Cocktails for two

Here's a blurb directly from a website:

The Shore Grille & Deli at the Terrace Cafe offers a variety of breakfast, lunch and dinner selections. The Shore Grille & Deli is open Monday through Friday, 7:00 a.m. to 9:00 p.m.; Saturday and Sunday, 8:00 a.m. to 8:00 p.m.

It sure sounds good, doesn't it? The Shore Grill. Sounds like a nice place to take a date on a Friday evening for some fine dining, overlooking some peaceful waterway, while dining al fresco on a terrace with a warm zephyr blowing wisps of your significant other's hair gently across his or her face. The perfect start to a romantic evening.

Or, perhaps the family deserves a night out, away from the typical fare of hot dogs and beans, while tickling their palate beyond a place that asks, "Do you want fries with that?"

Before you load the younguns into the monster truck with visions of lobster or king crab, you should know a few things.

The establishment described is about 10 miles from the shore, not exactly a shore town.

That, and it's in a hospital.

I've spent considerable time in that hospital, and I wouldn't say one couldn't pay me enough to go there for dinner,

because everyone knows I can be bought, or at the very least rented; however, it would cost a lot. They don't serve cocktails, but if I could get a couple shot of morphine with my dinner, that may help persuade me.

I have had near legendary battles with hospital food people, especially the dieticians. Once, I caused the head dietician so much distress, that she wouldn't allow any of the associate dieticians to go in my room. One brave young associate dietician did poke his head in the room, and asked me what the hell I had done. He said in all his years at the hospital, he never saw a note posted with a patient's name and room number with a note saying that no one except the head of dietary was allowed to go near him.

I had become an untouchable, the bane of the head dietician.

What I did was really pretty funny. I refused to place my order for food. The head dietician kept sending someone in to get my food order, and I kept sending them back. Eventually, the head dietician came in and tried to reason with me. You can imagine how that went. Finally, in desperation, she left the food thing with me to fill out. When she came back to pick it up, she asked if I had filled it out. I told her I did. She left with it.

She came back later when she saw what I wrote. I put, "Bring whatever the F you want. You're going to do that anyway"

She went ballistic.

By the next time I was in the hospital, she was gone. I'd like to think I helped.
The next dietician was a cute young thing, just so full of enthusiasm I wanted to barf. But I couldn't be mean to her. So, I acted like I never heard of anything she had described.

"Diet? What is this diet you speak of?"

I've never seen anyone so happy. Or so dumb.

My last time, I decided on a new tactic. I went all Ghandi on the staff. I refused to eat because the food was so bad. Truthfully, it is. Everything is covered with either brown, red, or yellow sauce.

Nothing is funnier than nurses arguing with dietary because the fat guy in the room won't eat, and keeps slipping into near diabetic comas. I'm serious, my sugar dropped to 37. You can look it up, that's flirting with disaster. But it was so funny when the nurses with their squeaky shoes ran up and down the hall trying to find crap to make me eat. I admit I have a strange sense of humor.

I have to go. I need to reserve a table for two at the Shore Grill. Maybe I can get a table with a view of the ER.



While the idea for this blog germinated from a post by www.offendedblogger.com, don't blame her. I take full responsibility for all the idiocy.

Stinky Feet

I worked for a number of years with developmentally disabled adults. Everyone knows this can be an intersting job. At times it can be quite taxing, yet it is highly rewarding on a personal basis. I had the chance to meet and interact with plenty of interesting characters, people who were kind of "off the wall" and not exactly like the average person you would run into on the street. And then, I got to work with some of the clients.

This is about one of the clients, Stinky Feet. That was not his Christian name.

I'm using past tense, but I'm sure Stinky Feet is still around and doing well, so not to worry about some evil surprise ending.

Stinky Feet's nickname came about because he absolutely went crazy over the phrase "Stinky Feet." It was his universal word. It was exactly like some folks use the eff bomb.

If he was angry at someone, they had stinky feet. If he was really happy, he would run around the room, and singing stinky feet while giggling hysterically. Occasionally he would get in a "debate" about who in the program had stinky feet. He liked to laugh a lot, and his laughter was infectious.

