, they had moved.
So I don’t know a lot about other countries. France is further north than Colorado and the sun comes up and sets at different times then it does in Colorado. But I didn’t know this. Case in point. I am sitting outside of the hotel, it’s 10:30 at night and I could still see light from the sun. This didn’t make sense to me. At 11:00pm, with a glimmer of sun still on the horizon, I panic. I went to the phone booth and called the French 911. Within 3 minutes two very tired volunteer firemen drove up and saw this crazy American on his knees on the front lawn. I was performing some sort of Celtic chant, praying for the earth to regain it’s proper orbit and return the day to day and the night to night.
This of course amused the fireman immensely. With in a week everyone in the tiny village of St. Vallerin was calling me “The Sun King.” I don’t think they met that as a compliment.
Shopping carts
An interesting idea is used at French supermarkets. You pay a 10 Franc coin to bail a shopping cart out of the cart stall in the parking lot. This is automatic. There is a small box on the carts push handle. Place the coin in the box, and the cart is released from a chain.
After you are finished shopping, you bring your cart back to the jail, hook the chain up to the cart and your 10-Franc coin pops back into your hand.
I wonder how they keep you from walking off of the property with the cart? After all, 10 Francs doesn’t seem a whole lot to pay for a sturdy-shopping cart.
Shopping
I was wondering how the populace in these small French hamlets acquired their department store type items. It’s easy. Instead of having a shopping mall every 2 miles, Sears, so to speak, comes to the town.
Once a week travelling merchants set up stalls in the early morning, up and down the ancient streets. They hawk everything from furniture to clothes, housewares to CD’s. No parking lots, no traffic. The sun for lighting, the breeze for air conditioning and the streets for storefronts. And by lunchtime they are packed up, moving out of town leaving nothing but the quiet peace of a small French village.
Category Culture – Language
We have heard so much about the language barrier between the French and the rest of the world. But after my first 5 days in France, I suspect that the only barrier anyone has between the culture of one nation toward another is fear.
I am sitting here in the hotel reading “Le Journal De Saone-et-Loire.” See that word “Journal,” it means newspaper, pretty simple.
Other words from the paper jump out at me. Reduction, voyages, transport, grand, gala, solitaire, France, sanctions, confrontation, nature and so on and so on.
In the same paper I see English words peppered though out the pages. Donald Duck, Mickey Mouse, Macdonald’s, Colgate, Marlboro, Winston, Kentucky Fried Chicken and the list goes on.
France has given us many of the words that we use on a daily basis and we have given them loan words that represent American consumerism. That seems like a fair trade… language barrier, I don’t think so.
Unisex Restrooms
I found a unisex restroom today. It was Sunday, June 10th 2001 and we were eating lunch at La Gourmandiere in the little town of Germangy in Burgundy. This was the first Sunday of my trip. The restaurant was filled with after-church families, children in their Sunday clothes and young French couples.
After eating lunch, nature called. I didn’t have a clue. I scanned the room and saw a door marked “Toilettes” (pronounced “twah-lets” in French). Clue number one should have been that the word was PLURAL. So I passed through the door into a rather large room. On the other side of the room was a stall marked “Hommes.” I was so proud of myself. I had been studying my French before I left the states and I knew that “Hommes” translated to “men.”
I open the door and went in and sat down. My second clue should have been “why is the word men hanging on the stall door INSIDE OF THE RESTROOM.”
So here I am sitting, waiting for that great big one, when I hear the restroom door open and two chatty restaurant patrons walk in.
They are women! I figured that my limited knowledge of French had failed me and then at that moment my bladder failed me. I couldn’t control it. Now I know why the French call restrooms “water closets.” I almost pissed all over myself. I tucked my feet up on the toilet seat, wrapped my arms around my knees and assumed a fetal position balanced on top of the shit can. I didn’t want them to get a peek of a pair of men’s shoes planted on the floor tiles of the stall.
I broke out into a cold sweat and went on an auto pilot prayer vigil. “Please God, don’t let them find me in the woman’s restroom. I don’t want to get to know the local police and end up wasting away in some rural version of the Bastille.”
