31 December 2008
The night before (Monday), Sera put one of those microwavable heating pads on the foot. Big mistake. Heat was the last thing that recalcitrant ankle needed.
How I was able to get out of bed, much less drive to work, is a head-scratcher. No, a head-bumper. As I was trying to get out of the shower yesterday morning without putting too much weight on my foot, I brained my head on the door railing above.
On top of that I had to get Tiger back toward Alabama. Sera had a doctor's appointment, but I was able to leave work early. I would've asked my wife to make this trip, were it not for a wrinkle in the routine. Instead of meeting Whatzername at Fort Valley (halfway spot), she sent her brother, who was buying a truck from a guy in Newnan, about 40 miles southwest of Atlanta. Seems he needs my son's help -- he was taking two vehicles back to Montgomery, and he was tapped to drive "Walt's" old vehicle.
A black Corvette.
Yeah, this trip was an adventure in and of itself. Apart from it taking forever to get to Newnan -- there's no easy way to get there from my direction without venturing into Atlanta Traffic Hell™, which covers a radius of roughly 40 miles from the gold dome. Atlanta is one big parking lot, and those living in suburbia up there practically have to leave at 5 AM just to get to work on time ... and get home at 8 PM. Leaving not a whole helluva lot of time for, ummmm, a LIFE.
Well, taking the backroads through such beautiful burgs as Roberta and Thomaston, it took nearly five (5) hours to get to Newnan. And I did this without a road map. Though not by choice; I'd left all cartography in the other vehicle. One thing I wanted to do is avoid Atlanta's remotest perimeter, and approach Newnan from the south.
In that time I could've driven nearly all the way to Eclectic, Ala., and spared everyone involved the trouble.
And Newnan, true to form, was its usual charming Atlanta self at 5:00. Meaning, traffic traffic everywhere. We met Walt, and the look on Tiger's face when he realized just what car he was going to be driving back home ..... well, let's just say that was a birthday treat he won't soon forget.
Now DAD, on the other hand...... Yeah, I was getting a little queasy at the sight of my son driving off in a Corvette into Atlanta Traffic Hell™. The last sight I had was of him taking a left turn behind his uncle onto the road leading back to I-85. At the same time, I did a U-turn on the side street to get into a nearby gas station ($1.41/9; and, as a bonus, Diet Mountain Dew in the fountain).
With tank filled, I ventured eastward on Georgia 34 through the southern rim of ATH, skirting the wilds of Peachtree City. I called my wife to let her know I was (finally) homeward bound. As I was doing this, another call came in: my former BIL. Yeah, Walt was now on the side of I-85, waiting for Tiger. Seems he didn't make it onto the interstate.
What's more, my parents had gotten Tiger a new cellphone (he has one on their plan), so as of yesterday his existing phone was deactivated. Why didn't they do this AFTER he got back home?? So much for the REASON he was given that cellphone to begin with.
Turning around and going back to Newnan would've been pointless. Needle in a haystack. I would never have found him.
I love my son. Bless his heart*, the kid has no sense when it comes to navigation. He just wants the fun of driving without the responsibility of same. Meaning, paying attention to his surroundings. Meaning, knowing what a bloody INTERSTATE highway is. What the shields look like. What an "onramp" is.
(* = Southern protocol mandates all nasty comments be prefaced with the phrase "Bless (his/her) heart.")
My son, in other words, is identical to his mother. That woman can get lost on a freeway. I kid you not. Clearly, not one speck of roadgeek DNA made it into that kid.
As I was driving south on Ga. 154 toward Senoia, I had the vision of my son, in the middle of suburban Atlanta's traffic hell -- IN A GOLLDURNED CORVETTE, no less -- completely lost and panicking. I honestly don't think he would've thought to find a payphone (people his age don't know what they are), nor find phone numbers on his cellphone's address book, still accessible despite it being dead.
At this point, I remembered the allegedly sage advice I doled out to Kate/Susan earlier this year. "Not my problem", I repeated like a mantra. When my son got into his uncle's Corvette and we all drove our separate ways, I'd officially passed the baton. My direct authority over him ceased. He was now in the jurisdiction of the Republic of Ex-Wife.
Still, I was worried. So I called his mother, who had also spoken with Walt. She assured me Tiger was on I-85 and had just gotten separated.
Okay, fine. So for about 20 minutes I had a sense of security. Long enough to swing through Mickey D's in Senoia for a bite of supper.
No sooner than I put that hamburger toward my mouth, my cellphone rings. It's a 770 area code (metro Atlanta), and it's my son. He didn't make it onto the interstate (nice going, Whatzername!). After losing sight of his uncle's new truck, Tiger backtracked to the Wachovia where we'd met. He needed Uncle Walt's phone number, which I gladly gave to him.
I'm relieved he had enough sense to go back to the starting point.
Driving back home was not one of my more pleasant trips. The only positive thing about it was the American Top 40 from December 1972 I'd loaded onto my new iPod Nano (blue). That was one awesome week in time (yes, a review is forthcoming).
About the time I was driving through Griffin, I felt the dreaded pall of sickness wash over me. That "tired"/"puny" feeling one gets when they have a cold. (At least I waited 'till the end of my son's visit to get sick!)
