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Saturday, July 23, 2005

Pete is on vacation. These are some of his favorite "random bits" posted over the years. Enjoy these until he gets back...

= The One About My Pants =

It never fails. Every time somebody knocks on my front door, I'm not wearing pants.

I'd like to say it's because I have an incredibly hot woman waiting in my bed, but I can't. It's just a case of not wearing my pants at that particular moment.

I'll be wearing underwear, but the pants seem to be elsewhere. Resting over a chair. Sitting in the hamper. Hanging out back, having a smoke. Visiting friends. Whatever.

If only we lived in a pantless society, I'd be the cat's meow.

As it is now, I'm just another pantless slob.

= Coffee Cup Philosophy =

I bought myself a cup of coffee this morning.

Printed on the side of the Styrofoam cup was the phrase:


Some days, I know exactly how that cup feels.

= Furniture Gone Wild =

I went to a party where there was much dancing and carrying on.

As the night wore on, and the party began to resemble an out-of-control train careening off the track, I think - at some point - a lampshade was involved.

After years of drudgery shading the light, the lampshade really wanted to cut loose.

It soon found itself up on the table, resting on some poor drunk's head, kicking up its heels and acting the fool.

Boy, did that lampshade get wasted last night!

So, too, did some of the other furniture. The table and chairs were falling all over each other. The refrigerator evidently had a little too much too, and ended up spewing its contents all over the kitchen floor.

This morning, the lampshade was back in its rightful place. Even if it sat upon the light bulb a bit crookedly.

"Oh, man," it said, "whatever you do, don't turn on that light. I am SO hung over right now."

= Steal This Book! =

I was at a local (Tempe AZ) mom-and-pop turned large outlet-style bookstore the other day.

It used to be a little "hole in the wall" kind of place, where you could always find a hidden gem. It recently moved.

It is now a "clean, well-lit place." I'd tell you the name of it, but don't want to get myself in trouble. However, if ownership should ever change hands, I'll name the bookstore at that later date.

In any case, as I headed into the restroom there, I spied a little laminated card taped to the door.

It read: "We will prosecute Shoplifters to the full extent of the law per A.R.S. 13-1805. Please DO NOT STEAL our merchandise. If you do, understand that we will attempt to send you to jail. Shoplifting hurts everyone - our staff, our customers, our profits..."

Needless to say, I couldn't help myself. I just couldn't help myself.

I stole the 'No Shoplifting' sign. It was a - as the kids say - bookstore bling-bling. So, I slipped it in my pocket and got the heck out of there.

Later, when my friend discovered what I had done, he was not as amused as I. He said, "That's so wrong!"

I am currently using the card as a bookmark. In books I actually paid for, purchased at other bookstores.

= Edible Bit =

I enjoy going to a restaurant and, after ordering, going to the restroom – only to find my dinner has mysteriously appeared on the table while I was taking a crap.

It’s magical.

= What Time Is It? =

I finally got around to buying myself a pocket watch. It is gold with a gold chain. The case (or cover) is black enamel with a golden train engine mounted in the center.

Now, no matter where I am, if anybody asks me for the time I can pull out my trusty pocket watch and tell them, for example, “it’s 10am” or “almost 7pm” or whatever the current time may be. After which I always add, “…and the trains are running on time.”

I almost bought a silver pocket watch instead. It was engraved with the phrase, “World’s #1 Grandpa”.

I don’t have any kids much less grandchildren, but thought it a worthy goal.

Obviously, it would be a long-term goal.

But then I got to thinking, “Do I want the course of my life dictated by a time piece?”

Not only would I first have to become a grandfather, I would then have to work really hard to be the world’s number one grandpa. Who has time for that?

But it would’ve made one hell of a conversation piece.

So, instead, I have to be content in the knowledge that the trains are running on time. If the small part I play helps to keep them on-schedule that’s satisfaction enough for me.

= Homeless Wisdom =

I was talking to this homeless man, when he stated matter-of-factly, "It's a thin line between caution and paranoia."

So I thanked him for sharing his profound wisdom.

And then... I killed him.

= Presto Change-O =

It was finally time to do something with that big jar full of spare change, so I ventured down to the local supermarket to run it all through the "Coin*Star"(tm) machine.

I'm much too lazy to roll the coins myself and the machine does pay eighty-cents on the dollar, so off I went.

After shoveling all my coinage into the "Coin*Star"(tm), it printed out a receipt for the twenty dollars I was then owed.

I took the receipt to the checkout line and after doing whatever it is cashiers do, the lady asked me how I wanted that.

"What do you mean," I said, "how do I want that?"

"Do you want a twenty dollar bill, or two tens, or what?" she replied.

"Can I get that in change?" I asked.

A roll of quarters, a roll of dimes, a couple rolls of nickels and some rolled pennies to make up the difference?

= What Kids Know =

One afternoon, my friend, Rex, and his 6-year old daughter were walking hand-in-hand down the street.

Soon, two men - also walking hand-in-hand - passed them. The little girl took this in as she and her dad continued along.

A few minutes later, another man walked past them. He was alone.

After the man went by, Rex's daughter looked up at him and said, "Daddy, that man was all by himself. Was he sad because he doesn't have somebody to love him too?"

= Traveling Light =

When I moved, a friend of mine was helping me pack when he came across a stack of newspapers.

"Garbage?" he asked of the two feet high, neatly stacked, pile.

"No," I said, "those are all the 'Travel' sections out of the Sunday paper I've collected over the last few years."

He looked completely flummoxed. "What do you need those for?" he said.

"I might want to take a trip some day," I answered.

=Heavenly Bus Ride =

The last time I rode the public bus, there was an elderly woman in a wheelchair parked near the rear. As the bus zoomed along, she shouted out, “Bus driver, what time will we stop on Buckeye Road?”

“We’re scheduled to stop at 2:10pm, ma’am, but we’re running about five minutes late.”

“What time?”

“About 2:15pm, ma’am, we’re a little behind schedule.”

“What? What did you say?”

At this point, the driver pulled over and said in a louder voice, “About 2:15! That’s when we’ll get to your stop.”

“What? I can’t hear you. What did the driver say?” she answered.

Another passenger then yelled, “He said 2:15, he’s going to be about five minutes late.”

“Better make that ten minutes now,” I dryly added.

As the driver began his journey again, the woman then started reciting a poem to the person sitting nearest her. I don’t know if she wrote it. I hope so, because I’d hate to think it was something that had actually been published. It began…

If there’s stairs to heaven
Please God lead the way
If there’s stairs to heaven
With thee I’ll climb that day

She seemed quite pleased with herself after the recital. My first thought was that she had better hope to hell there’s an elevator because no wheelchair is going to make it up a flight of stairs. And then what’s God going to do when she shows up? Heal her? That’s not His job, that’s Jesus’ job and he’s about 2000 years out of practice.

In the end it may not matter because, if there’s any justice in the universe whatsoever, reciting bad poetry should be grounds enough for eternal damnation.

= Traffic Report =

I tuned in morning radio the other day, and there was this segment where listeners call in live on-air traffic reports.

“There’s been an accident at Main and First Street, traffic is really slow right now.”


“The freeway exit at Camelback Road is closed, you might want to steer clear.”

I’ve been thinking about calling in a report myself:

“There’s a pack of wild dogs running loose at the intersection of 7th Avenue and McDowell. Cars are at a stand still. Oh my god, they’ve just attacked and devoured a small child! If anybody has a gun and is in the vicinity, get here pronto.”

I’d do it except for the fact I’d upset both the dog lovers and people who are against eating small children. Those are two groups you never want to piss off.


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