This week’s Daily Probe features another one of my Interviews! A copy now lives on the Still Life With Interview page.
Category: Uncategorized
The New Nickel
DP: We are so very excited to be speaking with you today! This is a big coup for the Daily Probe over mainstream media.
Nickel: Yeah. Okay. Sure
DP: Uh, I sense you’re not happy.
Nickel: If you’re happy to meet me, you’re the first.
DP: I’m shocked!
Nickel: Oh, please. Like anyone in the United States thought there was anything wrong with the old nickels. Nickels are the new penny. People can’t be bothered to pick one up. You would rather throw away the can than rinse it and bring it to the store to get the deposit back.
DP: Well, that can’t be everyone, can it?
Nickel: Enough people. I’m getting it from all sides — folks screaming about how unnecessary the change was, that the expense wasn’t justified.
DP: But you’re saying it was? Can you turn so I can get a better look? Oh. Uh huh. Uh huh. So what is that, two guys shaking hands after a round of golf?
Nickel: What?
DP: Golf. Are those golf clubs?
Nickel: What is wrong with you? I am part of the “Westward Journey” nickel series. I represent the Louisiana Purchase! Can you not read?
DP: But those look just like golf clubs!
Nickel: They most certainly are not. That’s a tomahawk and a pipe.
DP: How can you tell that’s a tomahawk?
Nickel: That’s what they tell me.
DP: Oh. Okay, not golf clubs.
Nickel: Do you know anything about the Louisiana Purchase?
DP: We bought it from Native Americans?
Nickel: No, the French!
DP: Then should the tomahawk be a baguette?
Nickel: Are you about done? You’re just as bad as the people who keep mistaking me for a Canadian coin. Are they mad?
DP: No?
Nickel: Apparently. I’m as American as … as … the Louisiana Purchase!
DP: One more thing: I see on the U.S. Mint’s website that this picture depicts a handshake between a Native American and a European-American. Is this actually a historic first use of the term European-American outside of the comedy club circuit?
Nickel: Really, it says that? European-American? God, no wonder I get no respect.
I’ll Have the Big Yoghurt, Please
I think I spelled that right. The spell checker will tell me if I didn’t. Thank God for spellchecking. I need to get the person who invented it a Christmas present this year. Or at least send a card.
So on the way to work, as my mind is wondering because WXLO is playing the same songs for the 400th time, I realize that I’m not taking in as much calcium as I should be, especially given my age. That I will not mention. So when I went to get my coffee in the cafeteria this morning, I got one of their yoghurt parfait thingies. It’s a giant strawberry yoghurt mixed with granola and raisins. It’s actually quite yummy but my goodness, who can eat this much yoghurt in one sitting?
I know granola isn’t exactly good for you, but darned if it isn’t tasty!
Later That Same Week…
I’m in a better mood today. I’m sure you were all very concerned that the oil in the trash thing caused that vein in my forehead to burst. It didn’t. Whew! Another bullet dodged.
It’s a rainy day, I believe the dregs of Frances, but don’t hold me to that. We haven’t had a good soaking rain in a while, so I’m not complaining. Especially because by Friday the rain will have moved on, and we will not have received 20 inches of it. Junior had his first soccer practice last night, and he is very excited about the whole thing. Makes me wish we had started him when he was 4, like some of the other kids, but really, how skilled do a bunch of 4 year olds get playing once a week for an hour or so? When Junior was 4 he could tell his left from his right, but sometime between then and now he lost that skill. I’m pretty sure soccer would have been the same. (And yes, we’re working on the left and right thing. He’s right about 65% of the time now.)
It’s dad’s birthday tomorrow. (Dad, if you’re reading this, avert your eyes) So we’re going to need to go shopping for a present tonight. I wonder if my sister is planning to bake a cake? We need a cake. Any excuse for a cake, I say.
Thanks, Jerk!
Oh man, am I angry this morning. I’ll jump right to the meat of it – some mouth-breathing, dog poop-eating dingleberry apparently figured my rubbish barrel was as good a place as any to use as a place to throw out his/her used motor oil. At least I think that’s what it was.
You piece of slime, here are a few quick thoughts, if you are capable of understanding more than grunts:
- My rubbish barrel is not open to the general public. We put it down at the end of the driveway for pickup, not for dropoff.
- It’s illegal to throw motor oil in the trash. You probably knew that when you put it in, but I’d like to know why it’s okay for my family to deal with illegal disposal of motor oil but yours isn’t? If the rubbish guys had seen this stuff, they could report me. I’m FURIOUS with you for putting me at risk. The words that fill my head are not suitable to be written here.
- Thanks to your careful disposal, I ended up with oil all over my hands when I went to pick up the barrel after the trash guys emptied it. This is how I knew it was in there. You are beyond lucky that it didn’t get on my clothing, or on my shoes which would have been ruined. Two hands COVERED with oil was fun enough. Oh, and now I get to try to clean up any that dripped plus the inside of my rubbish barrel. I’m so freaking thrilled I’m beside myself. Turd.
And no, it wasn’t us, because a) we go to the quick lube place to get our oil changed, thank you, and b) our lawn mower doesn’t use oil and c) WE DON’T THROW USED OIL IN THE TRASH, YOU SLIMESUCKING, KNUCKLEDRAGGER!
God, I’d have given anything to see you do that and get your license plate. I’d have been happy to turn your info over to my brother-in-law the State Cop.
Okay, the rest of you can carry on and look at the nice pictures.