As Casey might've said, "As the numbers get smaller, the Tal is getting sicker."
I-75 was a welcomed sight. I thought the worst was over, that I could set the cruise and enjoy AT40. Guess again -- my foot, which did fine while driving (it was just the act of getting into and out of the car that was difficult), began hurting along about Dublin, even sitting idle while driving at a nice 73 MPH clip along I-16. I got off the interstate in a quest for a CVS or a Walgreen's. Any place where A) I could "drain the monster", B) I could get something to drink, and C) buy some ibuprofen. I could've accomplished all three at any one of the gas stations at Exit 51. Trouble is, I didn't want to pay out the nose for a small pack of Advil.
Into Dublin I went, trying to find one. Anything. I would've been happy with friggin' Rite Aid (I hate Rite Aid, in case anyone hasn't yet figured that out). And all I saw was a Rite Aid.
Obviously, people in Laurens County, Georgia are of so perfect health that no drug store needs to stay open past 8:00 p.m. It was now 8:08. I got out, and the woman wasted no time turning out the lights to let me know THEY WERE CLOSED.
Did I mention how much I revile Rite Aid?
Across the street was a Southern Foods Market. That is one of the "trailer park food" outfits that took over the bankrupted remnants of the old Bruno's grocery chain (FoodFair, Food Max, Food World). They were open, so I limped in there to find some @#$%ing pain reliever and a bathroom. Of course, as luck would have it, their Necessary Facilities were as far to the back of the store as one could get. I'm sure I looked like a spastic retard trudging my way back there.
All drained, I picked up the Southern Foods "Doublewide Pride™" brand ibuprofen, plus an (overpriced) bottle of Diet Mountain Dew for the road.
Then it was back to I-16. My AT40 finished, I was entertained with the OTR programs I'd brought for the rest of my trip. The foot behaved itself until I got home and my wife was waiting with an icepack, Ace bandage and pillows.
It was 10:12 p.m. when I pulled into our driveway. I was never so happy to get home as I was yesterday. I spent an hour in the living room, my foot on ice and elevated. Then we set me up in our bed the same way. I slept all night that way, and woke up at 4:30 this morning to go into work.
Today the foot is still sore. I still walk like a retard. But it's not as painful as yesterday. The ice, I'm convinced, is what helped. As for the rest of me, I think I'm getting my traditional post-Christmas malaise. *cough*
So there you have it. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to limp myself to the microwave to fix me some popcorn.
Ciao for niao.
--Tal the Cripple
23 December 2008
So the missus and I decided to make a post-supper "Dollar Tree" run. We needed a few gift card bags and a few other odds and ends. Rincon has a very nice -- and big -- DT store in our newly renovated strip. It used to be called "Rincon South", but now it has the more semi-haute name Fort Howard Square. But anyway......
Since there's no such thing as going into a Dollar Tree for one item, we did what every red-blooded bumpkin does: we poked around. Truly one never knows what one might find on any one given trip. And you'd better grab it, elsein' you might not find it next time you're there.
Naturally, while Sera browsed the Christmas aisle, I made a beeline for the "electronics" section. And I was greeted by a small bin of CDs.......
Whoookay, we have the soundtrack to Passion of the Christ (a/k/a "You Damned K*kes Killed My Jesus!! Now gimme another drink, Copper!") ... a Shania
Remind me again why people would take relationship advice from a woman who's had three divorces?
And the one on the lower right corner? Yup.....
"Dr. Drake, please report back to your station. The dream is over."
Yes, Rick Springfield tried a comeback in 1999 with an album cruelly entitled Karma. By this point, my wife found me. And, big-league '80s Rick Fan she is, the disc went home with Seraphim. Curiosity, she said.
You know I had to dig through the pile. Although I don't know if it's some curiosity of my own, or if I'm a big-league glutton for punishment........
Yeah, definitely "glutton."
What we have here just might be the complete study in the recorded works of Captain & Tennille. They were a husband-wife duo in the '70s best known for such hits as "Love Will Keep Us Together", "Do That To Me One More Time", and the stomach-pump "Muskrat Love."
Their poses suggest the following dialogue:
TONI TENNILLE: "I love you, my BIG HANDSOME HUNK OF CAPTAIN FANTASTIC. Take me to your poopdeck and batton down my hatches."
DARYL DRAGON: "Do I know you?"
[Now I cannot completely dis Miz Toni. She's a native of Montgomery, Alabama, and her mother hosted the city's first daytime TV talk program. In fact, a young Toni would sometimes join Mom on the show. I think it was called Guest Room, but that's neither here nor there.]
Next to Mr. Excitement And Toothy Toni, was a selection of new-age'y "music for relaxation" CDs. And corresponding to each disc was a sample. Either the battery is this close to shot, or else one of Claude Debussy's most recognized and acclaimed piano standards is being waterboarded at Rincon's answer to musical Gitmo.......
We'll call this "Clair De Lunatic."
Now, after all that musical reminiscing, I'm sure you could go for a snack.......
Care for a Gummi Rat?