I heard another stall door open and shut, two minutes of silence, toilet flush, door open and shut again and then the whole sequence repeated. If I were paying any attention my third clue would have been the fact the two women had used the SAME stall, never even peeking into my little cell.
They left the restroom. I wipe, zip up and bolt out of the stall. I looked around the room to make sure that one of the women had not stayed behind to powder up or fix her makeup.
And then I saw the light. A sign on the other stall read “Femmes.” Of course, this is a typical European co-ed restroom. I sauntered out and sat down with my fellow travelers, bragging about how much I understood the French culture.
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Officer, it was only a sugar packet.
This blog entry is NOT INTENDED TO CONDON STEALING. Now that I got the disclaimer out of the way, hopefully I won’t be writing an entry on how to obtain a lawyer pro-bono.
Let’s face it, the price of everything is going up. I never thought there would be a time that I actually had to make a decision if I was going to purchase a magazine or a days worth of food. But there are still ways to save money. There’s a lot of free stuff available if you look close. Here are some suggestions get you started.
Condiments: Fast food places seem only to glad to leave a veritable feast of condiments at your fingertips. Ketchup, mustard, salad dressings, salt and pepper, mayonnaise, hot sauce, sugar and sweetener, coffee creamer and so much more. Why do you think they give you such a big bag for one lonely burger and fries? Fill it up.
Reading material: Religious groups are happy to pass on all sorts of free magazines, brochures, propaganda (did I say that) and such. You can even find reading material for your children. Jehovah’s Witnesses offer the best deal… they’ll deliver to your door.
Bathroom items: Ever see that stack of toilet paper rolls in public restrooms? Need I say more.
Clothes: Make your rounds of the Laundromats. There is always a pile of clothe items that the owner has found left in the machines. But only take what you need, and it’s not good etiquette to try on the underwear there. Wait until you get home.
Furniture: Visit some large apartment complexes around the end or the beginning of the month. Folks who are moving in or out are always leaving unneeded items around the dumpsters. If you really want to get innovative, scotch tape a “wanted” list to one of the dumpsters.
Odds and Ends: When you go to Goodwill (you do shop at Goodwill, don't you), do some creative designing. Put that candle holder you want into that wicket basket you want and clip those earrings you want to the outside of the basket. Take the price tags off of everything except the basket. Tell the check out clerk that you love collecting kindergarten art projects. They'll never know the difference.
And a suggestion from Lynn.
Food: For Sunday dinner, take the entire family to Sam's Club and dine on the free samples.
These ideas should get you started. Think about it. And post a message letting us know of your favorite source of free things.
Let’s face it, the price of everything is going up. I never thought there would be a time that I actually had to make a decision if I was going to purchase a magazine or a days worth of food. But there are still ways to save money. There’s a lot of free stuff available if you look close. Here are some suggestions get you started.
Condiments: Fast food places seem only to glad to leave a veritable feast of condiments at your fingertips. Ketchup, mustard, salad dressings, salt and pepper, mayonnaise, hot sauce, sugar and sweetener, coffee creamer and so much more. Why do you think they give you such a big bag for one lonely burger and fries? Fill it up.
Reading material: Religious groups are happy to pass on all sorts of free magazines, brochures, propaganda (did I say that) and such. You can even find reading material for your children. Jehovah’s Witnesses offer the best deal… they’ll deliver to your door.
Bathroom items: Ever see that stack of toilet paper rolls in public restrooms? Need I say more.
Clothes: Make your rounds of the Laundromats. There is always a pile of clothe items that the owner has found left in the machines. But only take what you need, and it’s not good etiquette to try on the underwear there. Wait until you get home.
Furniture: Visit some large apartment complexes around the end or the beginning of the month. Folks who are moving in or out are always leaving unneeded items around the dumpsters. If you really want to get innovative, scotch tape a “wanted” list to one of the dumpsters.
Odds and Ends: When you go to Goodwill (you do shop at Goodwill, don't you), do some creative designing. Put that candle holder you want into that wicket basket you want and clip those earrings you want to the outside of the basket. Take the price tags off of everything except the basket. Tell the check out clerk that you love collecting kindergarten art projects. They'll never know the difference.
And a suggestion from Lynn.
Food: For Sunday dinner, take the entire family to Sam's Club and dine on the free samples.
