Dear Mrs. Higgins,
Can’t tell you how excited I was to hear that President Obama won academy awards for best director and best cinematography in a foreign film.
And this on the heals of the Pulitzer prize for best short story - along with Country Music Awards best new single.
Its about time we give credit where credit is due!
Those Olympians don’t know bleep!
When Obama AND Oprah AND Mayor Daley don’t get their way. Well lets just say that some folks need to start falling in line. (&^%# foreigners!) We probably should have sent Blago over
to seal the deal.
All in all, not a bad week for our commander in chief!
And about time!
Mike
Dear Mike,
Do you read the paper or just look at the rubber band.
Yeah, Blago is a real "deal sealer". I am sure he would have enjoyed the furlough.
Try to sit up straighter,
Mrs Higgins.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Lost in Space
Dear Mrs. Higgins,
I hope you are sitting down. I have some very disturbing news:
I just read that Saturn is ending.
That’s right: Saturn.
Oh, I didn’t read all the “fine print mumbo jumbo” that followed. I am a very busy man. But I scooped instantly that we are one short in the planet department.
First Pluto losses “planet status” in some sort of political trickery, or rounding error, and the next thing you know: Saturn ending.
What next? Mercury? Jupiter? Comet? Ajax?
I don’t know about you, but this isn’t exactly the “hope” and “change” I was looking for.
I better go get a beer and calm down.
Mike
Dear Mike,
Seems like “calming down” is a consistent theme for you.
Actually my “very busy” friend, the auto maker “Saturn” is closing.
The planet Saturn, not unlike you, continues to spin in its oblivious orbit.
You may want to waste a few minutes and read a bit more of the “mumbo jumbo.”
Ajax?
Mrs Higgins
I hope you are sitting down. I have some very disturbing news:
I just read that Saturn is ending.
That’s right: Saturn.
Oh, I didn’t read all the “fine print mumbo jumbo” that followed. I am a very busy man. But I scooped instantly that we are one short in the planet department.
First Pluto losses “planet status” in some sort of political trickery, or rounding error, and the next thing you know: Saturn ending.
What next? Mercury? Jupiter? Comet? Ajax?
I don’t know about you, but this isn’t exactly the “hope” and “change” I was looking for.
I better go get a beer and calm down.
Mike
Dear Mike,
Seems like “calming down” is a consistent theme for you.
Actually my “very busy” friend, the auto maker “Saturn” is closing.
The planet Saturn, not unlike you, continues to spin in its oblivious orbit.
You may want to waste a few minutes and read a bit more of the “mumbo jumbo.”
Ajax?
Mrs Higgins
Friday, July 31, 2009
Snubbed
Dear Mrs. Higgins,
I read with great anticipation about the upcoming beer party at the White House. Nobody likes a cold one out back more than me, so naturally I assumed I’d be included.
Well, as they say: “ASSUME” makes an ass out of “U” and Joe Biden.
I didn’t even get a call.
I had my little cooler all ready and everything, from about noon - figured the copper could use another “regular guy” to hang out with.
Plus, I wanted to be there when Michelle came out with a stern look, and started counting empties.
But I guess its for the best. I figure after about 8 or 9 brewskis, Professor Gates and Sgt Crowley would start hugging and high fiving and calling each other “the man.”
“No, you da man!”
“No, no, YOU da man!”
Meanwhile the whole time Barack would be leaning back, smiling, knowing HE is the man, then sending Joe to the kitchen for more pretzels.
So how do I get invited to these events?
Mike
Dear Mike,
You’re a regular guy alright.
If you want to get to the White House lawn, I’d say
work on your hedge trimming skills.
Mrs Higgins
I read with great anticipation about the upcoming beer party at the White House. Nobody likes a cold one out back more than me, so naturally I assumed I’d be included.
Well, as they say: “ASSUME” makes an ass out of “U” and Joe Biden.
I didn’t even get a call.
I had my little cooler all ready and everything, from about noon - figured the copper could use another “regular guy” to hang out with.
Plus, I wanted to be there when Michelle came out with a stern look, and started counting empties.
But I guess its for the best. I figure after about 8 or 9 brewskis, Professor Gates and Sgt Crowley would start hugging and high fiving and calling each other “the man.”
“No, you da man!”
“No, no, YOU da man!”
Meanwhile the whole time Barack would be leaning back, smiling, knowing HE is the man, then sending Joe to the kitchen for more pretzels.
So how do I get invited to these events?
Mike
Dear Mike,
You’re a regular guy alright.
If you want to get to the White House lawn, I’d say
work on your hedge trimming skills.
Mrs Higgins
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
A leg to stand on
Dear Mrs. Higgins,
I’m sure you’ve noticed that politics have gotten particularly harsh lately, but I’ think we’ve just turned a corner.
There had been speculation about how tough the Republicans would be vetting President Obama’s Supreme Court nominee Sonia Sotomayer.
Little of this has to do with the women herself, just concern that there would be payback for the brutal attacks on nominees presented from Republican administrations. (think Bork)
Well, they broke her leg.
I know. I can’t believe it either.
How many Italians do we have in Washington DC? I mean, I’d totally expect this in Providence, or the North End of Boston, but DC?
Well of course they made it sound like an accident - at the airport, no less.
And that is a pretty good alibi. I’ve had a couple good falls myself in airports after a long delay. Usually while disembarking from a barstool from about the 800 block of Main Street
Margaritaville.
What do you think Mrs H? Is this the kind of hope and change we were hoping for?
Mike
Dear Mike,
It was an accident. Judge Sotomayer did, in fact, just fall.
The Republicans and the Italians are innocent.
And next time you are in an airport, maybe take a parachute for the long delays.
Mrs Higgins
I’m sure you’ve noticed that politics have gotten particularly harsh lately, but I’ think we’ve just turned a corner.
There had been speculation about how tough the Republicans would be vetting President Obama’s Supreme Court nominee Sonia Sotomayer.
Little of this has to do with the women herself, just concern that there would be payback for the brutal attacks on nominees presented from Republican administrations. (think Bork)
Well, they broke her leg.
I know. I can’t believe it either.
