Paper or Plastic?

I have just engaged in battle against a bag of chips for a longer period of time than I care to state. I am frustrated. I am sore. I am cut and strained. I am feeling agitation and fury. I am eating the chips once locked away, but I feel no victory and I have sweat on my brow and diminutive self esteem.

Some men have weaknesses that are easily understood and accepted. My weakness is packaging.

When it is said that one cannot fight one's way out of a paper bag, I say nonsense. I'll kick a paper bag's butt up and down the street for days! I don't know anyone besides my friend, who I will call Pastor Don for anonymity, that might have difficulty showing a paper bag who is boss. Once you introduce plastic to the equation of the bag's construction, I struggle. I become bald Samson. I am a toothless gator, a chicken with no cluck and a cake made with carrots. I am ashamed.

I can see the folks at XOCHITL Inc. high-fiving each other and celebrating over the gringo's grueling grapple with the Totopos de Maiz, or their sorrow at what I've done to their bag, weeping, hoping I don't get my mitts on any of their other products for fear of what I might do.

The evidence is clear. I will never get this bag resealed. Now I must eat ALL OF IT'S CONTENTS in one seating. Take a good look at how they mock me!


I hope this is not indicative of the new year to come.

2nd Black Friday

How ridiculous is that? I went to the mall anyway against every piece of screaming brain I had laying around the hotel. Not much else to do in Houston so my body decided to go without any intelligence.

It was close to forty people per square yard, not stacked, but bunched, all moving at a gum chewing fast food cashier's pace. Torturous. My teeth were growing faster than the march of the penguins of which I was immersed. The mall was a mistake.

I busted out.

On my way back to the hotel, hoofing at a more intense gait, a guy in the parking lot begins to call for me. I did not recognize him, but he was sure it was me.

"Hey! Where ya going? 'Member me? Hold up, hold up. We did time together! 'Member? It's me, Mike! We did time!"

I just left several acres of lunatics and now this guy wants to reminisce about our time in the slammer during better days. I give my regular response, "Nope."

That was not enough for Mikey. He is now going to convince me that I am his long lost major amigo. I apparently made an impression on him and was about to be the recipient of some man love long overdue. He is now catching up to me because his purpose is rising. Now he is calling out my name. "Philip! Philip!"

I went with my instincts fashioned from every prison comedy movie I've seen. Act crazy and the crazies will leave you alone. I come to a quick, abrupt stop, spin around and move aggressively towards Mike yelling, "Philip? You think I'm Philip? I just put Philip in the hospital. YOU A FRIEND OF HIS?!! HE OWES ME MONEY!" I give him the Dangerfield eyes and do the Terminator 2 run after the car routine with karate chop hands.

He reacted better than I could have hoped for by screaming it was a mix-up, a mistake, and tossed in a couple of sorrys as he ran away much faster than I could ever have moved.

Maybe I'll go to the mall tomorrow.

Sorry McWeasel

Avert your eyes if you desire bliss. Dare you descry, no longer can you revere yourself. Alas, a new champion takes stage.

Holiday Observations

I've been in Texas for what seems a while now and my dislike for Houston continues. In my ongoing quest of seeing the beauty wherever I go despite the dislike, I've come across a few gems for the holidays, right here in cowboy land.

I saw a young lady walking through the mall wearing a complete burkha/burka/burqa with just a tiny section exposing her eyes. While that alone is not an unremarkable sight, what made it most extraordinary for me was that the young lady was wearing enormous, almost cartoon like, false eyelashes. Striking and unusual. It was nice to see the quiet defiance and I enjoyed her statement.

A little fat boy wearing a kippah/yarmulke, probably 8-10 years old, was pretending to be an elevator operator in my hotel. Very politely he would ask what floor and then proceed to press the button for me. When we arrived at my floor and the doors opened he wished me a good day. I rode on that elevator multiple times as I was doing laundry on the 6th floor while my room is on the 10th floor, my car parked on the 4th floor and dining was on the 1st floor. He performed his assumed duties until about 8 o'clock that evening. It was a delight to see the youngster take an interest in the service industry and to take the initiative to serve on his own. I wish him well. We smiled a few times. He smiled more when I tipped him and called him "my good man."

I struggle when attempting to differentiate the name Craig from Greg. I know Gregs and I know Craigs but I am never sure if what I think I know is correct. A friend's father has called me Bill for almost 20 years. I have never corrected him. At the Amigo Mart I heard a few locals refer to Greg's list online to find auto parts. When I visit the website I type Craig's list. It is an odd comfort to be part of a struggle that seems universal.

Christmas eve is blending into Christmas as I sit here typing. I want to thank 7 good friends that made sure my old "New Friends" had a great Christmas party full of music, gifts and love. I was sad to not be there for the party but was glad for Barb and Bob, Jody and Craig, Cathy and Mick, and of course Joe! Their contribution of self was appreciated by everyone there, especially Helen and by one absent goof sitting in Houston. Very touching and confirming of the fact that extraordinary people exist and that there is still hope for the future because of them.

Clinton Legacy

I was going through some photos I've taken this year to clear room on my laptop and I came across a few that struck me funny. Groundhog or prairie dog, I don't know which is correct, but i do know that he did not have sex with that ... woman.

Make People

You can make people angry, happy, scared, miserable, excited, joyous and an entire gamut of other emotions and states of mind. You just can't make people be nice.

You can't make them thoughtful or kind or responsible or anything else they really are not. You can make people do the right thing but they will resent it and you. For example, there is something very aberrant with court ordered, mandated community service as a penalty for crime.

People are like dogs, only with a more calculated, refined and controlled sense of display.

You can take a well fed fat dog's food away after he's finished eating and he's still going to find some more room in his belly to bite you. Try to take a rich man's penny or a politician's thunder. I've had an official personally appointed to his position by the President of The United States threaten me and my career within the first 4 minutes of our meeting. I learned that size, fury and close proximity trump "said" authority. I am still working and have not yet been "removed", wink wink, slide the finger across the nose.

You can make people aware but you cannot make people change.

With these thoughts in mind I begin my preparations for the holiday season.