The other day we were in a restaurant seated by the front window. As I looked out, I saw one of those mobile advertising vehicles with the changing signs drive by, and the message on it said:
Why waste your money on advertising? Call us at xxx-xxxx!
We looked at each other and said at the same time, "The answer to that question would be..... 'So I can waste my money on advertising WITH YOU?'"
That's probably not the answer they were hoping to get.
We doesn't have to use good grammar or punctuation.
Last week we drove by an apartment complex and saw this sign by the road:
"New residents wanted."
... somebody threw a burrito over the wall.
Our bed & breakfast is next to a Catholic school, grades pre-K through 8th. During the summer, they have a summer program, basically childcare for working parents who don't have a babysitter. They get to do some fun stuff, too, sort of like a day camp.
We have a pretty good relationship with the school. They operate on a slim budget with a lot of parent volunteers, so there's a lot of stuff that falls through the cracks. I take care of the area between the sidewalk and the front wall all the way up San Felipe Street to keep it from getting weedy. They remind their parents on event nights not to park in our reserved guest spaces. We throw random balls back over the wall into the playground. They called when our sprinkler head broke and water was running down the street.
Generally, the kids are pretty good and I try not to complain. Yes, they can get pretty squirrely, especially in the late spring just before school gets out. Sometimes, but not too often, I'll find pencils or pens that have been tossed over into our courtyard. I'm not pleased with the gum since it makes a sticky mess, but I've haven't even said anything about that.
But Wednesday between 10:15 when I left that morning and 11:15 when I went out to water, someone threw a half-eaten breakfast burrito still in the wrapper over the wall into our yard. Just from its location, there's only one place from which it could have been launched. It was nasty trash and icky, and that was way over the top, so I had to call. The secretary was entirely sympathetic and said that was unacceptable, and they would make sure everyone understood that throwing stuff over the wall was not being a good neighbor.
Later that afternoon I went to a meeting, and everyone got a good chuckle out of it. After all, can you say that out loud without giggling?
"I had to call the school today.... somebody threw a burrito over the wall."
Yes, Dorothy, we have a theme going. You'll recall my frustration with last year's association board members, who left us with a huge mess (now known as "Flying Monkeys").
Early this afternoon, Bette called and asked me to stop by later because she had something for me:
Perfect. It comes with four little flying monkey missiles (bottom of photo) and a bullseye for target practice on the back of the package card.
It even has a sight on the barrel, so the aim is pretty good, but the range is not very far. It doesn't matter. This baby goes with me to the next board meeting, and if anyone gets out of line, they're not more than 8 to 10 feet away.
When I wake up to my local public radio station Monday through Friday, I hear classical music. But on Saturdays and Sundays, it's all Spanish music broadcast. Interesting--I may not speak Spanish, but I sure know all the popular songs.
Steve was getting dressed and I had just stepped out of the shower when he said, "Am I hearing what I think I am?"
"Yes, indeed, you are hearing the theme song from 'the Beverly Hillbillies' in Spanish."
"That's interesting. They were singing the song, blah, blah, blah in Spanish, and then 'kick him out the door' in English."
That would be Spanglish. They do that a lot here.
Last week I was at a board meeting for the association that nearly got tanked during the past year. We are only now fully learning the extent of the trouble last year's board got us into--spending money they didn't have and leaving us in debt, not paying bills and racking up late fees and finance charges, not filing annual reports, etc. It was not pretty.
My friend Bette is also back on the board, and she just about lost it. It finally got to the point where she exclaimed in frustration, "Those flying monkeys! They've all closed their stores and took off and left us with a mess!"
The mental image we all got was immediate, and we cracked up! Flying monkeys--how appropriate!
Over the past few days, all we've had to say is "flying monkeys" and we start to chuckle. Any mention of someone causing trouble gets a nod accompanied by "yep, flying monkey" and we start to giggle.
It's amazing what you can find on the web. Here, courtesy of Wizard of Oz Clothing, are some flying monkey treasures. (Please visit their website for all of your flying monkey needs.)
and, finally, my personal favorite...
I was walking through Old Town the other day, and coming toward me was a group of Texans. How do I know? The accent is a dead giveaway. They were loud and having a good time.
One of the women looked across the street at a cafe and asked the others, "do y'all want any ass creme?"
Texas ass creme
During our week at the conference, we had breakfast at one of the Disney restaurants. She was an older woman, who turned out to be great. As we were paying, the conversation went like this:
Her: "You all have a nice day."
Me: "Wait. Aren't you supposed to say 'have a MAGICAL day'?"
Her: "Hon, I've worked here for 20 years. The magic is gone."
Me: "Oooooh..... I won't tell Disney you said that."
Her: "pbbbbtt!"