In the next aisle, I found these:
So it only made sense to try and help with this store's rodent problem:
What Dollar Tree would be complete without a "ghetto" section?? In case you want to fit in next time you find yourself in the wilds of Albany, Georgia or Pine Bluff, Arkansas, you might want to pick up a few of these:
Now just because you have some bling for your grille does NOT mean you can neglect your teeth. The Dollar Tree has a great selection of dentrifices:
Colgate and Crest are overrated, pal. WE have classic, time-tested brands like Pepsodent ("You'll wonder where the yellow went....") and, for those who like a little sex appeal for a lousy one-spot:
Crap, I didn't know they still made "Ultra Brite." At this point I was half-expecting to see tubes of "Ipana."
I'm sure by now, you could probably use some wise words from The Good Book:
And, in case you need reassurance as to what this book IS, the title is also imprinted on the box. $1.00 Bibles. Proof that Mr. Yahweh has one mean sense of humor. (Wonder if these are from a run of misprints? "For Gdo so luved the whirled....")
I just noticed the Hanna Montana whatever up there in the corner. Talk about a whole new meaning to "best of both worlds."
Back to the health and beauty (relatively speaking) aisle, I was stopped dead in my tracks by what I saw before me. Have you missed your, ummm, punctuation?
"Honey?? I thought this thing was supposed to give me a '+' or a '-' Why does it read '¿∞¶'??"
That kit would probably give my wife a positive, despite having her "parts" removed last year.
Finally, every other store chain has gift cards, so why not your friendly neighborhood everything-a-dollar joint?
I thought about buying a bunch of these and loading $1.00 on each of 'em. What a great gift idea. Then I heard the checkout lady tell the woman in front of me that there's a $5.00 minimum for their gift cards. Well, shucks! Where's the fun in that??
PS - Our damage tonight? $19.06. I felt like we'd made an obscene shopping spree, although not anywhere close to someone else, who made off with more than 38 bucks' worth of merchandise. Phew, no wonder the pickins were slim after he left.
If memory serves, I think he and his wife had three or four kids with 'em. Wonder if they buy those EPTs by the case?
Ciao for niao.
--Talmadge "How much is that $1.00 item in the window?" Gleck
22 December 2008
No. The first place I'll consider is Kroger.
Apex. Now there's a brand to make me pine for greater, more prestigious nameplates, like Coby or Broksonic. Seriously. I once had an Apex portable DVD player back when that was pretty much a novelty. It was 2001, and we were feeling a bit flush. We bought DVD players both for my Mom & Dad and Sera's parents, both of who didn't have one. They were also Apex, but the standard model, not intended for travel use.
All three didn't last the year.
And those Sylvania MP3 docking boomboxes are speaking to me. Speaking unprintable things. Sylvania is another one of those "cheap-company-cashing-in-on-a-long-gone-once-proud-name-of-quality" brands. Stick to the blue-dot flashbulbs, Syl.
Why does a grocery store feel the need to sell TVs and DVD players? Kroger needs to rethink this one (although the idea of Best Buy opening a produce department rather amuses....).
So, Mom and Dad, put that Apex DVD player and Apex LCD telly in your shopping cart with the eggs, ketchup, cereal and pork loin. Then you can look at their faces on Christmas morning when they put in the Rudolph disc and ask, with a puzzled expression, "Mom? Dad? Why is Rudolph's nose purple? And why is Burl Ives skipping back and forth and stuttering??"
Ciao for niao.
--Talmadge "Circuit City: The Beef People!" Gleck
Here are the rules:
Link to the person who tagged you.
Post the rules on your blog.
Write 6 random things about yourself.
Tag 6-ish people at the end of your post.
Let each person know he/she has been tagged.
Let the tagger know when your entry is up.
I've already linked to the ones who've tagged me (see the left-hand column). The rules are already posted (see above). So now here are six (6) random things about me (see below):
1) Thanks to XM and Sirius merging, and (finally ! ! ! !) being able to get the XM "decades" channels, I am now recording the lineup of vintage American Top 40 broadcasts on the weekend. Both '70s on 7 and '80s on 8 air a countdown from this week in whatever year they've chosen. This past weekend, it was 1975 and 1983.
And since we have many of the Sirius/XM channels on Dish Network, they're all set up to record on the DVR (PS - while the signal is all band-compressed and "lossy" on our car receivers, the quality through Dish Network is full-band and it shines). From there I go straight digital into my Sony pro CD recorder. Then I rip 'em into the PC and make MP3 files.
What I like the most about them is the first half of the show, the one where the "lower-charting" singles made their appearances. Usually, while a hit music station might've had 30, 40 or more singles in active rotation at any given time, only the cream of the crop - the biggest hits - made the transition into the "gold library" to be played as oldies. The rest pretty much disappeared.
And that's the magic of AT40, hearing these 'forgotten' hits. They always transport me back to whatever I was doing, thinking, or feeling during that week in time. A #1 hit from the day won't 'take me back', but one that peaked at #32 will do so with warp-speed.
I'm hooked on the classic countdowns. And that's saying something, as I've been a fan of AT40 since first discovering it Sunday nights on WSGN/Birmingham along about 1976. I've built up a nice stockpile of listening, with perhaps half a dozen unheard shows in the chute already.
I'm glad Seraphim enjoys 'em, too, because now on trips westward toward Alabanana or Albaninny, I've become conditioned to want to fire up one of the old shows.
