Classified ad in a commerce newspaper.
Make $20,000 - $30,000. Join our breeding program EASY FUN.
All equipment FREE. Work 3 hrs/week. 4 ft. work space needed. Live anywhere.
So. Um. Yeah.
The mind goes to all kinds of ill-advised places on this one.
Spy code?
Alien advertising?
An X-File?
All the above?
Dear Lord,
Give me a few friends
who will love me for what I am,
and keep ever burning
before my vagrant steps
the kindly light of hope...
And though I come not within sight
of the castle of my dreams,
teach me to be thankful for life,
and for time's olden memories
that are good and sweet.
And may the evening's twilight
find me gentle still.
Excerpt from the Washington State Drivers Test
Left Lane Refresher (Circle any that apply)
The left lane is for:
A. Cruising. Whatever speed I choose is the speed at which everyone behind me wants to travel.
B. Just another lane. Whatever speed I choose is the speed at which everyone behind me wants to travel.
C. A safe, slow lane. To get away from someone who realizes I'm an incompetent driver and wants to pass me. Passing on the right is much more acceptable, so I can move to the left lane, and then slow down. D. Going exacctly 60MPH. No driver should go more than 55, really, but there are times to go really fast and speed up to 60, which is the legal driving speed between Seattle and Olympia. It really should be slower, though. I can't imagine that others may want to get anywhere in an adequate amount of time.
E. To make sure other people in the left lane are going the speed limit. Merging in the left lane allows me to control over drivers already in the left lane, causing them to slow down or have to brake suddenly, and possibly cause an accident; but it's my duty to ensure that the Washington highways are always full to bursting with slow and/or stopped traffic.
In case of Rain*
A. Brake suddenly and often. Otherwise, traveling at a constant rate of speed in the rain may cause calm and safe traffic flow.
B. Pole Position.
C. Alternate slowing down and then speeding up in an erratic fashion.
*Rain is unlikely here in the state of Washington. However, in the event that a water-like substance does fall from the sky, you should be prepared. Be sure and brush up on those left lane skills!
A little Irish pub music played by the talented group of Big Paddy at Jack Quinn’s on a Saturday night makes for an evening of laughter and people-watching – a combination that never fails to astonish, entertain, and humble. Sometimes all at once.
Big Paddy pauses during their set and we raise our glasses to the troops. A worthy toast if ever there was one. Glasses containing everything from Guinness to Crown Royal and everything in between are lifted in honor.
A young man, no older than 25, sits at the end of the bar. He too raises his glass. Jason mentions he is Ex-Special Forces, and a frequent patron. He has clearly been disabled during his duties. I say a prayer for him.
Humility.
One happy guy dances wildly amid his group of barely-twenty-ones, bravely, drunkenly attempting to entice a few of the ladies to dance. He succeeds, and soon many are skipping and tapping to the beat of an Irish bodhran and a raucous rendition of “If I Ever Leave This World Alive” by Flogging Molly.
Entertainment.
Between songs, the band hails Patrick, a rather imposing gentleman standing at the bar, wearing a kilt, and enjoying a car bomb. He’s around 6’3, 250 lbs (give or take). Patrick is an Olympic power lifter, and apparently a rather jovial, laid-back and frequent patron of Jack Quinn’s.
Jason leans in. “This is his off season; he’s not even big yet.”
Goodnight! I can’t imagine what this guy is like when he’s in competition form.
Astonishment.
The lively mood continues unhindered. The youngsters are still dancing away, spurred on by alcohol and the promise of a few more good stories to tell “on the morrow”.
I’m waylaid by a women determined to educate me on the Colorado law allowing women the use of the men’s restroom whenever they want.
“I ain’t waiting for no damn women’s bathroom when I can use the men’s,” she says.
You go, sister.
She rants a bit more. It’s loud, she’s sauced. I nod and smile. She disappears into the men's room. Some women think they have an automatic connection with their fellows when they are waiting in line to tinkle.
Entertainment. Again.
The bouncer leads a blind patron wearing sunglasses and carrying a walking stick to the end of the bar. A few minutes later he is in front of the stage, grooving to the beat, walking stick in one hand and a drink in the other.
He sways and grins and drinks and laughs. Gazes are drawn to him, not in pity, not in embarrassment… but in envy.
If we could all dance like the stares and thoughts of others didn’t matter – what a place it would be!
All little of all three.
Big Paddy begins another lively tune and again the floor fills up with diminished inhibitions and honest laughter. We are all here at Quinn's tonight for our own reasons, whatever they may be. One thing is certain: the music will play.
And the blind man dances on.
Dance like nobody's watching; love like you've never been hurt.
Sing like nobody's listening; live like it's heaven on earth.
~Mark Twain
While driving a different way to work this morning, I spied a temporary sign for a new sports bar.
My eyes read:
"B**ch Warmers"
Upon closer inspection (i.e. blinking furiously to clear my vision) the name of the bar is actually....
BENCH WARMERS
Nice. Welcome to Monday.
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