Just saw this and snort laughed because IF I had an accident I can imagine my then shot nerves would just cause it to go all the way in the toilet just like this driver. I would give lots of money if this had narration.
Friday, March 30, 2012
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
In the end
If you are a curious person, you can just follow Google around all day. I followed it all the way to the website for the Society of Professional Obituary Writers the other day. Their tagline is: "Writing About the Dead for a Living" so there you go. They look like a pleasant group of people in their pictures and they even give out awards. The SPOW (I like that it has POW! in it) even has a Lifetime Achievement Award. A prolific obit writer named Jim Nicholson won it this year, but maybe if you start now you will have a shot at that.
Yikes.
Some folks write their own before they die and I guess that's helpful, but maybe other folks would at least have a few things to add. I spotted a few of those and it seemed that most of them didn't say very many kind things about themselves. Someone else might have shined them up a little given the chance.
I don't live for the end, if you know what I'm saying. I'm not doing things hoping folks will speak highly of me when I'm dead, but I do hope there's enough good things to say by the end of it that my obituary can be a proud piece of work for someone (maybe even the famous Jim Nicholson of SPOW would consider it?). I thought if I started the draft then someone could just edit it and that might be good. If I follow the format I found online, I think it should go something like this:
So, that's a start.
So all of that got me thinking about obituaries and I discovered you can even follow steps online to writing a good one. Really, for a lot of folks their obituary is the only evidence of their existence on the internet so you want to get it right in case you are googled yourself one day. What you don't want to do is leave it to your ex-spouse Pee Wee to write your obit, which is what this guy did. Probably Mr. Conway wasn't expecting to die and that's how this happened.
And then there are folks who use the obituary as a way to get in a final dig. Listen to what Dolares Aguilar's family said about her in the Times-Herald Napa/Sonoma paper:
"Dolores had no hobbies, made no contribution to society and rarely shared a kind word or deed in her life. I speak for the majority of her family when I say her presence will not be missed by many, very few tears will be shed and there will be no lamenting over her passing… There will be no service, no prayers and no closure for the family she spent a lifetime tearing apart."
Yikes.
Some folks write their own before they die and I guess that's helpful, but maybe other folks would at least have a few things to add. I spotted a few of those and it seemed that most of them didn't say very many kind things about themselves. Someone else might have shined them up a little given the chance.
I don't live for the end, if you know what I'm saying. I'm not doing things hoping folks will speak highly of me when I'm dead, but I do hope there's enough good things to say by the end of it that my obituary can be a proud piece of work for someone (maybe even the famous Jim Nicholson of SPOW would consider it?). I thought if I started the draft then someone could just edit it and that might be good. If I follow the format I found online, I think it should go something like this:
Mrs. Lori Davies Barfield, age unpublishable, died in the strangest incident of spontaneous combustion on Wednesday. She exited this life in an event described by witnesses in the Walmart electronics section as a BLAZE OF GLORY.
She is survived by her husband, Mr. Kenneth E. Barfield, who loved her and who fiercely and frequently protected her from the consequences of any number of license and user agreements she signed willy-nilly with AT&T and Apple and Comcast, etc. His patience in repeatedly explaining the alarm system to her in their home was a constant testament to his affection for her. She will be missed by her adoring and talented Academy Award winning daughter Olivia who recently cured cancer as well as her step-son who calls her frequently from his relief work (which earned him a Nobel Prize this year) in Africa.
She was known for laughing and falling and also laughing at other people's falling usually at the most inappropriate times. Her laugh at least caused others around her to laugh so that was worth something. She started painting in her 40s, but could only paint birds, and boy she painted a lot of those so they are for sale in the funeral home lobby (proceeds to go to the William S. Davies Homeless Shelter). She had 5 good friends who loved her as much as she loved them. She did not sass-talk her parents. She loved to read, but always said she liked her own life better than the ones in the books. In the end, the rotten things she did were outweighed by the kind things she did so that worked out well. She attended the First Baptist Church where she was frequently overheard telling the pastor he'd delivered a hell of a sermon. She loved sunshine and never had a cavity.