How many Italians do we have in Washington DC? I mean, I’d totally expect this in Providence, or the North End of Boston, but DC?
Well of course they made it sound like an accident - at the airport, no less.
And that is a pretty good alibi. I’ve had a couple good falls myself in airports after a long delay. Usually while disembarking from a barstool from about the 800 block of Main Street
Margaritaville.
What do you think Mrs H? Is this the kind of hope and change we were hoping for?
Mike
Dear Mike,
It was an accident. Judge Sotomayer did, in fact, just fall.
The Republicans and the Italians are innocent.
And next time you are in an airport, maybe take a parachute for the long delays.
Mrs Higgins
Sunday, May 3, 2009
MAY DAY! MAY DAY!
Dear Mrs. Higgins,
I thought May 1 meant putting little baskets of flowers on people’s front porch. What does that have to do with a plane in distress? Can't find the address? Flowers wilted?
Anyway, speaking of planes, I’m tired of people complaining about Air Force One and a couple fighter jets taking a spin to lower Manhattan.
People need to realize: It’s PICTURE day!
Lets keep our eye on what's important. Think of the photos!
We’ve got a lot more pressing issues to worry about like learning to eat pork chops through a surgical mask.
I don’t even drive past Taco Bell (aka “food from the land of death“) these days.
Hope you are protecting yourself,
Mike
Dear Mike,
I think we're going to be ok.
About 9 million people live in Mexico City, a couple hundred have shown swine flu.
And we are a little selective about who is wasting tax dollars. I have a feeling “picture day” cost a touch more than Detroit execs going to DC for bail out loans.
Maybe they should have taken camera’s.
And Mike, the mask is a great idea. Could slow down all your meals.
Mrs Higgins.
I thought May 1 meant putting little baskets of flowers on people’s front porch. What does that have to do with a plane in distress? Can't find the address? Flowers wilted?
Anyway, speaking of planes, I’m tired of people complaining about Air Force One and a couple fighter jets taking a spin to lower Manhattan.
People need to realize: It’s PICTURE day!
Lets keep our eye on what's important. Think of the photos!
We’ve got a lot more pressing issues to worry about like learning to eat pork chops through a surgical mask.
I don’t even drive past Taco Bell (aka “food from the land of death“) these days.
Hope you are protecting yourself,
Mike
Dear Mike,
I think we're going to be ok.
About 9 million people live in Mexico City, a couple hundred have shown swine flu.
And we are a little selective about who is wasting tax dollars. I have a feeling “picture day” cost a touch more than Detroit execs going to DC for bail out loans.
Maybe they should have taken camera’s.
And Mike, the mask is a great idea. Could slow down all your meals.
Mrs Higgins.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Dating and other natural disasters - part 3
Dear Mrs. Higgins,
I’m going through a bit of a “dry spell” with the ladies. Seems like they all “like me” but want to be “just friends.” None have actually said “pathetic loser,” but its been implied.
Last one just gave me the “friends” call. I could kind of see it coming. She hadn’t returned countless phone calls, emails, or even waved as I followed her at the grocery store, mall, and every other time she left the house.
Just trying to show that I’m interested.
The one before that never made the friends phone call, but made it pretty clear.
When I mentioned something about church, she said “oh, I bet you ring the bell” and then looked really closely at my back.
I asked to kiss her goodnight after a date and she suggested I just send her a fax instead.
Another announced that she was not going to have sex with me. Since we happened to be in the McDonald’s drive up I didn’t really think the topic was on the table.
At the time, I was more concerned with quarter pounder or Big Mac, or possibly: both.
Its gotten so bad, the other night I had to slip myself a rufi to get me undressed for a shower.
Any ideas Mrs. H?
Mike
Dear Mike,
Come to think of it, I never have seen you and old Quasi at the same time.
Hang in there Romeo. You’ll find someone who can see past your flaws.
(think: girls with white canes)
Just be yourself. Or better yet, don‘t.
Mrs Higgins
I’m going through a bit of a “dry spell” with the ladies. Seems like they all “like me” but want to be “just friends.” None have actually said “pathetic loser,” but its been implied.
Last one just gave me the “friends” call. I could kind of see it coming. She hadn’t returned countless phone calls, emails, or even waved as I followed her at the grocery store, mall, and every other time she left the house.
Just trying to show that I’m interested.
The one before that never made the friends phone call, but made it pretty clear.
When I mentioned something about church, she said “oh, I bet you ring the bell” and then looked really closely at my back.
I asked to kiss her goodnight after a date and she suggested I just send her a fax instead.
Another announced that she was not going to have sex with me. Since we happened to be in the McDonald’s drive up I didn’t really think the topic was on the table.
At the time, I was more concerned with quarter pounder or Big Mac, or possibly: both.
Its gotten so bad, the other night I had to slip myself a rufi to get me undressed for a shower.
Any ideas Mrs. H?
Mike
Dear Mike,
Come to think of it, I never have seen you and old Quasi at the same time.
Hang in there Romeo. You’ll find someone who can see past your flaws.
(think: girls with white canes)
Just be yourself. Or better yet, don‘t.
Mrs Higgins
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Exit Strategy
Dear Mrs. Higgins,
One of the downsides of skiing is the rich people. I try not to dislike someone who makes more or less money than me, but rich guys can really be annoying.
Here is how it works: they start out all “regular guy,” but when the conversation begins to slide into what looks like peer status, they make sure to clarify the class difference.
Me: “Great skiing today! Hi, I‘m Mike.”
Rich guy: “Yes it is. My pleasure, I‘m sure. Rodney.”
Me: “Good to meet you, Rodney. A lot less windy than yesterday.”
Rich guy: “Well, heh heh, it was calm as could be in the Swiss Alps yesterday.”
Me: “Wow, you were in Europe?”
Rich guy: “Yes, the Westwind was tied up in Rome, so we were stuck in the Lear last night. Just doesn‘t have the roominess or ride, but we struggled through.”
Me: (in my mind) “Yeah, well my 747 was in for an oil change at Jiffy Lube, so I just came out in the space shuttle.”
Me: (in real life) “Wow.” (always quick on my feet)
Rich guy: “So Mick, what do you do?”
