Ralph --
I don't need to wait until I am married to catch every COD-forsaken bug in
the world with my snoz. Everyone I know is married with small children,
unmarried with small children, or unmarried, unattached with small children.
If I want to see my friends I must see their snot-encrusted kids. And, for
some reason -- when the Nintendo is shut off -- kids think I am a human
jungle jim and refuse to leave me in grumpy-old-man peace. I try to keep my
fingers out of snot (i.e., I use gobs of tissue when I wipe runny noses) and
keep to a rigorous hand hygiene program -- most of which means I try not to
touch anything (period) and keep my fingers away from my face (no matter how
much my nose twitches, how much fuzz I have in my teeth, or how painful the
mote in my eye may be). And, I wash whenever I can. It's ridiculous, but
sometimes it works and not too many people notice my Hughesian tendencies.
As for insurance: I got a speeding ticket in West Windsor while driving my
mother's bright fricking red Subaru with my pony tail (cut shortly before
the Pig-nic) flapping out the window. The local constable that stopped me --
just out of diapers it appeared -- was a ... [lots of deleted expletives]
.... Cost me $100 for 45 mph in a 35 mph zone (about 100 yards on a road
otherwise marked at 45 mph). Insurance premiums shot up $500 per year for
three years. And, the delightful State of New Jersey decided I needed to pay
a surcharge of some sort or another at $100 per year for three years. Rather
than fork over $1900, I donated my car to the American Lung Association or
United Cerebal Palsy (or both, I cannot remember), cancelled my insurance,
and high-tailed it out of the burbs where I was hide-bound to my auto. I
would have preferred to keep my car without insurance -- everyone is
required to carry insurance for uninsured drivers, so someone ought to be
uninsured -- or moved to a state (such as Vermont when I was in college)
that does not require insurance (is there such a place today). As for
insurance in general, as a male you should have known they were lying to you
when they said your rates would go down!! Should I need someday to buy a new
car I plan to grow a mustache, claim that Derek is short for Frederica, and
insist that though my last name is Scandanavian, I am, in fact, East
Eurorpean, and that the mustache is a sign of great feminity in my country.
Then -- and only -- then will my rates be reasonable.
Sign me,
Mustacioed Madame
-----Original Message-----
From: Ralph Walter [mailto:[log in to unmask]]
Sent: Wednesday, October 06, 1999 10:16 PM
To: [log in to unmask]
Subject: Re: quiet morning...
See Derek, when you and your squeeze get married and have lots of little
Trelstads, they'll bring home from day care/kindergarten/school every
disease
and illness known to yard apes. My GP told me a couple of years back that I
could expect to be sick constantly until the kids were about 8 and developed
immunities to the various plagues. I think that's going to turn out to be
like the way my insurance agent told me that my car insurance was going to
go
down when I was 18, then when I was 21, then after I was 25. Now they don't
even say it anymore.
As we said in Drama class in my youth, "No foundation, all the way down the
line." Which of our literary colleagues knows where that's from?
Ralph
|