But the only difficult time I ever would have with him was when we went out in the van. He was fine under most circumstances, but heaven forbid if he ever saw a woman. He would invariably hang out of the car, and yell out something innappropriate. Nothing too terrible, but it was always something like "Hey Baby, or Whoa Momma"



but the worst was when he would say, "Hey Crotchety, check her out," as if I were in some way complicit in this. At this point, I should point out when he said things, it was loud, loud enough that everyone in the immediate area and then some heard him. It wasn't too bad if the lady who was the object of his misplaced affections was driving because that meant she would just flip me off and drive on.

But if they were walking, and we were stuck in traffic--oy vey. You can only imagine the embarassment.

The absolute worst of the worst was that he did not possess the ability to understand that as bad (but, in retrospect, funny) as it was to yell at women, it was beyond inappropriate to yell stuff like that at girls. I was always shocked when I was able to make it back to the center without getting arrested, or at the very least attacked by roaming bands of angry women with torches and pitchforks.

Do I really yell at cars?

Yes, yes, I do.

My favorite car yelling story:

A few years ago, I lived in a development near a new car dealer. My street was pretty curvy, had a "S" curve right in the middle, in fact. Well, the moron salesmen used to cut through my street, and drive really fast to get the full effect of the road curves.


I can only guess it made them feel like they were running a European race course. This would be fine except for the kids, pets, and old people they terrorized by this behavior.

I had a lot of free time, so I often spent it outside yelling at the morons to slow down. Believe me, on a Saturday, it was as busy as most main streets with these idiots racing down through my development. My neighbors suggested I should do something besides yell at the cars.

The next Saturday, a car went zipping by, and I yelled. He flipped me the bird.

This did not sit well with me at all.

I then got in my truck, and drove across the highway to pay a visit to the showroom.

As I walked in I spotted the a-hole. He was sitting with his equally stupid co-workers and laughing. I asked for a manager. They continued laughing. When the manager came over, I explained the situation. I told him I wasn't sure which jerk it was, but if I saw another one of his new Hondas on my street driving fast, I would mark the car for him with a large rock so we would be able to know which salesjerk it was. He apologized, and said it wasn't going to happen again.

A few weeks later, a neighbor came by and said to me, "Not sure what you did, but I haven't seen a Honda around here for a few weeks."

Women are clueless about...

thermostats. I have no idea why, but I have yet to meet the woman who understands the intricacies of the home thermostat. Whether it is used to regulate heat in winter, or control the air conditioner in summer, they remain totally unable to comprehend it.

I do not mean the inner workings of one. No, many people don't understand bimetals (no, not a sexual preference for metals) used on older models, nor the electronics of the newer models. I'm talking about the simple idea that the temperature is regulated absolutely independently of the outside weather conditions.

Today, during part 489 of our ongoing discussion called "please stop adjusting the friggin' thermostat," I asked the Crotchety Old Lady to please turn down the thermostat on the air conditioner as it is too cold at night. Her womanly response? "It's going to be 100 today."

AAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

This makes every bit as much sense as when she turns off the furnace in spring because it will be 70 during the day. Naturally, we wake up to the home being a crisp 57 F. For my metric reading friends, that's quite a bit on the chilly side.

OK, here's my lesson for any ladies reading this:

Set the temperature where you would like the room to be heated or cooled to. Turning it higher or lower does not warm or cool the room faster or slower. You want it 70? Set it at 70. It matters not whether the temperature outside is 12 or 112. The thermostat doesn't care. It just does its job.

I wonder where this gender bewilderment about such a simple thing as a thermostat comes from?

Perhaps it is coded in their DNA, passed down from generations of women.



A thermostat is a simple thing to control. Think of it as a man. Simple, with only a few buttons that shouldn't be pushed.

I just want some pizza, dammit.

Last night, I tried to order a pizza to be delivered. The internet has really screwed up our pizza procurement technology.

Here’s how our pizza ordering process has changed over the last few years.

Timeline

1950:

Walk to Luigi’s Pizza. Tell Luigi “I’d like a pizza with thin crust.”

Luigi says, “Ok, Mr. Crotchety.” He makes me a pizza with thin crust, 15 minutes later, I take it home. All is well.

