Archive for the ‘Observation’ Category

The magic beans

Monday, November 14th, 2011

By Tiber

I threw up. Yeah, yeah, we all have. But this may be related to an allergy. It’s not a pollen, ragweed kind of normal allergy. No, no. This could be…I can barely even get this out. I may have become allergic…to coffee!

But, but, I LOVE coffee! Love it, love it, love it! I want to fill the pool with it and swim in it! I want it come out of my bathroom taps! I want to buy it cute clothes and tell it it’s hot! Because it is!!!

Nobody loves ragweed. It’s not normal to anybody’s system so of course you could react adversely to that.

But coffee? Come on!

Coffee, and it’s happy, little dancing beans never hurt anybody!

Coffee just exists to put a song in your heart, a spring in your step and now you’re telling me an up in my throw?!?

It’s never been a problem before and I should know!!! My morning coffees from the shop have long ago graduated to “I’ll have two Gargantuas, please!“ (They let me come up with my own categories and God bless them, they even find containers to honor them.)

At home, I’ve started drinking coffee straight from the pot. Hey, that was an ecological choice! You save water when you have no mugs to wash.

Later, of course, I enjoy my pre-dining joe happy hour followed by my post-dining java calm-down. So how can something that you need and love and can’t live without, and would dress up like a hamster in a bikini,  just TURN on you like…

Oh.

Rock & Dough

Sunday, October 9th, 2011

By Tiber

Mother Shipton was a seer or a psychic who was born back in the late 1400’s in England.

She evidently lived in a cave and I just read where her cave is still a big tourist attraction to this day.

This is partly due to what’s called the “Petrifying Water Well,” which, because of the excessive amounts of minerals in the water, can, over time, make things turn to stone.

I need to check this out as a money-making venture because we’ve got three family members in this house alone who can turn whole people into stone just by glaring at them!

Mom can do it, when someone is rude. Iris Nell can do it,  if anyone’s unkind. And Vanessa can do it if anyone’s an idiot.

And they can all do it instantly! No waiting!

So line up, pony up and get your tickets right here!

Of course, the minute I suggest this, all three of them will ice me like a cube.

I’m going to have to think of a way to market them without looking.

The Candy Man can

Friday, September 30th, 2011

By Tiber

I thought it might make me feel better about losing my job to read where some U.S. presidents have had tough personal moments of their own. At least I haven’t lost the house china in a poker game (President Harding) or gotten stuck in a bathtub (President Taft) or been stopped by the police for speeding on a horse (President Grant).

But then of course, there’s President Thomas Jefferson, who along with all of that “Declaration” paperwork, also invented a clock, a new plow, the swivel chair, a concave mirror, the dumbwaiter and a copying machine.

Here I’m not working at all and the only thing I’ve come up with is my remote-controlled “candypault.”

I put candy across the room on my dresser so I won’t eat it but then the second I’m in bed, I want it anyway and I’m too lazy to get up. So I invented the “candypault” which allows me to ignore my good intentions and shoots the candy right back.

Hey, it’s a start.

It’s all relative

Tuesday, September 27th, 2011

 

By Tiber 

Today is Ancestor Appreciation Day! So get out there and appreciate an ancestor!

You’ll notice I said pick just one.

We go back so many generations now, we’re all bound to be a bizarre, sorry, I mean, interesting mix.

People who are rich now had some dirt poor forebearers along the way.

Insecure strugglers today are related to confident successes of the past.

But all of us are bound to find at least one ancestor who was responsible for founding a town! That’s right! Impressive, isn’t it? He actually helped to build up a new city from scratch…because everybody else hated him so much, they went down the road and formed another community, just to get away from him.

Taking the bull by any horns you can get

Tuesday, August 23rd, 2011

By Tiber 

In one of those news headlines I love, (though I didn’t read the article) there was one today entitled, “Bull Semen Closes Down Freeway.”

There might have been a truck carrying bull semen that just blocked the route.

But I like to think that the word went out on CowDate that this one bull was so spectacularly hot, all of the ladies stampeded after him at the same time as he was driving to, I don’t know, a meeting with his realtor, his own book signing or maybe just a Dairy Queen.

And with that many hungry, horny, hogging heifers hyperventilating and hightailing it up the highway, what else can you do but shut it down?

Fame…What’s your name? What’s your name?

Wednesday, August 17th, 2011

By Tiber 

I’ve never wanted to be famous. Through my parents, I’ve met a lot of famous people and, for the most part, I’ve always felt it made their lives worse.

One good thing about fame, though, is that it can make other people actually forget reality because they so want to like you.

As you know, we just put on one of the most disliked performances of all time of one of Shakespeare’s worst plays. Because of this, we all were prepared for a lot of averted glances or even hostility when each of us had to go into town.

But it turns out the reverse has been true.

Evidently, given time to think about it, our entire audience has decided they loved the entire event!

I think the reason for this is that nobody wants to look like a total rube and say they hated it. After all, it was Shakespeare! And great people think Shakespeare is great. So “Titus Andronicus” is great! And our performance of it was great! Great, great, great!

Dad’s eyes sort of sparkled and he says we now have a guaranteed money-maker. We can keep on performing bad Shakespeare and everyone in town will feel obligated to attend.

It won’t last forever, of course, but it’ll at least take awhile before each and every audience member can fake his or her own death and have to be carried to the exit.

On the road again

Saturday, August 6th, 2011

By Tiber

Hello. I’m back at home.

My friend, Ryan, and I went on a road trip. We tend to underbelly these things so I wouldn’t really call it a “vacation” since that word conjures up something restful.

At least it wasn’t a “staycation” which I will avoid forever simply because I hate that word.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t a “laycation” either which I truly would have enjoyed.

But all and all, it was still worthwhile.

I tend to like new smells and whenever we travel, there seem to be a lot of those. Plus, as with everybody, beyond the true interest of a trip, I think there’s always the relief that when you get out there, you see that other people aren’t any more sane or attractive or together than you are.

There would be nothing worse than to have somebody say way late in your life.

“You lived like that?!? Dude, if only you’d traveled two miles down the road, you could have lived in Perfect Town. Where no one gives tickets. They only give backrubs.”

Happy Bastille Day, Happy Moo Day

Thursday, July 14th, 2011

 

By Tiber

Happy Bastille Day to everybody.

I’ve been to France. I like France.

I even went and saw where the Bastille used to be. I imagine the French are a little sorry now that their ancestors tore it down since it would be even better if you could go there today and see where it still is.

Minus the prisoners, of course.

And Happy Moo Day?

Well, some people have also declared today National Cow Appreciation Day!

For some reason, it seems to be honored on a number of other days too so maybe we should just celebrate National Cow Appreciation Month.

I’ve seen cows. I like cows.

My sister, Iris Nell, would, of course, say you ought to get out there and give a cow a kiss. I think that may be going a bit far.

But I suppose a small, heartfelt hug wouldn’t hurt.

And if you hug a French cow, all the better.

How would you know it was a French cow?

French cows say, ”meuh.”

Plus, they just dress better.