Me: “Uh, its Mike. I’m a programmer. How about yourself Rodney?”
Rich guy: “Software eh? Well I’ve had my share of software companies. Such a bore dealing with nerdy little geeks.”
Me: (in my mind) “I know the secret handshake to THAT club.”
As Rodney continues detailing his life’s accomplishments, I‘m looking for a smooth way to exit the vicinity.
Unfortunately, at this point, we happen to be on a chair lift about 40 feet off the ground.
I’m mentally weighing: bailing out of the chair with a likely compound fracture, versus spending another 3 minutes with Rodney.
Then I remembered Lamaze breathing.
Rich guy: “… and as I was saying Mark, I absolutely stole this little villa in the south of France…”
Me: (concentrating on the tip of my left ski) … hee hee hee hee hee hee hee …
This can’t be much worse than your average contraction.
Anyway, Mrs. Higgins, I’m happy to say I made it to the top without injury.
Saw Rodney later in the day talking to a guy who appeared to be about to impale himself on a ski pole.
Mike
Dear Mike,
Glad you could get past your pain.
You know dear, you could be a little more patient. Did you ever think that maybe Rodney was dealing with insecurities in other parts of his life?
Everyone needs someone to talk to.
And, you’d last about 10 minutes in real labor.
Mrs. Higgins.
One of the downsides of skiing is the rich people. I try not to dislike someone who makes more or less money than me, but rich guys can really be annoying.
Here is how it works: they start out all “regular guy,” but when the conversation begins to slide into what looks like peer status, they make sure to clarify the class difference.
Me: “Great skiing today! Hi, I‘m Mike.”
Rich guy: “Yes it is. My pleasure, I‘m sure. Rodney.”
Me: “Good to meet you, Rodney. A lot less windy than yesterday.”
Rich guy: “Well, heh heh, it was calm as could be in the Swiss Alps yesterday.”
Me: “Wow, you were in Europe?”
Rich guy: “Yes, the Westwind was tied up in Rome, so we were stuck in the Lear last night. Just doesn‘t have the roominess or ride, but we struggled through.”
Me: (in my mind) “Yeah, well my 747 was in for an oil change at Jiffy Lube, so I just came out in the space shuttle.”
Me: (in real life) “Wow.” (always quick on my feet)
Rich guy: “So Mick, what do you do?”
Me: “Uh, its Mike. I’m a programmer. How about yourself Rodney?”
Rich guy: “Software eh? Well I’ve had my share of software companies. Such a bore dealing with nerdy little geeks.”
Me: (in my mind) “I know the secret handshake to THAT club.”
As Rodney continues detailing his life’s accomplishments, I‘m looking for a smooth way to exit the vicinity.
Unfortunately, at this point, we happen to be on a chair lift about 40 feet off the ground.
I’m mentally weighing: bailing out of the chair with a likely compound fracture, versus spending another 3 minutes with Rodney.
Then I remembered Lamaze breathing.
Rich guy: “… and as I was saying Mark, I absolutely stole this little villa in the south of France…”
Me: (concentrating on the tip of my left ski) … hee hee hee hee hee hee hee …
This can’t be much worse than your average contraction.
Anyway, Mrs. Higgins, I’m happy to say I made it to the top without injury.
Saw Rodney later in the day talking to a guy who appeared to be about to impale himself on a ski pole.
Mike
Dear Mike,
Glad you could get past your pain.
You know dear, you could be a little more patient. Did you ever think that maybe Rodney was dealing with insecurities in other parts of his life?
Everyone needs someone to talk to.
And, you’d last about 10 minutes in real labor.
Mrs. Higgins.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Not always what they seem
Dear Mrs. Higgins,
Remember my new coffee friend Jose? Well there is a problem.
Turns out, those weren’t coffee plants. I should have guessed something due to all the giggling I’ve been hearing. But, as you know, I don’t speak Spanish, so how could I tell.
Also, 5 empty boxes of Girl Scout cookies should have caught my attention.
(well ok, I was kind of in on the shortbreads, but 4 of those I had nothing to do with)
Also turns out Jose, isn’t Jose. He’s Ernie. And, instead of being from some place really cool like Brazil or Costa Rica, he’s from Valparaiso Indiana.
So instead of worrying about immigration, now I’ve got the DEA all over the joint. (sorry, bad choice of words) Really hope they don’t confiscate my new coffee maker.
Sounds like Valpo Ernie may be going in for awhile. Just when you think you know a guy.
Mike
Dear Mike,
Sorry about your new friend’s departure.
How many boxes of Girl Scout cookies do you have around there?
Next time, why don’t you make a donation to the Girl Scouts and go buy an apple?
Mrs. Higgins
Remember my new coffee friend Jose? Well there is a problem.
Turns out, those weren’t coffee plants. I should have guessed something due to all the giggling I’ve been hearing. But, as you know, I don’t speak Spanish, so how could I tell.
Also, 5 empty boxes of Girl Scout cookies should have caught my attention.
(well ok, I was kind of in on the shortbreads, but 4 of those I had nothing to do with)
Also turns out Jose, isn’t Jose. He’s Ernie. And, instead of being from some place really cool like Brazil or Costa Rica, he’s from Valparaiso Indiana.
So instead of worrying about immigration, now I’ve got the DEA all over the joint. (sorry, bad choice of words) Really hope they don’t confiscate my new coffee maker.
Sounds like Valpo Ernie may be going in for awhile. Just when you think you know a guy.
Mike
Dear Mike,
Sorry about your new friend’s departure.
How many boxes of Girl Scout cookies do you have around there?
Next time, why don’t you make a donation to the Girl Scouts and go buy an apple?
Mrs. Higgins
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Issues in Left Field
Dear Mrs. Higgins,
It started with Uncle Stan. Then my big brother Cecil, who is kinder and gentler (and would probably wince at the Bush Sr. reference). Then Donald Miller, the Blue Like Jazz guy. And now: Anne Lamott.
I’m starting to love liberals. I think this is a problem.
Don’t get me wrong, I’d still rather see a person get a job than a handout. I believe unions are a big part of what’s wrong with our economy, corporations can actually be good things, less government is always better, and Reagan was the best president this side of Lincoln.
