Jabori Harris - Soon to be unemployed - Macy's Wrapper

I saw an article over the weekend that made me sad for the future of American Society. 

Macy’s will be ENDING their gift wrapping service in all but a few stores. 

Due to the popularity of gift bags. 

Maybe I’m just Old School but I find this vulgar and an affront to proper civilized society. 

Are people going to put their gifts of wedding china and silver in gift bags? 

Maybe it doesn’t matter – don’t most people register at Target and Crate and Barrel nowadays? 

I’ll admit, I haven’t used the service in years but it was nice knowing it was there. 

If I want gift wrapping I guess I’ll have to go to Belk in Canton, GA. – YECHH! – It’s hard to act Hoity Toity when you are giving a gift from Belk. 

  

As always –  

You can follow me on Facebook at “I am Dazed and Confused” or Twitter – www.twitter.com/iamdandc  

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DODGED A BULLET ON THIS ONE

Background – I was never really that big a partier even back in the day.  The reason for this was not big moral issues.  The primary reason was that I didn’t have much money.  Especially during the 80’s.  Since I was in college and started my work career at the time of  “Bright Lights Big City” (not to be confused with the porno movie “Bright Lights Big Titties“)  and all that folklore, a lot of people assume I was heavy in to cocaine.   My crowd didn’t participate because that was expensive. 

I am not the only one who has expressed this view.  I remember (but can’t find the source) when the actress Patricia Heaton who was on the TV show “Everybody Loves Raymond” was asked in a magazine interview about living and working in New York in the early 80’s.  She replied  that she didn’t get in to the heavy cocaine scene because she was too busy working to pay the rent and couldn’t afford it.  Same here.  

I did walk near the edge of getting involved in an even worse problem.  One night in the mid 80’s I remember being at a friend’s apartment and all of us being very “dazed and confused” (weed).  When someone brought up crack houses which we were just hearing the first stories about. 

We all agreed this sounded very cool.  New version of cocaine (affordable)  and you went and smoked it at a house (social).  This whole idea intrigued us. 

Luckily it didn’t intrigue us enough to try it.  Especially since we didn’t know where any of  “these Crack Houses” existed.

The real word on Crack came down not long after that.

Dodged a bullet.

As always – 

You can follow me on Facebook at “I am Dazed and Confused” or Twitter – www.twitter.com/iamdandc 

cs

Prison Poetry

March 12, 2010

“IMAGES”

by

Tyrone Green

 

Dark and lonely on the summer night.

Kill my landlord, kill my landlord.

Watchdog barking – Do he bite?

Kill my landlord, kill my landlord.

Slip in his window, Break his neck!

Then his house I start to wreck!

Got no reason…What the heck!

Kill my landlord, kill my landlord.

C-I-L-L …   

My land – lord

 

As always – 

You can follow me on Facebook at “I am Dazed and Confused” or Twitter – www.twitter.com/iamdandc 

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Homewrecker Elayne Boosler

I am not planning on getting a divorce but if I ever do, one reason for my wife filing  could be that I REFUSE to ever order for her in a restaurant.

That is comedian Elayne Boosler’s fault.

If you are the target demographic for this blog you know very well who Elayne Boosler is.

She had a joke as part of her routine probably back in the early to mid 80’s where she mocked men who ordered for their dates.  The best description of which I found in a review by Lynn Harris of the book -Comedy at the Edge: How Stand-Up in the 1970’s Changed America written by Richard Zoglin.

….about waitressing in restaurants where men order “for the lady.” Boosler: “It made it seem like there could be only one lady. ‘The lady will have coffee.’ ‘OK, the slut’ll go get it.’ “

Because of that joke I can not bring myself to order for my wife and have often refused to do so when asked.

Even ordering a shared appetizer for the two of us makes me feel a little queasy. 

Tip to Elayne – If my wife DOES name you in our divorce you can buy her off by finding homes for all the dogs she rescues through your Tails of Joy rescue organization (click here to visit the site)

As always – 

You can follow me on Facebook at “I am Dazed and Confused” or Twitter – www.twitter.com/iamdandc 

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Bail Money

March 9, 2010

I got a message from a friend last night wanting me to bail them out of jail.  My response was –

ROT THERE!!!

I ended up sending bail money though because it was a MDA jail.  As in a fundraiser for the Muscular Dystrophy Association.

She was lucky.  If it was real jail I wouldn’t have bothered – I think she might be a flight risk.

She’s out now but you can still donate to MDA if you want to make her look good. – (click here).

As always – 

You can follow me on Facebook at “I am Dazed and Confused” or Twitter – www.twitter.com/iamdandc 

cs

Brian Wilson Upright

Brian Wilson - Upright

My motto has always been – Nervous Breakdowns are only for rich people – I have to make a living.  I don’t mean to make light of mental illness but how many people can afford to check in to the hospital or a facility for “exhaustion”.   The ultimate symbol of this for me has always been when Brian Wilson of The Beach Boys took to his bed for three years in the early 70’s. 

