Did you ever…?
by Melech
Did you ever wonder why some people are allowed out in public without a keeper, or at least a restraining order? The law permits these people to interact with the general population without regard for our mental well being. I worry about this every time I am forced to go shopping. Everyone knows that shopping is one of my least favourite things to do. It ranks somewhere after gum surgery and electrocution. When both of the soles decided to detach themselves from my house slippers without warning, I knew I would have to face my fears and go shopping. The panicky feeling began when a salesman approached me and asked if he could help me. Right then and there I knew I should have said: “Yes, please help me to my car so I can go home.” However, I just braved it out and told him that I wanted to buy some house slippers.
“How many?” he asked.
I thought about it a minute and replied: “Two. One for each foot.”
“No,” he said, “I meant how many pairs?” I told him that one pair would be fine. He informed me that they had fur-lined slippers on sale, but I told him that I just wanted plain slippers without a fur lining.
“But these are on sale for half-price and they are lined with genuine imitation possum fur to keep your feet toasty warm.”
“Sir,” I began in measured tones, “It is ninety-eight degrees outside, I don’t want my feet to be toasty warm and I really don’t care if those slippers are lined with the missing link! I just want plain house slippers!”
“But these are on sale for half-price.” he insisted.
When I finished chewing through my wallet, I knew I was defeated so I said I would take the fur-lined slippers.
“We’re all out of them. We have another shipment coming in two weeks from now.”
Even though homicide began to look good, I decided against it because I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life in a prison where they probably only had house slippers lined with fur. I almost made it to the door when another salesman asked if he could help me. Instead of wisely pretending that I didn’t hear him, I replied that I would like to buy some black dress socks. He told me that they had white crew socks on sale. When I insisted on black dress socks, he informed me that the white crew socks were only half-price. Rather than argue, I said I would take the white crew socks, but he said that they ran out of them yesterday and were not expecting any to come in until next month. I picked up a bundle of argyle socks, stuffed them in his mouth and walked out.
When I got home, I went to Plan B. I put on the house slippers with no soles and wrapped them all around with duct tape to hold them on. Then I called my sister and told her what happened at the store, and how I was using my old slippers. She asked how I planned to take the slippers off. I told her that Plan B needed more thought.
She said that with the proper therapy and a thousand volts a day, I should be OK in a few years. Then she hung up on me.
“Did you ever…?” is a weekly newspaper column by Melech
©Copyright 2009 by Melech. All rights reserved
The next column will be posted on July 31, 2009
File#RBCOL44
Friday, July 24, 2009
Saturday, July 18, 2009
"Did you ever...?" (Shopping)
Did you ever…?
by Melech
Did you ever wonder or worry about the dangers of shopping ?
Grocery shopping is one of my least favourite things to do. It ranks somewhere between having gum surgery and slamming my fingers in the car door. I only shop when it is absolutely necessary. Today, it became absolutely necessary. There was no food in the house and I found myself hungrily eyeing the houseplants in my neighbour’s window, and wondering how they would taste with salad dressing. Too late. I already drank the salad dressing for breakfast.
I looked in the mirror and told myself; “You are a strong, healthy man. You are 5’10” tall and in reasonably good physical condition. Surely, you can handle a little shopping trip.”
When I pulled into the car park at the supermarket, my palms began to sweat and I felt a little panicky, but I braved it out, grabbed a shopping trolley (the one that limps), and I entered the store. I was promptly assaulted by a blast of icy air from the air conditioner. Apparently, the store manager feels that thirty degrees below zero is the ideal shopping temperature.
As I was blowing on my hands to keep them warm, a little old lady crashed into the back of my ankles with her shopping trolley and advised me to ‘watch where I was going’. I tried to apologize, but by this time, my lips had frozen shut. The shopping trolley and I, both limped up and down the isles. A large honeydew melon went rolling past me. In an effort to be a Good Samaritan, I bent down to retrieve the melon for the owner. I was immediately knocked senseless by the same little old lady’s shopping trolley, slamming into the side of my head. “That’s my melon,” she shouted. “Go get your own.”
When I regained consciousness, the store manager and two stock boys were leaning over me. One of them said, “Hey, man. We thought you were dead.”
“What gave me away?” I asked.
“When the Paramedics tried to put you in a body bag, you thanked them.”