But liberals aren’t stupid. It would be a lot handier for me if they were.
And now, some are worshiping the same Jesus I do.
Not mother earth, or the sky, or trees, or Al Gore, Jesus.
I even like Obama. So far out of dozens of things he has proposed, I agree with two of them: revamping education and stem cell research.
The rest of his stuff, not even close.
And I even liked him on Leno the other night, although W would have been impeached and probably shot for the “Special Olympics” comment.
(most likely during the next commercial break)
Anyway, Mrs. H, I liked it a lot better when I considered all liberals short sighted, atheistic, idiots.
I don’t think I want to start loving these people.
What do I do?
Mike
Dear Mike,
You may be starting to grow up.
Of course you can love people with opinions different than yours.
Not everyone thinks like you do.
(that in itself is evidence of a kind and loving God)
Just love them.
And once in a great while, when you aren’t proclaiming your truth from on high, you can be quiet and listen.
You don’t have to join the ACLU, but you can listen.
And I agree with you about Ronnie.
(agreeing with you always makes my stomach a little upset - now where‘s my Pepto)
Love and kisses,
Mrs H.
It started with Uncle Stan. Then my big brother Cecil, who is kinder and gentler (and would probably wince at the Bush Sr. reference). Then Donald Miller, the Blue Like Jazz guy. And now: Anne Lamott.
I’m starting to love liberals. I think this is a problem.
Don’t get me wrong, I’d still rather see a person get a job than a handout. I believe unions are a big part of what’s wrong with our economy, corporations can actually be good things, less government is always better, and Reagan was the best president this side of Lincoln.
But liberals aren’t stupid. It would be a lot handier for me if they were.
And now, some are worshiping the same Jesus I do.
Not mother earth, or the sky, or trees, or Al Gore, Jesus.
I even like Obama. So far out of dozens of things he has proposed, I agree with two of them: revamping education and stem cell research.
The rest of his stuff, not even close.
And I even liked him on Leno the other night, although W would have been impeached and probably shot for the “Special Olympics” comment.
(most likely during the next commercial break)
Anyway, Mrs. H, I liked it a lot better when I considered all liberals short sighted, atheistic, idiots.
I don’t think I want to start loving these people.
What do I do?
Mike
Dear Mike,
You may be starting to grow up.
Of course you can love people with opinions different than yours.
Not everyone thinks like you do.
(that in itself is evidence of a kind and loving God)
Just love them.
And once in a great while, when you aren’t proclaiming your truth from on high, you can be quiet and listen.
You don’t have to join the ACLU, but you can listen.
And I agree with you about Ronnie.
(agreeing with you always makes my stomach a little upset - now where‘s my Pepto)
Love and kisses,
Mrs H.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Having it my way
Dear Mrs. Higgins,
Working out on the road a few days ago, I needed to stop and grab some lunch.
As you know, I’m all about the health food, so I’ve decided on tofu and bean sprouts.
Unfortunately this particular interstate exit doesn’t have Tofu King, so I settle for a double whopper with cheese.
Then the guy behind the counter asks me “what size?” Now, I’m a little confused. I thought I had kind of settled this with “double."
You mean like what sized cow do you have to knock down to get this baby on the grill, or what?
Turns out the size is for fries and drink. Oh.
Anyway, I go for medium, which I figure is a safe bet, and the fry portion looks perfect. Then he pulls out about a half gallon of Coke, which I assume is for the family of four in line behind me.
Nope. All mine. I can’t even pick it up with one hand.
I’m wondering what the large is like until I look across the restaurant and see a guy with his face in what appears to be a wash tub. Oh.
As I’m finishing my meal and wondering why I’m having so much trouble losing weight, I notice that BK is now in the fine gem business.
Yup. Some kind of Pink Panther movie promotion that includes necklaces with pink stones.
Ok, I’ve seen the crowns. In fact I was wearing one during lunch - kinda makes me feel regal. (and don’t think folks don’t notice, they do)
But I was wondering how many people purchase jewelry here.
Honey, I’m home! I brought supper! And a little something for our 25th wedding anniversary! Hey, who needs ketchup?
Anyway Mrs H, I know your birthday is coming up. I think you’re going to be very pleased this year. (and could include onion rings!)
Mike
Dear Mike,
Lets recap: you were a little confused.
Do you have any new information?
Hate to take away from you feeling regal, but I think the crowns are for kids.
And lets just skip exchanging birthday presents this year.
Mrs Higgins
Working out on the road a few days ago, I needed to stop and grab some lunch.
As you know, I’m all about the health food, so I’ve decided on tofu and bean sprouts.
Unfortunately this particular interstate exit doesn’t have Tofu King, so I settle for a double whopper with cheese.
Then the guy behind the counter asks me “what size?” Now, I’m a little confused. I thought I had kind of settled this with “double."
You mean like what sized cow do you have to knock down to get this baby on the grill, or what?
Turns out the size is for fries and drink. Oh.
Anyway, I go for medium, which I figure is a safe bet, and the fry portion looks perfect. Then he pulls out about a half gallon of Coke, which I assume is for the family of four in line behind me.
Nope. All mine. I can’t even pick it up with one hand.
I’m wondering what the large is like until I look across the restaurant and see a guy with his face in what appears to be a wash tub. Oh.
As I’m finishing my meal and wondering why I’m having so much trouble losing weight, I notice that BK is now in the fine gem business.
Yup. Some kind of Pink Panther movie promotion that includes necklaces with pink stones.
Ok, I’ve seen the crowns. In fact I was wearing one during lunch - kinda makes me feel regal. (and don’t think folks don’t notice, they do)
But I was wondering how many people purchase jewelry here.
Honey, I’m home! I brought supper! And a little something for our 25th wedding anniversary! Hey, who needs ketchup?
Anyway Mrs H, I know your birthday is coming up. I think you’re going to be very pleased this year. (and could include onion rings!)
Mike
Dear Mike,
Lets recap: you were a little confused.
Do you have any new information?
Hate to take away from you feeling regal, but I think the crowns are for kids.
And lets just skip exchanging birthday presents this year.
