Wednesday, March 27, 2019

He's THAT GUY!

It's spring and my friend, the mockingbird, is back. Mockingbirds sing until they find a mate. The singing doesn't just happen during the day. It happens all day and ALL NIGHT! There are times when I would like to strangle my mockingbird friend, especially at 3 AM.

Unfortunately, the mockingbird that sings outside my bedroom is never going to find a mate no matter how long and loud he sings because he's THAT GUY, you know . . .

The one that lives in his mother's basement with a beer in one hand, the remote in the other and a pizza box on his lap taking sips of beer and flicking the channels between bites of cold pizza.

The one that thinks he knows everything and proceeds to mansplains how a faucet works to a female plumber and when she gets annoyed he asks if she is PMSing.

The one with a nondescript job, not bad looking but something's creepy about him and you can't put your finger on it but he reminds you of THAT stalker GUY in You.

The one that takes hours to get ready to go shopping for more skinny jeans  and while he is walking in the mall he is looking at his reflection in EVERY window making duck-lip faces and primping.

The one that comes to the bar in a sweater and pants he wore in seventh grade asking all the girls to dance and asking all the guys to buy him a beer.

The one that believes everything he reads on the internet and warns people not to do something because he read on the internet that someone died doing that leaving out all the facts from his warning.

The one that brags about how much money he has and one day you stop into a McDonald's and there's THAT GUY bussing tables and taking out the trash.

My poor friend, Mr. Mockingbird, is going to be doing bad bird imitations outside my window until it's time to fly south for the winter because he's THAT GUY!



The Flip Side
I hate to be THAT GUY but isn't Arizona "south for the winter'.

Osa's Opinion
Yep, you're THAT GUY!

Kuma Kibbitz
I'm new to this but I'll catch on. I'm a quick learner.

Sunday, February 3, 2019

Lucky Pants

Darrell, Caren, Flip and I participated in the Heart and Sole 5k. It was a cold overcast day and there was wind. Caren will say there was a slight breeze but to me it felt like blizzard conditions.

We were all just hanging out waiting for things to get started when Caren looked at Darrell and asked, “Where did you get those pants?”

Darrell replied, “I don’t know in the closet somewhere.”

“Whose closet?” Caren asked “Let me look at the tag. Oh, they’re Nike pants.”

“So you’re saying it’s okay to wear funny-looking pants as long as they are Nikes?” I inquired.

Caren said, “Darrell those pants look kind of tight. Let me look at the tag again. She looked at the size tag and started laughing, “Darrell these are a woman’s size 4/6. You are wearing my pants! I’ll never be able to wear those pants again.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because they will be all stretched out, “ she answered.

“His skinny legs won’t stretch out your pants," I said.

“Do you think my legs are bigger than his?” she asked.

“Oh, no! Never!” I replied

It was time for the race to start, thank God. I looked at Darrell and said, “Let’s go, Sissy Boy Pants, we’ve got a race to win.”

Caren runs about an eleven minute mile. Darrell doesn’t run he saunters so I am not quite sure what his pace is on a regular basis. Flip and I can do a fifteen minute mile with my chair going at top speed. (Disclaimer #1: As Flip and I were passing the walkers, I heard people say that it was horrible that I would make that cute little dog run so fast. I just want all those walkers and my readers to know that I have a 3 mile route in my neighborhood that Flip and I ‘run’ constantly. If I slow down or stop to talk to the neighbors, he is tugging on the leash and vocalizing that he is ready to run. As a matter fact, he would rather be up front with Caren who he runs and hikes with constantly. I am NOT a cruel dog owner!)

Of course Caren finished before Darrell, Flip and me. When she finishes she always comes back to look for me to make sure I am okay. When I saw her I asked, “How did you do?”

She replied, “I only got sixth in my age group.”

Darrell came strolling over the finish line some time later. I turned to Caren and said, “Let’s go home.”

“No,” Caren said, “I want to see who got the medals for 1st, 2nd and 3rd. I want to know how far behind I was.” Then she turned to Darrell and said, ‘Let’s go look at the time board and see what place you got in your age group.”

“Why?” I asked. “Because they give medals for the slowest times?”

A few minutes later Caren came back with Darrell laughing, “Darrell got third place in his age group”

Darrell said, “Yep, it’s because I was wearing my Lucky Pants! I think I will wear these to every 5K.”

“Over my dead body,” Caren sneered.

And then it donned on me, “Caren he is going to go up on stage with those pants on!”

After Darrell received his medal, Sissy Boy Pants, She Who Did Not Place and Cruel Dog Owner headed home. Caren and I had to stop at Michael’s on the way home. Yes, Cruel Dog Owner left Flip in the van. It was 58 degrees outside and overcast. Believe me Puxatany Phil would not  have seen his shadow in Goodyear, Arizona that Groundhog Day.

When we got into Michael’s Darrell went one way and Caren and I went another. When Caren and I were checking out Caren said, “I wonder where Darrell is.”

The clerk said, “I can page him to come to the check-out line.”

I said, “oh, okay. Would you page Sissy Boy Pants?”

“What?” asked the clerk. Of course we had to explain and proceeded to tell her the whole story. The clerk then said, “That’s a great story but I can’t say Sissy Boy Pants over the intercom.”

I said, “Well, then would you page Sissy Girl Pants?”

The clerk replied, “I can’t say that either.”

Then Caren chimed in giggling, “How about Guy Who Is Wearing His Wife’s Pants?”

No, I’m sorry,” the patient clerk replied, “But if you give me his name I can say that.”

We both looked at her and said, “Nah, it’s too hard to pronounce.”

We looked around the place for him and decided maybe he went back to the van. As we stepped out of Michael’s, Darrell was sitting outside and waiting for us. “Well, if it isn’t Sissy Boy Pants,” I said.

“That’s Lucky Pants to you two.” The he stood up and attempted to do The Floss dance with an emphasis on ATTEMPTED and said, “You girls are just jealous because I shed my toxic masculinity, wore my wife’s pants and took 3rd place in the 5K.”

Caren said, ‘Don’t get cocky! You took 3rd place in your age group and there were only six people in your age group.”

As Darrell sauntered off, he said, “I’ll race you girls to the van but you probably won’t be able to beat me in my Lucky Pants.”

As he strolled away I looked at Caren and asked, “You’re going to burn those pants as soon as he takes them off, right?”

“YES! Yes I am!”


The Flip Side

She’s right. I LOVE to run, hike, and dig up gophers. Do you think Darrell would loan me his Lucky Pants for the next 5K so I could pick up a medal?