Now then, on with the countdown:
NUMBER TWOOOO!!! I have become addicted to Subway's pepperoni pizza. They're good .... and cheap (the one in the Wally-World on Montgomery Cross Rd. has 'em for $3.89!) ... and, best of all, a reasonable 15 points! The 'base' is prefab, however everything else - mozzarella, pepperoni (or whatever topping[s] you choose) - is all fresh. Did I mention "quick"? Subway locations now have a high-speed toaster, and it'll bring a pizza to perfect temperature in barely 90 seconds. It's good, and isn't greasy like Pizza Hut's 'personal pans.' They're filling, too.
3) I'm getting to the point where I'm bursting with excitement about what lays ahead for me with 54.6-and-counting pounds off my frame. West Virginia is just two months away from right now ... in less than nine weeks, we will be in the warm bosom of her mountainous terrain. And something I missed terribly from my in-shape days was hiking. I remember taking the "hard" trail up to the peak of Pinnacle Mountain west of Little Rock, Ark. That would've been July 1987. There was a nice breeze blowing up there, and - cliched as it may be - I did feel on top of the world. I weighed maybe 180-185 pounds then ... and when I reached the top of Pinnacle, I felt less exhausted than I used to feel after just a couple flights of stairs.
Nettiemac's brag-and-gag™ newsletter (which puts our on-the-cheap effort to shame, thank you) made mention of her walking efforts. Savannah recently had its 10K "bridge run", over the Talmadge Bridge -- that's former Jawja guvnuh Eugene Talmadge, not "Gleck, Talmadge." -- and coming up in April is Charleston's Cooper River Bridge Run. Maybe my mind is writing checks my stamina isn't yet ready to cash, but sitting here right now I really want to do it. (PS to Nettie - wanna meet us for a day of fun?)
4) This is the time when I can finally catch myself embracing The Christmas Spirit®. It's when I find REAL Christmas selections sprinkled into our midday programming (usually not before December 15th). Or when I put together the annual Christmas edition of a folk music program I produce. "Bring a Torch, Jeanette Isabella" or Bach's Christmas Oratorio trumps 2,395 cringe-inducing versions of "Sleigh Ride." Every time. And if rejecting this phony-ass version of Festivus makes me an Ebenezer Whatzisname, then you know what two words I'll gladly say.
5) Cars was on ABC Family over the weekend. I love that movie ... amazing how CGI animation so beautifully captured what we've lost as a country. The people who wrote that screenplay were kindred minds. The scene where "Lightning" and "Sally" take that little joyride out "old 66" is achingly gorgeous. Those writers and animators got it so right. So very right. The part where the road and the town 'morphs' back into its glory days as Sally recalls it never fails to put a lump in my throat.
"Cars didn't drive on it to make great time. They drove on it to have a great time."
I was born 10 years too late. Too many times I've wished I were born in 1955 instead of 1965, so I could've enjoyed real Baby-Boomer Americana while older. So I could've driven US-301 toward Florida, with everything in its prime instead of seeing an old Howard Johnson's Motel - with spire still atop the office building - now serving as quasi-welfare housing ... a decrepit Red Carpet Inn clearly showing architectural parentage of circa-1968 Holiday Inn ... or ruins of what used to be a beautiful, well-manicured roadside park in better days.
Yes, and seeing the black-and-white 301 shield in Georgia become a yellow one after crossing into Florida ... along with a red US-1, a green US-23, and - God love it - the blue US-90! (That's your gratuitous 'colored shield' rant. Now you can enjoy the rest of this post, safe in knowing that it's all behind you.)
Then again, I might've been better off had I been born in the '70s. I can think of only one thing worse than growing up too late to enjoy "real Americana", and that's being old enough to have childhood recollections of the final days of the way it used to be. I remember eating at a Woolworth's lunch counter when I was little. I came of age as the era of the live afternoon TV kiddie show came to a sad end.
I never got to eat at a Howard Johnson's, though. And I feel so cheated.
6) One thing from the past that is stubbornly trying to reassert itself in present-day American life, at least in warmer climes, is the drive-in theater. We have two within reach, one in Beaufort, S.C., and another down in Jesup. The other week we took in a movie at the two-screen plex in Jesup -- a (strangely juxtaposed) double-feature: Four Christmases and Fireproof. "Four", in spite of the negative reviews I've seen, struck me as an amusing entry into the "dysfunctional family holiday movie" hall of fame. Fireproof, though, deserves its own blog post.
Things are different at the drive-in today. Gone are the hinky speakers you hang on your car's half-rolled-up window. Today, most theaters transmit sound via low-powered FM transmitters. The sound quality is amazingly good ... while it's not full 5.1 surround, it is stereo. And any car with a decent audio system will give a pleasant sound experience.
There's nothing like backing the SUV into our spot, popping up the liftgate, and snuggling under quilts in the back, with our sodas and (low-point) munchies, to watch a good movie.
I'm going to tag everybody who reads this blog. So put your shoulder up to the monitor ... c'mon, take your medicine like an adult .... *poit!!* Tag, you're it. Now get to posting.
Ciao for niao.
