“Long as I remember the rain been comin’ down. Clouds of mystery pourin’ confusion on the ground. Good men through the ages tryin’ to find the sun. And I wonder still I wonder who’ll stop the rain. CCR 1970
Welcome to Drivel Over Coffee. We are here again at Scooters. I still occupy the same booth from which the “Drivel Over Coffee” is conceived, incubated and born into the light of the Iowa sunshine or clouds (depending on the day).
The Pity Train has just derailed at the intersection of Suck It Up & Move On, and crashed into We All Have Problems, before coming to a complete stop at Get the Heck Over It. Any complaints about how we operate can be forwarded to 1-800-waa-waaa. This is Dr. Sniffle Reporting LIVE from Quitchur Fussin’. If you like this, pass it on. If you don’t, suck it up cupcake, life doesn’t revolve around YOU!
My current wife and I took a day trip last week to southern Iowa. We stopped in a town down there that we had never been to before and began to explore. We ran across an asylum and decided to look around. I parked the car on a side street from the town square. We had to walk past a mental hospital to get downtown. It was here that I learned to mind my own business. As we were walking past the mental hospital, we heard all the patients shouting, “13….13….13.” The fence was too high to see over, but I saw a little gap in the planks, so I looked through to see what was going on. Some idiot poked me in the eye with a stick, they all started shouting, “14….14…..14.”
Seeking some first aid, we ducked into the mental asylum. While a nurse applied a bandage to my eye, I asked the director how do you determine whether a patient should be institutionalized. “Well,” said the director, “we fill up a bathtub, then we offer a teaspoon, a teacup and a bucket to the patient and ask him or her to empty the bathtub.” “Oh, I understand,” I said. “A normal person would use the bucket because it’s bigger than the spoon or the teacup.” “No.” said the director, “A normal person would pull the plug. Do you want a bed near the window?” Sue, Sue – get me the H*@# out of here.
It was close to noon and I needed some time to gather myself, we decided to dine in a local restaurant, then do a little shopping. We found a nice place that appeared to be the meeting place for the town’s citizenry. I had my usual burger because it is the benchmark I use for any new dining place. I also ordered cheeseburger chowder. Sue likewise ordered the chowder and a salad. Promptly the cheeseburger chowder was delivered to both of us.
It was nothing like I had ever seen before despite have only one eye. No cheesy aura to it, no discernible clumps of burger, plus it had some strange dark green things mixed in. My spoon literally stood straight up in it. I turned the spoon over and nothing fell off the spoon. The consistency was remarkably close to that of cement. Nervously, I took a taste – yep, tastes as bad as it looks. So much for the local cuisine in this burg.
We decided to stop at a supermarket for something to take chowder taste out of our mouths. Plus, I could feel my stomach beginning to churn around wanted to get some toilet paper for the ride back home. Mom told me to always be prepared. Near where we parked was a new supermarket. It had opened recently. This supermarket was really cool and extremely high tech. There was an automatic water mister to keep the produce fresh. Just before the mister goes on, you hear the sound of distant thunder and the smell of fresh rain. When you approach the milk cases, you hear cows mooing and experience the scent of fresh hay. When you approach the egg case, you hear hens cluck and cackle, and the air is filled with the pleasing aroma of bacon and eggs frying. The veggie department features the smell of fresh buttered corn. In aisle 8, paper towels & toilet paper was well…..I won’t buy toilet paper there ever again.
My current wife, being the romantic sort and still basking in the glow of our 50th, sent me a text: “If you are sleeping, send me your dreams. If you are laughing, send me your smile. If you are eating, send me a bite. If you are drinking, send me a sip. If you are crying, send me your tears. I love you!” Being a non-romantic pragmatist sort, I replied: “I am on the toilet. Please advise.”
Had an interesting discussion Saturday with Dr. Football. We rambled through several topics but we eventually got around to our times on sports teams of one kind and another. Somewhere in there we happened upon the topic showering and shower etiquette. I explained reading somewhere that there are two types of people in the world: those who pee in the shower, and liars. If those were my only choices, I would take a bath instead. Dr. Football told me that indeed it was widely practiced. He noticed first at Univ. of Nebraska while attending college. After football practice a group were in the showers. The kid next to him was indeed relieving himself. Dr., being a curious sort, asked what gives? The response was that it cures athlete’s feet. I just can’t believe it is a common practice. I did a little research when I got home. There seems to be some truth to the curing of athlete foot. To my surprise though, I appear to be the odd one. According to a Glamour Magazine study of 1,000 women, 75% have – yes that is 3 out of 4 have peed in the shower. OMG! I can see heads turning as we speak; guessing who is the one who doesn’t. Hmmm, there were 4 of us at breakfast….
Well we, thankfully, got past shower etiquette. We moved onto marriage, weddings, and husband and wife relationships. Spud’s brother-in-law married a girl from Canada. Spud was having breakfast with us also. His brother-in-law was named Willey, I think.
According to Spud, Willey ordered her to keep the house cleaned, dishes washed, lawn mowed, laundry washed, and hot meals on the table for every meal. Willey said the first day he didn’t see anything, the second day he didn’t see anything either but by the third day, some of the swelling had gone down and he could see a little out of his left eye and his arm was healed enough that he could fix himself a sandwich and load the dishwasher. He still has some difficulty when he pees.
…. And that, my friends, is another issue of the Drivel. As I always say “If I can make at least one-person smile, laugh till they leak, or maybe spit out a drink, then my day was not wasted. Until we meet again -TA!”