Mrs Higgins
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Cousin Art - the Sequel
Dear Mrs Higgins,
As you know, I’m all about the mastery of things electronic, and my new coffee maker is no exception. Finished the 4th instructional dvd last night about midnight titled: “Regular cleaning of the coffee chute.”
I wouldn’t hesitate to call it the feel good movie of the year, and very informative.
Thus armed, I tossed in some coffee beans, water, a couple burritos for Jose, and scheduled my first brew for 6am.
First thing this morning and I’m enjoying the aroma of fresh brewing coffee.
Sweet!
That preceded slightly by the automatic bean grinder which sounded a bit like two guys cutting through my coffee table with chain saws.
Alarm clock? No necessito!
Anyway, Mrs. H, stop by for a cup of java. I’m up to speed!
Mike
Dear Mike,
You’re up to speed alright.
I will come by for a cup. I’ve heard that your new machine can make the best coffee this side of Starbucks - which is a place apparently just a little past your “mastery.”
Nice you and Jose are chatting.
Mrs. Higgins
As you know, I’m all about the mastery of things electronic, and my new coffee maker is no exception. Finished the 4th instructional dvd last night about midnight titled: “Regular cleaning of the coffee chute.”
I wouldn’t hesitate to call it the feel good movie of the year, and very informative.
Thus armed, I tossed in some coffee beans, water, a couple burritos for Jose, and scheduled my first brew for 6am.
First thing this morning and I’m enjoying the aroma of fresh brewing coffee.
Sweet!
That preceded slightly by the automatic bean grinder which sounded a bit like two guys cutting through my coffee table with chain saws.
Alarm clock? No necessito!
Anyway, Mrs. H, stop by for a cup of java. I’m up to speed!
Mike
Dear Mike,
You’re up to speed alright.
I will come by for a cup. I’ve heard that your new machine can make the best coffee this side of Starbucks - which is a place apparently just a little past your “mastery.”
Nice you and Jose are chatting.
Mrs. Higgins
Monday, March 16, 2009
Cousin Art
Dear Mrs. Higgins,
Another year slid by and my kids helped celebrate the big day by getting me a new coffee maker. They know how much the old man loves coffee, and bless their hearts, they wanted to get me the best.
Ok, the thing is about the size of a phone booth. There is a place for water, a place for beans, there are a couple coffee plants growing in the back, and I’m pretty sure a guy named Jose, who I’m guessing tends the plants, is living in there as well.
So this morning I uncrated the thing and started checking out all the components. The instrument panel is nothing out of the ordinary, if you fly DC-10’s a lot.
But hey, I’m a learning curve kind of guy. So I dug right in. I’ll say one thing for this Art guy. He is friendly. Welcomed me to his family, which only sketched me out a little. I have enough cousins already, and they know how to spell. But I pressed on, read the first 8 chapters of the manual then watched a couple hours of the first instructional DVD.
But by now I’m getting the shakes from missing today’s caffeine, so I just drove to Starbucks. I like Starbucks, but never considered it a religious experience. But I’m pretty sure the lady in front of me started speaking in tongues. “Mocha latte expresso shota mucha java capachino” and on, and on.
Strange thing was, the guy behind the counter just smiled and handed her a drink. Guess that happens a lot in there.
So I order a cup of coffee and the guy just stares at me blankly, like there’s more for me to say.
Finally he blurts out: “venti?”
And I’m like “Hey dreadlocks, back off, this is still America!”
Anyway Mrs. H, I did finally get my cup of Joe and got the day started, although it was 4pm. I dig these time saving devices.
Just hope Jose has a green card. You never know when Obama may want me on his cabinet, and I don’t want to have any issues.
Mike
Dear Mike,
That would be the shortest vetting in the history of government.
By the way, that's Cuisinart, not cousin art. Its a brand name, not a family.
Why don’t you tend the plants and let Jose write me.
Mrs Higgins
Another year slid by and my kids helped celebrate the big day by getting me a new coffee maker. They know how much the old man loves coffee, and bless their hearts, they wanted to get me the best.
Ok, the thing is about the size of a phone booth. There is a place for water, a place for beans, there are a couple coffee plants growing in the back, and I’m pretty sure a guy named Jose, who I’m guessing tends the plants, is living in there as well.
So this morning I uncrated the thing and started checking out all the components. The instrument panel is nothing out of the ordinary, if you fly DC-10’s a lot.
But hey, I’m a learning curve kind of guy. So I dug right in. I’ll say one thing for this Art guy. He is friendly. Welcomed me to his family, which only sketched me out a little. I have enough cousins already, and they know how to spell. But I pressed on, read the first 8 chapters of the manual then watched a couple hours of the first instructional DVD.
But by now I’m getting the shakes from missing today’s caffeine, so I just drove to Starbucks. I like Starbucks, but never considered it a religious experience. But I’m pretty sure the lady in front of me started speaking in tongues. “Mocha latte expresso shota mucha java capachino” and on, and on.
Strange thing was, the guy behind the counter just smiled and handed her a drink. Guess that happens a lot in there.
So I order a cup of coffee and the guy just stares at me blankly, like there’s more for me to say.
Finally he blurts out: “venti?”
And I’m like “Hey dreadlocks, back off, this is still America!”
Anyway Mrs. H, I did finally get my cup of Joe and got the day started, although it was 4pm. I dig these time saving devices.
Just hope Jose has a green card. You never know when Obama may want me on his cabinet, and I don’t want to have any issues.
Mike
Dear Mike,
That would be the shortest vetting in the history of government.
By the way, that's Cuisinart, not cousin art. Its a brand name, not a family.
Why don’t you tend the plants and let Jose write me.
Mrs Higgins
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Classic
Dear Mrs Higgins,
As you know, I’m all about improving my mind. So there I was spending quality time in the library checking out movies and music cd’s. Thought I’d catch up on some good old classic rock.
I checked out a handful of discs and when I got home I realized that one of them was by a guy called Tchaikovsky. I’m sure your thinking the same thing I did - this guy ain’t from around here.
Here I’m looking for some good Americans like the Beatles and Led Zeppelin and I end up with a Russian.
Turns out commies aren’t too creative when it comes to naming albums. This particular disc was called “Symphony 2 in C minor.”
Wow.