--Talmadge "One of other, half dozen of the six" Gleck
20 December 2008
Due to all the holiday muck, and lots to do this past Wednesday, we put off our weigh-in until this morning. The WW center will be closed this coming Wednesday (12/24) for obvious reasons, so we're doing two 1.5-week stretches, and then getting back on routine the following week. It's probable that we'll end up weighing in Tuesday (30th), since I can only ass/u/me the center will also be closed for New Year's Eve.
Although I cannot imagine WHY. Certainly our Weight Watchers leaders - those whom we expect to set an example - would not be out eating, drinking and other such festive activity. Right?
ANYway. Weight. I'm down -1.0 (wish it were more, but who's gripin'?), putting me just ounces away from my year-end goal of 55. Cume is now -54.6
We stayed for the meeting, because: 1) The leader at the Saturday morning session is the same one in Rincon on Monday nights - the one where we attended before changing to Wednesdays. She saw me to 10%, but I wanted to show this woman - who was beyond skeptical that I would last three months in WW - that I was still in the game and over -50! Take that, Miz Christine! :-D
2) .... well, I don't feel at liberty to say. And that's all I have to say about that, Jen-nay.
The leader said she could really see the change in my face.
Yesterday at work, we had a visitor who was in the station to do an interview with our news person. Very sweet lady, it was good seeing her again (last time was maybe 2-ish years ago), and her eyes bugged out when she saw me. She too mentioned that it was obvious in my face.
Normally I'm not one who likes to have attention drawn to me. I am the polar opposite of Nettiemac, who will not hesitate to get on a stage and perform (even if it's with a falling-down drunk karaoke singing partner aboard a casino boat!). While I'm not an all-out wallflower, I do lean that way on the spectrum. That's the beauty of radio -- being able to create something without people watching you as you do it.
All that a given, I have to say I'm enjoying all the looks from those I haven't seen in awhile. It feels good. And is a good motivator.
After the meeting, we ballyed up to the Red Cross blood bar, where the vampires were all too willing to relieve me of a pint of my pulmonary fluids. (We'd have done this first, were it not for the blood drive starting at the same time as the meeting!)
My blood pressure was taken, and I was aghast .... 90 over 58 ??!! WTF ??!!
I had the woman do it again (I cannot remember the last time I ever had a two-digit systolic). The second time it was 94 /62. Holy crap.
Let's look back at the Red Cross donor card, which has my BP readings:
Saturday, 05/03/2008: 138 / 90. This was the weekend before I joined WW. I was roughly 295 pounds at this point.
Thursday, 08/28/2008: 126 / 84.
Friday, 10/24/2008: 112 / 78.
Saturday, 12/20/2008: 94 / 62.
While I've never had a systolic above 140 (considered the threshold for textbook hypertension), for years my blood pressure flirted with it. Something tells me I don't have that problem now.
94 over 62? Maaaaan.... I was beginning to worry that I wouldn't have enough oomph in my heart to fill the pint bag. No problems, I filled it. Quickly, as usual.
And that's another afternoon in the life of Tal. Creating new music/radio/road geeks, one pint and transfusion at a time.
Ciao for niao.
--Talmadge "240.6" Gleck
18 December 2008
I found these stations thriving in the musty crawl space of my radio's dial:
109.2 THE FRUITCAKE: No longer will America take bets as to when Adult Contemporary stations begin playing holiday music. Every day is Christmas at 109.2, so the little soccer moms will be positive orgasmic year-round! Now run along and spend lots of money, Tiffany. (Rod Stewart says, "It's one of my favorite things.")
KNNY-FM "KINNEY 100.0": All "Christmas Shoes", All The Time. (Cannot be picked up in parts of south Alabama, much of Mississippi, or certain mountainous pockets of Arkansas)
WPIC-AM 1750, "In-Your-Face Radio": Our name says it all: (P)olitically (I)n(C)orrect. Hear all your favorite holiday selections from times past, such as Mel Blanc's "The Hat I Got For Christmas Is Too Beeg", "The Dreidl Song" by Cartman, and Shirley Q. Liquor's immortal "12 Days of Kwanzaa."
98.4 KAREN FM: We don't play too much of what we want, or else we'll get too big. When we start playing more than 100 minutes of music between commercials, we'll go purge until we're back to a more managable 90-95 minutes. Our tower is on top of the world, and our signal is close to you. (Wonder why our cume spikes upward in January?)
RALPHIE RADIO: Cleveland's newest radio sensation! Flick & Tongue In The Morning is giving away "leg lamps" by the hundreds -- hear the sound of the Red Rider BB gun shooting an eye out, and be the 9th caller to win! And listen for the Pink Bunny Jackpot Phone Game -- if we call your home, be sure to answer "F-dash-dash-dash", and you win Christmas dinner for your entire family at the Chinese restaurant over there by the Food Lion.
KETL - "KETTLE 86.4": The Salvation Army now owns a chain of low-power FMs like this one, with the sound of a ringing bell 24/7, and an occasional tuba blast. Dong Boy & Belly in the morning, and extra long tolls of your favorite clappers all day.
