Bellbottom Blog

Scratching A Writing Itch From Time To Time

Friday Potpourri Vol. 2

Once again I have reached out to my loyal band of followers for advice on what to write today.

So, this week we are dealing with: pilfering of office supplies (@lucysfootball), first presidential election I can remember(@lahikmajoe) and @heinakroon(@lgalaviz).

And a special bonus topic brought to my attention by@writerchica.

Last night, @heinakroon tweeted about walking down stairs while pulling a sweater over his head. He was advising against it.

I think what we are dealing with here is a simple case of logic run amok.

I can imagine him thinking:  I have walked down these stairs thousands of times. I know them so well, that I don’t have to see them to safely travel down. In fact, I can slip this sweater over my head at the same time.

Here is the deal with that. Our brain is working all the time. Subconsciously. We don’t have to actively tell our brain, “Don’t let me walk into that wall.” Our eyes and brain are always taking care of that for us, so we can think about other things, like what we want for breakfast.

So, in this case, when he covered his eyes, they sent a panicked message to his brain saying,” What the Hell? He covered us up. Can you make him feel like he is falling so he never does that again?”

On to pilfering of  office supplies. I have spent a little time in office environments over the years and the key to this problem is to weasel your way into being in charge of ordering the supplies.

You also need a drawer with a lock. A BIG drawer.  When the new order comes in , you stash one for you first, then put the rest out for those thieving vultures.

You also need a ruler. A wooden one with the metal edge running along one side. I learned this in Catholic grade school. One quick smack and this will discourage the snatch and grab specialist.

If someone has to lose a finger to make a point, tough.  Get your own paper clips, Grabby.

I promised when I started this that I wouldn’t mention politics. But talking about past Presidential elections is more about history than politics, so here we go.

The first one I am able to remember is the 1968 election. (Yeah, I am that old. Stop trying to do the math)  (Ok, I was twelve, can we move on now?)

The only vivid memory of that election is from the day Bobby Kennedy was killed in California.  The paperboy delivered the paper with the word died written in blue ink on the headline which said that Mr. Kennedy was seriously wounded.

Actually, my first involvement in politics was in third grade when a friend of mine asked me if I could hand out balloons at school. His next door neighbor was running for Mayor of our town and the balloons had the Mayor’s name on them  Paul “Mike” Burns. He lost. But politics has always fascinated me ever since.

Alright it is time for the bonus part.

In Florida there is a court case called Toxic Tush.  @writerchica seemed shocked there wasn’t more public attention paid to this and I agree.

It seems this person put an ad out promising to enhance, how should I put this, womens posteriors.  He charged one woman about $700.  She went to his townhouse. He had her lay face down on a table and injected Fix-A-Flat into her buttocks.  Then sealed the holes up with Super Glue.

But here is the interesting part. When her body had an adverse reaction to being treated like a flat tire, she found it difficult to tell anyone what she had done.

We have all dealt with going to the doctor. Imagine this poor woman telling the receptionist what she is there for, Then the nurse who weighs you, then the doctor’s assistant and on and on.  Along with trying to get the insurance company to cover the related costs.

Now it is a big court case, because she wasn’t the only woman who tried the “treatment”.

Thanks Ken, Amy, and Lisa for playing along this week.

Peace

 

 

 

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10 thoughts on “Friday Potpourri Vol. 2

  1. I don’t care what is going on with my posterior, I am NOT letting a person without a medical degree shot anything into it. Much less paying them to do so.

  2. Friday Potpourri is a great idea – love the variety. Hope the comments are as good as last time!

  3. Wait, you’re not saying that the person who scrawled ‘Bobby Kennedy Died’ on the front of the paper inadvertently caused his death, are you?

  4. I don’t want to order the office supplies. I had to do that at my last job, and people were MEAN. “I didn’t want the FINE TIP pens, I wanted the MEDIUM tip pens! Why can’t we get NEON post-its? I need a BACK SUPPORT PILLOW, I’m HANDICAPPED!” It was EXHAUSTING.

    Mostly what I do now is trick them by putting away the good supplies when I leave every night, and leaving out the bad ones. My favorite was the leaky pen. The guy that stole that was SO MAD when he got ink all over himself. I’ve been looking for another leaky pen ever since. No luck, but hope springs eternal.

    If a doctor is treating you in one of the following places: his townhouse, a van down by the river, a public bathroom, or an abandoned warehouse – odds are good something’s not right. RUN AWAY.

    • I had forgotten that part of the ordering. “I wanted markers not highlighters.” I finally made people write down exactly what they wanted and then I would order it. I do the same with the grocery list now.

  5. RE: Fix-A-Flat Ass lady’s reluctance to tell the Dr what she had subjected herself to; I work in a hospital imaging department. I have seen X-Rays of various foreign objects in orifices they do not belong in. You know it’s going to be good when someone says “You GOTTA see this” as they drag you over to the view boxes to take a gander at an X-Ray. Then you find yourself saying things like “WHOA!!is that an Acorn Squash??” or “A lightbulb? Really?” As varied as those misplaced objects are, there is one common thread in every one of these patients….they waited, (Sometimes DAYS) to come into the Emergency Room. Rarely do they admit what they’ve done. One guy claimed “I fell onto that pear when I was in the shower doc!” People screw up, and even when their life depends on it, they are reluctant to tell the truth.

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