1980:

Luigi is dead. Luigi Jr. is running the place. The pizza tastes like crap. So I call this new place, Domino’s. I ask what kind of pizza they have. Some guy named Leon takes 10 minutes to give me the “specials,” since they have about 2,096 variations including pineapple. I order the pepperoni with thin crust. The pizza tasted like crap, but I got it in 30 minutes.

2008

I saw commercials for Papa John’s new hand-tossed whole wheat pizza. Mrs. Crotchety has decided I need more fiber. She believes this will help with my crotchetiness. So, I decide she’s possibly right, since she is almost always possibly right.
Before calling Papa John’s, I decided to check out the menu online. To do this, I had to enter my name, date of birth, first pet’s name, and my blood type.
I can’t deal with this as I can feel my blood sugar dropping as I type. So, I call and get someone named Apu on the phone.

“I’d like a whole wheat pizza with thin crust.”

Apu lets me know I can have a whole wheat pizza, or a thin crust pizza. Can’t have both.

“But they are hand-tossed.”

Apu assured me they are, but I still can’t get thin crust and whole wheat.

I’ve slung pizza in my day, so I know Apu is full of shit.

So, what to do?
Of course, I tell him never mind, but I’m pretty damned annoyed.

I just want a thin crust whole wheat pizza delivered in under an hour. Why is this so difficult to achieve? If we can put a man on the moon (or in Arizona, depending on your level of skepticism,) where's my pizza?

I hear lots of bitching about jobs being outsourced. I also hear it’s all about the money. I’m about to call bullshit. If I can’t get a damned thin crust whole wheat pizza delivered in under an hour, why would I ever trust these same dopey workers to make my car, answer the telephone, or make anything else for that matter?

Is it crappy management, or crappy workers?

What do you think?

She's Moist

It's 100 degrees here and although the air conditioners are running full tilt, I'm still warm. New Jersey is supposed to have temperate Springs. It looks like Spring is over.

And the Crotchety Old Lady is moist. Believe me, that's not as pleasant as it sounds.

The weather outside really doesn't affect me too much. I spend the majority of my time sitting on my couch visiting chatboards, and then either blogging or reading blogs.

Just for a change of pace, and with it being a slow Sunday, I thought I'd chat about some of the blogs I read.

The ones I have listed on my favorites are just a tiny portion of the ones I read.
Most of them are blogs of RW friends and family, while a few are some I just enjoy. If you want to see something different, take the time to check out some of them.

I'd like to highlight a couple, in no particular order.

Keep in mind, I suck at computer stuff, so I still can't do clickable links. But the links are on the side of my blog.

Life as I know It is written by a RL friend. She's been blogging for a few years, and writes mostly about celebrities, and the goofy things they do.

It is very witty, with the perfect amount of snarkiness.

Celeb Obsessed is written by a family member who is, well, obsessed with celebrities. It's pretty straight forward, and keeps everyone up to date on celeb hijinks.

Last for today is Of Cabbages and Kings. This is one of the best humor blogs on the 'net. It is well-crafted by a lady who is originally from NJ, so right off, you know it's going to be good. One of her influences was Jean Shepherd, and her style invokes the great man.

I grew up a huge Shep fan, listening to him at night on WOR radio, and of course, reading his 2 great books, In God We Trust, and Wanda Hickey's Night of Golden Memories. I met him when I was in high school, and had him autograph my book. Sadly, it has been lost through a series of moves.

Gawd, I love the internet

To:
Fellow bloggers and my two semi-devoted readers

Did you ever really get into a post, and then suddenly read what you have written, and say WTF?

I just did. I deleted one of the longest, dumbest rants I ever wrote, and you are better people for it.

No need to thank me. Your continued patronage is thanks enough.

To make it up to you, I was going to post a really nice picture I took.

But I suck as a photographer.

So I took a cue from the old Ed Sullivan Show. Anyone who is old enough to remember Ed, knows when the show slowed down, it was time for either plate spinners, or Chinese acrobats.

Going one better than Ed, here are some Chinese plate spinning acrobats.



Why isn't the comments button showing up?

I should add a line.