These ideas should get you started. Think about it. And post a message letting us know of your favorite source of free things.
Friday, April 27, 2007
Do you fit the "corporate culture?"
Are you over 50 and looking for employment? If you are, you may have noticed that there are a lot of jobs available in your field, but they don’t want you. My favorite response from the interviewer is “You are very qualified, but you don’t fit our corporate culture.” What in the world does that mean? The only “corporate culture” I’m interest in is… “Hi… I’m the boss… here’s what I want you to do… thank you for doing it... here’s your paycheck… now go home.”
Let me translate this for you. What they are saying is… “You’re to old.” Federal law does not allow an employer to discriminate because of your age but it does happen… all the time. I am presently looking for work as a computer programmer. I have been working in Information Technology since the days that we had those little beads on those wire thingy’s. The consulting firms that I have been dealing with have confirmed my suspicions. Fitting the corporate culture means that you’re under 30, will work for half the pay, you can spend at least 55 or more hours a week at your workstation and you promise not to die in your cube.
So… if you are having the same problem as I am, I offer some advice to you. The next time you have a face-to-face interview with a prospective employer… try this.
1) Light up a joint.
2) Hum a song by “Artic Monkeys” and bang your head on the interviewers desk.
3) Wear a backpack.
4) Make sure there is a snowboard or skateboard in your backpack.
5) Don’t wear your MP3 player on your wrist.
6) Use the phrase ‘Vodka and Red Bull” at least 3 times.
7) If outside activities come up, don’t use the words “recreation center,” it’s a gym.
8) If the interviewer offers you a latte, don’t look puzzled, that’s coffee.
9) Don’t ask if their health plan covers limb replacement.
10) Never tell the interviewer that his/her mother dresses him/her nicely.
Will this help? Probably not… but it will make you feel better.
Let me translate this for you. What they are saying is… “You’re to old.” Federal law does not allow an employer to discriminate because of your age but it does happen… all the time. I am presently looking for work as a computer programmer. I have been working in Information Technology since the days that we had those little beads on those wire thingy’s. The consulting firms that I have been dealing with have confirmed my suspicions. Fitting the corporate culture means that you’re under 30, will work for half the pay, you can spend at least 55 or more hours a week at your workstation and you promise not to die in your cube.
So… if you are having the same problem as I am, I offer some advice to you. The next time you have a face-to-face interview with a prospective employer… try this.
1) Light up a joint.
2) Hum a song by “Artic Monkeys” and bang your head on the interviewers desk.
3) Wear a backpack.
4) Make sure there is a snowboard or skateboard in your backpack.
5) Don’t wear your MP3 player on your wrist.
6) Use the phrase ‘Vodka and Red Bull” at least 3 times.
7) If outside activities come up, don’t use the words “recreation center,” it’s a gym.
8) If the interviewer offers you a latte, don’t look puzzled, that’s coffee.
9) Don’t ask if their health plan covers limb replacement.
10) Never tell the interviewer that his/her mother dresses him/her nicely.
Will this help? Probably not… but it will make you feel better.
Friday, April 20, 2007
Saving money will be the death of me
This is my first post in a new category I have created. "Senior Finances." I will be publishing articles under this category that will help you save money and find new resources for what you need. Some of these articles will be pure satire and some will actually contain helpful hints.
For this Friday morning, let's start with a little humor too start the weekend.
I mentioned in a previous post below that I have been attending many more funerals than I ever have in the past. I guess aging and leaving this mortal coil comes hand in hand with life. And have you looked into the current cost of a funeral? Well... here are some money saving tips to help you get through the big show.
1) Don't hire a minister, hire a Walmart Greeter.
2) If you opt for a creamation, ask them if they could just do chunks instead of ashes.
3) A casket, forget it. If a cardboard box is good enought for the homeless then...
4) Don't spend all that money on a burial outfit, go naked.
5) Police escorts are expensive. Forget it. Get one of those spinning lights from Radio Shack.
6) Have you ever priced a hearse? You must know someone who has a pick up truck.
7) Hold the reception at the Rescue Mission.
8) Burial plots are terribly overpriced. Do any of your friends have a basement?
9) Bubble wrap instead of satin linings.
