The Misadventures of Johnny One Shoe

Photo courtesy Google Images.

I drive a lot. Every day I have a 45 minute commute to work and every day I have a 45 minute, or longer, commute back home. It feels like I’m on the road all the time. I try different routes to prevent boredom and I make up songs and silly games while I’m driving to keep myself entertained. One of my favorite ways to liven up the drive is to think up clever stories for items I see abandoned along the road.

Photo courtesy Google Images

Here in California, litter is quite prevalent and if something falls off the turnip truck, the turnip truck driver just keeps driving as though he meant for the item to slide off his vehicle and crash into the road. Other crazy screw balls deliberately stop along the side of lesser used roads to dispose of unwanted items. I see a wide variety of things along just about every road I traverse to and from work. Everything from throw pillows to refrigerators, ladders, mattresses, and so on.

But, the one item that always puzzles me is that one shoe. You never see a pair of shoes, just one all by its lonesome. Why only one? I have multiple theories, but this week, I’m curious to hear your thoughts about the lone shoe lying along the side (or in the middle) of the road. Tell me readers, how do you think that shoe got there?

I’m going to award a prize to the person with the most creative and/or humorous one shoe story. So put those creative thinking caps on and leave me your one shoe theory in a comment below. I’ll choose my favorite and announce it at the end of the week.

Photo courtesy Google Images

Have fun. I’m looking forward to your ideas!

Word of the Day:  Hustings

Fun Fact About Me: One of my favorite college classes was a mining history class where we got to go exploring in old mines.

Original post by Jansen Schmidt, April 2015. Photos courtesy Google Images.

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It’s All About The Pink – Or – It Sucks To Be Ken

I’m not normally in the market for toys this time of year (or any time of the year for that matter), but I usually get a toy or two for the Marines’ annual toy drive each year. This week, as I strolled the aisles of several stores, seeking out that perfect toy for some less fortunate boy and girl (I get one of each you see), I noticed a conspiracy of sorts in the in the doll/action figure department.

I know now why everyone wants to be Barbie, because it’s true what they say, that Bitch does have everything. It’s like tiny Paris Hilton’s cramming the shelves at Toys R Us. And, I’ve got to be honest, it sucks to be Ken. If you’re looking for a Barbie, you have options my friends. Besides the choices for hair and skin color, there are hair style options as well.

Photo courtesy Google Images

This one’s nice.

Photo courtesy Google Images

I had one like this.

Photo courtesy Google Images

Super glam Barbie.

Photo courtesy Google Images

This one is way over the top.

Like I said, options. But, not if you’re in the market for a Ken doll to keep your uber-sexy, so refined, super rich Barbie company. Here’s what you’re likely to end up with.

Photo courtesy Google Images

That’s right. Poor Ken doesn’t even get “real” hair, although he does have nice white teeth.

And Ken doesn’t get to the be man in the relationship. I mean, Ken doesn’t even have his own car for God’s sake. Barbie on the other hand, she has several models to choose from.

Photo courtesy Google Images

She might choose this hot little convertible number. While not a problem for Ken and his plastic hair, driving this beauty anywhere is sure to wreak havoc on Barbie’s updo. Perhaps this one is a better choice for a night out on the town.

Photo courtesy Google Images

No, wait, it’s a convertible, too. This one is better to keep the curls in place, but only if she keeps the stylish sun/moon roof shut.

Photo courtesy Google Images

No guy I know would be caught dead in one of these contraptions on wheels. Well, except for this guy.

Photo courtesy Google Images

He’s obviously confident in his masculinity.

Now if Ken’s like that little guy and doesn’t mind riding shotgun in a pink car, what could be more enjoyable than heading to Barbie’s house after a night out? I’ll tell you what, driving up to this place.

Photo courtesy Google Images

Ah yes, the Barbie dream house. Not so dreamy for Ken, I’m thinking. I mean, seriously, what guy do you know who would live in a bubble gum-colored house complete with Pepto Bismal-colored furniture and appliances? Yeah, this is every guy’s dream house, right here. You think Ken even wants to get lucky in a pink bed? Hmmm.

Why is there no Ken dream house? How come no one’s created a Ken Dream Cave? Think of the accessories you could sell to go with this thing. Ken could have like a 175 inch super-size t.v. screen, maybe a chainsaw, a snow blower and other really cool Ken Dream tools and other guy shit. And why is there no Ken 4×4 monster truck? The Matel folks are missing a market here, I’m telling you.