Details regarding the celebration of her life will be published as soon as the Barnum and Bailey Circus agrees to terms.
She is survived by her husband, Mr. Kenneth E. Barfield, who loved her and who fiercely and frequently protected her from the consequences of any number of license and user agreements she signed willy-nilly with AT&T and Apple and Comcast, etc. His patience in repeatedly explaining the alarm system to her in their home was a constant testament to his affection for her. She will be missed by her adoring and talented Academy Award winning daughter Olivia who recently cured cancer as well as her step-son who calls her frequently from his relief work (which earned him a Nobel Prize this year) in Africa.
She was known for laughing and falling and also laughing at other people's falling usually at the most inappropriate times. Her laugh at least caused others around her to laugh so that was worth something. She started painting in her 40s, but could only paint birds, and boy she painted a lot of those so they are for sale in the funeral home lobby (proceeds to go to the William S. Davies Homeless Shelter). She had 5 good friends who loved her as much as she loved them. She did not sass-talk her parents. She loved to read, but always said she liked her own life better than the ones in the books. In the end, the rotten things she did were outweighed by the kind things she did so that worked out well. She attended the First Baptist Church where she was frequently overheard telling the pastor he'd delivered a hell of a sermon. She loved sunshine and never had a cavity.
Details regarding the celebration of her life will be published as soon as the Barnum and Bailey Circus agrees to terms.
So, that's a start.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Possible captions
The girls at Steeplechase will be sooooo jealous.
Does this hat make my ass look big?
Jerry's mother never understood why the other boys never invited him for football.
The cigarette makes me cool.
What?
Monday, March 26, 2012
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Did I ever tell you about the time I was in the circus?
Isn't that a great way to start a story? In this case, it's TRUE. My sister will totally back me up on this. Anyway, several years ago Mel and I decided to take the girls (our daughters are only months apart)to the BIG circus at Phillips Arena. They'd never been and here's how excited they were:
See, when your dad is a minister you pretty much get to go to the circus whenever some group needs a bus driver (do ministers have some kind of CDL license requirement?) and in our case as children that meant riding along with the institutionalized folks from the hospital (I'm so not kidding). That sort of thing might seem strange to you, but I don't remember us ever thinking anything was out of order. Still, Melanie and I were excited to experience the circus the way we imagined other folks did when we bought our tickets.
Let me pause here and tell you that I'm afraid of more things than you might imagine. I've never been accused of being a risk taker. I hold my breath and walk very quickly across storm drains and I don't even voluntarily ride roller coasters so I'm not the person out looking for many daredevil sorts of adventures, but I CAN say that I won't skip something that happens to come my way at least. I can take the deep breath and jump if it comes to that.
I wore a really loud, flowered jacket to this event because it did look like it belonged in a circus, but I didn't really think it would give me any leverage when they started calling for audience volunteers. You should know that one thing that doesn't frighten me is the thought of being in front of thousands of people. I thought, WHAT IF THIS IS MY ONLY CHANCE TO EVER BE IN THE CIRCUS??? Really, how many chances would a girl get? This thought so compelled me that I jumped to my feet and waved my arms and hoped my crazy circus jacket would work some crazy circus magic. I'm not sure, but I probably also yelled something like PICK ME PICK ME PICK ME much like an obnoxious kid at the magic show.
I think it was the coat because I GOT PICKED! I thought my sister would choke on our cotton candy, but she did the only sensible thing and called Kenny (she calls people when she's excited) and started snapping pictures. I'm sure the conversation went something like this:
Kenny: Hello?
Mel: OH MY GOD KENNY SHE'S GONE AND LANDED HER ASS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CIRCUS!
Kenny: Who is this?
Mel: It's MELANIE. NEVERMIND KENNY. IT'S LORI. SHE'S IN THE CENTER RING.
Kenny: Wait. What? Do you need me to come get y'all? Has she been arrested?
Mel: No, she's just got this crazy coat on and they've asked her to be in
some clown thing.
Kenny: Did she sign anything? Has she ACTUALLY JOINED THE CIRCUS?
