All By Myself…

  I imagine Michelle, Abe, Casey, Erin, etcetera, had a great old time at the Slippery Pig Me? Less so, since, like a dummy, I went to the Brass Kraken. 

   Wait, you say. Isn't that where everyone was supposed to be, starting at 7:00? A very perceptive question, Questioning Person! You see, once Kasey saw the BK had a $20 cover charge, everyone decided to meet at the SP. CORRECTION: Everyone not me.

  So, with the help of Google Maps, I find the place: Drp-PiT-ur, Drp-PiTPur. The Hostess informs me of a $20 cover charge. Uh, cover charge? How does that work? I asked in the Extremely Unlikely hope that "cover charge" has gained a completely new definition since college.   

   It hadn't. And so, not wanting to disappoint My Crew, I handed over half my cash. Drp-PiT-ur, Drp-PiTPur. (Granted, till a little bit earlier in the evening, it was called "Her Cash").

  So, I take a quick tour of the place, looking for my CC Family. Which I don't find. So I shuffle up to the bar and ask for an IPA. Which I nurse for an exceedingly long fifteen minutes. Sitting next to the Loudest 42 Year Old Woman on the planet.   

   This terrifyingly loud person did me one favor. She told the probably now tinnitus suffering guy that the cover charge was for the Burlesque Show, which would be starting soon. 

  Ah…Say, What?!? What an…interesting choice for an elementary school after work get together. Maybe I should text Abe. He got right back to me saying everyone (Correction: NOT Everyone!) had decided that $20 was too much and why not trot over yon Slippery Pig? 

   So, there I was, solo mid-fifties guy, shows up to a bar he’s been to before on Burlesque Night. 

  Why don’t I just call “To Catch a Predator” right now and get it over with? 

   So, I ran/walked out of there and then texted to Abe (and the rest of the We Hate Brian Club) that I had sacrificed enough time and treasure for one night. There was still time to watch our weekend horror movie. “As Above So Below” was little consolation for this reminder of high school: first year to all the years. 

   Wonder if they’re still wanting more bus drivers.

Brian Gets Insanely Picky

JB,

Just  got  your  letter. Thank you but  I’m  afraid I must  get  all  weird on you. 

To quote a favorite book of mine:

“Distinctions Worth Making

anxious and eager

Famous last stand of the language purists: You're not anxious to spend a languorous  evening  with your  oldest  married  friends,  you're  eager  to   spend it. Unless, that is, you've been  sleeping  with  one of  them the past  three months. Then you’re anxious.”

An Incomplete Education

by Jones/Wilson

Obviously, such distinctions are the results of deranged fixations. Rest assured all my other manias are less annoying.

Brian Hardy,

(Who is also weird about ‘dock’ and ‘pier’ But doesn’t have a clue what ‘languorous’ means.)

The Final Response (In HaiPu Form)

---Early March---

Dano’s Pump Truck Man,

Taking so much of our cash.

You don’t fix, just suck

 ---Mid March---

 Arness, thank you for

All the lovely holes you dug,

Useless costly holes…

---Beginning April---

 Plumber Man shakes head,

The above two are morons

So Dumb and Dumber

 ---Last Week---

 New team, new plan, smart!

Find and fix the collapsed pipe,

Wiser, poorer, me

---Now---

Oh, our new great joy,

To flush, to bathe, to launder!

All without concern

Grammar Throw Down

The time/place: The Friday afternoon Hardy Zoom call.

The Participants: G’Pa Larry, The Hardy Brothers, and Nieces Lia (in Denver) and Ursula (in London with her English fiancé Tom.)

Ursula:

There were less people on the return flight from Seattle so that was nice.

Curmudgeonly (yet lovable) Uncle:

“Fewer” people. You’re in the Mother Country. Speak the Queen’s English. Ya makin’ us look bad!

Tom:

People who point this out generally have fewer friends.

This is Brian Hardy and I approve of this marriage!

A Painful Admission

Yesterday, while listening to the wonderful language podcast, “Lexicon Valley”, I learned the following shocking fact.

“Vittles” is NOT a country-fied form of “Victuals”. It is the correct pronunciation for v-i-c-t-u-a-l-s.

There is no word pronounced VICK-shu-alls”.

My deepest apologies for not catching this sooner.

A 60 Second Tragedy

Father: Enters Family Room. Sees the couches are free. Sits down and reaches for his blanket. (It’s more a psychological comfort than a physical need. The thermostat doesn’t care if there is a foot of snow outside.) He then notices his son’s much nicer blanket sitting unattended. With  an evil grin, he grabs that blanket and spends 10 seconds tucking himself in just right.

Mother: From the kitchen. Sweetie, can you help me with this?

Father: With a forlorn look, goes to help in the kitchen.

….

Another 10 seconds go by. Father looks back to the Family Room to see his son seated contently; wrapped up in the nice blanket.

Father: (sigh)

End Scene.