Of course Ken might change his mind on the living arrangements when he sees all of Barbie’s toys parked in the garage. In addition to your standard issue vehicles (Corvettes are only standard issue if you’re Barbie by the way), she’s got her own RV, airplane, horse trailer, boat with optional boat house if her dream house is near the water, motorcycle and the list goes on and on. Ken could be a very lucky man, if he doesn’t mind pink, and what guy doesn’t want to surround himself with a sea of cotton candy? Can you just see Ken cruising around Barbie dream town on a hot pink scooter? How cool would his friends think he is? I’m guessing even the Gay community might find this a tad too much.

I came to the conclusion as I completed my shopping excursion, that if I’m Barbie, why in God’s name would I even want or need Ken anyway? What the hell is he bringing to this relationship? I mean, he doesn’t even have a . . . you know . . . a certain boy part. Seriously – IT SUCKS TO BE KEN!

What are your thoughts? Would Ken be comfortable in Barbie’s world? Should Barbie even want Ken in her world? Did you (or do you still – I’m won’t judge) have a Barbie dream house?

Word of the day: Stelliform

Fun fact about me: I had 7 Barbies and 2 Kens when I was a kid, but no dream house or dream car. I had to steal one of my brother’s Tonka trucks if we needed to go anywhere. And I built a Barbie not-so-dreamy cabin out of my brother’s Lincoln Logs.

Original post by Jansen Schmidt, December 2013. Photos courtesy Google Images.

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Don’t spill my beer!

At the end of last year, blogger extraordinaire, Ginger Calem, blogged about memories of her first car. There were many responses to that post, one of which was mine. (See http://www.gingercalem.wordpress.com). I’ve been thinking about that post ever since and those thoughts were the brain child of this month’s blog topic.

When I got my first car, I had my driver’s license and had been driving independently for over a year. I learned to drive on my parents’ Plymouth Volare. I know, you’re all insanely jealous, but alas, we did live in the lap of luxury so we could afford those extra little creature comforts. (Yeah right.) But, that’s not the real issue I’m discussing here. My first car was a rebuilt 1969 Volkswagen beetle. It was being used by our neighbors as a chicken feed storage bin and was infested with cobwebs and black widow spiders when we towed the thing home with 4 flat tires and a broken windshield.

This whole dream car thing started when my family and I took a little camping trip along the Northern California coast the summer before my senior year of high school. There were a lot of people having a lot of fun on the sand dunes, including a boy – a really cute boy – who had an awesome baja bug! It was love at first sight. Not so much for the boy, although he was dreamy, as for that really cute, totally cool car. My parents were over-the-top pleased that my heart’s desire for a “first car” was a Volkswagen. They’d lucked out. My brother wanted a brand new turbo-charged Mustang (which he got by the way) and I only wanted a cheap, used, inexpensive-to-insure, beetle!

That started the search for my dream car and my dad’s new project – building a baja bug! As any awesome dad would do, he made my dream come true. He transformed that feed shed into my very first cute little car. About a week before school started, it was ready. Bright and shiny and purring like a kitten. One problem – I didn’t know how to drive a stick shift. Dad to the rescue again. Below is an almost verbatim re-telling of my one and only lesson for learning to drive a stick shift:

Sunday afternoon. Not a cloud in the sky. Dad drives us out to outer Mongolia where we’re sure not to encounter another living person, pulls over to the side of the road and gets out. I adjust my new driver’s seat, buckle my new seat belt, adjust my new killer radio and sparkly new mirrors (in that order) and place hands on the steering wheel at 10 and 2. I look to my dad for instructions. He cracks open a beer and says, “Well drive. And don’t spill my beer.”

Now, please understand, I am NOT condoning this method of instruction. Nor is this particularly good parenting. However, I understand now my dad’s redneck way of getting me to learn to drive with that extra pedal on the floor. The one thing my dad loves more than almost anything is beer. To waste even one small drop by allowing it to spill is nothing short of sacrilige. I didn’t want that hanging over my head. And, heaven knows I didn’t want my new car smelling like beer. I was only 17 years old for crying out loud! Let me tell you, I learned quickly how to ease off that clutch. We jerked down that road exactly one time in each gear before I got the hang of it. Dad held the beer can out the window just in case, but it only took that one lesson and I was driving like a pro! According to my dad, it was a one-beer lesson. I think he was a little disappointed that I caught on so quickly.

Anyway, suffice it to say, I haven’t had an automatic transmission vehicle since 1981. I not only learned how to drive a manual transmission, I fell in love with the manual transmission.

So there you have it. My drinking and driver’s education trip down memory lane!

Now tell me, what’s your “learning to drive” story?

Word of the Day:  Demurrage

Fun fact about me:  I’ve never had a broken bone! (knocking on wood now)

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