Last night as my group meeting ended and everyone stood up to leave, one of them suddenly cried out “it’s raining!” The rest nervously shuffled about as if in a 1950s newsreel and they weren’t sure which desk to use to “duck and cover.” Then I looked out the window; it was drizzling. This is Southern California.
My friends here may get mad but most get the fact that they’re wimps when it comes to weather, especially those who have travelled outside the state or spent a winter vacation somewhere else. The rain last night was a nothing, steady enough to soak my fleece (yes it was freezing too) but nothing to inconvenience. My bathroom sink gives a more pressure-filled stream and it’s an old building.
I quite enjoyed it. I walked a long time out of my way. It was a pleasant temperature and it really felt quite refreshing. As the people of downtown Long Beach ran from the restaurants to their cars as fast as if they were escaping zombies (I imagine, I don’t know how fast zombies are) I strolled around wishing I had an umbrella and a fedora and could do a little “Singin in the Rain” number.
Yep, you heard me right I didn’t have an umbrella. Why is it that we flee from rain so easily yet we’ll stand under the pulsing shower for forty-five minutes. Maybe it’s just that I don’t have any good clothes, or hair, or no one I had to look good for, that it didn’t matter that I got wet. And again, IT WASN’T RAINING. It was ten percent over a drizzle I’d say. I passed by all the newly hung Christmas decorations and laughed at the irony of Christmas in California and well, loved it. I miss storms.
I write this at 6:30am and it’s still raining. I just went to the grocery store and the streets are quiet..and empty. I think people are using their sick days because it’s predicted to be raining all day. I bet the kids are praying for a snow day the way we did when a foot of snow dumped overnight. Maybe kids and parents will play a game together. Maybe they’ll snuggle and drink cocoa and bury their toes in a blanket.
After all, it is 63 degrees.
Weekly random thoughts. Since I’m self-employed it’s my version of water cooler talk: no one to talk to so it goes out to cyberspace.
When automobiles were invented did horses huff and think, “we’ve been around for thousands of years, you’ll never last.”
When automobiles were invented did horses huff and think, “Finally, someone else gets to carry them.”
I’ve seen those singing trouts that people put on their walls; if they can sing why can’t they also say “throw me back!”
I wonder if milk gets mad at the trash left in it-cookie crumbs, the bottom of the cereal boxes.
When a light bulb dies does its energy reincarnated as a battery?
I wrote my first novel in braille but self-publishing it online got me no where.
I wonder if all the troubles that have happened with the economy can be traced back to men having to wear ties and feeling very uncomfortable and uptight.
If boobs had arms the phrase “booby pants” would make so much more sense. Oh it’s poopy pants? Oobs.
“What are you looking for?”
“A rag? What for?”
“I saw a smudge on the pearly gates.”
“And you want to clean it?
“Yeah my Aunt Betsy’s coming and she always said I was a slob. I’m getting the last word.”
I was standing behind a man at 7-11 who was purchasing Rockstar Energy Drink and Muscle Milk. And after studying him for a few moments, I got to wondering if he thought that if he drank enough of this energy drink he could become a rockstar?
Every boy wants to be a rockstar. Well at least they did when I was a kid, today they may want to be a rap star. Judging from the number of white suburban kids dressed in backwards baseball caps and bejeweled with ridiculous and large garish fake gold chains, I’m probably not off. Fortunately is was less expensive in the 1970s, you just needed a pair of ripped jeans and a black t-shirt.
But the desire is the same, that of the lifestyle of great riches and great numbers of women, the ability to party all night long and not care about anything, and the adoration of the public. Not all the public, but when twenty thousand people are screaming at you that constitutes a very glorious world.
So does this man, and others, believe that there is a certain amount that he can digest and he won’t need talent or years of practice? Given the society that can make stars out of people from a YouTube video or an obnoxious stance on a reality television show the truth might not be that far off. But perhaps he’s not thinking of the quantity in the right measure, it’s not how many he has to drink over time but how many he needs to drink in a certain period of time to get completely whacked out of his mind and do something resembling “rockstar behavior.”
Let’s face it, the companies that make this must know it. It may be true that there is a different taste difference, but I’ve never had one. But the same way that Redbull touts “it gives you wings” this does seem to be geared to the male or female that wants to be amped up.
Who knows, maybe it is more than that. Maybe they do have a formula that works and you can consume enough to become a Rock God. After all, the other big seller seems to be Monster energy drink and there has been a growing fascination with zombies.
Oh and yes, I do believe he thought the milk would build his muscles. Technically it would contribute but there are better ways.