10) Can you say "forget the whole thing." Maybe no one will even notice.
And two more suggestions from Lynn...
11) Don't buy flowers, just spray some Glade and call it good.
12) No need to fill the grave back up with dirt, let mother nature do the work.
You'll never get this kind of advice from Martha Stewart.
For this Friday morning, let's start with a little humor too start the weekend.
I mentioned in a previous post below that I have been attending many more funerals than I ever have in the past. I guess aging and leaving this mortal coil comes hand in hand with life. And have you looked into the current cost of a funeral? Well... here are some money saving tips to help you get through the big show.
1) Don't hire a minister, hire a Walmart Greeter.
2) If you opt for a creamation, ask them if they could just do chunks instead of ashes.
3) A casket, forget it. If a cardboard box is good enought for the homeless then...
4) Don't spend all that money on a burial outfit, go naked.
5) Police escorts are expensive. Forget it. Get one of those spinning lights from Radio Shack.
6) Have you ever priced a hearse? You must know someone who has a pick up truck.
7) Hold the reception at the Rescue Mission.
8) Burial plots are terribly overpriced. Do any of your friends have a basement?
9) Bubble wrap instead of satin linings.
10) Can you say "forget the whole thing." Maybe no one will even notice.
And two more suggestions from Lynn...
11) Don't buy flowers, just spray some Glade and call it good.
12) No need to fill the grave back up with dirt, let mother nature do the work.
You'll never get this kind of advice from Martha Stewart.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
32 steps to finding true love
In my last post, I mentioned that I had tried a number of online dating services. On one of the services I responded to a woman who's profile attracted my attention. A few hours later I received an email which contained 32 questions that she wanted me to answer so she could decide if she wanted to take the next step and meet me. What has happened to just getting on the phone or sitting down over a cup of coffee and talking?
I decided to answer her questions... LOL.
1. Best quality?
I’m still breathing.
2. Worst quality?
I’m a male.
3. What's in your CD player right now?
I looked… wow… that’s where that sandwich disappeared to.
4. Do you normally wear boxers, briefs or no underwear?
What’s underwear?
5. What clothes are you wearing right now?
A tee shirt and shorts that Goodwill dropped off yesterday.
6. What clothes do you wear to bed?
A tee shirt and shorts that Goodwill dropped off two days ago.
7. Favorite alcoholic drink?
Nyquil.
8. Are there any foods you don't eat or can't eat?
That stuff at the Mission doesn’t taste too good.
9. What's the best dish you cook?
Boiled water.
10. Do you believe in love at first sight?
Not unless there is a dog involved.
11. Kiss on the first date? If no, after how many?
I don’t know… I’ve never gone on a date.
12. Do you smoke cigarettes?
No… too expensive. Would like to try one. Do you have one?
13. Favorite movie (or type)?
“The Modern Farmer” A documentary. Circa. 1953.
14. What is your living arrangement?
No more than one person to a cardboard box.
15. Children? (Have them? How many? Want more?) I have 2.
I love them. Want more. They taste good.
16. Do you like and participate in romance?
See Number 11.
17. Are you religious, if so what religion?
Well… I’ve been saved… I’ll be damned.
18. Why are you single?
See answers 1 through 17 and 19 through 32.
19. What is the ideal number of times to see someone in a week?
The welfare office allows 3 visits a week. Works for me.
20. Biggest turn on’s?
Finding extra meat in a dish of Ham Surprise.
21. Biggest turn offs?
Wet cardboard.
22. When you go out, where do you like to go?
Anyplace I won’t be arrested.
23. Prefer large groups or intimate gatherings?
It depends on the size of the current homeless population.
24. Are you a walker or a hiker?
Honestly… I have trouble crawling.
25. How do you feel about drugs & alcohol?
Is this an offer?
26. What part(s) of your body do you like the most?
The ones that haven’t fallen off yet.
27. What part(s) of a woman's body do you like most?
The space between her toes.
28. Tattoos or piercing?
Is this another offer?
29. How would you describe the way you dress?
Neo-panhandler.
30. Where is your ideal vacation?
East of France… the Burgundy region. Any place between Buxy and Cluny.
31. Perfect date:
Is your mother still alive?