I finally got to the checkout line and, yes, you guessed it. The same little old lady came sprinting down the aisle, crashed into my shopping trolley and my hip and said: “I was here first!”
Home at last! After putting the groceries away, I was too cold and tired to eat anything, so I thought I would take a nap. As I passed the bedroom mirror, I noticed that I didn’t look anything like the strong, healthy, 5’10” tall man I was earlier. I appeared to be much shorter, hunched over, suffering from frostbite, and I could have sworn that my hair was a different colour.
I called my sister on the phone and told her about everything that had happened. She asked me why I didn’t just go shopping at 6:00 AM, when the market opened. She said that the store was usually rather empty at that time. I told her I felt certain that the same shopping trolley (the one that limps), the same sub-zero temperature in the store, and the same little old lady would be there, waiting for me.
She said that I sounded like a case history on paranoia, and then she hung up on me.
“Did you ever…?” is a weekly newspaper column by Melech
©Copyright 2009 by Melech. All rights reserved
The next column will be posted on July 24, 2009
File #RBCOL03
by Melech
Did you ever wonder or worry about the dangers of shopping ?
Grocery shopping is one of my least favourite things to do. It ranks somewhere between having gum surgery and slamming my fingers in the car door. I only shop when it is absolutely necessary. Today, it became absolutely necessary. There was no food in the house and I found myself hungrily eyeing the houseplants in my neighbour’s window, and wondering how they would taste with salad dressing. Too late. I already drank the salad dressing for breakfast.
I looked in the mirror and told myself; “You are a strong, healthy man. You are 5’10” tall and in reasonably good physical condition. Surely, you can handle a little shopping trip.”
When I pulled into the car park at the supermarket, my palms began to sweat and I felt a little panicky, but I braved it out, grabbed a shopping trolley (the one that limps), and I entered the store. I was promptly assaulted by a blast of icy air from the air conditioner. Apparently, the store manager feels that thirty degrees below zero is the ideal shopping temperature.
As I was blowing on my hands to keep them warm, a little old lady crashed into the back of my ankles with her shopping trolley and advised me to ‘watch where I was going’. I tried to apologize, but by this time, my lips had frozen shut. The shopping trolley and I, both limped up and down the isles. A large honeydew melon went rolling past me. In an effort to be a Good Samaritan, I bent down to retrieve the melon for the owner. I was immediately knocked senseless by the same little old lady’s shopping trolley, slamming into the side of my head. “That’s my melon,” she shouted. “Go get your own.”
When I regained consciousness, the store manager and two stock boys were leaning over me. One of them said, “Hey, man. We thought you were dead.”
“What gave me away?” I asked.
“When the Paramedics tried to put you in a body bag, you thanked them.”
I finally got to the checkout line and, yes, you guessed it. The same little old lady came sprinting down the aisle, crashed into my shopping trolley and my hip and said: “I was here first!”
Home at last! After putting the groceries away, I was too cold and tired to eat anything, so I thought I would take a nap. As I passed the bedroom mirror, I noticed that I didn’t look anything like the strong, healthy, 5’10” tall man I was earlier. I appeared to be much shorter, hunched over, suffering from frostbite, and I could have sworn that my hair was a different colour.
I called my sister on the phone and told her about everything that had happened. She asked me why I didn’t just go shopping at 6:00 AM, when the market opened. She said that the store was usually rather empty at that time. I told her I felt certain that the same shopping trolley (the one that limps), the same sub-zero temperature in the store, and the same little old lady would be there, waiting for me.
She said that I sounded like a case history on paranoia, and then she hung up on me.
“Did you ever…?” is a weekly newspaper column by Melech
©Copyright 2009 by Melech. All rights reserved
The next column will be posted on July 24, 2009
File #RBCOL03
Friday, July 10, 2009
"Did you ever...?" (Kids)
“Did you ever…?”
by Melech
Did you ever wonder about kids? I do. My sister has three boys (a year apart in age) and one girl. Since these children were born, I have observed their growth and progress, and my sister’s mental deterioration. The girl has never been a problem or a worry for my sister or her husband. The boys, however, have completely destroyed the misguided notion of the angelic nature of children.