Just catching up on political stuff

When watching TV, it seems former NJ governor McGreevey is nearly always listed as former gay Governor of NJ. That's kind of silly. It's like my state had 2 governors. The fact that he was gay had nothing to do with his actions as governor, nor did it have anything to do with his resignation. It had nothing to do with his public life, and was entirely a personal matter. I wonder if Spitzer, former NY governor, will henceforth always be referred to as Whore Monger former Governor Spitzer.

And WTH is up with Hillary Clinton? On Monday, she stated a big announcement will be forthcoming tomorrow. Then she changed it to Friday. Now, it's Saturday. And all this is following her secret meeting with Barack Obama. Oh, the intrigue. I truly had gained a lot of resopect for her during the primary. More than once I stated she was getting the fuzzy end of the lollipop. But now, I am puzzled by her actions. They make no sense, and just seems like she is acting wacky. We'll all find out tomorrow. Maybe.

Here in NJ, Senator Lautenberg will be running again. The guy is 84 years old, and running for a 6 year term. Isn't it time for someone that age to move on to other things? Do some fishing, spend time helping others, playing canasta? I don't know. But being in the Senate is either way too easy a job, or he's the most vigorous octagenarian alive.

I'm still waiting for my tax stimulus money. I should have had it made out directly to Trump's Taj Mahal. That's where it's going to be deposited. Scheduled my big July getaway. Fireworks at the Jersey shore. Sweeeeet.

Health Care System is Out of Control

I just read an article in AARP magazine.

Yeah, I'm old.

Stop snickering.

Anyway, some interesting facts were presented. According to the Congressional Budget Office, health care spending has increased 2% faster than the rest of the economy over the last 30 years. We have 47 million Americans with no health care.

Yet, the same rhetoric "best care in the world" is repeated over and over.

But is it?

Our life expectancy is lower than Canada, Japan, and most of Western Europe. We rank 43rd in infant mortality, behind Cuba and the Czech Republic.

What are some of the causes for such great expense while receiving less than the best?

One third of our healthcare dollars goes to administrative costs-- paper pushers. This is double what Canada spends. It is estimated that using the same system (single-payer) we could save $360 billion per year.

And the study concluded that perhaps the single biggest cost is unnecessary treatment. We, as a people, demand medication for everything. Just watch TV for a couple hours, and you will see advertisements for many, many prescriptions. Why? Does anyone believe these ads are targeted towards doctors?

Of course they are not. They are to have consumers pester the doctor for medications. It is better to take a pill than to change a behavior, according to the commercials. Take a pill and live better.

Doctors now practice what is called "defensive medicine." Lots of tests, most unnecessary, because they are terrified that if they miss something, they will get sued.

Just in the last year, I have been taken off 2 medicines that had been given for "defensive purposes." No evidence had been shown to indicate that the medication would really do anything, but it was given "just in case."

Oy. Can you imagine how much others have been given? What procedures are done with no real logical reason?

Almost Wordless Wednesday

Pepper

A Heart Warming Story

In 1986, Peter Davies was on holiday in Kenya after graduating from Northwestern University.

On a hike through the bush, he came across a young bull elephant standing with one leg raised in the air. The elephant seemed distressed, so Peter approached it very carefully.

He got down on one knee and inspected the elephant's foot and found a large piece of wood deeply embedded in it. As carefully and as gently as he could, Peter worked the wood out with his hunting knife, after which the elephant gingerly put down its foot. The elephant turned to face the man, and with a rather curious look on its face, stared at him for several tense moments. Peter stood frozen, thinking of nothing else but being trampled. Eventually the elephant trumpeted loudly, turned, and walked away. Peter never forgot that elephant or the events of that day.

Twenty years later, Peter was walking through the Chicago Zoo with his teenaged son. As they approached the elephant enclosure, one of the creatures turned and walked over to near where Peter and his son Cameron were standing. The large bull elephant stared at Peter, lifted its front foot off the ground, then put it down. The elephant did that several times then trumpeted loudly, all the while staring at the man.

Remembering the encounter in 1986, Peter couldn't help wondering if this was the same elephant. Peter summoned up his courage, climbed over the railing and made his way into the enclosure. He walked right up to the elephant and stared back in wonder. The elephant trumpeted again, wrapped its trunk around one of Peter legs and slammed his stupid ass against the railing, killing him instantly.