Mel: It's ok. I'll send you pictures. I gotta go call mom.
Don't worry. I called him later.
Now when you get called to be in the circus, you might think you get to do something like this:
But I didn't. I wish I'd gotten to ride an elephant or jump off something or even do the trapeze just once (with the net of course), but it was just a little clown skit and it was very brief, but it is now FACT that for a few minutes in 2005 your friend Lori WAS in the CENTER RING of the Ringling Brothers, Barnum and Bailey Circus at Phillips Arena.
It was loud and bright and completely ridiculous AND IT WAS DAMN MAGNIFICENT. I will let you borrow my circus coat if you ever need some circus magic.
See, when your dad is a minister you pretty much get to go to the circus whenever some group needs a bus driver (do ministers have some kind of CDL license requirement?) and in our case as children that meant riding along with the institutionalized folks from the hospital (I'm so not kidding). That sort of thing might seem strange to you, but I don't remember us ever thinking anything was out of order. Still, Melanie and I were excited to experience the circus the way we imagined other folks did when we bought our tickets.
Let me pause here and tell you that I'm afraid of more things than you might imagine. I've never been accused of being a risk taker. I hold my breath and walk very quickly across storm drains and I don't even voluntarily ride roller coasters so I'm not the person out looking for many daredevil sorts of adventures, but I CAN say that I won't skip something that happens to come my way at least. I can take the deep breath and jump if it comes to that.
I wore a really loud, flowered jacket to this event because it did look like it belonged in a circus, but I didn't really think it would give me any leverage when they started calling for audience volunteers. You should know that one thing that doesn't frighten me is the thought of being in front of thousands of people. I thought, WHAT IF THIS IS MY ONLY CHANCE TO EVER BE IN THE CIRCUS??? Really, how many chances would a girl get? This thought so compelled me that I jumped to my feet and waved my arms and hoped my crazy circus jacket would work some crazy circus magic. I'm not sure, but I probably also yelled something like PICK ME PICK ME PICK ME much like an obnoxious kid at the magic show.
I think it was the coat because I GOT PICKED! I thought my sister would choke on our cotton candy, but she did the only sensible thing and called Kenny (she calls people when she's excited) and started snapping pictures. I'm sure the conversation went something like this:
Kenny: Hello?
Mel: OH MY GOD KENNY SHE'S GONE AND LANDED HER ASS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CIRCUS!
Kenny: Who is this?
Mel: It's MELANIE. NEVERMIND KENNY. IT'S LORI. SHE'S IN THE CENTER RING.
Kenny: Wait. What? Do you need me to come get y'all? Has she been arrested?
Mel: No, she's just got this crazy coat on and they've asked her to be in
some clown thing.
Kenny: Did she sign anything? Has she ACTUALLY JOINED THE CIRCUS?
Mel: It's ok. I'll send you pictures. I gotta go call mom.
Don't worry. I called him later.
Now when you get called to be in the circus, you might think you get to do something like this:
But I didn't. I wish I'd gotten to ride an elephant or jump off something or even do the trapeze just once (with the net of course), but it was just a little clown skit and it was very brief, but it is now FACT that for a few minutes in 2005 your friend Lori WAS in the CENTER RING of the Ringling Brothers, Barnum and Bailey Circus at Phillips Arena.
It was loud and bright and completely ridiculous AND IT WAS DAMN MAGNIFICENT. I will let you borrow my circus coat if you ever need some circus magic.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Some Sunday entertainment.
I love letters. I have spent time perusing this wonderful collection of letters that deserve sharing. Here's the site: http://www.lettersofnote.com/. It's really a great way to spend a Sunday morning. Here's the link to my favorite - E.B. White's letter regarding his unlicensed dog Minnie. I'd love to know your favorite.
http://www.lettersofnote.com/2012/02/she-doesnt-answer-phone.html
http://www.lettersofnote.com/2012/02/she-doesnt-answer-phone.html
Hmmm...
You gotta wonder why this wooden bathing suit thing never caught on because it does hide all of the trouble spots.
Or this snow storm face protector:
Found both of these among other great pics of inventions at brainpickings.