Spend a lot of time coming up with that one comrade? And do we really need to know what key its in?
Glad John Grisham doesn’t use your naming technique or “The Firm” might have been called “Novel 4 With Courier 12 point.”
Then Karl Marx lists his individual songs in, get this, Italian. I guess he was too ashamed of his crappy country so he starts taking like Papa Luigi in The Godfather.
“Adante sustenuto - Allegro vivo” Yeah, big whip. We all like pasta.
Anyway the music wasn’t too bad, if you really enjoy riding in an elevator.
Not sure how this obscure nobody made it to the library in the first place.
I’ll be returning Mr. Ruskie real soon.
Mike
Dear Mike,
Where to start.
Lets just say that the “obscure nobody” does have a bit of a following. Folks with every so slightly more sophisticated taste.
Why don’t you leave him on the shelf for those people.
I have an idea, next time you are in the library, why don’t you check out a book.
Start with one with pictures if you like.
And unless Obama bought Great Britain last week, Beatles and Led Zeppelin aren’t too American either.
Nice to hear from you,
Mrs Higgins.
As you know, I’m all about improving my mind. So there I was spending quality time in the library checking out movies and music cd’s. Thought I’d catch up on some good old classic rock.
I checked out a handful of discs and when I got home I realized that one of them was by a guy called Tchaikovsky. I’m sure your thinking the same thing I did - this guy ain’t from around here.
Here I’m looking for some good Americans like the Beatles and Led Zeppelin and I end up with a Russian.
Turns out commies aren’t too creative when it comes to naming albums. This particular disc was called “Symphony 2 in C minor.”
Wow.
Spend a lot of time coming up with that one comrade? And do we really need to know what key its in?
Glad John Grisham doesn’t use your naming technique or “The Firm” might have been called “Novel 4 With Courier 12 point.”
Then Karl Marx lists his individual songs in, get this, Italian. I guess he was too ashamed of his crappy country so he starts taking like Papa Luigi in The Godfather.
“Adante sustenuto - Allegro vivo” Yeah, big whip. We all like pasta.
Anyway the music wasn’t too bad, if you really enjoy riding in an elevator.
Not sure how this obscure nobody made it to the library in the first place.
I’ll be returning Mr. Ruskie real soon.
Mike
Dear Mike,
Where to start.
Lets just say that the “obscure nobody” does have a bit of a following. Folks with every so slightly more sophisticated taste.
Why don’t you leave him on the shelf for those people.
I have an idea, next time you are in the library, why don’t you check out a book.
Start with one with pictures if you like.
And unless Obama bought Great Britain last week, Beatles and Led Zeppelin aren’t too American either.
Nice to hear from you,
Mrs Higgins.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Kids These Days
Dear Mrs Higgins,
Recently I heard a high schooler say he couldn’t wait to get home and play with his wee.
I told the young man in a quiet voice, that I understood, but maybe that isn’t the best thing to talk about in public.
Shortly after that, another young man complained that he was exhausted from playing with his wee all night.
Kinda winced a bit on that one, but who knows, maybe he doesn’t have cable.
Later I heard a group of kids planning an entire party on Bill’s wee.
Hmm.
Well, as you know Mrs H, I’m a live and let live kind of guy.
And I’ve had my wild times. As you recall, sophomore year I was vice president of the chess club. So I know all about things getting a little crazy.
Not sure we have to have all this talk about it though.
Oh well, another generation. And I think someone needs to explain to Michael Phelps what “going green” really means.
What do you think Mrs H?
Mike
Dear Mike,
Its Wii, not wee. It is a video game. Do you ever leave your
office?
Maybe you should worry less about the new generation and
more about yours.
Too bad about young Phelps. The picture with the bong will likely not appear on Corn Flakes, although there may be a late night market there.
And yes, I’m sure you were quite the wild man - chess boy.
Mrs Higgins
Recently I heard a high schooler say he couldn’t wait to get home and play with his wee.
I told the young man in a quiet voice, that I understood, but maybe that isn’t the best thing to talk about in public.
Shortly after that, another young man complained that he was exhausted from playing with his wee all night.
Kinda winced a bit on that one, but who knows, maybe he doesn’t have cable.
Later I heard a group of kids planning an entire party on Bill’s wee.
Hmm.
Well, as you know Mrs H, I’m a live and let live kind of guy.
And I’ve had my wild times. As you recall, sophomore year I was vice president of the chess club. So I know all about things getting a little crazy.
Not sure we have to have all this talk about it though.
Oh well, another generation. And I think someone needs to explain to Michael Phelps what “going green” really means.
What do you think Mrs H?
Mike
Dear Mike,
Its Wii, not wee. It is a video game. Do you ever leave your
office?
Maybe you should worry less about the new generation and
more about yours.
Too bad about young Phelps. The picture with the bong will likely not appear on Corn Flakes, although there may be a late night market there.
And yes, I’m sure you were quite the wild man - chess boy.
Mrs Higgins
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Pit Stop
Dear Mrs Higgins,
Returning from a grueling, important, high powered, business trip, a good friend of mine picked me up from the airport.
We are driving through a part of Chicago I’d rather see from the plane I just got off of, and my friend, who I’ll call Frank (although his real name is Tim) hits a pothole that could easily house a medium sized cow.
Frank/Tim, displaying excellent driving prowess, is able to keep the car from rolling over. But sure enough, in a couple hundred yards we are riding on 3 inflated and one flat.
Due to all the work, and stress, and exertion of my previous trip, I’ve taken a bit of a cold. And this lovely Chicago evening its about 10 with the wind howling.
When I remarked that I had a AAA card, Frank/Tim/Dip@#$% said he didn’t think they would come to this part of town, and if they did, they wouldn‘t be in a hurry.
Lovely.
So while I’m just delighted with Tim, he seems pretty giddy about driving a couple hours of Friday rush hour traffic to save me a few bucks on parking - with his 7 month old daughter in the back seat.
No worries. A couple sharp mechanics would get that tire changed in no time.
What that has to do with Tim and me, I’m not sure.