Probably wasn't the same elephant.

This is for all of my friends who send me those heart-warming stories.

Bonus post

I read a lot of blogs every day.

I guess somewhere between 80 and 100 or so. One I never miss is Shadow Crystal's.

http://internettreasuretrove.blogspot.com (eventually I'll learn how to imbed links)

Anyway, a few days ago, she had this incredibly fun thing on her blog, and because I'm so lame and technologically retarded-- I was amazed by it, and then stole it from her. I'm sure she won't mind. I hope youse all enjoy it as much as I do. (I'm so unoriginal, I even used the same color scheme--I so desperately want to be one of the cool kids)

< ------ It's over there. I can't figure out how to put it on the blog part.

I'm such a dork.

I could use a hand

Yesterday, my nephew suggested I get a dog or cat to keep me company during the day. Also, I'm sure I've read they help lower blood pressure, which would make me healthier, plus I would be inclined to walk it or play, and that would be good exercise.

I got to thinking about it, and I had a better idea. Dogs and cats are good companions, but to be honest a lot of work. They poop and eat, and don't do much more. Some make good guard dogs, but I'd want a Pappillon, and they don't exactly inspire fear in burglers and other no goodniks.



"Back off, Dude. I'm a badass"

So, I decided after much thought......

I want a helper monkey.



It would be great. She could help me dust, keep the house clean, and generally be helpful.

With my luck, though, I'm sure this is what would happen

I got a new haircut today

The Crotchety Old Lady has cut my hair the last few times. It's just easier than dealing with going out to get it done.

Her skills with the hair cutting equipment has improved, so I thought maybe I could have a new style. I currently have the same 'do I've had since second grade, so it's time.

I wanted a fauxhawk





so I'd be one happening old dude.

Sadly, nature and my Wahl combination shaver/haircutter/weedwhacker/blender produced something more like this:



Getting old sucks, but I guess it beats the alternative.

Bears gone wild

It's that time of the year again here in the NJ/Pa. area. Black bears start to wander around seeking food after a long winter's nap. Cubs are often nearby, and mama bear usually seeks food in dumpsters, and garbage cans. It's a quick, easy snack.

The normal procedure is to tranquilize the bear, and then relocate him or her. This leads to problems for the bear, but that is not the purpose of this posting. While watching the news, I saw something about bear traps that are set for these rogue bears.



Guess what bait is used?

If you said picnic baskets, you weren't very far off.

The bait of choice in some Pennsylvania towns is


jelly donuts.

The favored snack food of Pennsylvania cops is also the favorite of Pennsylvania bears. Who ever would have guessed?

I wonder if that's why, during the CB craze of many years ago, cops were known as bears.

How to eat at a buffet

Yeah, I know. I'm still cranked up about Atlantic City. I couldn't blog about everything, and rather than just give an uber-blog, I decided to break up all my crap into tiny segments. Easier to read, and who knows, maybe it will make sense.


First, what the hell happens to old people at a buffet?

I was behind these two codgers who had to be, now this is just an educated guess, somewhere between 127 and 140 years old each. They probably baby sat John McCain's parents. I'm talking freakin' old.

I'm no ageist, but for crying out loud, these codgers drive me crazy.

In the breakfast buffet, they must have spent 5 minutes deciding

1) if they actually wanted a slice of tomato for breakfast
2) which slice of tomato they wanted

Finally, after settling on a tomato slice, it was off to the cereal section.

Corn Flakes...no, put those back...Cheerios...Do we like Cheerios...put that back...get the Corn Flakes...ooooh, look, oatmeal...put the Corn Flakes back...oh wait, I'm not in the mood for oatmeal, go back and get the Corn Flakes...but Cheerios has more fiber...wow--they have mini bagels.

Do I even have to tell you how the great cream cheese vs butter vs jelly vs orange marmalade round robin debate went?

I swear, if they kept sharp knives there, I would have slashed my wrists and bled out right by the fresh cut melon.

Then we went back for dinner. Amazing what I'll go through to get a cheap steak for the Crotchety Old Lady.