The oldest boy had totally mastered the art of selective hearing and voluntary deafness. If one of his friends was whispering something six blocks away, he heard every word. On the other hand, if my sister was two feet away and calling him a voice one usually associates with hog calling, he never heard a word. No one will ever convince me that the varicose veins that my sister has on her neck were not caused by yelling for her kids. The fainting spells occurred when, after two hours of sustained screaming, they still didn’t answer.
The second boy was always into music. I think that’s what it was, but I was never sure because it was so loud, the entire county suffered from severe earth tremors, and farm animals, two counties away, became restless. One farmer in the next county tried to sue my sister because his prize cow went deaf, had a stroke, and refused to give milk.
The third boy was into anything that was guaranteed to give my sister stomach cramps, dizzy spells, and the desire to run away from home.
When all three boys were still pre-school age, my sister asked me if she could possibly lie about their ages and get them drafted into the army. I told her that I would check into it.
All three boys are grown now and have children of their own. Just the other day, they were complaining to my sister about how their kids don’t listen to them. They asked her: “Mum, when we were little, did you ever have to yell at us?” My sister didn’t answer; she just smiled sweetly. It was the most beautiful smile I have ever seen. I guess it’s true; revenge is sweet.
“Did you ever…?” is a weekly newspaper column by Melech
Copyright©2008 by Melech. All rights reserved
The next column will be posted on July 17, 2009
File#RBCOL02
by Melech
Did you ever wonder about kids? I do. My sister has three boys (a year apart in age) and one girl. Since these children were born, I have observed their growth and progress, and my sister’s mental deterioration. The girl has never been a problem or a worry for my sister or her husband. The boys, however, have completely destroyed the misguided notion of the angelic nature of children.
The oldest boy had totally mastered the art of selective hearing and voluntary deafness. If one of his friends was whispering something six blocks away, he heard every word. On the other hand, if my sister was two feet away and calling him a voice one usually associates with hog calling, he never heard a word. No one will ever convince me that the varicose veins that my sister has on her neck were not caused by yelling for her kids. The fainting spells occurred when, after two hours of sustained screaming, they still didn’t answer.
The second boy was always into music. I think that’s what it was, but I was never sure because it was so loud, the entire county suffered from severe earth tremors, and farm animals, two counties away, became restless. One farmer in the next county tried to sue my sister because his prize cow went deaf, had a stroke, and refused to give milk.
The third boy was into anything that was guaranteed to give my sister stomach cramps, dizzy spells, and the desire to run away from home.
When all three boys were still pre-school age, my sister asked me if she could possibly lie about their ages and get them drafted into the army. I told her that I would check into it.
All three boys are grown now and have children of their own. Just the other day, they were complaining to my sister about how their kids don’t listen to them. They asked her: “Mum, when we were little, did you ever have to yell at us?” My sister didn’t answer; she just smiled sweetly. It was the most beautiful smile I have ever seen. I guess it’s true; revenge is sweet.
“Did you ever…?” is a weekly newspaper column by Melech
Copyright©2008 by Melech. All rights reserved
The next column will be posted on July 17, 2009
File#RBCOL02
Friday, July 3, 2009
"Did you ever...?" (Singing)
Did you ever…?
by Melech
Did you ever hear someone with a truly great singing voice and wished you were as talented? My neighbour Mark has an excellent singing voice and can actually sing the National Anthem without fainting. The last time I tried singing the National Anthem, I got a cramp in my tongue and one of my tonsils disappeared. Mark and his wife both sing in the church choir and they also belong to the church theatre group. They recently put on a musical production and I was astounded to hear how well Mark could sing. I might have also been a little jealous, because when Mark asked how I liked the show, I told him the show was fine but that he was getting fat. Now he’s not speaking to me again.
The singing lessons I signed up for were no help at all because the teacher didn’t like me. He kept saying things like: “No, no no! I am playing this song in the key of “E” and you are singing in the key of “G”.” When I told him that “E” and “G” weren’t that far apart in the alphabet, he slumped to the floor and began chewing on the piano leg. He was never seen again. Rumour has it that he moved to another country and changed his name.
I began practicing on my own at home. I sang along with the radio until the police came to my door an announced that they received a report that someone was being murdered at this address. No one will ever convince me that Mark wasn’t behind this. The police said they wouldn’t arrest me if I promised not to sing again. My sister agreed with the police and she suggested that I learn to play a musical instrument. When I asked her which instrument would be easiest for me to learn, she said: “A whistling yo-yo or a Kazoo.”