Or this snow storm face protector:
Found both of these among other great pics of inventions at brainpickings.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
For Mr. Rogers
Sometimes two ideas come together that you wouldn't think to put there. I would have never put bacon and chocolate together, but they have it at the new candy store downtown. Or lawn care and snacks, but there was a company that did both that my dad used for a while. Two ideas came together for me this week and I'll stick it out there and see what you think.
First, yesterday was Mr. Rogers' birthday. He's dead so you don't need to get him anything, but Mr. Rogers gave a lot of his time to me so I thought I could give some to him and his legacy. Sweet, slow, predictable Fred Rogers was just about the kindest man a lot of children encountered. Mr. Rogers loved you before you were cool. He wrote those songs, you know, that he sang like, "It's You I Like" (not the color of your hair, it's you I like, not the fancy clothes you wear...) and those sweaters, the zip up ones, were his Christmas gifts from his mom. I always got the creepy molester vibe from the Speedy Delivery mailman, Mr. McFeely, but it turns out that McFeely is Fred Rogers' middle name (his mom's maiden name) so the name was just an unfortunate coincidence.
I was watching some footage of Mr. Rogers on youtube yesterday and there's one that makes me smile of him learning to break dance with his young friend Jermaine. Mr. Rogers, with his dorky Keds and his sweater is just all eager and smiles and the child was at ease and confident in his presence. It made me wonder how me made so many young people love him.
And here's where idea number two came to mind: Recently I heard an addiction specialist say that it helps to look for the similarities rather than the differences in the recovery community (because, as she said, it's the same elevator, just pick which floor you want to get off). In other words, learn from anyone who can help you, even if they are not just like you. No, I'm not in recovery, but I'm guilty of resisting connection with others by highlighting how different I am from them. Hell, it's the whole point of this blog, right? I'm even better at avoiding connection with folks I dislike. If I dropped the rope in the tug of war I invent in my head, I wonder if I'd find acceptance and relief? I wonder if that's how Mr. Rogers seemed to move so peacefully between worlds of difference. I mean, Mr. Rogers and break dancing? Could anything seem less likely? But there it was on PBS and it went pretty well.
So it's not the beginning of a bad joke when I say that Mr. Rogers and that AA advice have a lot in common. I think part of the charm of Fred Rogers is that he always found the similarities between himself and you or whomever he was introducing that day. "You like to dance? I like to dance. Can you teach me? You like music? I like music. Show me how to make those sounds. Sometimes I feel sad or angry. Do you?" He was living the idea of finding the similarities and building from there. For him, there was no tug of war.
See? Nap time, vanilla wafer, sllooooowwwww, Fred McFeely Rogers, was on to something. He told me every day he liked me and that I was worth his time. He told me that we were a lot alike. He showed me how to try new things and laugh at being silly. He kept things tidy and always remembered to feed those fish. The puppets kinda bored me, but he was a truly lovely human. Oh, happy birthday Mr. Rogers. You loved me before I was cool.
First, yesterday was Mr. Rogers' birthday. He's dead so you don't need to get him anything, but Mr. Rogers gave a lot of his time to me so I thought I could give some to him and his legacy. Sweet, slow, predictable Fred Rogers was just about the kindest man a lot of children encountered. Mr. Rogers loved you before you were cool. He wrote those songs, you know, that he sang like, "It's You I Like" (not the color of your hair, it's you I like, not the fancy clothes you wear...) and those sweaters, the zip up ones, were his Christmas gifts from his mom. I always got the creepy molester vibe from the Speedy Delivery mailman, Mr. McFeely, but it turns out that McFeely is Fred Rogers' middle name (his mom's maiden name) so the name was just an unfortunate coincidence.
I was watching some footage of Mr. Rogers on youtube yesterday and there's one that makes me smile of him learning to break dance with his young friend Jermaine. Mr. Rogers, with his dorky Keds and his sweater is just all eager and smiles and the child was at ease and confident in his presence. It made me wonder how me made so many young people love him.
