The Junk Drawer

Yo.

It’s been forever since I had an item for my Food That Looks Like Stuff series.

Today, I have a laughing rhino, courtesy of my egg and cheese breakfast sandwich.

Why do I even know what my melted cheese looks like inside?

Because I never enter the perfect heat time for these stupid things. One microwave I use takes 2 minutes, another 1:45 min, and yet another 1:30.

Because I forget which is which, I usually over-melt my cheese and it comes out scalding hot.

So I lift the lid to my sandwich and let it cool down before shoving it in my pie hole.

I give you, laughing rhino cheese head!

p.s. Rhinos are yummy.

It occurs to me that even though I don’t know much about football, my cats have been studying up.

In particular, both have become exceptionally good defensive tackles when I try to play Facebook Bejeweled.

Defensive tackles play at the center of the defensive line. Their function is to rush the passer and stop running plays directly in the middle of the line of scrimmage.

The line of scrimmage is the six inches between me and my laptop.

To wit:

This method of blocking is very effective, since this large, hairy tackle does not move once the play begins.

She sits there like a rock while the quarterback tries unsuccessfully to click around her body. The QB’s attempts to match falling gems fail miserably until or unless she actually lifts the tackle off the table and places her on the floor.

Now.

The other defensive tackle in this household uses a different strategy, known simply as the tail wag.

This technique sends tail and fur directly into the nose, and sometimes mouth, of the quarterback. The Play of Unmerciful Tickling causes the quarterback to either sneeze or spend the next five minutes in a futile attempt to remove that one hair that’s been bothering her.

It is not necessary for this tackle’s butt to block the entire line of scrimmage, as the tail’s whipping action is plenty effective.

In addition, both tackles have learned the art of the head butt and purring while play is underway. The quarterback has no choice but to abort the game due to obsessive cuteness.

So tell me, how many four-legged defensive tackles do you have? Got any good strategies that work for you?

Or do you just punt?

So. Some of you know that I’m taking Prednisone, a steroid, for injuries I suffered while trying to do something good for my body.

My cardio workouts are to blame for all sorts of hurty problems with my shoulder, knee, bicep and elbow.

This is obvious proof that exercise is stupid and doesn’t really do anything except accelerate your body falling apart.

There. I said it. Stop doing it. It’s dumb.

Anyway, so I’m on this steroid, which is doing next to nothing for me. But I consider myself lucky to not be one of the people who experiences all kinds of side effects like: extreme hunger, mood swings, and a fat face.

Actually, I have all those things already, but whatever. At least it’s not any worse.

What I did experience was super human strength today while cleaning my kitchen floor.

So I’m gettin’ my Swiffer on and all of a sudden I snap the mop like a twig. With no effort whatsoever.

See? All brokey.

Granted, the handle is plastic, but it’s sturdy plastic that should not just break in half.

I get all sorts of angry (mood swing!) because I have to shell out another 30 bucks or so to buy a new one, unless duct tape fixes it.

But then I quickly move through the anger phase, straight to the “I’m a superhero” phase. Look at me! I’m the Hulk now.

So if you need me to chop firewood for you or move some heavy furniture single-handedly, ring me up. Wanna see me lift a car? I can do that, too.

Unless, of course, grandiosity is one of the drug’s side effects. In that case, never mind.

For the last couple weeks since my father passed away, I’ve been visiting my mom in the mornings before work.

This arrangement works great for both of us, as we’re the early risers in the family.

I leave the house at 6AM, stop off at McDonald’s to grab us both coffee and we share some good chat time before I head to the office.

But here’s the problem.

The shopping center where the McD’s is located doesn’t have any lights on in the parking lot at 6AM when it’s still pitch black out.

This means every time I pull into the lot, it’s like an amusement park ride for me. I barely find the entrance, I have to dodge those cement divider thingies with plants in them, and I have to loop back in the dark to get to the McD’s drive-thru.

It’s an exhilarating joy ride where I hope I don’t run someone over or take out my muffler.

So I decided to write the faceless management company who runs the shopping center to ask if they could leave the lights on longer.

Ha! Fat chance, right?

Here’s what I wrote to them, along with what I expected they’d be thinking as they read my impossibly gutsy request (in boldface):

Greetings. I’m writing to inquire about the possibility of having
parking lot lights illuminated in the pre-dawn hours at the Easton, PA
25 St. Shopping Center that your firm rents out. We just take rent checks. We don’t care about lights.

Because one of your tenants, McDonald’s, has a 24/7 drive-thru, there is a fair amount of traffic going in and out of the parking lot without benefit of lighting greater than what McD’s casts off from its building. It’s not enough light. So go ask McDonald’s to turn on more lights.

It’s nearly impossible to find the shopping center entrance on the
McDonald’s side of the parking lot. Are you blind?

As well, there are two cement dividers one needs to drive around in order to access the McDonald’s drive-thru. Can’t you remember where they are every day? It’s not like they move.

From a safety standpoint, more light would be most beneficial. I was nearly hit this morning by a driver who could not see me, even though I had my headlights on. There are bad drivers everywhere. Not. Our. Fault.

Thank you for anything you can do to address my concern. Go to hell.

A mere seven minutes after I emailed them, here’s the response I got:

Kathleen, I will have our maintenance person change the timer for the lights. Please forward any maintenance issues to me.

Um. Wha? I’m speechless. I don’t know what to do here. This never happens.

They listened. They solved. They ROCK!

I’ll toast my next cup ‘o coffee to you, not-so-faceless corporation with a heart!

Today’s post is in honor of my father, who passed away on Friday, September 16.

Some of you may know the stories I’ve written about him on Junk Drawer, many about the trials and tribulations getting Dad set up with his tech toys and Internet access. The man loved his tech toys!

What you might not know is that I credit Dad with having given me his sense of humor. He always had a joke in his back pocket, many I heard for only the first time during his brief hospitalization. He had a million of them.

He always had a quick wit, a lending hand for those in need, and a smile for friends and strangers alike.

Dad loved his music, most especially the polka. He and Mom spent many weekends in the 80s and 90s traveling the polka dance circuit, both locally and around the country.

They were expert dancers and I’m not just saying that. Other dancers would clear the floor when they stepped out, so they could sit on the sidelines and watch the beauty of the polka done right. (And yes, there are really wrong ways to do the polka, and it ain’t pretty).

He loved our mother dearly. They celebrated their 65th wedding anniversary this past June. We were with him virtually round-the-clock in his last week, sharing his life stories, laughing loud and long. We yucked it up to his last day.

My father is responsible for my very first post to the Junk Drawer in 2007. I’d like to share it with you again. It’s a very long post, and please don’t laugh at how badly it’s written. I was so green then.

Pour a cup of coffee, sit back and enjoy Adventures in Tech Support: When Your 82-Year-Old Father Wants to Be on the Bleeding Edge of Technology.

Love you, Dad.