I hung up on her and went to the local music studio to sign up for violin lessons. The first time I drew the bow across the strings, I felt like all my teeth were being drilled at the same time. The music teacher screamed and said that all the roots of her hair had exploded. Clearly, the violin was not for me. Neither was the trumpet. I really tried my best, but when I tried to blow the first note, the dizzy spell was followed by a splitting headache and I discovered that I couldn’t close my eyes for two hours. When I asked the teacher if she had a whistling yo-yo or a Kazoo, she told me to leave her studio or she would have me arrested.
I called my sister again and told her everything that had happened. She said it wasn’t my fault if I wasn’t musically gifted. That was easy for her to say because she has a beautiful singing voice. She once hit a high note that was only heard by a fox terrier in Goodyear, Arizona. When I asked her if she ever had a tonsil disappear, she told me to go take a nap and she hung up on me.
“Did you ever…?” is a weekly newspaper column by Melech
©Copyright 2009 by Melech. All rights reserved
The next column will be posted on July 10, 2009
File#RBCOL43
by Melech
Did you ever hear someone with a truly great singing voice and wished you were as talented? My neighbour Mark has an excellent singing voice and can actually sing the National Anthem without fainting. The last time I tried singing the National Anthem, I got a cramp in my tongue and one of my tonsils disappeared. Mark and his wife both sing in the church choir and they also belong to the church theatre group. They recently put on a musical production and I was astounded to hear how well Mark could sing. I might have also been a little jealous, because when Mark asked how I liked the show, I told him the show was fine but that he was getting fat. Now he’s not speaking to me again.
The singing lessons I signed up for were no help at all because the teacher didn’t like me. He kept saying things like: “No, no no! I am playing this song in the key of “E” and you are singing in the key of “G”.” When I told him that “E” and “G” weren’t that far apart in the alphabet, he slumped to the floor and began chewing on the piano leg. He was never seen again. Rumour has it that he moved to another country and changed his name.
I began practicing on my own at home. I sang along with the radio until the police came to my door an announced that they received a report that someone was being murdered at this address. No one will ever convince me that Mark wasn’t behind this. The police said they wouldn’t arrest me if I promised not to sing again. My sister agreed with the police and she suggested that I learn to play a musical instrument. When I asked her which instrument would be easiest for me to learn, she said: “A whistling yo-yo or a Kazoo.”
I hung up on her and went to the local music studio to sign up for violin lessons. The first time I drew the bow across the strings, I felt like all my teeth were being drilled at the same time. The music teacher screamed and said that all the roots of her hair had exploded. Clearly, the violin was not for me. Neither was the trumpet. I really tried my best, but when I tried to blow the first note, the dizzy spell was followed by a splitting headache and I discovered that I couldn’t close my eyes for two hours. When I asked the teacher if she had a whistling yo-yo or a Kazoo, she told me to leave her studio or she would have me arrested.
I called my sister again and told her everything that had happened. She said it wasn’t my fault if I wasn’t musically gifted. That was easy for her to say because she has a beautiful singing voice. She once hit a high note that was only heard by a fox terrier in Goodyear, Arizona. When I asked her if she ever had a tonsil disappear, she told me to go take a nap and she hung up on me.
“Did you ever…?” is a weekly newspaper column by Melech
©Copyright 2009 by Melech. All rights reserved
The next column will be posted on July 10, 2009
File#RBCOL43
Sunday, June 28, 2009
"Did you ever...?" (Camping)
"Did you ever...?"
by Melech
Did you ever think about planning a camping trip to experience the great outdoors? If you did, then you know what I'm talking about. If you didn’t; don't !!!
A few of the guys in the neighbourhood were talking about it one day and decided to plan a weekend camping trip in the woods. They talked about hiking and fishing and cooking over a campfire. It all sounded good. I knew I should have said "no" right away, but my neighbour Mark, talked me into it. I couldn't refuse him because he had just started speaking to me again. He stopped talking to me weeks ago when my garden hose got away from me and I accidentally sprayed him with weed killer. I tried to explain to him that his hair, eyelashes, and eyebrows would grow back, but he wouldn't listen to me. As it turned out, I was right. His hair is growing back nicely and the numbness has almost left his tongue. His eyebrows and eyelashes will probably take a little more time.
Nine of us planned to go on this camping trip, but the number dwindled to four.
