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
Thursday, April 23, 2009
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
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