SUICIDE 1640.5: Our name says it all. Nothing says "Christmas" like people who have nobody or nothing in their lives, and - tragically - decide to off themselves during this joyous time of year (or maybe they've had it up to here with all-holiday formats!). There isn't too much to be heard except for gunshots here and there. But listen real close, because all the dead air drives the audio compressor so high, you can hear the sound of people slitting their wrists. As is typical with the sheep mentality, most of us let the "scan" function on the radio skip past this one as if it doesn't exist. Must these malcontents be so ... negative??? Must they ruin the holidays for the rest of us?
Happy listening ... and ciao for niao!
--Talmadge "Portions of this blog post have been mechanically reproduced" Gleck
12 December 2008
Said killing-of-the-rats was spurred on by watching Puddy roll over into what we now call her "sunny side up" mode. I didn't have the (8.1 MP) Fuji handy, so the cellphone had to do:
I just had to share that one. In doing so, I realized I also had a number of images on there I'd completely forgotten about. I'd see something, usually while driving, and reach for the cellphone.
We start with some pics from my October trip over to Birmingham and other fine (and not-so-fine) cities. Starting with the bank next door to the tire place where I took my son's car:
is getting swallowed by Wells Fargo. Aliant Bank of Montgomery has made it clear
they ain't goin' nowhere.
And a mini 'schoolhouse'-style clock, which tugged at my heartstrings; it was identical to the (long gone) clock Gran Lera used to have in her living room. At $3.50, that puppy went home with Talmadge.
A Holiday Inn ashtray (with the classic "Great Sign" logo) set me back all of 50 cents, and then I found - yes, for sale - an empty Coke can from 1982. I didn't buy it (even at 25¢), however I did take a picture of the back, just to prove to any naysayers that "Coke Classic" was indeed different from OLD Coke:
Note the ingredient list. Today, Coca-Cola is sweetened with "high fructose corn syrup." Old, i.e. pre-1985, Coke was sweetened with real cane sugar, baby. I'm convinced a good part of the reason we have an "obesity epidemic" is because of HFCS. Sugar is natural. And let's face it -- folks my age (43) weren't as active as people claim. We might not have had Playstation 3 or XBox 360, but we had Gilligan's Island and Brady Bunch reruns at 3:30 in the afternoon, among other sedentary pursuits.
Okay, that's another tangent for another time. Moving right along (speaking of childhood), we have a pleasant, mouth-watering picture I took while driving north on Gloster Street in Tupelo, Miss. I'd just driven through Danver's (one more time, with feeling: best roast beef sandwich, bar none), and was fixin' to dig into my first one:
I bought gas while there, and I couldn't resist a picture of this notice on the gas pump:
"uniforms" standing by to pounce on any drive-offs)
I was all estatic about what this station was charging for gas: $3.10/9. This was early October, so gas was still well into the 3.00 range in most places. If you would've come to me while I was pumping this "cheap" Mississippi gas, and told me that in less than two months I'd be paying less than $1.50/9 per gallon, I would've told you to lay off the hallucinogenics.
There was a monitor above the pump with a loop of some local TV station clips, including a trivia question: What's the oldest radio station in Tupelo?
Yeah, like I was gonna boot that one. It was WELO-AM 580. So, what did I win -- A box of Rice-A-Roni? A Spiegel catalog gift certificate? A lifetime sentence of listening to Tupelo's second radio station, WTUP? (I'd rather have waterboarding, thank you)
Here's a picture I took a couple weeks back. I think I was on Ogeechee Road, but that's not important. Remind me not to call Triple A around here if we get stranded:
It was dark, and you can barely see that on the tow truck in front of me is a TRIPLE A VAN! On the back is the AAA "help" number. "You have reached Triple A. Sorry, our van done broke down. You're gonna have to get out in the rain and change that flat tire yourself, buddy. Don't be a sissy -- get out there and be a man. Never mind the money you pay us in dues. Just shut up and when we get around to it, we'll send you a couple of road maps."
Then there was this shot one morning a few weeks ago at Mickey D's, while the lady behind the counter was looking the other way. Those plastic buckets to the left of the coffee urn were full of TEA.
Okay, that's all for now. With a cleared-out image cache, I bid you a fond ciao for niao.
--Talmadge "I got a Samsung Cellphone/I love to take a photograph/So Mama don't take my 2-gig PNY Micro-SD Card away" Gleck
10 December 2008
What used to be a simple, basic 3-point can of tuna is now 4.5 Points™.
That 7-point Lean Cuisine pepperoni pizza? It'll now set you back 10.
And there can no longer be any free food or drink, either. You know that saying about "no free lunches"? Well, that applies to you too, fatso. Diet Mountain Dews are now 2 Points™. Per serving.
No, I'm just kidding. But that was the joke I made before tonight's meeting when they gave out the new and improved WW "format" (how appropriate this happened the week after Bill Drake died!)
It has a new, 'forward'-sounding name: MOMENTUM.
There are a few tweaks, to be sure, but from what I observed, no Points™ values changed. Nor did the formula for calculating your daily Points™ target. Even the 35 weekly 'extra' stash remains unchanged. They didn't chisel away at that. Clearly, Catbert is not in charge at WW.
What was added is a designation called "filling foods." Supposedly, those are foodstuffs which leave a longer shadow in your stomach, i.e. you're not wall-clawing hungry two hours after eating ("You're gonna eat a bowl of chow mein / And be hungry reeeeal soon" - The Sparks, "I Predict" ).
