Easter Week Chaos

“If you want to see the sunshine, you have to weather the storm.”~ Frank Lane

I am greatly considering either writing a book, or starting a brand new blog when it comes to the great people and experiences here at the SGC.

Allow me to present to you the events over the past 24 hours.

It is late March. Tis the season. Texas went through a lot of rain overnight and into this morning and early afternoon. However the insanity started to break when our beloved meteorologists were warning that “storms could be severe.”

Texas translation? MILK AND BREAD! MILK AND BREAD!! AND BATTERIES!!!

The corner gas station was completely wiped out of the items.

On this day in 2014. Just saying Texas likes to be stormy on this day.

So it rained and rained. There was thunder. There was lightning. And there was a promising look of local flooding. But it all subsided. In the end, store owners got richer and the area got some much needed rain to help with the drought.

When the sun came up this morning and it was time to get that all important cup of coffee, I suddenly realizing that I had walked into a room full of outspoken and loud obscenities.

F bombs were flying!! “Fuck this and fuck that. Fucking fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” And when you are trying to wake up and having a hard time making sense of the day, being bombarded with profanities isn’t the best way of going at it.

It would have been easier to handle, if there was a point to it. But the guy just couldn’t stop swearing. He was just rambling on about various things. And then he finally stood up and left.

The neighbors have labelled him as “the insane one.” From people who know him however, apparently he is highly intelligent. So there you have it.

The chaos train had started rolling at full speed.

Today was our special Easter dinner event. It was a catered event from a seafood restaurant and only a few select people could attend. There was a sign up sheet that the residents had to sign in order to be able to take part. If you were not the list, you were not offered any food. Easy enough to understand.

There was supposed to an Easter egg hunt, but due to the fact that at 11:30 AM looked like 10:00 PM and the rain was pouring down, that was cancelled.

In an effort to avoid bodies bumping into everything while trying to get in line to get food, they decided to go to the sign up sheet and call people’s name one at a time. Your name was called and you got your food. Once you were handed your food and you walked away, the next person was called.

It was a process that I felt worked out very well.

And the guy who had the potty mouth this morning?

His name was not called. His name was not written on the sign up sheet that the social worker had in her hands. And so, without his name being on the list, he was refused being served food.

GUESS WHAT HAPPENED NEXT???

Round Two. Screaming and wailing. Minus the profanity for whatever reason.

Our resident who had coordinated the event with staff was trying to talk to him to tell him that she had his name on the list and that he can go ahead and get something to eat. But in his blinding rage, he did not hear her. And so instead of having that saving grace that he was in fact included on the list, he stormed his way out of the building and into the pouring rain with bitterness in his heart. Even though the coordinating resident was trying to get in a word over the shouting. She simply was overpowered.

Apparently what unfortunately had happened was that the resident attempted to e-mail the social worker last night to add him to the list. But the social worker never received the e-mail.

He was gone before the resident could resolve the problem.

Being that I was sitting at the same table as the coordinator, I heard the conversation between her and the social worker when they both realized what the problem was. And there was not anything they could do about it because technology had failed.

I can believe it as I was without Internet for several hours last night. So the e-mail probably was never sent.

Food however WAS set aside to be given to him after the fact. I do not know what happened when they went to deliver it to him at his home.

The other residents began their buzzing. One guy even came up to the coordinator and decided that he was going to put the full blame upon the shoulders of the social worker. He stated that the social worker handled it extremely poorly and it should have never went down the way that it did. And there were others that were just as willing to chastise and point fingers.

I realized at that moment that the craziness of living here would NEVER go away!! I understand that there are over 60 people who call this place home, and that means there’s probably going to be over 60 different opinions.

The fighting and the minutiae will forever be present here at SGC. And that’s why I wonder if I should start writing more and more about the events that go on here because it has to be wildly entertaining for some of you!!!

And finally to bring this tale to an end, the social worker decided that she was going to just hand out plastic Easter eggs to those who were in attendance because there would be no Easter egg hunt.

Inside of each egg were treats. Basically bite size pieces of chocolate and quarters. I stopped in the social worker’s office to say “good morning” to her early last week when she was putting them together.

Each person got several eggs. Most of which contained one piece of candy and one quarter. I believe the intention was to give out enough eggs that there would be enough money to use for the laundry machines. At least to wash your laundry.

I sat there at the table and I was making jokes about the social worker looking like the Easter bunny. But it went terribly, terribly wrong!!

It was probably the biggest faux pas I had made in over a year.

Instead of saying “She looks like the Easter bunny handing out treats.” I said, “She looks like the Playboy bunny handing out treats.”

It was met with dead silence until I realized the error and quickly corrected myself for it.

I swear I thought I was next to be crucified for it.

After I survived that scare, the social worker came back around a few minutes later asking for the emptied plastic eggs. They wanted to be able to keep them and use them in years to come.

A majority of the eggs contained Hershey’s Kisses. Not all, but most of them.

In a moment of quick thinking, when the social worker came around to collect the eggs from our table I said, “Thank you for the kisses!!”

The social worker busted out laughing so hard that she bent in half. And in the next moment the entire building was laughing as hard as they could.

I probably saved myself from certain social and personal destruction after the “bunny” comment.

I am not sure what “holiday” will be served up next here. If I had to guess, it could be Memorial Day or Independence Day.

And as always…. stay tuned!!!

The FCC Loses At The Grammys

“Why don’t the Grammys matter? Because it feels rigged and cheap – like a popularity contest that the insiders club has decided.”~Trent Reznor

So this year I had specifically decided to skip watching The GRAMMY Awards Show, on account that its just gotten totally lame.

