Potty Training the Neighbors

So, I have been sitting here reading my morning news, and the neighbor kid (in the backyard behind us) will NOT stop screaming. Apparently he didn't tell mom that he had 'to potty'. All I got from the punctuated syllables between the sobs was "I wa.....nt sbusbsb!!" Mom, with her hands on her hips: "Are you gonna tell me next time you have to go potty?" "Yeeeess! Sob!" "Grab your pants then, right over there!" Potty training! Whew! That's one part of parenting I'd rather skip. Don't they just come out that way?
Okay, now we're getting somewhere. He finally stopped the screaming. What is it that causes kids to scream like that? Sometimes I feel like screaming, but I don't. Do these kids feel the same way and just express it more openly? Do they have no concept of the social stigma on screaming at the top of your lungs, tearing off all your clothes and running around with tears running down your cheeks?

What do you do when it's 100 degrees (Farenheit)??

Look at me! I'm floating!


Ahhh! There's a fish nibbling on my belly button! Ouch! Stop!

(Thrashing, splashing. Joanna gets pulled under, is gone for a whole minute. She reemerges, having defeated the trout.



Dad quickly builds a fire and roasts the little bugger. When it has burned to a savory crisp, Sir Oliver sneaks up from behind and steals their dinner. He swallows it whole. Is there more? Urp.)

Rubber Bands

Meet Zorro - quite dignified, majestic and arrogant to boot. Never has such a magnificent animal, no, being ever existed or will ever come into being again (you might say it's all in his head).
But Zorro has a secret, a fetish, if you will. Zorro, the masked cat of mystery, the fierce feline fighter, the mighty hunter, eats rubber bands.
"A cat that eats rubber bands," you say. "Absurd! Unheard of!"
You don't believe it?
Neither do I.
Mother is convinced that Zorro has a secret stash somewhere, where he deposits all the rubber bands he captures. Know where it is, mom? It's called a litter box. Yick!
It's really turning into a problem. Not a few times have I been awoken by a great tuxedo-clad beast standing on my chest, sniffing all over my neck. Oops! Forgot to take the rubber band out from under my pillow. That could have been fatal!
The funniest part of this...er...thing are the comic strips that have been turning up in the funnies lately. Seems that someone else has the same fetish. See the 'Get Fuzzy' strips below:






Maybe I need to take Mr. Zorro to therapy with me tomorrow...

I'm baa-aack!

Where did I go? Uh, nowhere. Well, I started this blog last year in a fit of whining about my boss at the YMCA. I lasted three posts. I think two people have read my blog. Me...and one other guy who left some comment about my first post. He said it was good...obviously he didn't read it. LIAR!!
Seriously, I have a much er shall we say more constructive reason for keeping this blog up to date. I grew up in Eugene (with a seven year stint an hour up the freeway in Salem), OR. (That's Orygun for you poor pronunciation-challenged people. NOT AR-E-GAN). And I am making the big move overseas in about two months. Moving to Israel. You may think I am crazy, especially with all the Hizbullah stuff going on right now, but I am not. We'll just leave it at that.
I thought it would be a good idea ('cause I am just smart like that) to keep an online journal with art (photos) and letters (entries) to let the people back here in the states in on the secret of my life in Israel. I'll try to post regularly, and I have started early so I can let you all know (maybe) just what it is like for someone like me to make such a huge move (yikes).
Well, that's it. Happy hunting!!
Signing off

She's my what? My manager? My boss??

So, I went to work tonight without a care in the world and no plans whatsoever to terminate my position as a lifeguard at the YMCA.
There's a reason I work in the evening and not during the day, and it's not because I am in school. Hey, I'm in college; I could work most of the day if I wanted to. No, it's not that. It's my boss, JM. I don't go to work until 7pm so there will be absolutely no chance I will have to work with my boss in the building. "It couldn't be that bad", you ask, innocently, "could it?" Oh, trust me, it could. What I knew before tonight, what problems I had with my boss, all minor issues, nothing to quit over. Besides, I am not a quitter. I don't fall back unless there's no other option or unless the situation becomes hazardous to my health.
It wasn't bad enough that JM just became a lifeguard in February 2005 and then was hired as the aquatics director four months later. If you work in this business, you know what I am talking about. Imagine a lawyer fresh out of law school being hired as the attorney general and you might begin to get a glimpse of how aggrivating it must be to have this person tell me (a lifeguard for going on 6 years) what to do and how to do my job. It's pretty pathetic.
Furthermore, since she took the helm of our humble aquatics facility in June, JM has instituted monthly inservices. These are short sessions in which we are tested on, or practice, our skills. Does it bother anyone else that, in regard to these essential-for-lifesaving skills, JM is the worst lifeguard I have ever seen???
As if all this weren't enough, JM doesn't seem to give a shit about anyone's life but her own. Okay for regular employees, bad bad bad for managers (are you taking notes?)..the details would only make you more upset (like when I told her my parents were getting divorced and I was crying, she said, "well, it happens. get out there and guard". It happens?? Oy!).

All of this wasn't enough to make me quit (it's much more complicated than I can squeeze in here), what I found out tonight made me want to vomit my brains and scratch my eyeballs out.
A little while ago, our most valuable employee (BW), who also certified us in our skills (the only one who could do this), was suddenly fired. That's right, she didn't quit; JM fired her. Why? Only one person knows, and her lips are sealed, reasonably so. Supposedly, when the now-ex-employee BW was teaching JM, the one who fired BW, her lifeguarding skills for her certification, JM failed the test. That's right, she failed the test. "But wait", you say. "She's a lifeguard now. She must have passed!" Nope, try again. Here's what happened. After JM failed the test, the Director of the Y, DP, forced BW to pass her, paving the way for her to be hired as the Aquatics Director. How sickening!!!! It wouldn't be so bad, except the conspiracy theorist in me sees the connection between this devious circumstance and BW being fired. JM had to fire her, was waiting for a reason to fire her, so BW wouldn't say anything about what happened. Now, if BW says anything about it, her story will be labeled as that of a 'disgruntled employee', end of story.
Now you see why I need a new job?
Oy vey! Good night!

tiferet

Here We Go

Well, here we go.
I have officially joined the world of bloggers. Amazing, though, I didn't even know what a blog was until a few months ago. At my age, I should be on the uptake for every new thing that comes out. Then again, most of the time I just don't care. There used to be a time when people had entire books, no, entire libraries memorized and could recite them at will. It's not that our brains have de-evolved (well, most of us anyway), but because we are more worried about our ipods, automobiles, and blogs than actually stopping and feeling and listening; either way, its lost into a world of fantasy and unreality inside a little box people stare into for hours on end. Sure, I am the one who always says that it doesn't matter if you have information stuffed into your brain; what matters is if you know where to find the information. Sure, this is true for many things. But all absolutes are dangerous...
In our time there is a general assumption that the more information we have (up to infinity), the better off we are. Is this true?

Well, this is only the beginning of the end (or the end of the beginning, whichever you prefer). But time is short and sleep is a beloved necessity. My dreamworld calls.

Signing off,
Tif'eret