Fortunately, we had no one bother us. Not sure who would attack a pudgy, red faced, swearing, sneezing, coughing, lug wrench wielding maniac, but you just never know. (and Tim did have my back)
Only later, after dropping Tim and the baby at his house did I wonder how that road could have gotten that bad.
As I approached a toll booth on the expressway home, it became clearer. Gov Blago’s name appears in big letters on each toll road sign. I could almost picture his hand grabbing the change as I tossed it in the basket.
Anyway Mrs Higgins, watch out when you are driving. I know your eyes aren’t what they used to be.
Mike
Dear Mike,
Returning from a grueling, important, high powered, business trip, a good friend of mine picked me up from the airport.
We are driving through a part of Chicago I’d rather see from the plane I just got off of, and my friend, who I’ll call Frank (although his real name is Tim) hits a pothole that could easily house a medium sized cow.
Frank/Tim, displaying excellent driving prowess, is able to keep the car from rolling over. But sure enough, in a couple hundred yards we are riding on 3 inflated and one flat.
Due to all the work, and stress, and exertion of my previous trip, I’ve taken a bit of a cold. And this lovely Chicago evening its about 10 with the wind howling.
When I remarked that I had a AAA card, Frank/Tim/Dip@#$% said he didn’t think they would come to this part of town, and if they did, they wouldn‘t be in a hurry.
Lovely.
So while I’m just delighted with Tim, he seems pretty giddy about driving a couple hours of Friday rush hour traffic to save me a few bucks on parking - with his 7 month old daughter in the back seat.
No worries. A couple sharp mechanics would get that tire changed in no time.
What that has to do with Tim and me, I’m not sure.
Fortunately, we had no one bother us. Not sure who would attack a pudgy, red faced, swearing, sneezing, coughing, lug wrench wielding maniac, but you just never know. (and Tim did have my back)
Only later, after dropping Tim and the baby at his house did I wonder how that road could have gotten that bad.
As I approached a toll booth on the expressway home, it became clearer. Gov Blago’s name appears in big letters on each toll road sign. I could almost picture his hand grabbing the change as I tossed it in the basket.
Anyway Mrs Higgins, watch out when you are driving. I know your eyes aren’t what they used to be.
Mike
Dear Mike,
Next time you go on a “high powered business” trip, take your briefcase, not your skis.
And what in the world are you doin draggin that young daddy and his baby out to fetch your butt from the airport. I’ve seen that baby. She is as beautiful as her mama, and has no business riding through Chicago winter streets to save you a couple bucks.
Its called a taxi.
And if you are having trouble pulling a couple twenties out of your pocket, just close your eyes and pretend you’re back buying $6 beers at a ski lodge.
And my eyes are just fine. I just don’t drive after dark anymore.
You’ll get there too boy, maybe.
Mrs Higgins
Monday, February 2, 2009
Super Size
Dear Mrs. Higgins,
I’m channel surfing yesterday and reminded of Springsteen’s song “57 Channels and Nothin On” when all of sudden, there is the Boss himself!
Sweet!
Looks like a pretty similar crowd to most Springsteen shows when, all of sudden, they stop the concert for a football game.
No kidding, a football game.
And it was a couple teams nobody cares about anyway. I think it was St Louis and the Steelers.
I’d hate to see Springsteen interrupted for Bears/Packers, but these two nobodies?
Anyway, the Boss is aging pretty well, but Little Steven, well lets just say we may need a new nickname. I’m just glad HE didn’t have a wardrobe malfunction.
So anyway Mrs H, did you catch Bruce?
Mike
Dear Mike,
I did see your buddy during half time of the Superbowl.
A couple of us were aware it was the big game day, like maybe 200 million or so.
Way to keep up.
Also, for your information, the Cardinals moved to Phoenix from St. Louis in 1988. You may want to jot that down somewhere.
Funny, you badmouthing Little Steven. You got any mirrors that ain’t broke at your house, or did you lose a contact lens?
Its a new year, honey. Try and sit up a little straighter,
Mrs Higgins
I’m channel surfing yesterday and reminded of Springsteen’s song “57 Channels and Nothin On” when all of sudden, there is the Boss himself!
Sweet!
Looks like a pretty similar crowd to most Springsteen shows when, all of sudden, they stop the concert for a football game.
No kidding, a football game.
And it was a couple teams nobody cares about anyway. I think it was St Louis and the Steelers.
I’d hate to see Springsteen interrupted for Bears/Packers, but these two nobodies?
Anyway, the Boss is aging pretty well, but Little Steven, well lets just say we may need a new nickname. I’m just glad HE didn’t have a wardrobe malfunction.
So anyway Mrs H, did you catch Bruce?
Mike
Dear Mike,
I did see your buddy during half time of the Superbowl.
A couple of us were aware it was the big game day, like maybe 200 million or so.
Way to keep up.
Also, for your information, the Cardinals moved to Phoenix from St. Louis in 1988. You may want to jot that down somewhere.
Funny, you badmouthing Little Steven. You got any mirrors that ain’t broke at your house, or did you lose a contact lens?
Its a new year, honey. Try and sit up a little straighter,
Mrs Higgins
Monday, January 12, 2009
Bunny Hill
Dear Mrs Higgins,
As you know, I’ve taken up snow skiing. Totally typical behavior for someone in their prime and in top physical condition.
I’m telling you though, the preparation ritual for a day on the slopes is something straight out of middle ages. (I’m guessing you remember those days)
It starts with the getup.
I have these high-tech socks, with which I could pretty much walk across Antarctica without shoes if I wanted to. (and I’m thinking about it)
Then there are the high-tech longies. Really didn’t want white, but that was all they had in stock. They are the only things in North America whiter than my legs.
Next comes the shirt of pain. Ok, that’s not what its called, but “if the shoe fits…” and it really, really doesn’t.
I paid more for this stupid-ass, sweat wicking, armour all, pro athlete shirt than any shirt I’ve ever bought. They said at the sporting goods store: “its supposed to be tight.”
Yeah well, I’m supposed to breath. And, at 9000 feet that's hard enough without wearing this stupid corset.
And, after shoe-horning my chassis into this thing I had the misfortune to walk past a mirror.
Oh boy.
Think: 10 lbs of bleep in a 5 pound bag.
Gandhi, I ain’t.