But I got sucked into it towards the end, and believe you me … the person responsible for it shall have compensatory damages to pay. But all of that nonsense aside… I was honestly intrigued when I kept hearing that METALLICA was going to be performing.

So during most of the show, I kept the television muted because honestly there was nobody or nothing that I wanted to hear. I was not totally uninterested.

And then over the course of an hour and fifteen minutes, I kept track…. only THREE awards were given out. THREE, in seventy-five minutes. What the hell is going on here????

Between commercial advertisements that were of Super Bowl length and one after another after another of pompous live performances that just killed my IQ, only THREE Awards??

So there it was, the announcement and introduction of METALLICA and someone named Lang-Lang who was on piano.

METALLICA played their signature song “One” and this time performed it with a piano.

But they play this song differently live than on their album recording. There is… shall we say….. a change in lyrics?

Instead of “cut this life off from me!” …. when it is played LIVE, it is “cut this shit off from me!” and I knew it was coming.  

James Hetfield dragged it out and said “SHIT” but it came out more like “shaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat” and the FCC failed to censor any of the word from its American audiences.

Seven second delay my ass!!

And that was a decision based on the famous “nip slip” of Janet Jackson at the Halftime Show at the Super Bowl a long time ago.

They couldn’t edit ONE cuss word that they knew was coming? That’s the way METALLICA has performed it for years and years and years.

Hell, METALLICA performed the exact same song in 1989 the exact same way, and got away with it there too! There’s YouTube videos to back that one up!!!

But to be fair, I did have one person on Facebook say that their television had cut it off at the end. But I personally heard it all and full.  

I was laughing, not honestly knowing if my tormentor was understanding the significance of this moment or even caring. I should have insisted no bathroom breaks, no getting up, or anything and made them suffer through the song as I suspect that they are not heavy metal fans. I could be wrong.

Pay back … you know what they say about it, my dear. MAYBE I……

Nevermind.

And in the end… Metallica played this song with the addition of a pianist and its getting mixed reviews by fans on social media.  They got away with cussing on television. And most importantly: METALLICA owns the FCC!!

 

Nocturnal Tourette’s Syndrome

“The foolish and wicked practice of profane cursing and swearing is a vice so mean and low that every person of sense and character detests and despises it.”~George Washington

For many months now, I’ve been suffering through some significant neuropathy pains. Unfortunately now, its getting in the way of every day things. Including me playing sledge hockey.

So when a nurse came over the other day to ask how that pain was doing, I told her that I had self-diagnosed myself with Nocturnal Tourette’s Syndrome.

When she asked what that was, I told her that in the middle of the night when this neuropathy pain strikes and is strong enough to wake me up, I wake up screaming and cussing.

She wasn’t sure whether to take me serious or laugh. When I smiled at her, she broke out into laughter.

It is true though, I wake up screaming and crying out in so much profanity that I would take down the whole naval fleet in humiliation by comparison. And of course there is no such thing as Nocturnal Tourette’s Syndrome, but it was descriptive enough to get across to the nurse that I am suffering a lot of pain with this neuropathy. Particularly at night.

I personally suspect the REAL problem to be Carpal Tunnel.

But soon, very soon, I am going to find out just what’s going on and hopefully I can get some REAL sleep after a while.

 

Moments In Uncle History

 

Well, nothing can save me now.

As I was sitting in the passenger seat of my sister’s vehicle, my seven year old nephew and two and a half year old niece in the back seat, the adult conversation that was taking place in the front was not under exemption of being heard by the younger ones in the back.

I thought that I was having the common decency to lower my voice to a whisper, and only speaking loud enough to where my sister could hear and I didn’t have to repeat myself.

We were having a discussion about someone, and I ended my sentence with the commentary of “What a jackass!”.

To the horror of my own hearing, and most likely my sister, in the back seat came the emulation from the two year old.

The vocal response of “quack whas” that came from my niece’s mouth put my sister and I both in shock and in a fit of hysteria. But neither one of us could figure out which way to take it.

The seven year old knew better. I was anticipating his reply to be “Bad Word! Bad Word!”, but when he heard the adults in the front start to laugh a little bit, then he decided to chime in with his own rendition of “quack whas”. But his version sounds more of an impaired version of “cracked glass” instead of “jackass”.

For the remainder of the evening, the older sibling kept pushing his luck by trying to get the younger one to say it again and again and again. But THIS UNCLE was very fortunate that she never uttered the phrase again. At least not in my presence.

But to hear my two and a half year old niece try to talk is often funny at times. My sister and I often reflect on the time back in June when we were trying to teach her the word “pine cone”, and she kept saying “pine corn”.

Just a couple of months later, she does say it correctly. So now the amusement of “pine corn” is nothing but history.

Now she has a new phrase that she stumbles to say correctly. Perhaps its just a mouthful to her at this point.

“Stop! In la la la la la”. Or to us, “Stop! In the name of the law!”.

I have pondered such implications about the unfortunate English lesson that my niece jumped in on. Of all the things to teach a child, why did it have to be that she’s got the hearing of a bat? Does it show that I do not have any children?? I think it does.

One thing is for sure, as long as its not being repeated to her at home, and as long as I am not saying it again in front of her, she’ll forget all about it soon. I cannot really stop the seven year old nephew though. I’m not sure if he’s been trying to get her to say it again and again. The boy just knows that its “wrong to say” and she is “saying it wrong”.

I knew better though. And it could have been a lot worse. I could have censored myself, instead I chose full throttle language at a greatly diminished volume and she STILL caught on!!