Steve couldn't go because his wife threatened to leave him and make sure he got custody of the kids.
Marty refused to go because we wouldn't let him take his dog. His dog is an annoying toy poodle that is nervous, high-strung, and barks for twenty-three and a half hours every day.
Carl's wife said he could go only if he took their four kids with. He stayed home.
Roger's wife threatened to schedule him for gum surgery if he dared to go.
Doug's wife said that was the weekend he was supposed to clean all the carpeting in the house and help her alphabetise all the canned goods in the cupboard. I have no real proof of this yet, but I am sure Doug's wife spends at least three hours a day pouring grease down the kitchen drain and watching it harden, just so that Doug will have something to do when he comes home from work. She hates to see him sit and relax.
The trip started out badly. Mark asked how far it was and how long it would be before we got there; Bob said he had to use the bathroom; and Dennis wanted to know when we would stop for something to eat.
I ignored them, started up the car, and we pulled out of my driveway.
Several hours later, we pulled into a campsite. We pitched the tents and, after a lot of trial and error, got a good campfire going which was promptly extinguished by the onset of a torrential downpour. We all got into our tents except Bob. A hurricane-force wind blew his tent away and it was never seen again. He had to share a tent with Dennis. Just as I was beginning to wonder if we should begin building an ark, the rain stopped. We came out of our tents and looked around. The entire campsite was under a foot of water. All our supplies had floated away, and I could have sworn I saw a school of fish swim by.
We all slept in the car that night and told each other that everything would be better tomorrow. The next morning, Bob, Mark and Dennis went hiking and I stayed at the campsite to salvage and repair what I could. When the three of them returned, I had things looking pretty good. There was a good campfire going and I had made a tent for Bob from a big old blanket I had in the car. I wish there had been another blanket to build a tent for Mark. I built the campfire too close to Mark's tent and it burned down. Now he is not speaking to me again. They couldn't go fishing because I used their fishing poles and fishing line to build the tent for Bob. When he tried to get into his tent, it collapsed and it took us two hours to untangle him from the blanket, fishing line, and broken fishing poles. Now Bob isn't speaking to me either.
We decided to pack up the car and head for home. I offered to help Dennis pack up his tent, but he said that if I came near him or his tent, he would braid my lips. Mark took a vote and it was unanimous that I shouldn't be allowed to ride home with them, but I out-voted them when I reminded them that it was my car. We drove home in silence except for the sneezing, coughing and scratching. They had all caught terrible colds, and Mark caught a case of poison ivy.
Bob and Dennis finally got over their colds and Mark recovered from his bout with poison ivy, but he is still sneezing and coughing. The three of them are going on another camping trip next weekend, but they didn't invite me. My sister said that they are probably worried that if I went with them again, they would all be doing hard time in a maximum-security prison for murder. When I asked her if she and her husband would like to go on a camping trip, she hung up on me.
"Did you ever...?" is a weekly newspaper column by Melech
©copyright 2009 by Melech all rights reserved
The next article will be posted on July 04, 2009
File#RBCOL19
by Melech
Did you ever think about planning a camping trip to experience the great outdoors? If you did, then you know what I'm talking about. If you didn’t; don't !!!
A few of the guys in the neighbourhood were talking about it one day and decided to plan a weekend camping trip in the woods. They talked about hiking and fishing and cooking over a campfire. It all sounded good. I knew I should have said "no" right away, but my neighbour Mark, talked me into it. I couldn't refuse him because he had just started speaking to me again. He stopped talking to me weeks ago when my garden hose got away from me and I accidentally sprayed him with weed killer. I tried to explain to him that his hair, eyelashes, and eyebrows would grow back, but he wouldn't listen to me. As it turned out, I was right. His hair is growing back nicely and the numbness has almost left his tongue. His eyebrows and eyelashes will probably take a little more time.
Nine of us planned to go on this camping trip, but the number dwindled to four.
Steve couldn't go because his wife threatened to leave him and make sure he got custody of the kids.
Marty refused to go because we wouldn't let him take his dog. His dog is an annoying toy poodle that is nervous, high-strung, and barks for twenty-three and a half hours every day.
Carl's wife said he could go only if he took their four kids with. He stayed home.
Roger's wife threatened to schedule him for gum surgery if he dared to go.
