The Witnesses At My Door

So Saturday was the first day of Memorial Day weekend. I had things to do, but I needed to relax as well. So I rolled out of bed later in the morning and threw on some sweats. First things first... laundry. I threw my stuff into a laundry basket and headed out the door (the laundry room for the apartment is on the opposite side of the complex and you have to go outside to get to it). When I opened my door, two people were standing in front of it, clearly startled and clearly getting ready to knock on my door. One was a tall older guy, and the other was a kid... probably about 10 years old or so. Both were dressed in suits. Both were holding briefcases and Bibles. One was holding copies of Watch Tower and Awake magazines. Jehovah's Witness was knocking at my door. What a way to start the day out.

Before I go further, I should make it clear that I grew up in a pretty Christian house. My dad was Episcopalian and my mom was Baptist (don't ask... I don't know how they got along for so long either). My dad didn't care for Witnesses when they knocked at the door... if anything, he'd start a lively debate and save the rest of the neighborhood from them by taking their time. My mom, however, was the one who would see them coming from a mile away and would pick them off from her bedroom window if she had a rifle. Depending on my mood, I could go either way. Anyway, the idea is that neither of them appreciated them and had different approaches to dealing with them.

So it's crystal clear that the kid is so nervous, he was about to sh*t his pants. Both guys smile at me, and the kid hands me a copy of Awake magazine. He said that he wants to read a quote from the Bible. He's fumbling through the Bible trying to find this verse. The old guy doesn't help him at all. He's just standing there. And I'm holding my laundry, trying to be patient. So after what seemed like an eternity, I put my laundry basket down and went to grab something in my living room. When I got back, he found his verse (2 Timothy 3 if you're interested). He read the verse. Then he said that since the last days may be coming, it would benefit me to read the magazine and the Bible.

Now I'm torn. On one hand, I think it's good for a person to have to cold-talk to people like that. It's a good way to learn how to market yourself and how to repress those nervous feelings. On the other hand, I just wanted him to get out of my d*mn face. I had things to do.

When he finished with what he was saying, I politely told the kid that I'm a person finding my way as well, and even though I didn't agree with what he was saying, I appreciated what he was doing. And since I appreciated what he was doing, I was going to give him one of my favorite bookmarks so he doesn't have to fumble to find his verse again. Then I told him that I had things to do, and thanks for stopping by.

The kid has this HUGE beaming smile, while the old guy was pissed. I don't know if he was mad that I could've corrupted the kid, or that I gave him something that the kid appreciated. Whatever. He needed to lighten up.

So the two walked off and I went to do laundry. While I was walking over there, I noticed that every stairwell and walkway through the complex had a couple people wearing identical suits and carrying identical briefcases and Bibles. It irritated me a little more, and I almost wanted to go and take my bookmark back. I didn't, but I wanted to. Maybe I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Who knows.

It was still a good weekend anyway. Back to the real world.

What Would You Say If Gas Were A Person?

Hey Gas... you think you're funny huh? You think $3.75 is funny? You're right... that's classic. Come here for a second. I have a joke you'll find hilarious...

You ready? Here goes...

What did the five fingers say to the face?

**SLAP!!!**

Yeah, punk! You need to learn some better jokes! Step to me with your chest puffed out again! You better come correct next time! When you see me, I know you see a m*thaf*cka from Iowa... but I'm straight Children of the Corn, homey! That's right! I'll chop your four foot tall *ss down to three feet! And I'll chop you so hard, your grandkids won't grow past it! Know your role, mayne! Know your role!

What's that? You think you been kind to me, just cuz people in England and China pay twice as much already? You know what I say to that?

**SLAP!!!**

I don't give a f*ck about other countries! This is America! And since we're in America, I have the right to slap the sh*t out of you, then claim not guilty by reason of insanity! You're driving me nuttier than a Snickers bar, so it would work! I will kick your *ss, and you will get your *ss stomped!

Now sit your *ss down, back the f*ck up, and realize that if you help us, we'll help you. You cut out your attitude you developed over the last few years, and we (Americans) will stop smackin the sh*t out of you. Deal?

**Straightening out shirt**

Now that I got that off my chest, I wonder how much it will cost to drive to Cali from Ohio...

Random Thoughts From Cartoon Watching

It was Saturday morning. I'm kickin it with my daughter. And we're watching Barbie Mariposa for the 1000th time. I'm telling you... it gets better every time I see it... but it had me thinking...

When I was little, I was a fan of G.I. Joe and Transformers. My favorite character was Roadblock. He was the big black guy that only spoke in rhyme. He carried an M2 machine gun over his shoulder and loved barbequeing. He looked and acted like Charles Barkly before Charles Barkley was Charles Barkley. Now that I think about it, his character could be a little offensive today... but that's not the point.

When it came to Transformers, my favorites were the Aerobots. Those were the good guy robot/air force airplanes. I think there were five of them, and they could combine to become one super-robot. Pretty cool stuff back in the day.

Watching Mariposa actually isn't much different from the cartoons I watched when I was a kid... outside of the pink horses and rainbows and flowers. In nearly every cartoon series, there is a good guy and a bad guy. Most of the time (at least to me), the bad guy is more fun to watch. And it's not just on cartoons... it's in movies too. They lead more interesting lives. They have cooler gadgets. And every now and then, a good guy would join with the bad guy... only to turn back later, but still. And at the end of every cartoon, the good guy always wins. Optimus Prime leads the Autobots to victory. G.I. Joe defeats Cobra every time. Bruce Leroy gives Sho Nuff the beatdown. Rocky takes Clubber Lang to school. Cartoons are already unrealistic as it is, but does life really work that way? Is it always so cut and dry when deciding who the good guys and bad guys are? Good people do bad things a lot, because they have to... because there is always a gray area... and since when does the good guy always win? In my experience, the bad guy has more fun, has cooler toys, gets more girls, and wins MOST of the time... cartoons would be pretty depressing if they mirrored real life...

Here's another random thought... watching Barbie movies makes me sick to my stomache. All of that girly stuff makes me feel like I should be on the couch eating Yoplait while I have my special time of the month. It's just not manly enough. But my daughter loves them... especially the Fairytopia movies. She has all of the fairies, and she pretends to recreate the movie with them. Since my daughter is multi-racial, I tried to find the black version of the Fairytopia characters... and they actually exist! But did you know that while the white female version of the dolls look like Heidi Klum, the black female version looks more like Cleopatra Jones? While the white male version looks like Brad Pitt, the black male version looks like Bryant Gumbel? Honestly, I'd rather play with Bryant Gumbel and Cleopatra Jones. Neither of them are Barbie-type supermodels, but I bet those dolls could make one hell of a sex scene. (Don't front... you know you made your Barbies hump when you were little. I had Snake Eyes humping Scarlet all the time when I played with GI Joes) My daughter would rather play with anything that looks like it was in the movie. Oh well... maybe I'll get them for myself.

Oh well... here's to Mariposa for the 1001st time.