It’s only Tuesday, folks. Tuesday. And how is your week going?
It’s only Tuesday, folks. Tuesday. And how is your week going?
Sometimes I think to myself that if I were wealthy, like super-wealthy – I mean, otherwise, I’m just spending that cash on travel – I would have plastic surgery to correct a few things that nature, gravity, and age have done to my overall “look.” But then I think, you know what? I worked hard for these wrinkles! Besides, surgery means needles, and who the hell wants that shit? Botox be damned, I am rocking these wrinkles with pride, folks.
I’ve been thinking a lot of my beloved Grandma Mooney (great-grandmother to those just tuning in). Thank you for letting me share her stories with you all; I think you’ll agree she was a very rare and highly entertaining individual indeed.
Now, I do dabble a bit in the occult. I love giving or receiving tarot card readings. I also strongly believe in ghosts to the point that I would never dare make one angry, or even dream of playing the Ouija board alone. I strongly believe there is more to this world than our limited five senses can ever know or that science can prove or disprove, at least for now – I mean we’re learning more and more every day about the world around us, right? Who knows what they may find out. I also strongly believe that you should agree with me, or I will use my ancient Voodoo magic to hex you. Nah, just kidding on that one, but I am a firm believer in the paranormal in general.
Grandma Mooney had a unique ability that luckily, I did NOT inherit…it can’t have been pleasant. It wasn’t a super power like flying, freezing time, or moving things with her mind (seriously though, how cool would that be!?), but it was a spooky gift for sure. Grandma Mooney always knew when someone was dying. She never got upset; she was completely matter of fact about it. She’d get the feeling in her bones (I assume it was her bones at any rate), and just nonchalantly announce, “John’s dying. Gotta go,” and then she’d be off, to go help the family. Without fail, whoever the unfortunate soul was that she would name would either be on their deathbed or dead before she even got there. Of course, back then there was no Facebook, no cell phone texting, and no emails; this gift was pure intuition. She was always accurate, and it was really, very creepy.
While we’re on the subject of death and dying, did I tell you about the time I almost killed Grandma Mooney? If it wasn’t my fault, it might have been her sheer orneriness. Let me explain…and spoiler…there was a happy ending, no Grandmothers were hurt in this story.
My grandfather, god bless him – I loved him to pieces – enjoyed three things in his life: playing the banjo, singing, and drinking beer. He drank beer like some people drink soda pop or ice tea. And for the most part, he could handle his alcohol. Later on in life, he decided he’d had enough and just stopped, cold turkey, and never looked back. But back in the day, when he was especially deep into his cups, he liked to get out the banjo and entertain all and sundry – with bluegrass and hymns being his favorite music of choice. The more beer he drank, the more boisterous his hymns and bluegrass songs would become.
This one particular day, when I was 7 or 8 years old, Grandpa Walker was really going at it with his hymns while Grandma Mooney ate a piece of cornbread. You may know, old-school cornbread was really dry and would fall apart when you ate it. Anyway, I got really carried away by grandfather’s music this day, and before you know it, I was howling like a dog on the front porch. Yeah, I was an ornery child. Like great-grandmother like great-granddaughter.
This tickled Grandma Mooney to the point of laughing her ass off, but as luck would have it, she started choking on her cornbread. I was so scared that I ran away for the rest of the afternoon. No way was I going to stick around to see what happened! All I know is Grandma Mooney was laughing and choking, so I did what any reasonable 7 or 8-year-old kid would do; I ran for the hills. Not my bravest moment, to be sure.
One thing was guaranteed. If she actually did die choking on cornbread, she would definitely come back to haunt me. And if she didn’t…
…she was definitely going to kick my ass.
In honor of St. Patrick’s Day and Ireland, have a listen to some truly amazing voices. I could listen to them all day. And just might.
A few weeks ago, we discussed having playrooms in libraries where kids could do anything except what they were supposed to do in a library setting.
In the latest installment of stupidity, indoor playgrounds are now being introduced in movie theaters.
Read it again, slowly. In. Movie. Theaters.
Now apparently, the gym is not to be used while the movie is playing. Small comfort if you ask me. Reportedly, for an extra three bucks a ticket (no choice here folks, if you use the theater, you pay the playground toll), the kids will be allowed fifteen minutes before the movie starts, fifteen minutes after the movie ends, and a fifteen-minute intermission during the movie to play. My thought is: if we need to have a playground in a movie theater to start with, how good will these parents be at keeping the kids off the equipment while the movie is playing? And how much whining will there will be heard throughout the theater…”But moooomm, I WANT to go in the play area!” Oh yeah. Fun times.
I remember a time when libraries were to be used for, oh, golly, I don’t know…maybe reading? And movie theaters were to be used for…wait for it…watching movies?
I get it; the idea is aimed towards kids and to be used during kids’ movies. You won’t stick your kid on a jungle gym and watch Nightmare on Elm Street. If you are taking your child to the movies, though, isn’t it expected that seeing the movie itself is the draw? If your child can’t sit still through a one and a half hour movie geared towards his age group, maybe he doesn’t belong at a movie theater yet.
If I sound cynical and jaded, it’s because I watch over and over again as parents give up their parenting roles in exchange for an easy way out. Or, they simply don’t have the foresight to recognize that an ill-behaved young child does not belong in a five-star restaurant. The bottom line is that certain parents refuse to accept that some kids just aren’t ready for the responsibility of sitting silently through certain activities. These same parents will be on blogs crying because someone looked sternly at them for allowing their children to hang upside down from the ceiling fan at a funeral.
