Hello, My Name Is Moron. How May I Help You?

The Clerk is singing along with the music, which is too loud. I am the only customer at this time of night in the national drugstore chain which shall remain unnamed and purposely, I hope, spells its name incorrectly, for what reason, I do not know.

Note: All right, fine. I am in Rite Aid.

I drop my armload of purchases on the counter.

Advil Liqui-Gels, Tums (extra strength berry fusion), Prilosec, Immodium AD, Pepto Bismol. Oh, and mascara, of course, so the reason for my late night pharmacy run isn't too obvious, if one is a moron.

The Clerk peruses the items and begins scanning. She smiles up at me, still grooving a little, yes.

So how you doing tonight, Hon'? She asks.

Really?

How am I doing?

Are you kidding me?

The mascara purchase really works!

Heck, yes!






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Location: Still Extending ...

Heeing And Hawing, Yes.

The Son and I are chatting and I am waxing nostalgic, about the good old days, when kids rode bikes and ate peaches straight off the tree and pulled the tails off pollywogs, accidentally. Maybe. Hopefully, anyhow.

I am considering the best era in which to live. I ask The Son his opinion. He hems. He haws.

Note: Please no Heehaw jokes, if the reader is even old enough to wax nostalgic about Heehaw.

He finishes with the hemming and hawing. The future he says, finally. I couldn't survive without my technology.

Note: What? He is waxing nostalgic about technology?

I demand a better answer. A real answer.

He hems. He haws some more. A time when music was better, he says. The music nowadays is awful.

Note: Nowadays? How old is this kid?

I tell him about my last three purchases on iTunes. Save Me, San Francisco by Train because I love any lyricist who can rhyme 'Oh, hell no' and Rolling in the Deep by Adele and The Lazy Song by Bruno Mars.

Wow, look at you! he is saying and adds Never heard any of them.

Note: This kid needs serious Relevancy Training.

So we wax some more. The Son is also wishing for a simpler time, before texting. When people talked face to face.

Ah, yes I am saying. Simpler times.

The Son has made his time travel decision. A simpler time with great music. And no texting.

The Nineties, he says.

The Nineties? Are you kidding me? The Nineteen-freaking-Nineties? Not the Gay Nineties, whatever the heck that means?

Sweet Holy Moses!





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Location:STILL Extended ....

Gremlins. Chewbacca. And Jacob, Oh My!

Everyone's a comedian, in his own mind.

And it's not like I haven't heard it all a thousand times before. For example, if my last name were, say, synonymous with, say, an activity only performed legally in certain cities across the country, when meeting me for the first time, say, some may find it humorous to make jokes about whether or not I reside in said city, which I don't, and trust me pal: You're not that funny.

Note: And no, my last name is not 'Girls that Want to Meet You Now'.


So, the Front Desk Receptionist in My Extended-Stay-Type-Hotel squeals when I walk through the door. There it is! There it is!

Another Front Desk Type appears.

See? I told you. That dog looks just like a Gremlin!



Note: Like I've never heard that one? But personally, I just don't see it.

Additional Note: Sic 'em, Rube.

The Housekeeper approaches me in the hallway with her hand extended to my dog, who totally ignores her. Wow! He looks just like Chewbacca!


He? I am thinking. Chewbacca? I am thinking. She is a girl. Can't you see her nine nipples hanging to the floor? And Chewbacca? Really. Rubi is far better groomed and so far as I know has never carried an assault weapon.

Note: Personally, I just don't see it.

Additional Note: Sic 'em Rube!

Today some Comedian in the elevator says My, what big eyes you have, my dear in reference, I suppose, to The Big Bad Wolf.



Hmmmn.

She may have a point. There is a family resemblance.

Heck, yes!



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Location:Still Over Extended

I Am Over-Extended.

So, I am homeless. Not technically, I suppose. In technical terms, I am between homes and although The Aging SUV looks like I am living in it, what-with the crumpled sheets and boxes of Bisquick and a Dyson vacuum cleaner tossed in for good measure, I am not.

Instead, I am sitting in the room of my My Extended-Stay-Type Hotel.

This is the life! I am thinking with exclamation points. This is how the fancy folks live!

Note: No, it is not.

Oh, sure. My Extended-Stay-Type Hotel offers some excellent amenities such as shelter, with the added benefit of not being bothered by those darn maids making my bed and cleaning my room and providing fresh linens, for example.

However, as time passes and the glamour of the life in My Extended-Stay-Type Hotel dims, however slightly, I wish to offer a few notes to the management of such facilities to further ensure the comfort of their guests:

1. Thank you for considering the addition of binoculars in the bedside tables to enhance the viewing of the stunning 19" television.

2. Thank you for hiring gentlemen to paint the metal pool fencing all day everyday. The use of the pool by the Ladies is greatly enhanced by said-gentlemen hanging around all day, painting and painting and painting.

3. Thank you for placing all pets on the third floor. The extra exercise required to traipse up and down the stairs to do business at all hours is an added benefit.

Pardon me now Readers, while I shower for as long as I wish with the water as hot as I wish with no concern for increasing my utility bill. Whatsoever.

I may even shower again, immediately after my shower.

Don't be a hater.

Heck, yes!





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Location:My Extended-Stay-Type Hotel, Third Floor