What Kind of Butter Dish Do You Have???

As I approached the sign that read "Falling Prices", I knew I was in the right place. Wal-Mart. I had a list with me, one that required such a Big Box store. My list included a measuring cup, a plunger and a butter dish along with a few other incidentals. Naturally, I already owned all of these items, but couldn't find them after my last move. It was March of 2013. It seems that anything that my former roommate found desirable never made it onto the truck including all pots and pans and my beloved "plastic" butter dish.

As I approached the area that held the butter dishes a weak feeling overcame me as all I could see were glass ones. I kind of got that sinking feeling, like you do in an airplane that suddenly loses altitude. I immediately thought of something slippery like butter, being on something fragile like solid glass. With no other options, I bought it. An accident just waiting to happen.

Fast forward about 17 months. It's a weekday morning and I go through my usual morning routine. Go to the fridge, in the freezer are my hash browns, and sausage, then in the refrigerator section I grab the 2 eggs, the butter and a bagel and that's when I started fumbling! The first thing that hit the floor was the butter dish that splintered into 2000 shards of glass and glass powder. With the fridge still agape, I slid the other items onto a shelf and looked down to see my bleeding feet standing amid the shards of glass, barefoot, naturally! What to do entered my mind. Any step in any direction would mean more cuts on my feet. I was too far from a counter to hop up onto it and there I stood wondering how to escape this dilemma. Finally I slid my feet across the tile to the carpeting and dropped to my knees to avoid getting blood stains on the carpeting. I crawled to the bathroom where I washed the blood off of my feet to inspect my wounds. Hopped to the other bathroom to find a band aid to patch my foot and came back with the electric broom to suck up my shards. Still hungry and wearing flip flops, I successfully prepare breakfast. Whew!

Did you know that after trying 5 different stores, that no one carries anything but glass butter dishes? It's how the butter dish industry exists! So I bought a package of plastic butter stick shaped container to do the job. If I have a fancy dinner planned with guests and a butler, I'll have to apologize, but I cannot get myself to buy another treacherous glass one!

What kind of butter dish do you have at home?

Ground Hog Day Lady Reappears...

My reply:

Dear Barbara:

On 7/10, a Thursday, you contacted me and I called you. We went to meet at the Pub for a drink at 7 PM, we were both  early. You ordered crab cakes and wine, I had a Coke. Our meeting lasted just over 90 minutes and we both fought the storm going home. I thought there may be something wrong with you at the time, as you seemed preoccupied. 

Saturday morning, 36 hours later, you wrote to me again as if we had not just met several hours prior. I ignored that contact but thought it odd. Today, less than 2 weeks later, you're writing to me again, kind of like Ground Hog Day. I don't know what your problem is, whether it's alcohol or drugs, but I'd get that straightened out before trying to meet someone.

Mel

Underwear Shopping, Ugh!

The time has creeped up again and it's come to my attention that it's time to buy some new underwear. There is nothing pleasant about this task, but necessary. As a man, I usually stand in front of a display showing the newest styles in men's underthings and between you and I, it's one of the worst jobs a single man has to perform, almost as bad as grocery shopping! I read somewhere that a man usually buys new underwear about once a year..........bull! That must be a quote from a men's underwear manufacturer. I get new underwear when the cloth separates from the waistband and you feel a draft. Enough about me...

Here's another reason that steered me to Marshal's for new underwear. It's close and things seem to be reasonably priced there and it's full of women shoppers to try to strike up conversations with, basically a men's hunting ground. Also I went to Marshal's because Costco's selection was rather limited, (Ya hear that Costco?) Plus I've been buying my underwear at Costco for many years and it seems that all they have are the semi-boxers made of cloth that come halfway down your thighs. It's summer in Scottsdale and that last thing I want is a second layer of cloth on my legs when it's 110 degrees. So, ideally what I was looking for were briefs in colors, not "tightie whities".

Once I entered Marshal's in North Scottsdale, it took me about 6 or 7 minutes to stroll through the women's things to even locate the men's underwear rack, then figure out the layout so as not to purchase size XXXL. I found my way to the men's mediums, size 32 to 34 and dived in. The first ones I saw were and amazing 5 pair to a box and were only $9.95. Bingo! Why look further? The picture above was on the front of the packaging and the whole thing was packed up neatly with a zipper around the packaging. I'm sold. I make it to the cashier's, pay and leave. 

Now I've been wearing underwear since I've been out of diapers and I'm 68 now. That's a long time in underwear. I wear them everyday, always unless I'm wearing a bathing suit, the only exception. My mechanic doesn't wear underwear and every time he squats down to check something, he shoots out a plumber's crack and I'm always sorry I didn't just look away...

So I get home with my new acquisition and go about my business, tossing the plastic bag on top of the dresser and make a sandwich. Shopping is tough work! Eventually, I go to the dresser and open the packaging to put away my new underwear and to my shock, my $2 briefs are made of nylon and DO NOT HAVE A FLY!!! Men's underwear ALWAYS  have flies! My mind floods with thoughts, but all I can think of, are men's panties. I can't return them because I am not going to have the conversation with a 17 year old high school girl that handles returns about men's flies and why they are suppose to have them! It was only 10 bucks. I've gone to the trouble of taking a photo of a pair for your inspection. How was I to know??? Plus I thought the six-pack came with the briefs!