I, for one, would not go to any theater with a jungle gym in it, even if my kids were still young. I know this whole playground premise is oriented to kids and families and it’s not as if they’re going to be showing Deadpool or Logan or Chainsaw Massacre, but as a connoisseur of kids’ movies myself, some parents who go to see kids’ movies want to be able to oh, I don’t know, SEE the movie. Of course, I’ve always just assumed that was the entire point – to watch the movie.
As well intentioned as this playground idea seems, it won’t be long before some parent will most likely decide it’s ok for Junior to go down and play while the movie is running if for no other reason than to shut him up. Although we know how that works – it might stop the kid yelling into his mother or father’s ear but it will release him on to the rest of the movie goers.
These theaters will charge $14 a ticket to start with; now I will have children screaming throughout my overpriced movie. I repeat, you are counting on the success of this venture by balancing it on parents who need these features to begin with. If a parent can’t successfully take their child to a movie without other distractions, how will they stop them from playing while the movie is running? It will start with one bored child who is allowed to go “play quietly” and end up as some kind of twisted Lord of the Flies story.
Co-incidentally, these same theaters serve beer and mixed drinks. Which is a good thing. Because then, I can either drink my way to tolerating children throwing balls at the movie screen, or I can drink until I go join them myself.
In related news, I heard that Chuck E Cheese has announced it will be building libraries and movie theaters in all its locations. Chuck could not be reached for further comment.
Ah, the world of phone scammers. Surely, they think when they hear my sweet mother’s voice on the phone, this will be an easy target. I mean, who wouldn’t? Butter wouldn’t melt in that woman’s mouth.
Not so fast, imposter account manager from India, Nigeria, Kalamazoo, or wherever you are! My mom may have a senior citizen discount to IHOP, and she does in fact know every word to the Hokey Pokey, but make no mistake. She’s nobody’s fool.
To clarify, my mother does in fact shop at physical stores and use an archaic form of payment known as a “check.” She actually visits her bank in person, and knows the tellers by name. She doesn’t shop with those newfangled “online” gizmos everyone else uses. So from the very beginning, the scam is pointless.
Tired of receiving multiple phone calls daily from “Microsoft” or “Windows” representatives who inform her in heavily accented voices that her computer is sending out “illegal signals,” my mother decided to have a little fun of her own. She knows that these scammers only want access to her computer to pull out any financial information they can. I told you, she may have seen Elvis in person (good Elvis, not bloated Elvis), but she isn’t stupid. My mom is far from demented. She is slick as an oil spill, but now, phone scammer from India or Nigeria, you made her mad. You won’t like her when she’s mad. Trust me.
As soon as one of these calls comes through these days, my mom just pours herself a cup of coffee and sits out on the porch to feed her
minions wild “pets” while she talks to the oh-so-helpful con artist on the other end of the line. Little Miss Sugar Sweet has a backbone of steel and wit as sharp as a Ginsu knife.
A typical phone call with her scammer friends may begin innocently enough. The heavily accented voice warns her that she is about to lose everything…EVERYTHING, we tell you…because her licenses are expiring. You read that right. Her licenses. Her computer licenses. She greets the man warmly, thanking him so much for caring about little ol’ her and her big, bad computer.
Voice quaking in fear and sorrow, she asks the kind gentleman to discuss her options. He advises her to turn her computer on. Mom makes clunking noises as if she is walking to the computer. She may thud her coffee cup and bang the phone a few times for emphasis. Then, she sighs heavily and in apparent frustration.
“I’m sorry, how do I turn this thing on again? I hate computers, I’m not used to this…oh wait. Wait, there it is.” She clicks a fingernail on the table. “There. It’s coming on.” She sets the phone down and sips her coffee; she gives it a solid five minutes before picking the phone back up. “It’s on. Now what do you need me to do?”
The patient account representative from Microsoft Windows of India or Nigeria or Kalamazoo advises mom to hit the control and ALT buttons. “Control? I don’t see a button that says control.” Clicks fingernails against table. “I found something. Let me get my glasses…well, this thingy says CTRL. You’d think a computer could spell better than this.” She allows a few minutes to go by as she throws some bird seed to her adoring fans. “ALT. As in, alternative? What is this an alternative to? I always prefer originals. Delete? This thingy that says DEL? I thought that meant delicate.” More fingernail tapping, than a horrified tone of voice. “DEL means delete? I’m sorry, sir, I don’t want to delete anything. Why would I delete my alternative button? Then I wouldn’t have a choice at all.” And so it goes, until the scammer is nearly yelling from frustration. She made one cry.
Mom likes to play with the scammers; she feels the longer she keeps them on the line, the less time they have to scam someone else. More power to her, I say.
The best secret she keeps, though, is how fruitless her scammer’s efforts really are after all is said and done. I mean, even if he were successful and got into the secret vault that is her computer system, all he would find are funny cat videos, pictures of kittens, about a million pictures of my kids, a video of my brother’s dog, funny memes and joke pages, and links to America’s Funniest Home Videos from the entire past decade. Her favorite is a link to a local zoo who has live-cam footage of a giraffe on “birth watch” who we both agree is just having a joke at all our expense because this sneaky giraffe has yet to give any indication she’s going into labor. I think she just wants the romaine lettuce treats they’re giving her…good old April the giraffe is likely running a nifty scam of her own.
The moral of this story, dear scammers, is it’s just not worth it. God love her, mom has a new hobby now though, and that’s cool. Keeps her occupied.
And be warned, she will out-scam you every time.