And here's where idea number two came to mind: Recently I heard an addiction specialist say that it helps to look for the similarities rather than the differences in the recovery community (because, as she said, it's the same elevator, just pick which floor you want to get off). In other words, learn from anyone who can help you, even if they are not just like you. No, I'm not in recovery, but I'm guilty of resisting connection with others by highlighting how different I am from them. Hell, it's the whole point of this blog, right? I'm even better at avoiding connection with folks I dislike. If I dropped the rope in the tug of war I invent in my head, I wonder if I'd find acceptance and relief? I wonder if that's how Mr. Rogers seemed to move so peacefully between worlds of difference. I mean, Mr. Rogers and break dancing? Could anything seem less likely? But there it was on PBS and it went pretty well.
So it's not the beginning of a bad joke when I say that Mr. Rogers and that AA advice have a lot in common. I think part of the charm of Fred Rogers is that he always found the similarities between himself and you or whomever he was introducing that day. "You like to dance? I like to dance. Can you teach me? You like music? I like music. Show me how to make those sounds. Sometimes I feel sad or angry. Do you?" He was living the idea of finding the similarities and building from there. For him, there was no tug of war.
See? Nap time, vanilla wafer, sllooooowwwww, Fred McFeely Rogers, was on to something. He told me every day he liked me and that I was worth his time. He told me that we were a lot alike. He showed me how to try new things and laugh at being silly. He kept things tidy and always remembered to feed those fish. The puppets kinda bored me, but he was a truly lovely human. Oh, happy birthday Mr. Rogers. You loved me before I was cool.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
You know how some people can seem normal?
Found this while digging around yesterday. I didn't want you to miss the opportunity to submit your poetry in time to have it read on the next Proper Opossum Poetry Corner installment. The drums are what make it special.
Gladly gave an hour of my life to youtube watching this woman and her opossum demonstrate the proper way to massage an opossum, to provide dental care (I watched in terror), to cook for one.
Now the immediate phrase that comes to mind on this video is "bat shit crazy" but she's grown on me and I think you'll like her. The website is a real dandy too. www.mepearl.com
Friday, March 16, 2012
If you have to have a disorder...
I found this article on Jezebel today by Cassie Murdoch. I watched the following 5 minute video in German (maybe it's not German, but whatever) before I realized that you can do the subtitles by pressing the CC button. The thing is, you don't need to speak German to figure this story out really. The fella had surgery 2 years ago and now is amused with everything - except the national anthem which causes him to cry. Absolutely guffaws at every damn thing. Completely uncontrollable like when you get the giggles in church uncontrollable. I love him.
Watch this and then let's try to guess how many times a day his miserable wife resorts to singing the national anthem. I've not listened to it with subtitles yet so I have no clue what role Ernie from Sesame Street plays in it. I'll get back to you on that.
Watch this and then let's try to guess how many times a day his miserable wife resorts to singing the national anthem. I've not listened to it with subtitles yet so I have no clue what role Ernie from Sesame Street plays in it. I'll get back to you on that.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Let's be friends
Let's talk about friends. If you only have one friend, that's a big burden for that person so go make a few more. I bet this guy would be your friend. You should see him from the front.
I have different kinds of friends. There's the Known Forever Friend who mostly relies on shared history and stays close so that you don't ever have enough room to tell all that you know on them. There's the Friends at First Sight category and I do have several of those - proof that we know on some kind of cellular level those with whom we are compatible. There's the Friend-in-Law, the one that mostly you just know peripherally, the self explanatory Hobby Friend, the Friend Who is Not Your Friend (I know who you are), the Favor Friend, the True Blue Friend (very rare). The most fun category is the Unlikely Friend and those are fantastic because you just somehow realize one day that a person very different from yourself has become a positive, sincere and integral part of your life. This curious category is where my friend Shelley can be found.
Shelley is a decade younger than I am and she brings with her all the cool things I would otherwise not have access to as a 40 year old mom. She was the first person I heard say, "Hell to the no" and can unleash all that kind of talk in the proper context which is a complete mystery to me. She possesses a pretty much perfect physique and has the work ethic to keep it up and will actually say things like, "I just wanted to see if I could do it" in reference to tests of physical endurance that I assure you, we would guffaw at if someone presented the option to us. She gets her nails done and knows what jeans we should be wearing (if I could fit into them that is). See how different we are?