Doug's wife said that was the weekend he was supposed to clean all the carpeting in the house and help her alphabetise all the canned goods in the cupboard. I have no real proof of this yet, but I am sure Doug's wife spends at least three hours a day pouring grease down the kitchen drain and watching it harden, just so that Doug will have something to do when he comes home from work. She hates to see him sit and relax.
The trip started out badly. Mark asked how far it was and how long it would be before we got there; Bob said he had to use the bathroom; and Dennis wanted to know when we would stop for something to eat.
I ignored them, started up the car, and we pulled out of my driveway.
Several hours later, we pulled into a campsite. We pitched the tents and, after a lot of trial and error, got a good campfire going which was promptly extinguished by the onset of a torrential downpour. We all got into our tents except Bob. A hurricane-force wind blew his tent away and it was never seen again. He had to share a tent with Dennis. Just as I was beginning to wonder if we should begin building an ark, the rain stopped. We came out of our tents and looked around. The entire campsite was under a foot of water. All our supplies had floated away, and I could have sworn I saw a school of fish swim by.
We all slept in the car that night and told each other that everything would be better tomorrow. The next morning, Bob, Mark and Dennis went hiking and I stayed at the campsite to salvage and repair what I could. When the three of them returned, I had things looking pretty good. There was a good campfire going and I had made a tent for Bob from a big old blanket I had in the car. I wish there had been another blanket to build a tent for Mark. I built the campfire too close to Mark's tent and it burned down. Now he is not speaking to me again. They couldn't go fishing because I used their fishing poles and fishing line to build the tent for Bob. When he tried to get into his tent, it collapsed and it took us two hours to untangle him from the blanket, fishing line, and broken fishing poles. Now Bob isn't speaking to me either.
We decided to pack up the car and head for home. I offered to help Dennis pack up his tent, but he said that if I came near him or his tent, he would braid my lips. Mark took a vote and it was unanimous that I shouldn't be allowed to ride home with them, but I out-voted them when I reminded them that it was my car. We drove home in silence except for the sneezing, coughing and scratching. They had all caught terrible colds, and Mark caught a case of poison ivy.
Bob and Dennis finally got over their colds and Mark recovered from his bout with poison ivy, but he is still sneezing and coughing. The three of them are going on another camping trip next weekend, but they didn't invite me. My sister said that they are probably worried that if I went with them again, they would all be doing hard time in a maximum-security prison for murder. When I asked her if she and her husband would like to go on a camping trip, she hung up on me.
"Did you ever...?" is a weekly newspaper column by Melech
©copyright 2009 by Melech all rights reserved
The next article will be posted on July 04, 2009
File#RBCOL19
Friday, June 26, 2009
"Did you ever...?" (Dieting)
Did you ever…?
by Melech
Did you ever wonder why our society is so obsessed with weight that they believe any adult who weighs over twelve pounds is obese? I never thought much about it until I noticed that I could either wear my clothes or breathe. I couldn’t do both. When and how did I gain all this weight? At first I tried telling myself that I hadn’t really gained a lot of weight and that the weight I had just shifted around. For example, no one will ever convince me that my chest hadn’t fallen down around my stomach and just had to be pushed back up. I also looked thinner if I was lying down on my back and was willing to go everywhere by gurney cart.
.
Nothing was going to make me go on a diet until I went to a clothing shop to buy some new pants. The salesman was about my own age, but he was so thin, I felt sure there was only room for one stripe on his pajamas. When he told me that they had nothing I could fit into and that I should try the “stylishly stout” section, I punched him in the stomach and walked out. Before I would concede and go to the new store in the mall called “Tubby’s”, I bought a few books and magazines on dieting and healthy eating. All the people in those books were unbelievable because not one of them weighed more than the turkey my sister cooked for Christmas dinner. How could I ever hope to look like that?
After two weeks of healthy eating and dieting, I gained another ten pounds. The exercise program caused me to gain another five pounds. I just couldn’t win.
The complete starvation diet was beginning to work, and I was really losing a lot of weight, but it wasn’t easy to put up with the dizziness and shortness of breath when I chewed gum or tried to breathe.