Case in point, I experimented with a different eating regimen today. I started my day (so to speak - it was 10:30 when I first ate) with my Lean Cuisine pepperoni pizza. And then for "lunch" (2:30 p.m.) I had a single Granny Smith apple.
That apple made all the difference in the world when it came to meeting time. Not surprisingly, I try to eat as lightly as possible ... not so much in calories as in actual food weight. Sorry, but when I step on the scale I don't wanna weigh a bunch of half-digested food in my tum-tum, ya know?? I empty both chambers (if you get my drift), because - as I like to say - "every ounce counts."
I don't drink anything carbonated 24 hours prior to weigh-in. Just water and Crystal Light decaf tea. Dunno if it's true or not, but a co-worker told me that sodas can cause some retention hours after consuming.
Now the one problem with all this is, during the meeting my stomach is going "FEED ME, DAMMIT. GIVE ME SOME @#$%ING FOOD, YOU WEIGHT-OBSESSED NAZI!!!" As I sit there listening to Richard Simmons on Steroids, I am the letter-perfect portrait of a wall-clawing hungry bastard.
Not this time. That apple indeed went further ... much more than one of those pizzas or a can of tuna with a handful of crackers. During the meeting I was hungry, but bearably so.
I think I'm going to try that again next week. Maybe I'm on to something.
Oh, and the weight? Dunno how this happened (the apple in the afternoon, maybe??), but with my nekkidweight this morning factored in, I figured on dropping a pound, if I was lucky.
Nope. Try -2.8 .... wow, okay. I'll take it. Keep in mind, that's over a two-week period as last week we were in Alabama for my Dad's cancer exorcism.
At any rate, I now have a cume drop of -53.6 pounds. Incredibly, I am a mere 1.4 pounds away from my end-of-the-year goal of 55 pounds. Taking the previous 1.4 per week breakdown, all I have to do is more of the same, and I'll snag that goal two weeks early. Wouldn't that be a sweet Christmas present??
Future goals, in case anyone needs reminding:
- 60 pounds removed by the beginning of February (my 44th birthday)
- 65 pounds by the third week of the month (when we've penciled in West Virginia '09)
- 75 pounds by May 5, my one-year anniversary of going on WW.
- 99 pounds by September 9, 2009. 99 by 09/09/09.
75 pounds was the number I threw out when I first joined. And that seems to be going according to plan. I can hit that goal if I drop a mere 1.03 pounds per week.
"99 by 09/09/09" is a catchy way of saying I want to get my "Century Club" membership card by the end of Summer 2009.
Going by my track record, I feel very confident. I've met all of my previous goals - 10% by the end of August*, 40 pounds by my October trip to Birmingham and 50 by Thanksgiving. (* = I met the goal on my original date ... I did set an earlier goal when I had a good run early in July, but then I began plateauing.)
I like the emphasis on 'filling foods' with the new WW Momentum concept. That'll be a handy tool in trying to maximize my points™-to-satisfaction ratio.
Ciao for niao.
--Talmadge "241.6" Gleck
04 December 2008
We're back home after a couple of days 'out West' in the wilds of south Dougherty County, Georgia. Yesterday we made the 90-ish minute drive over to Dothan, Ala., where we visited Dad. He had surgery that morning to remove a cancerous prostate, and I'm happy to report that the procedure went well, and he was quite talkative for a man in his shape. Not surprisingly, he was quite tired and nodded off more than a few times while we were all talking. It was myself, Sera, my brother and mother all cramped into that little hospital room.
I think he's going home today. Talk about "drive-thru hospital service."
Thanks many times over for all of your prayers and concern. I truly appreciate them.
Okay, now to the other matter at hand: Your Blog Host almost committed an act of dognapping. It involves my "granddaughter" Daisy. Puddy gave birth to one litter back in 1999. There were nine in all, but three died, leaving six. Of those, three found homes elsewhere and the remaining three would go on to live in my in-laws' backyard. Two boys and one girl, and they were christened Bo, Luke and Daisy (if you care to "hazzard" a guess how my FIL arrived at those names). Those are/were their real names. Puddy, I'm sure you know, is a nickname -- her real name is Gabby.
Early in April, Luke died from heartworms. And last month, Bo left us. Same cause.
Which leaves Daisy. My FIL had her checked head to paw, and - fortunately (!!!!) - she is fit as a fiddle. Now Daisy is an inside dog, and I can only guess she's in mourning. She's never been alone in all of her life, and has pretty much lived her life to date in the shadow of her brothers.
Now that it's just her, she is now the shadow of my in-laws. And when I say "shadow", it's hard to convey just how much I mean that. Daisy will not go anywhere away from human lifeforms. She dutifully goes outside when MIL takes her out to "go potty." But the moment she goes anywhere the door, Daisy wastes no time getting there first.
I cannot begin to fathom whatever stages a dog goes through when they've lost a loved one. They're "pack" animals, so you know they grieve.
But when we got there Tuesday night, I was finally able to give Daisy some one-on-one attention. Indeed, it was impossible to ignore the girl. She jumped onto the couch, and - I swear to gawd - started giving me 'huggies' and cuddled closely to me, just as her own mother is famous for doing.