When our girls started school together, we had that uneven sort of acquaintance where one of us appears to have it together and the other seems like things are difficult. She sometimes needed advice and I liked giving it. She is a single mom who had the wisdom not to marry a guy who wouldn't have improved her life as a husband even though she must have been afraid to go it alone. I wish I had known her then. Shelley is what you'd call feisty. She's one of the only people I know who's gut is dead on right and who's smart enough to trust it. She's raised an equally beautiful, savvy, wicked-smart daughter and she's humble enough to know that none of us raise children without help from others.
We had a time where we didn't talk so much and during that time I had some other reasons to realize that no one likes to be the friend in need all the time and that I tended to create unbalanced friendships by never exposing my own fears and concerns. When Shelley floated back into my life I happened to need someone I could trust to not make me feel foolish in the gym and that's something I knew she could do. See, I was watching 40 approach and feeling my bones start to crumble like limestone so like most late 30 something frump-moms I decided not to let this be the best I ever was.
The first time I left a training session with her I vomited, took 4 advil and stayed in bed nauseated for the afternoon. The second time (after I could walk and sit on the toilet without crying again - I'm not kidding) I tried some ridiculous looking ab exercise and whimpered, "I can't do it," and it was in that moment of pure physical shame and weakness (a tragic acknowledgement that the strength of youth had finally left me) that I got to experience the best part of my friend Shelley. She said without any hesitation the simplest, most patient, and kindest words, "Yes you can." And there was the epiphany: My prior mistake was never giving a true friend the opportunity to BE a true friend. I'd never been willing to be the one who needed encouragement from her and I missed a thousand chances to experience something good.
I think I've told her before how grateful I am that she encouraged me then (and after) so it's probably not news to her, but the lesson of opening myself to receive the gifts of others is one that I revisit again and again with other friendships. So, if you are like me and your first response to really investing in a friendship is, "Oh, hell to the no" maybe it's time to try something new. The long haired guy at the bar is waiting to hear all about you and he does have a really nice face.
I have different kinds of friends. There's the Known Forever Friend who mostly relies on shared history and stays close so that you don't ever have enough room to tell all that you know on them. There's the Friends at First Sight category and I do have several of those - proof that we know on some kind of cellular level those with whom we are compatible. There's the Friend-in-Law, the one that mostly you just know peripherally, the self explanatory Hobby Friend, the Friend Who is Not Your Friend (I know who you are), the Favor Friend, the True Blue Friend (very rare). The most fun category is the Unlikely Friend and those are fantastic because you just somehow realize one day that a person very different from yourself has become a positive, sincere and integral part of your life. This curious category is where my friend Shelley can be found.
Shelley is a decade younger than I am and she brings with her all the cool things I would otherwise not have access to as a 40 year old mom. She was the first person I heard say, "Hell to the no" and can unleash all that kind of talk in the proper context which is a complete mystery to me. She possesses a pretty much perfect physique and has the work ethic to keep it up and will actually say things like, "I just wanted to see if I could do it" in reference to tests of physical endurance that I assure you, we would guffaw at if someone presented the option to us. She gets her nails done and knows what jeans we should be wearing (if I could fit into them that is). See how different we are?
When our girls started school together, we had that uneven sort of acquaintance where one of us appears to have it together and the other seems like things are difficult. She sometimes needed advice and I liked giving it. She is a single mom who had the wisdom not to marry a guy who wouldn't have improved her life as a husband even though she must have been afraid to go it alone. I wish I had known her then. Shelley is what you'd call feisty. She's one of the only people I know who's gut is dead on right and who's smart enough to trust it. She's raised an equally beautiful, savvy, wicked-smart daughter and she's humble enough to know that none of us raise children without help from others.
