Soul Thumping

Evil Robots

I hope your silver minivan gets a flat tire, you evil robot...

Venting.  On my way home from the gym tonight, I was driving along, at 55mph, and the posted speed limit is 45, so I was doing my fair share of booking it.  There was no one near me, and I happen to glance in my rear view mirror and see a speeding silver minivan coming out of nowhere in the lane next to me, like a bat out of hell (I felt compelled to throw in a little Meat Loaf quote). 

For some unknown, stupid, moronic, imbecilic, arrogant, domination-minded, anger-management-needing reason, the asshole speeds up to at least 70, just to pull right in front of me in my lane.  He had no reason to do that.  Stop it you dim-witted, base androids.  Did you really have to speed up, endanger your life, my life, and everyone else's because you needed to be ahead of everyone?  Are you angry you simpleminded cyborg because you have to drive a minivan?  Is that it?

Deep breath.  OK, now I feel better.  Just as this incident was taking place, the radio happened to be playing Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots Pt. 1 by The Flaming Lips, which I thought was more than apropos!

 

--Fortuitous Observer

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The Naked Man on Fire - One of my Favorite Gen X Childhood Memories

Last night I found myself staring into the glow of my fireplace, trying to lose myself in the dancing orange flames.  As usual, my mind started taking little trips of its own, and I sat back and let it go.  I started thinking flames, flicker, heat, fire, naked man.  What?  Did I just say naked man?  That's right, naked man.

When I think of fire, I think of the naked man who visited our home one morning (approximately 2 am, on a school night) when I was in the fourth grade (or it could have been the fifth grade...once one hits 40, grade school seems like one big year instead of many), because he wasn't just naked...he was on fire.

The drama started around 2 am when our front doorbell rang.  My parents got up immediately, and as the doorbell continued to ring, in an urgent sort of way, my sister and I crept out of bed to check out the action.  My dad opened the door to find a skinny naked man and his hair, or what was left of it, was on fire.  His skin was red and blistered, and smoke was billowing from his body!  His clothing had melted away!

This strange man told my parents that his car had exploded up the street and could he please get into a bath or shower and run cold water on his body because he was burning.  My parents rushed him down the hall and into the bathroom, which is of course when my sister and I noticed he was naked (and smoking, mostly his hair).  My parents helped him turn on the cold water and one of them called the police.

Now, there really isn't much else to tell of this story.  I suppose this may have been my first naked man sighting, but it was a blur because he was on fire, which captured my attention more than his nakedness.  It turns out, he was stealing gasoline from cars in the neighborhood and he was putting the stolen gasoline into large open containers in the trunk of his car, which of course, caused an explosion.  He was naked, on fire, and stupid.

I can't really remember what happened next, but I believe the police came to our house and promptly arrested him, and that was the end of that.  The lessons learned from my little flashback into childhood are these:  if you are going to steal gasoline, make sure you put it in closed containers, and, if you have an unexpected naked visitor on fire at 2 am--or anytime--grab your camera, because no one will believe you the next day.

 

--Fortuitous Observer

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The Rialto - Raleigh's Gem of a Theater

Poseidon and I met our pals N & T on Saturday afternoon for a matinee at the Rialto.  Why am I blogging about this, and who cares?  Because the Rialto Theater is one of the grooviest, primo places on the planet (truly, it is...should be one of the wonders of the world...I'm still petitioning).

For those not fortunate enough to live in the Raleigh, NC area, I will attempt to describe this theater, though I will not do it justice, that is a given, so you will just have to get in your car, hop on a plane, or whatever your desired mode of transportation may be, and come see for yourself.

First and foremost, the Rilato serves beer, and not crap beer, but realbeer (on tap), and wine.  Yup, many of my friends in other states can't believe that NC is so progressive when it comes to cinema enjoyment.  Well, you won't find beer at the ginormous theaters in Raleigh, only at a handful of hip little movie houses, the Rialto being my fave.

The Rialto has only one theater, so only one movie, usually for a week or two.  Here is the best part:  they only show foreign and independent flicks, AND, they still show The Rocky Horror Picture Showevery Friday at midnight.  Sorry Spiderman 14,  Iron Man 8, and even Harry Potter.  You won't get any face time at the Rialto (no offense to Harry...I'm a huge HP fan).

The theater itself (originally built in 1942), though recently renovated, drips in vintage beauty with nice velvety seats, and even if you arrive late and have to sit in the first row, you won't have to pay the chiropractor a visit afterwards (seriously, I thought I was going to have to do that after seeing the last Harry Potter flick at one of the "huge" cinemas...we were in the first row and I was envisioning permanent neck injury from looking straight up, literally, straight up, at the screen). 

