#GBE2: No Time For Time

Some twenty-five years ago, at a time when I didn't know anything about brand names, someone gave me a Rolex watch. As an anti-fur, don't be ostentatious type gal, I had no idea of the cost or prestige of such a gift. My sister even poked fun–simple me wearing a showy piece of jewelry–as if I knew I had something of value.

Being that it is pretty, I wore it for over twenty years without ever servicing it or buying other watches. I justified it by thinking how in the long run, its cost might be equal to the purchase of multiple watches that break every few years.

The watch has never kept great time–always five minutes slow. Someone told me to buy some gizmo that will spin it twenty-four / seven since it's wound through perpetual motion. I never have.

Last August, about the time this school year began, it stopped. Not having the time to get to my jeweler, who's a good drive from home and closes early, I paid $11 for a slap-on watch that kept better time than my Rolex; but, it eventually rolled off its band and disappeared. I figured I'd use my Fall Break to visit the jeweler and get my Rolex back.

Come vacation, I drove down Poplar to the shop where I found a sign on the door, "On vacation. Be back--yep, you guessed it, the day my vacation ended.

After another month, we finally got the watch to the jeweler who sent it across the country for ridiculously expensive services. I wore my watch almost a month, and then, the band broke. Back to where I started. Will I ever find the time to fix my time keeper? Maybe someone like me is not meant to wear a Rolex.

Silly Sunday: The Blonde Mortician

 

A man who just died is delivered to a local mortuary wearing an expensive, expertly tailored black suit.

The female blonde mortician asks the deceased's wife how she would like the body dressed.  She points out that the man does look good in the black suit he is already wearing.

The widow, however, says that she always thought her husband looked best in blue, and that she wants him in a blue suit.  She gives the blonde mortician a blank check and she says, "I don't care what it costs, but please have my husband in a blue suit for the viewing."

The woman returns the next day for the wake.  To her delight, she finds her husband dressed in a gorgeous blue suit with a subtle chalk stripe; the suit fits him perfectly.

She says to the mortician, "Whatever this cost, I'm very satisfied. You did an excellent job and I'm very grateful.  How much did you spend?"  To her astonishment, the blonde mortician presents her
with the blank check.

  "There's no charge," she says.

  "No, really, I must compensate you for the cost of that exquisite blue suit!" she says.

"Honestly, ma'am," the blonde says, "it cost nothing.  You see a deceased gentleman of about your husband's size was brought in shortly after you left yesterday, and he was wearing an attractive blue suit. I asked his wife if she minded him going to his grave wearing a black suit instead, and she said it made no difference as long as he looked nice."

  "So I just switched the heads."

Writer's Post: Censorship

In a previous post, I mentioned that I didn't want folks telling me what religion to follow. Along the same vein, don't tell me what books to read, what music to listen to, nor what shows to watch. Part of being an American is having the freedom not to have someone else censor my life.

But what's really wrong with censorship is the fact that your mind might fill in the blanks with a whole new meaning. Watch this censored version of The Count.

Or look at part of this speech that I've shortened and censored just for you.

You have been reading about a bad *%^ I got. I have been in *#% and have received #$* from @*&. Which of you wouldn’t consider it the highlight of his life just to #$@ with *%^ for even one #$@?  

              Ooooo wouldn't you love to #$@ with #$@? Just ask Lou Gehrig.

I leave you with one more clip. Enjoy.