We had a time where we didn't talk so much and during that time I had some other reasons to realize that no one likes to be the friend in need all the time and that I tended to create unbalanced friendships by never exposing my own fears and concerns. When Shelley floated back into my life I happened to need someone I could trust to not make me feel foolish in the gym and that's something I knew she could do. See, I was watching 40 approach and feeling my bones start to crumble like limestone so like most late 30 something frump-moms I decided not to let this be the best I ever was.
The first time I left a training session with her I vomited, took 4 advil and stayed in bed nauseated for the afternoon. The second time (after I could walk and sit on the toilet without crying again - I'm not kidding) I tried some ridiculous looking ab exercise and whimpered, "I can't do it," and it was in that moment of pure physical shame and weakness (a tragic acknowledgement that the strength of youth had finally left me) that I got to experience the best part of my friend Shelley. She said without any hesitation the simplest, most patient, and kindest words, "Yes you can." And there was the epiphany: My prior mistake was never giving a true friend the opportunity to BE a true friend. I'd never been willing to be the one who needed encouragement from her and I missed a thousand chances to experience something good.
I think I've told her before how grateful I am that she encouraged me then (and after) so it's probably not news to her, but the lesson of opening myself to receive the gifts of others is one that I revisit again and again with other friendships. So, if you are like me and your first response to really investing in a friendship is, "Oh, hell to the no" maybe it's time to try something new. The long haired guy at the bar is waiting to hear all about you and he does have a really nice face.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Swear I'm not making this up. Eugene on CraigsList wants his creeper van back. Here's his ad:
911** Chevy van stolen from storage shed! REALLY PISSED!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: 2010-09-21, 9:52AM PDT
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
1986 Chevy conversion van stolen from my shed in Springfield on Sunday.
DESCRIPTION: dark grey color, side and back rear windows covered in silver duck tape, and sprayed
over with black spray paint.
**I was planning on turning it into bus for my church, that's why the windows look like that.
people know me would back me up on that so I'm not worried about it.
VERY PERSONAL private, personal items inside
1- two sets of police-style handcuffs... very valuable. steel locks. I have the key ,so you can't use them anyway, I would really love to have these back for sentimentel reasons.
2- There might also be some old magazines too maybe, but they aren't mine.
My neighbor asked me to store them inside of my van so his wife wouldn'tcatch him looking at them, they are not mine, but I would like them back so he doesn't get in any kind of trouble for looking at that sort of thing. We all sin, but god knows our heart! (corinthians 5-17)
**There is some home-made like VCR tapes too that aren't mine. believe me, I go to church all the time, and people who know me will tell you that I would NEVER look at stuff like that,
but it would be real nice if I could just return them to their rightful owner so people don't think I look
at crap like that. God knows that I don't and that's what's important.
Please let me know if you have seen this vehicle!! This really hurt my plans for the weekend
any information would be appreciated! God Bless!
•Location: Springfield
•it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 1965721396
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: 2010-09-21, 9:52AM PDT
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
1986 Chevy conversion van stolen from my shed in Springfield on Sunday.
DESCRIPTION: dark grey color, side and back rear windows covered in silver duck tape, and sprayed
over with black spray paint.
**I was planning on turning it into bus for my church, that's why the windows look like that.
people know me would back me up on that so I'm not worried about it.
VERY PERSONAL private, personal items inside
1- two sets of police-style handcuffs... very valuable. steel locks. I have the key ,so you can't use them anyway, I would really love to have these back for sentimentel reasons.
2- There might also be some old magazines too maybe, but they aren't mine.
My neighbor asked me to store them inside of my van so his wife wouldn'tcatch him looking at them, they are not mine, but I would like them back so he doesn't get in any kind of trouble for looking at that sort of thing. We all sin, but god knows our heart! (corinthians 5-17)
**There is some home-made like VCR tapes too that aren't mine. believe me, I go to church all the time, and people who know me will tell you that I would NEVER look at stuff like that,
but it would be real nice if I could just return them to their rightful owner so people don't think I look
at crap like that. God knows that I don't and that's what's important.
Please let me know if you have seen this vehicle!! This really hurt my plans for the weekend
any information would be appreciated! God Bless!
•Location: Springfield
•it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 1965721396
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