Trip up the west coast of america.
As I am writing this, I am sitting at the airport, trawling through
all the pictures I took on my 8 day trip to San Diego, Los Angeles
and San Francisco. It'll be an interesting change to go back to
somewhere with only one name.
I took, including all the multiple "keep the best one of these"
shots, over 1000 pictures. In just seven days (I haven't taken any of
my flight back yet). I sense obsession. I am also mildly intrigued as
to how many will be left when I have trawled through and deleted the
shite ones. I have a tendency to take several of the same view and
ignore the screen on the back for quality control - as i am stuck
using my old IXUS 500, the tiny screen makes it hard to even tell if
the shots are blurred at times. Oh, how I miss my SD450. Still, I can
get it back from repair when I return.
Marvellous.
I have yet to think of a suitably appropriate way to post loads of
shots and still allow people to be able to sit through them without
massive tedium/brain fade. I shall have to try and come up with
something cunning (without at any stage mentioning how useful sets of
sets would be).
Oh. Dammit.
So, kids. Prepare yourselves for a mammoth viewing extravaganza. At
some stage I need to send my laptop off for repair, but the idea of
being without it for any length of time still brings me out in a cold
sweat. I can't believe how utterly dependent on it I am. Well. I can,
I just like to pretend that I have difficulty believing it.
In other news, I want to move to the West Coast. I have a strong
desire (for various reasons) to live in either San Diego or San
Francisco. I have no idea how, or if, I can achieve that. But it is
sure as shit a nicer place to be than Georgia. I'll have to see what
I can do...
Best excuse. Ever...
So. I was supposed to meet someone during my trip to San Francisco today (more of which later) but she didn't manage to make it. I sent her a text to ask what happened, and this is the reply I got:
"Sorry, sucked into a (work related reference) goat fuck. Treading water."
Awesome. Made me laugh lots...
They just pop in to my head...
I sometimes wonder why I don't get punched (or shot, now I am in the US of Guns) through my habit of saying random things that pop into my head. I say stuff to complete strangers just because it makes me laugh when I think of it. I have a few examples (both involving women, it has just occurred to me. That is actually just coincidence).
First one (today):
I am sitting at the bar, waiting for my meal to turn up. Bored. Two girls that had been sitting at the far end, clearly getting annoyed with trying to talk over the loud women cackling next to them, pick up their glasses and move to the chairs next to me. As they sit down, one of them turns to me and acknowledges me, realising that I have twigged why they moved:
Her (conspiratorially): "We just weren't
feeling it down there".
Me: (deadpan) "Yeah. And it's darker up this end. I reckon you'll get away with it if you do now."
Cue confuzzled look and slight hesitation. Then she smiled. At least she passed the test for lateral thinking. Not many american's do.
Second one (a few weeks ago):
Standing in a supermarket queue. Bored. I am watching the woman in the next aisle over. She is absolutely miles away; staring into space and clearly very distracted. This, I find amusing. She is still somewhere on Pluto (on a different
rock, now, rather than a different planet) just standing there, patting her hair down into place. Due to her distraction, she is doing this in one particular place for ages. And I mean
ages. Like 15 seconds. As I am starting to move into 'highly amused' mode, she snaps out of it, and looks straight across at me.
"Now rub your stomach."
Probably because I stayed deadpan, and more than likely because I had an odd (to her) accent, she just looked at me completely baffled. The guy I was with (John) nearly popped a blood vessel trying not to laugh, and had to rush out of the shop.
I think the common factor is that I am bored. Or, rather, that my mind is on freewheel; looking for mischief. This is how I am when I am wandering around looking at stuff, and why I see stupid things to photograph, I think. I do suspect that I will get battered one day, though. These are just two examples of loads. It's just puerile stuff makes me chuckle, and I can't help saying it. I don't really care all that much if other people find it amusing (although I do enjoy it when they do), it's just that stuff makes me laugh. So I say it...
George from Heaven.
George from Heaven.
Originally uploaded by Brock.
The card is so hard to read (it was dark in the restaurant when took the picture), but it was mainly so I would remember to mention this guy, rather than through any attempt for you to read the card.
He is a taxi driver in Charlotte, North Carolina. He is a very jolly, constantly chuckling black guy from Ghana, with a consequently very distinctive accent. Of course, one of the american people's hobbies is to ask "So where are you from?" whenever they hear something out of the ordinary. George started telling people at first, but being as "Ghana" was so often met with blank 'where the hell is that"' looks (no, really), he got bored and, for a joke, started answering "I'm from Heaven".
His conversations consequently go:
"So where are you from?"
Oh, I'm from Heaven.
(consternation from american at odd answer) - " No really, where are you from?"
Heaven. I told you.
"Um."
But if you mean "What country were you born in, it's Ghana, but I, myself, am from heaven. Where are you from? Hell? Alaska?"
They either stop asking, or start laughing.
It mainly started off as George just being bored of having the same old conversation over and over again. But it had an interesting side effect. Everyone remembers "George from Heaven, the taxi driver from Charlotte". Everyone. He often gets calls from the various taxi firms because somene has asked for him personally - sometimes never having met him, but just being told about him. The story just sticks in people's heads, and he is a real laugh to talk to, all chuckling and enthusiasm. So much so that he can be an independent contractor with no fear of being short on fares, as he will always get a firm calling him to say that they have another person asking for him. He even picked up some woman on a business trip from the airport not long before we were there, and she asked his name. When told, she was delighted - "Oh! You're George from Heaven, aren't you?! I heard about you! My friend told me!"
A superb bit of accidental marketing, I thought. It's amazing the stories you hear on a ten minute taxi ride if you chat properly with the driver. Not always, but every now and then you get a gem.
RECT WITH EAR HNDL M
RECT WITH EAR HNDL M
Originally uploaded by Brock.I nearly dissolved into a sniggering fit when this came up as the last item for the customer in front of me, the other day. I was at a (very) small town shop getting some water for the drive home and had to take a picture of the display - I even managed to do it sufficiently stealthily that no-one noticed me and accused me of being a terrorist or something. I'm sure that I was the most junior in the shop by some 40 years had no small part to play in that, mind you.
So I was in stitches as to this completely random, and mind boggling in it's possible permutations, description. I looked over to see what sort of fiendish contraption or selection of body parts warranted such a description, and I bet none of you will guess what it is.
I'll leave you all to guess (as that could be funny), and then will post the answer in a few days and the second challenge can be trying to ratify the description as being relevant to the item in any logical way. I certainly have no idea as to the link.