We were seated near a table of old timers, and one habit I've gotten into is looking at how much people tip. My kid is in the restaurant industry, so I like to check out these things. That, plus I'm nosy.

Anyway, I've noticed at buffets, most people, especially the old codgers, either don't tip, or leave peanuts.

What's up with that? The ones next to me ran the server ragged. He brought them their drinks and refills, kept the table cleared from their multi-course meal, was helpful, and the 6 of them left a 6 dollar tip. Dinner was over 20 bucks each, and the big spenders left a buck each. WTF?

Maybe a dollar was a big tip back in 1952, but it's nothing today. After dining on steak, crab, shrimp and other gourmet items, how about throwing a brother a duece?

I'm Back

My mini vacation is over. Atlantic City is none the worse for wear.

Here's one of the pictures I risked my life for:


Video roulette is da best

It's just like you have been taken into the deep, seedy underbelly of legalized gambling.

Bet you feel dirty, now, too.

Ok, go take a shower, I'll wait.




Here's another, one of our many big wins at the slots.



You'll note we ran our 20 bucks all the way up to $36.60.

We were living la vida loca, baby.

Right after this the cocktail waitress came by and we ordered our drinks.

The Mrs. had a Mojito, and I had a Vodka martini--shaken, not stirred.

Ok, those were the most exotic drinks I could think of. She actually had a decaf coffee, no sugar, and I had a bottle of water. I suck as a party animal. After too many years of treating my body like an amusement park, I'm paying the price. I have gone from James Bondsesque adult beverages to Richard Simmons approved ones.

**sigh**

Greetings from Atlantic City

I got the Crotchety Old Lady up around 5:30 this morning ( I wonder how much this contributes to her Crotchetiness) and had her take some sunrise pictures from our window. I hope everyone likes them.





We are having a good time here. I think I understand part of the reason why Donald Trump is a billionaire, and I'm playing the penny slots.

I decided I wanted a water bottle. A cheap ass plastic water bottle. It says Taj Mahal on it, so, in essence, I would be advertising for Trump.

Guess how much it would have cost?

Come on, guess.

Nope, way more than that.

Give up?

Ok, it was $16.00. Sixteen freakin dollars. Dies y sies dolares.

For a freakin plastic water bottle.

I told the Old Lady I wouldn't pay $16 for a water bottle even if it were filled with Ivanka Trump's sweat.

OK, she thought that was disgusting, too.

Oh, and I took some pictures of the Harley that I wanted to win at the penny slot machine, and I was told I better put the camera away, or they would call security. I'm not going to post any pictures from inside the casino until I am safely home. Don't want anyone storming in here and impounding my camera, or roughing up the Crotchety Old Lady.

I'll try to take some more pictures. We forgot the extra batteries, and I didn't want to pay 12 bucks for 4 new AA batteries. Oy vey!

Be back later.

Almost Wordless Wednesday

In my mind



reality

Insurance Companies Suck

I wasn't sure what I was going to rant about today. Man's inhumanity to man has been done to death. Social injustice has become so passe.

Then, the phone rang. It was my doctor's office. My insurance company, Aetna, (motto, "We're going to get ya") does not want to pay my claims. Forget that I pay more than half my monthly income for crappy insurance that doesn't include scripts, they don't even want to pay for shit that should be covered.

I'm paying $650 per month for "coverage" that hardly includes anything.

By the way, anyone who ever thought "Disabled Person" was a good career choice, read that part again about $650 being more than half my monthly income. You may want to reconsider.

I'm not looking for something for nothing. I just want them to pay for what they had contracted.

My mother passed away over a year ago, and my sister is still fighting with insurance companies to pay her final medical bills. My mother was never sick a day in her life until her last year, so they had many years of scoffing up the premiums. Yet, when it became time for the insurance companies to pay up, they have become quite reticent, and slow. Heaven forbid if they weren't paid up front, but now, when it's time for them, they just drag their heels and put my sister through all kinds of nonsense.

When I became disabled, I put in a claim for my insurance (that I paid for) to pay my car payments for 1 year. They "lost" my doctor's forms so many times, I just stopped, and accepted that they weren't about to honor the agreement.

Bastards.