Another Date from Hell... PART 2 (GROUND HOG DAY)

Just when I thought it was safe to go into the water again.... I woke up this morning and there in my inbox is a message from someone on Match.com. Getting kind of bored with the whole concept after only 4 days this time around, I checked Facebook before even getting too curious. It contained the usual blah, blah, blah and I read my emails. One was from my DIL, Julie suggesting I use Skype to meet new people. Although a good idea, I suspect that getting a woman in this age category to show herself on Skype might be a difficult thing? that's when I opened my Match.com email and to my total shock it was my date from Thursday night and I figured she was going to tell me off for being less than attentive during our 90 minutes, but no! I cut and paste it onto this rendering for your reading amusement. OH, before I continue, I know now why I couldn't remember her first name, because it was Barbara, the same name as my first wife. I must have blocked it!

chi-town49@talkmatch.com town49@talkmatch.com>	7:40 AM (7 hours ago)
to me

Chi-town49 64, Phoenix, AZ Seeking Male 58-69 A confident, strong-willed, independent woman who is looking to share with man of like mind. I am an independent, self sufficent woman who is looking for a man who knows how good he is and has the confidence to display it. (Not Conceit) I would want someone who can share his weaknesses as well as his strengths. … Read more » From: chi-town49 < chi-town49@talkmatch.com > / Received: 7/5/2014 9:40:00 AM

chi-town49 commented on your photo: I am from Chicago, too. Love to chat. Barbara 602-228-XXXX

Another Date from HELL...

See this woman? Well forget her! Take all of her facial features and lower them about 1/4 inch and wrinkle her up and make her into a bar regular. THAT was my date. The only thing missing was the cigarette hanging from her loose lips. I suspect that she was yet another victim of Botox as her face never cracked a smile. So you wonder how I wound up with this creature from below. It went something like this:

It was about 11 AM and I was just awakening. I was up until 4 AM reading a "can't put it down" mystery. After relieving myself and hopping back into bed, I reached for my iPhone to see what the news of the day was. Since rejoining match.com a few days ago, I've been inundated with emails, winks, likes, and interest shown, by a multitude of women, mostly between the ages of 70 and 85. The key word of inundated being "undated!"

I don't remember this woman's name or never knew it, but that's okay since I'm not going to need it. One of the emails I received was from this lady. It was short and brief and to the point and included her cell number. Now remember, I'm still in bed. When reading from my iPhone in bed, I'm on my back and suddenly I fumble my phone while trying to enter her cell number into my phone, fully intending on calling her later, not now! After regaining control of my phone, I can't help but notice I accidentally called someone, I wonder who? Oh, I called this old woman that I was trying to memorialize for a future conversation. You're probably wondering, if I don't like her looks or her age, 64, why am I keeping her number? Well, I liked the way she got right to the point and offered up her cell number, she might be nice? She wasn't! Instead of hanging up, which was an option, I felt, oh well, and waited for her to answer. She was in her car, 90 minutes late for work and what does she do? She's a principal at a West side Phoenix high school. After meeting her, I suspect a hangover might have contributed to her tardiness...

I asked her to tell me a little about herself and she did. She said she was from Illinois, actually Skokie, 100% Italian, moved to CO. for school, has one son and one stepdaughter, was married for 18 years, together for 20 and she asked about me. I simply answered, same as you! Then went on to tell her I was married for 22 years, but neglected to mention it was to 3 different women.

The she asked me to meet her for a drink tonight at the Keg in Desert Ridge, about 7. Here's what I liked about her, she took charge and women seldom do that with me. I'm not sure if I liked it, but was willing to find out. I didn't!

When I first laid eyes on her I was totally disappointed and thought about running out the front door waving my arms and screaming. I thought here goes another wasted evening. You know within seconds if the stranger you are meeting is going to be a hit or a miss and this one didn't even hit the wall the target was on. Prune Face describes her.

I've always wondered why Italian people are so proud her their heritage. When I think of someone 100% Italian, I think of someone tossing a pizza or laying bricks at a construction site. I know this is going to alienate some people, mostly Italians. Jewish people are doctors, attorneys, geniuses, head up the motion picture industry and are generally world leaders, yet you never hear a Jew say I'm 100% Jewish with a big dumb smile. Just sayin'.

At some point I told her that my son and I converted to Italian around 1991, mostly due to our love of the food and also Camaros! Now that line should have brought the house down, it always has, and she never even broke a smile and asked if I was serious and how one converts? I calmly explained that I'm of Jewish descent and you cannot convert from a religion to a nationality, you need to be born into it. That's when she told me that it was not funny. Around that time, she motions for the waitress and orders food. I told her I wasn't hungry and I was under the impression we were meeting for a drink, not dinner. She ordered anyway! I neglected to mention that the place she chose, The Keg, was mobbed with people and to speak I literally had to SCREAM! She didn't scream and I barely heard whatever she was saying and didn't care. At some point I asked about her children and she told me her son was in his 6th year pursuing a medical career and she doesn't know what her stepdaughter was doing or where she lived and didn't care. (How sweet?) That's when the check came and it cost me $23 for her to eat 2 farcockta crab cakes with wine and me to drink a coke! Oh, and she put ice in her red wine!

No kiss, no hug, just a warm nod goodnight... Ninety minutes seemed like a lifetime...