Oh yeah, before I forget, the Rialto is a cash-only venue, so don't forget to knock over an ATM before your Rialto outing.

 

--Fortuitous Observer

Oh the Things You'll See...at the Gym

As I was leaving the gym tonight, a woman in a white Mercedes SUV was sitting in the parking lot, right by the doors to the gym, holding up traffic.  I wasn't sure what she was doing until I noticed she was watching me.  Creepy.  Then of course, I realized what she was really doing:  She was waiting to see where I parked so she get my parking space!

The SUV started following me slowly as I walked across the parking lot, like a vulture poised and ready to swoop down on a field mouse.  I'm not sure which is the vulture in that analogy, the woman or the Mercedes SUV.  Now here is the funny part:  unfortunately for her, I park as far away as I can from the gym so I can get a good warm up on my way inside for my workout.

She seemed to get more than slightly annoyed when she realized she wasn't going to get a spot close to the door if she continued to follow me, so the SUV sped up and went down the next aisle, then up the next aisle, passing up several parking spaces along the way.  I don't get it.  She could have already completed a 15 minute warm up inside had she just parked and hiked it across the parking lot.

Anyway, I'm mentioning this little slice out of my evening because it gave me a chuckle, and more importantly, made me glad to be me today.

 

--Fortuitous Observer 

Tees the Season - Ways to Wear T-Shirts this Winter…and Stay Warm and Stylish!

Just because the days are darker, colder, and shorter doesn’t mean you have to put away your short-sleeve t-shirts for the season.  Remember most of your exposure to the outside temps will be limited.  Once inside your destination you’ll hopefully be warm and toasty and what better time to peel away the layers and uncover the essence of your wardrobe -- your t-shirt!  So go ahead, bare those arms and show some skin... and some style and let your tee be your statement piece no matter what the weather.   Here are 5 ways to enjoy winter in a tee. 

via www.meliciouslyyoursblog.com

I'm reblogging this from Meliciously Yours! I love my Meliciously Yourt tee shirts.

Chutes and Ladders - How a Board Game Led to Insanity

Can a board game cause neurotic behavior, or is going full-on schizoid over a board game a sign of neurosis?  Chicken...egg..?  As a kid, we had a few board games at home and I can honestly say, I hated board games.  No, wait, hate isn't a strong enough word:  I loathed those board games.  The mere mention of playing Sorry, or Trouble could easily spark in me a twitching fit with an onset of red itchy hives, but bringing out Chutes and Ladders from the closet was enough to send me into an anxiety-induced coma.

I don't recall being competitive exactly, so it wasn't the idea of losing games that convinced my brain to propose a near nervous breakdown, it was the idea of getting to the top of that game board, then landing on the loooonnnnngggg chute that carried me all the way back to the bottom.  That would be catastrophe in its most pristine form.  To have gone so far, only to be swiftly carried back to the bottom of the board to start from scratch was not something my 8 year old mind wanted to process.  Now, can anyone blame me for avoiding board games, especially the most diabolical of those games, Chutes and Ladders?

Insanity isn't really involved here, I promise.  I was a very anxious kid, easily stressed over the most mundane of things, even silly little board games like Chutes and Ladders (I just had an involuntary twitch as I typed those words).  I bring this up now because this childhood memory was triggered while sitting in the waiting room of my doctor's office today.  I saw the game on a shelf and promptly broke into a cold sweat.  A kid went to reach for it and I wanted to tackle him while screaming "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" (in slow motion, movie style), as if I were about to save him from being hit by a bus (fitting analogy).

I kept my composure and remained seated until my doctor called me into her office.  When I went back out into the waiting room, the kid was gone, and the game was safely in its place on the shelf.  Next week I plan to sneak that game out in my coat and burn it in the parking lot while performing a ceremonial "closure" dance.

 

--Fortuitous Observer

A Staring Contest...With the Christmas Tree

I'm staring at it.  I'm sitting here staring at the Christmas tree and it is staring back at me.  The tree is naked now, as I've taken all the lights and bulbs and ornaments from the branches and packed them (sadly...insert some sniffles here) neatly in the Christmas storage bins.  I'm willing the Christmas tree to take itself outside and to the curb for the trash/recycle pick up tomorrow.  The harder I stare at it, the harder the tree stares back at me, both of us unflinching.  I am determined to will it to the curb, and the tree is determined to remain put.

Damn it.  Move tree.

Still nothing.

OK, neither of us is giving in.  Let's hope Poseidon can intervene when he gets home tonight; otherwise, I fear we will have the same tree next year (albeit dead and more than a bit crunchy).

 

--Fortuitous Observer

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