You know something? It was like a time machine. It was like Puddy several years ago, back when she was still a spritely girl, with full eyesight and hearing. The two dogs are alike in so many ways, not just in temperament, but in look. The only big differences being Daisy has a 'dirtier' blond coat, and the white "freckles" covering her nose:
Mother/Daughter photo-op this morning. Daisy is on the left, and of course Puddy/Gabby is sitting right. I'm holding their leashes, because they were hardly in a mood to be cooperative for a picture-takin' session. A couple of other dogs from the neighborhood were wandering into the yard, hoping to join in on what they perceived to be a social gathering. Daisy was starting to growl and wanted this damned charade to be over. Puddy - now deaf as well as mostly blind - appeared oblivious to the other canine creatures. She's looking in that direction, but made no acknowledgment of this company comin' over.
Here I am, posing with my "daughter" and "granddaughter." Honest, I so wanted to 'steal' Daisy and take her back here with us.
In the end, I made the wiser decision: staying on my mother-in-law's good side.
Ciao for niao.
--Talmadge "I still want her, though!" Gleck
01 December 2008
Welcome to Five Flavors of Reflection, a blog which allows one to read whatever verbal sputum is splattered forth by Mr. Talmadge Gleck (the "Borderline Retard"). The blog, comments and various thoughts therein (collectively, the "Worthless Crap") are operated by Talmadge Q. Gleck Creative Productions and its corporate affiliates (collectively, "Baptist Liquor Store Enterprises, Phone Company and Auto Salvage, Ltd.").
Still, it does not relieve you of the responsibility to keep up with these secret changes.
ANYway, if you do not fit within the set and liquid parameters of the above, then take that jar of Gerber Apricots -- but make sure the safety cap hasn't gone 'floop', otherwise you'll get a bad case of salmonella -- and go to a site of greater substance, such as tigerbeat.com.
This Blog is void where prohibited.
It's meant for educational purposes only.
Prices slightly higher west of the Rockies.
Batteries not included.
Filmed in black light.
Cheap trinkets found in specially-marked boxes of Cap'n Quarry Sugar-Frosted Rocks, part of a good nutritious breakfast.
Relax, Refuel, Refresh.
It's got a great beat and you can dance to it, Dick, I give it a stroke.
Prizes selected from the Spiegel Catalog, Chicago 60609.
If payment has been received, please disregard this notice.
Wear your seatbelt.
Do not fold, spindle or mutilate.
This stereo LP is not compatible with mono needles.
May cause drowsiness.
Use of Geritol might cause you to choke on Lawrence Welk's baton.
Portions of this blog have been mechanically reproduced.
Use a helmet.
Contents might have settled during shipment.
Do not disturb.
Maid, please service this room as soon as possible.
A Stuckey's Stop Keeps America Going.
"Hey Brian! My ALPHA-BITS are spelling 'oooooooo!!'" "Peter, those are CHEERIOS!"
Do not insert in mouth or rectum.
Learn it. Know it. Live it.
Ladies and Gentlemen, The Beat Goes On!
Best if used by "born-on" date.
Place Postage Here, the Post Office will not deliver mail without postage.
What's behind door number two?
This has been a Filmways Presentation, Dahling.
Some tracks have been re-recorded by the lead singers with one or more members of the original backing band.
Call toll-free, 1-800-257-1234, except in Nebraska. You will be billed later.
Remember to keep a song in your heart.
I'm pickin' ... and I'm a-grinnin'.
Brought to you by Johnson Products, makers of Ultra Sheen, Afro Sheen and Ultra Sheen Cosssssmetics.
If erection lasts longer than 4 hours, go look at a picture of Rosie O'Donnell, and that should take care of your "problem."
Sanitized for your protection.
Bridge may ice in cold weather.
*TONNNNG!* ...... *TONNNNG!* "Mark VII Limited"
Endorse all financial instruments.
Exercise caution in your business affairs.
Be true to your God, however you conceive Him, be it Hairy Thunder ... or Cosmic Muffin.
At participating stores.
Gunter glieben glauten globen.
Charley Weaver to block.
Total weight before cooking.
Shakey's made deal with bank: We don't cash checks, the bank doesn't make pizza.
Add $19.99 for postage and handling.
You can bet your last money it'll be a stone gas, honey.
The World's Innkeeper.
How much is that doggie in the window?
I'm a little bit country, I'm a little bit rock & roll.
Shop Woolworth's For Value.
Here's what's happening in your neck of the woods.
Extra value is what you get, when you buy Coronet.
Keep this and all medications out of the reach of my brother-in-law.
Welcome to Alabama The Beautiful.
Four out of five dentists surveyed recommend Trident sugarless gum.
The fifth dentist is handing out jawbreakers.
Have It Your Way.
You met another, and *TPFFFT!!* you were gone.
Aim your ship into tractor beam, then shoot the bug for double firepower.
If you hit Bankrupt, you lose only your cash, but not your merchandise, because once you buy a prize it's yours to keep.
Remember, only forest fires can prevent bears.
His Master's Voice.
Brush your breath ... brush your breath ... brush your breath with Dentyne!
The world continues to deteriorate .... give up!
Good night, everybody! Stay tuned for Tattletales, next over most of these CBS stations.
--Talmadge "Legal for another year" Gleck