My cries for help...
these past four days have gone unheeded. I had come to the conclusion that bloggersville or cyber space, or where ever the hell we are, is a cold-hearted and lonely place.
But then Lemur Boy's girl let me know that if I wish responses to my plight I have to enable the 'comment' thingy. You may color me 'sheepish".
I have only been in the computer world for four years and it has been a very embarrassing, humbling and ego smashing experience. The farther I go the less I am able to say with certainty. If I were not into suffering ( most of the men in my family are not happy unless they're unhappy) I would quit the internet.
Another hot day in the highlands. Just a spit of rain, only enough to spot the window panes with tiny explosions of dirt. I cut the grass. It's just five meters square. Too small for a lawnmower, which are rare here anyway, so must be cut with hand trimmers. On ones' knees, with nothing but souped up scissors make five square meters feel like Yankee Stadiums' outfield.
Quote of the Day:
24 hours in a day, 24 beers in a case. Coincidence? I think not. - H.L. Mencken
MEXICO (as I see it):
The spicy humor know as 'picardia' is ever present in
Mexico. It is loaded with 'double entendre' and much snickering.
Memo, my closest friend back then, was forced to leave Mazatlan
suddenly and go to Guadalajara for an emergency hernia operation.
Since we were practically inseparable, quite naturally, I was
concerned and inquired about him every day at the hotel where he
worked.
Well, apparently, I inquired so often that a story began to
circulate among the other employees that, in reality, Memo had
gone to Guadalajara to have a baby and that I was the father.
AND
Many Mexicans mis-trust any food that is not prepared in their own kitchen by a mother or a wife. Some will not eat out because of their suspicions.
If a visitor brings, as a gift, a new specialty food from another country like a jar of miniature sweet gherkins or a tin of creamed pearl onions the giver will be thanked profusely and the gift will be fondled and the pretty label admired but that's it.
The food itself will be put on a shelf or on top of the refrigerator to await an opportune time for its removal to a more permanent place. There it will rest quietly having uncelebrated birthdays.
Years later though, someone in the family will still remember who gave it to them, when it was given and how nice it was of them.
I'm still not going to continue my story until I can get it to print out in a proper text form. Yesterday I was appalled to see that everything below, MEXICO was also mangled into that same strange presentation.
I think I'll wait for some wizard to get me on the right track before I continue shooting off my mouth.
But then Lemur Boy's girl let me know that if I wish responses to my plight I have to enable the 'comment' thingy. You may color me 'sheepish".
I have only been in the computer world for four years and it has been a very embarrassing, humbling and ego smashing experience. The farther I go the less I am able to say with certainty. If I were not into suffering ( most of the men in my family are not happy unless they're unhappy) I would quit the internet.
Another hot day in the highlands. Just a spit of rain, only enough to spot the window panes with tiny explosions of dirt. I cut the grass. It's just five meters square. Too small for a lawnmower, which are rare here anyway, so must be cut with hand trimmers. On ones' knees, with nothing but souped up scissors make five square meters feel like Yankee Stadiums' outfield.
Quote of the Day:
24 hours in a day, 24 beers in a case. Coincidence? I think not. - H.L. Mencken
MEXICO (as I see it):
The spicy humor know as 'picardia' is ever present in
Mexico. It is loaded with 'double entendre' and much snickering.
Memo, my closest friend back then, was forced to leave Mazatlan
suddenly and go to Guadalajara for an emergency hernia operation.
Since we were practically inseparable, quite naturally, I was
concerned and inquired about him every day at the hotel where he
worked.
Well, apparently, I inquired so often that a story began to
circulate among the other employees that, in reality, Memo had
gone to Guadalajara to have a baby and that I was the father.
AND
Many Mexicans mis-trust any food that is not prepared in their own kitchen by a mother or a wife. Some will not eat out because of their suspicions.
If a visitor brings, as a gift, a new specialty food from another country like a jar of miniature sweet gherkins or a tin of creamed pearl onions the giver will be thanked profusely and the gift will be fondled and the pretty label admired but that's it.
The food itself will be put on a shelf or on top of the refrigerator to await an opportune time for its removal to a more permanent place. There it will rest quietly having uncelebrated birthdays.
Years later though, someone in the family will still remember who gave it to them, when it was given and how nice it was of them.
I'm still not going to continue my story until I can get it to print out in a proper text form. Yesterday I was appalled to see that everything below, MEXICO was also mangled into that same strange presentation.
I think I'll wait for some wizard to get me on the right track before I continue shooting off my mouth.
posted by bbuckman | 1:16 PM
5 Comments:
Dad, your story about Memo was hilarious.
I agree. All the stories are great so far and I don't care what format they are in. I kind of like the skinny columns, but I am weird that way.
Welcome to BlogWorld.
sent over from the lemur blog, well written, ill be back !
I'm dying to know what happens with Darrell. But comments don't seem to be on up there at that post.
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