32. Life motto:
“I don’t remember eating that.”
She never responded to my answers. I guess she wasn't looking for a guy with a sense of humor.
I decided to answer her questions... LOL.
1. Best quality?
I’m still breathing.
2. Worst quality?
I’m a male.
3. What's in your CD player right now?
I looked… wow… that’s where that sandwich disappeared to.
4. Do you normally wear boxers, briefs or no underwear?
What’s underwear?
5. What clothes are you wearing right now?
A tee shirt and shorts that Goodwill dropped off yesterday.
6. What clothes do you wear to bed?
A tee shirt and shorts that Goodwill dropped off two days ago.
7. Favorite alcoholic drink?
Nyquil.
8. Are there any foods you don't eat or can't eat?
That stuff at the Mission doesn’t taste too good.
9. What's the best dish you cook?
Boiled water.
10. Do you believe in love at first sight?
Not unless there is a dog involved.
11. Kiss on the first date? If no, after how many?
I don’t know… I’ve never gone on a date.
12. Do you smoke cigarettes?
No… too expensive. Would like to try one. Do you have one?
13. Favorite movie (or type)?
“The Modern Farmer” A documentary. Circa. 1953.
14. What is your living arrangement?
No more than one person to a cardboard box.
15. Children? (Have them? How many? Want more?) I have 2.
I love them. Want more. They taste good.
16. Do you like and participate in romance?
See Number 11.
17. Are you religious, if so what religion?
Well… I’ve been saved… I’ll be damned.
18. Why are you single?
See answers 1 through 17 and 19 through 32.
19. What is the ideal number of times to see someone in a week?
The welfare office allows 3 visits a week. Works for me.
20. Biggest turn on’s?
Finding extra meat in a dish of Ham Surprise.
21. Biggest turn offs?
Wet cardboard.
22. When you go out, where do you like to go?
Anyplace I won’t be arrested.
23. Prefer large groups or intimate gatherings?
It depends on the size of the current homeless population.
24. Are you a walker or a hiker?
Honestly… I have trouble crawling.
25. How do you feel about drugs & alcohol?
Is this an offer?
26. What part(s) of your body do you like the most?
The ones that haven’t fallen off yet.
27. What part(s) of a woman's body do you like most?
The space between her toes.
28. Tattoos or piercing?
Is this another offer?
29. How would you describe the way you dress?
Neo-panhandler.
30. Where is your ideal vacation?
East of France… the Burgundy region. Any place between Buxy and Cluny.
31. Perfect date:
Is your mother still alive?
32. Life motto:
“I don’t remember eating that.”
She never responded to my answers. I guess she wasn't looking for a guy with a sense of humor.
Resources for dating when you're 50+
If you're over 50 years old, what resources do you have for meeting like minded singles. Not many, I have discovered. Here are some of the places I have tried.
I've been attending a lot more funerals lately, that seems par for the course at this age, but most of the time the guest of honor seems to have more life than some of the attendees.
I've tried Goodwill on Senior days, but really, my eye for interior decoration is not that refined, and I am getting tired of being asked if this "compote would look good on an embroidered tablecloth."
The laundromat is boring. I have made up to three trips a week to wash clothes and check out the action, but to no avail. But I do have some of the cleanest underwear in the county.
I even tried the public library. But you can't really talk out loud there, and I got a detention for passing notes.
And of course, I've tried some of the online dating services. I did get a number of responses, but all these women needed was someone to drive them to a funeral, or Goodwill, or the laundomat or the library.
What's a guy to do?
I've been attending a lot more funerals lately, that seems par for the course at this age, but most of the time the guest of honor seems to have more life than some of the attendees.
I've tried Goodwill on Senior days, but really, my eye for interior decoration is not that refined, and I am getting tired of being asked if this "compote would look good on an embroidered tablecloth."
The laundromat is boring. I have made up to three trips a week to wash clothes and check out the action, but to no avail. But I do have some of the cleanest underwear in the county.
I even tried the public library. But you can't really talk out loud there, and I got a detention for passing notes.
And of course, I've tried some of the online dating services. I did get a number of responses, but all these women needed was someone to drive them to a funeral, or Goodwill, or the laundomat or the library.
What's a guy to do?
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