I’m human and have had some down periods in my life.  In one instance I was in a horrible job in a horrible town.  This always made me wonder, was the town just horrible because the job was horrible? or was it truly a horrible town.   I’ve never compeletly decided on the answer to that. 

I was depressed with the situation and it was shear TORTURE to even drive myself to the office every morning.  I felt like I was going to have a Nervous Breakdown.  One of the things that kept me going was whenever the song “Brian Wilson” by the Bare Naked Ladies came on the radio.   

If you don’t remember the lyrics they included –  “Well I’m lying in bed just like Brian Wilson did.
So I’m lying here, just staring at the ceiling tiles. and I’m thinking about what to think about.” and “if you want to find me I’ll be out in the sandbox”.  The second part being a reference to when they moved his piano into a giant sandbox his family and “therapist” had constructed in his living room to inspire him. 

The reason a potentially depressing song like this inspired me was that it always made me realize – “I have to keep moving and make a living.” 

I have taken to my bed a few times because I was stressed or depressed and thought I might have a nervous breakdown.  These episodes though usually only consisted of sleeping late or taking a nap in the middle of the day.  Usually the naps were less than an hour long because they were interrupted by a phone call or email of someone needing something.  That usually distracted me from my self and off I went to complete the task requested by the interrupting phone call.  Incidentally – this method was greatly helped by the fact I am too paranoid too turn off the phone. 

Then I discovered while writing this post that there is no such thing as a “Nervous Breakdown” anymore.  They now call it “situational depression”, “anxiety disorder” or “burn-out”.   Gee – That isn’t nearly as dramatic as the term nervous breakdown. 

Brian Wilson as it turns out probably didn’t have a nervous breakdown anyway.  The new thought is that he was  in the developing stages of Schizophrenia.  Totally Different Head.

As always – 

You can follow me on Facebook at “I am Dazed and Confused” or Twitter – www.twitter.com/iamdandc 

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Tilly - A Georgia Black Dog

Some people call me “hoity toity”. 

They do not know the history of my pets or they wouldn’t say that.  

Since my wife and I first moved in together we have had 11 pets, six of those are still with us (4 Cats and 2 dogs).  The others have died of various illnesses usually at a very advanced age. 

Once a pet gets taken in to our home it has a FOREVER home, we do not believe in disposable pets. 

Not one of these pets has ever come from a pet store or breeder.  All but one were definite rescues.  Even the one that I am not classifying as a rescue came from a friend whose grandmother’s barn cat had kitttens.

The dog pictured on this post is one of our younger pets “Tilly”.  She wandered in to our subdivision one day and she came to live with us after my wife claims “she followed me home”.  I am suspect of this story, I still think my wife lured her to our house. 

 If I was hoity toity, I would call Tilly a black lab.  But I know where she came from.  A rural area populated by trailers on acreage on the backside of our subdivision.  This was no labrador retreiver.  When I asked our veterinarian what she thought, her response was – “I don’t know but there are a lot of them around, I call them Georgia Black Dogs”.  The name has stuck.

Our other pets have included – Mr. Kitty, the barn cat.  Girl Cat, who was rescued from a thieving drug dealing co-worker of my wife’s.  Buddy, the sheltie mix dog who showed up at my mother in law’s front door the day before our wedding (love of my wife’s life).   Puss, the black and white cat that was rescued out of the middle of a busy street at approximately 3 weeks old.   Boo Kitty, one of our multitude of black cats that was found in an old mill village outside of Atlanta and then at about four years old, was hit by a car and is now known as our cat with “one good eye”.  Kitt’n, another black cat who was rescued from an abandoned Suzuki Samurai next to my parent’s house one morning at 3:00 am.  Two weeks old, severely dehydrated, near death and now 16 years old.

Then came the handicapped dogs.  Suzy, an off white terrier mix with a deformed jaw that causes her tongue to hang out like Snuffy Smith from the comics and results in a perpetually stinky face.  Max, our Golden Retriever from the rescue (the love of my life) only had half a tongue from an accident at a young age that caused him to drool constantly and have breath that was reminiscent of  “low tide”.  These two as a combo resulted in a comment from one friend “what’s the deal? can’t you get at least ONE whole dog”.

 The collection is rounded out by Miss Grossie, the final black cat.  She moved to our house from one down the street, lived on our front porch for a month and was finally let in because we were going out of town and it was going to be cold.  She hasn’t been outside since.  The most recent addition was a cat named Mindy who was a rescue from the local Cherokee County Humane Society.

Are these the pets of a hoity toity person?

As always – 

You can follow me on Facebook at “I am Dazed and Confused” or Twitter – www.twitter.com/iamdandc 

cs