Wednesday Wa Pic

Yeah! Let's march right in there and tell them their ability to understand the proper usage of apostrophes sucks. After you!

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All pics shot by and © George Waters, The Wa Blog

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Wednesday Wa Pic

Bad puns are like carpet stains. Hard to get rid of, but fun to make.

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All pics shot by and © George Waters, The Wa Blog

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Wednesday Wa Pic

For when your craving for Ameri food has finally run its course.

Alternate punch line: 

Heidi like you've never seen her before!

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All pics shot by and © George Waters, The Wa Blog

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Wednesday Wa Pic - a not so super cut

 Why yes, that sign is mounted on that pickup truck. Although judging by the size of the barrels in back, you might want to pass if they ask whether you want highlights or color.

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All pics shot by and © George Waters, The Wa Blog

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Wednesday Wa Pic

For when genies go 'round the bend.

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All pics shot by and © George Waters, The Wa Blog

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Wednesday Wa Pic - Renaissance Pleasure-less Faire

 Little known fact: Even the Renaissance had its buzz-kills.

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All pics shot by and © George Waters, The Wa Blog

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Wednesday Wa Pic

 I knew the world was moving toward a universal currency, but I had no idea it would happen this soon.

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All pics shot by and © George Waters, The Wa Blog

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Wednesday Wa Pic

 

Even a trip to the kitchen supply store makes me feel dirty.

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All pics shot by and © George Waters, The Wa Blog

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50th birthday brings appreciation

Fifty years ago last week, two momentous things occurred—President Kennedy authorized sending troops and advisors into Vietnam, and I was born. We all know how well that first thing ended up, but the consequences of my half-century's exploits remain elusive.

I asked an old college friend who turned 50 last year what I should do to celebrate this milestone. "Look back," she said, "and appreciate this journey you've gotten to enjoy."

I was expecting "Get an epic tattoo," but O.K. Looking back I can handle.

Here then, based on my personal experience, is just a sampling of  things you can do on a well-rounded journey of 50 years:

Dance on stage with a fake beard glued to your face; hug many dogs; bust your chin open; cross a finish line first; panic in a cave; wonder why she doesn't seem to know you are alive; feel a kiss down to your toes; build a garage; see your child born; dress publicly like a chipmunk; cross an ocean; laugh multiple beverages out your nose; get dumped; fall asleep reading a kid a bedtime story; learn a lesson about gravity from a skateboard; endure "comedy" traffic school; roll down a grassy hill; rock a standing long jump; install a roof; stay up all night watching meteors; be disappointed by lofty shampoo claims; regret moments of unkindness; bogart M&M's; learn to play banjo; build your child's school project for him; dream about flying; vacuum up a kid's toy and convince yourself that "clunk" was a paper clip; breathe in a hot updraft from the Grand Canyon; run from a skunk; rescue a bee from drowning; get stung by a bee; mow lawns; hike deserts; overdo the garlic; attempt guitar; dance like everyone's watching; stand awestruck by hail; appreciate and mock modern art; lie in feverish wait for the mail; drink from an icy mountain stream; yell at TV commentators; revere the humble pancake; search for meaning; repeat; read a eulogy; suck a paper cut; drag a kite across a field; duel a neighbor with yard signs; clean up after rabbits; compare double-jointedness with relatives; change a flat on a freeway; get stepped on by a horse; wish you'd stayed in touch with a friend you heard died; break into your own house; take in the miracle that is lasagna; hear birdsong for what it is; be moved to tears by words on a page; hold hands until they're both sweaty; hold hands anyway. All these I have done.

The worst thing about turning 50, aside from constantly mixing up "prostate" and "prostrate" in casual conversations, is the wacky t-shirts: "50 is the new 30," "50 is the new...what was I saying?" and the vomitous "50. Aged to perfection."

If you ever see me wearing that shirt, you have my permission to stop me from ever reaching 51. Hit me over the head with that mug which says "At my age, getting lucky means finding my car in the parking lot."

In 1961, a slew of babies were born. Looking at all those writhing, swaddled forms, how could anyone know that some would grow up to be George Clooney, Barack Obama, Meg Ryan, Wayne Gretzky, Eddie Murphy, Fabio?

At 50 we are advised to get our first colonoscopy. At 50 we are eligible to join AARP. I am not even sure what AARP is, except perhaps the sound you make while getting your first colonoscopy.

My kids have classmates with parents who have died before 50. Some of my high school and college friends are already gone too. "Look back and appreciate this journey"?

I am. I do. I will.

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Wednesday Wa Pic

 For your manic episodes of stink.

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All pics shot by and © George Waters, The Wa Blog

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Wednesday Wa Pic - namesake

Now that's my kind of store.

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All pics shot by and © George Waters, The Wa Blog

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Wednesday Wa Pic - Catch your limit!

Not as wily as lake trout, they are still tremendously difficult to catch, especially in their "combo" form.

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All pics shot by and © George Waters, The Wa Blog

Wednesday Wa Pic: ISO confused

This sign makes me want to yell "FUL! ISO Beauty-FUL!" 

I asked the young woman in charge of this mall kiosk if ISO stood for something, like "International Standards Of," but she was from an indeterminate Eastern European country, could not understand me, and basically said "It is the name of the store." 

She was so beauty, though. 

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All pics shot by and © George Waters, The Wa Blog

The Wednesday Wa Pic

I don't like a store where you can't tell what business they are in. Do they sell evolution? Do they sell relativity? If it's clothes, do they even have price tags? Or do you have to haggle over every garment, argue whether it really exists, and if it does, how much it should cost? 

The only upside to this store name I can see is the joke value if somebody says to me, "Great shirt. How much did it cost?" and I can quip, "In theory it was only thirty bucks." Which wouldn't make sense, because there is nothing in this store under a hundred bucks and it wouldn't sound right to say "only a hundred bucks." At least not in my circle of friends.

I hate shopping.

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All pics shot by and © George Waters, The Wa Blog

The Wednesday Wa Pic

 Don't even think about riding in on an emu. This mall has class.

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All pics shot by and © George Waters, The Wa Blog

The Wednesday Wa Pic

 

 I get it. You name your store after the place where the stuff you sell will end up. Like if I were selling chocolate, I would name my store TUMMY. Like if I were selling mortgage-backed securities, I would name my store CRAPPER. Like if I were selling stationary exercise bikes, I would name my store YARD SALE.

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All pics shot by and © George Waters, The Wa Blog

The Wednesday Wa Pic

Cyber Hair. 

Motto: "Just wait till you see what we can do with conditioner and a few 0's and 1's!"

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All pics shot by and © George Waters, The Wa Blog

The Wednesday Wa Pic

From the Latin, meaning "khaki day."  O.K., but I would have gone with "Carpe khaki." Seize the khaki! Of course, somebody might have thought "Carpe khaki" meant "fish khaki."

Which would make a great curse, by the way. Aw, fish khaki! Do me a favor. Next time someone cuts you off in traffic or steals your last Hot Pocket from the office fridge, yell it. Start a trend.

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All pics shot by and © George Waters, The Wa Blog

The Wednesday Wa Pic

For when you just don't have the time to stay in and wrinkle.

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All pics shot by and © George Waters, The Wa Blog

The Wednesday Wa Pic

 

Mama always said, "Whatever you do in life, son, don't ever procrastinate your poultry."

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All pics shot by and © George Waters, The Wa Blog