Ski pants, sweatshirts, coat, gloves, hat, goggles, the preparation continues.
Now I’m excited. I‘m lightheaded. I’m out of breath. I’m sweating. I’m really exerting myself.
And then, …. I put on the other ski boot.
Who in the world ever invented these stupid things. Getting into them is a freakin workout. (pretty much need a nap after, but who could possibly sleep with these f.ing things on)
Well, its been a good start. Not sure how to get myself to the ski runs from here, but I did find the pub.
I love this sport.
Mike
Dear Mike,
I caught your smart assed remark about the middle ages. For your information, that was the class ahead of me.
But speaking of “in their prime and in top physical condition” Is that somebody I know?
Good that you took up another sport.
Just so you know: it supposed to be outdoors.
Mrs H
As you know, I’ve taken up snow skiing. Totally typical behavior for someone in their prime and in top physical condition.
I’m telling you though, the preparation ritual for a day on the slopes is something straight out of middle ages. (I’m guessing you remember those days)
It starts with the getup.
I have these high-tech socks, with which I could pretty much walk across Antarctica without shoes if I wanted to. (and I’m thinking about it)
Then there are the high-tech longies. Really didn’t want white, but that was all they had in stock. They are the only things in North America whiter than my legs.
Next comes the shirt of pain. Ok, that’s not what its called, but “if the shoe fits…” and it really, really doesn’t.
I paid more for this stupid-ass, sweat wicking, armour all, pro athlete shirt than any shirt I’ve ever bought. They said at the sporting goods store: “its supposed to be tight.”
Yeah well, I’m supposed to breath. And, at 9000 feet that's hard enough without wearing this stupid corset.
And, after shoe-horning my chassis into this thing I had the misfortune to walk past a mirror.
Oh boy.
Think: 10 lbs of bleep in a 5 pound bag.
Gandhi, I ain’t.
Ski pants, sweatshirts, coat, gloves, hat, goggles, the preparation continues.
Now I’m excited. I‘m lightheaded. I’m out of breath. I’m sweating. I’m really exerting myself.
And then, …. I put on the other ski boot.
Who in the world ever invented these stupid things. Getting into them is a freakin workout. (pretty much need a nap after, but who could possibly sleep with these f.ing things on)
Well, its been a good start. Not sure how to get myself to the ski runs from here, but I did find the pub.
I love this sport.
Mike
Dear Mike,
I caught your smart assed remark about the middle ages. For your information, that was the class ahead of me.
But speaking of “in their prime and in top physical condition” Is that somebody I know?
Good that you took up another sport.
Just so you know: it supposed to be outdoors.
Mrs H
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Fruitcake
Dear Mrs. Higgins,
Happy New Year to you and thanks again for the fruitcake. Its always a special treat.
I used a piece of it to chalk the back wheels of my car when changing a tire. And was able to sell the rest to a well drilling company. They are always looking for a material hard enough to cut through granite.
Speaking of fruitcakes, I saw our beloved Governor on national TV the other night. He was in a thousand dollar suit, smiling and shaking hands, and introducing his selection for US Senate.
(I could almost hear a cash register ching-ching)
And, here is the strange part, people are smiling back and actually appear happy to see him. And his candidate seems totally comfortable being on a podium with him.
Did I miss something?
This is the guy who is quoted on a federal wiretap saying the seat is worth some f-ing money. Shouldn’t he, and everyone around him be, oh, I don’t know, ASHAMED????
Isn’t congress itself losing a little credibility by “playing nice ” with this guy?
I’d really like to see Blago on national TV, Brady Bunch haircut and all, in a bright orange jumpsuit with his hands shackled to his side.
That is an image that might encourage a few more ethics in politics.
(not that we need that in Illinois, or anything)
What do you think, Mrs. H?
Mike
Dear Mike,
Don’t get too excited. As usual, you have about half the story right. The senate rightly decided to reject anybody the governor chose.
(there is most likely a “stop pay” on a check somewhere)
And did you say “ethics” and “politics” in the same week? You might want to give the Old Style a day off or two.
It did kind of creep me out though, seeing Blago working the crowd.
Can you smile at someone, shake their hand, and vote to impeach in the same day? (Hope so!)
Stop insulting the Brady Bunch. You know that is one of my favorite shows.
And especially don’t you go making fun of my fruitcake. That recipe has been in my family for years.
And looking at you, next year I’m thinking: more fruit, less cake.
Mrs H.
Happy New Year to you and thanks again for the fruitcake. Its always a special treat.
I used a piece of it to chalk the back wheels of my car when changing a tire. And was able to sell the rest to a well drilling company. They are always looking for a material hard enough to cut through granite.
Speaking of fruitcakes, I saw our beloved Governor on national TV the other night. He was in a thousand dollar suit, smiling and shaking hands, and introducing his selection for US Senate.
(I could almost hear a cash register ching-ching)
And, here is the strange part, people are smiling back and actually appear happy to see him. And his candidate seems totally comfortable being on a podium with him.
Did I miss something?
This is the guy who is quoted on a federal wiretap saying the seat is worth some f-ing money. Shouldn’t he, and everyone around him be, oh, I don’t know, ASHAMED????
Isn’t congress itself losing a little credibility by “playing nice ” with this guy?
I’d really like to see Blago on national TV, Brady Bunch haircut and all, in a bright orange jumpsuit with his hands shackled to his side.
That is an image that might encourage a few more ethics in politics.
(not that we need that in Illinois, or anything)
What do you think, Mrs. H?
Mike
Dear Mike,
Don’t get too excited. As usual, you have about half the story right. The senate rightly decided to reject anybody the governor chose.
(there is most likely a “stop pay” on a check somewhere)
And did you say “ethics” and “politics” in the same week? You might want to give the Old Style a day off or two.
It did kind of creep me out though, seeing Blago working the crowd.
Can you smile at someone, shake their hand, and vote to impeach in the same day? (Hope so!)
Stop insulting the Brady Bunch. You know that is one of my favorite shows.
And especially don’t you go making fun of my fruitcake. That recipe has been in my family for years.
And looking at you, next year I’m thinking: more fruit, less cake.
Mrs H.
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