Finally, when I decided to stop all the dieting, get dressed and go to the grocery store for some real food, I noticed that my clothes didn’t cut off my oxygen supply or the arterial blood flow. My neck didn’t swell-up when I buttoned my shirt and I didn’t feel like I was in a cardboard mailing tube. I raced to the bathroom scale and discovered that I was back to my normal weight. It was the first time in weeks I had weighed myself because a month ago I almost came unglued when the scale groaned, wheezed and announced, “One at a time please.”
My neighbour Mark and his wife were just coming home from grocery shopping when I was going to my car. Mark’s wife said that I looked thin and pale and asked if I had been ill. I told her that I had been dieting and eating healthy food. Mark commented that my idea of healthy food was a hot fudge sundae with melted marshmallows. His wife said than being thin was out of fashion and that the “chunky” look was “in”. When she suggested that I try to gain some weight, I promised myself that I was never going to speak to either one of them again. However, a hot fudge sundae wasn’t such a bad idea.
- - - - - - -
“Did you ever…?” is a weekly newspaper column by Melech
©Copyright 2009 by Melech. All Rights reserved.
The next column will be posted on July 4, 2009
File#RBCOL42
by Melech
Did you ever wonder why our society is so obsessed with weight that they believe any adult who weighs over twelve pounds is obese? I never thought much about it until I noticed that I could either wear my clothes or breathe. I couldn’t do both. When and how did I gain all this weight? At first I tried telling myself that I hadn’t really gained a lot of weight and that the weight I had just shifted around. For example, no one will ever convince me that my chest hadn’t fallen down around my stomach and just had to be pushed back up. I also looked thinner if I was lying down on my back and was willing to go everywhere by gurney cart.
.
Nothing was going to make me go on a diet until I went to a clothing shop to buy some new pants. The salesman was about my own age, but he was so thin, I felt sure there was only room for one stripe on his pajamas. When he told me that they had nothing I could fit into and that I should try the “stylishly stout” section, I punched him in the stomach and walked out. Before I would concede and go to the new store in the mall called “Tubby’s”, I bought a few books and magazines on dieting and healthy eating. All the people in those books were unbelievable because not one of them weighed more than the turkey my sister cooked for Christmas dinner. How could I ever hope to look like that?
After two weeks of healthy eating and dieting, I gained another ten pounds. The exercise program caused me to gain another five pounds. I just couldn’t win.
The complete starvation diet was beginning to work, and I was really losing a lot of weight, but it wasn’t easy to put up with the dizziness and shortness of breath when I chewed gum or tried to breathe.
Finally, when I decided to stop all the dieting, get dressed and go to the grocery store for some real food, I noticed that my clothes didn’t cut off my oxygen supply or the arterial blood flow. My neck didn’t swell-up when I buttoned my shirt and I didn’t feel like I was in a cardboard mailing tube. I raced to the bathroom scale and discovered that I was back to my normal weight. It was the first time in weeks I had weighed myself because a month ago I almost came unglued when the scale groaned, wheezed and announced, “One at a time please.”
My neighbour Mark and his wife were just coming home from grocery shopping when I was going to my car. Mark’s wife said that I looked thin and pale and asked if I had been ill. I told her that I had been dieting and eating healthy food. Mark commented that my idea of healthy food was a hot fudge sundae with melted marshmallows. His wife said than being thin was out of fashion and that the “chunky” look was “in”. When she suggested that I try to gain some weight, I promised myself that I was never going to speak to either one of them again. However, a hot fudge sundae wasn’t such a bad idea.
- - - - - - -
“Did you ever…?” is a weekly newspaper column by Melech
©Copyright 2009 by Melech. All Rights reserved.
The next column will be posted on July 4, 2009
File#RBCOL42
Friday, June 19, 2009
"Did you ever...?" (The Theatre)
Did you ever…?
by Melech
Did you ever wonder what it would be like to be an actor? I had quite a bit of free time on my hands, so I decided to join the local community theatre. They were in the process of casting for their fall production of a murder mystery, and there were plenty of parts to go around. At the tryouts, I discovered that I had no talent for acting, so I took the director’s advice and consented to work backstage. I was assigned to work with my neighbour Dennis who would be in charge of lighting. When Dennis was trying to teach me to operate the lighting board, I nearly electrocuted myself and the theatre was without power for two days. The director reassigned me to work with props and scenery and he continued with the auditions by candlelight.
Several days later, all the parts were cast and rehearsals began. It was all very exciting to watch. Everything was going along fine until one of the scenery flats that I forgot to secure, fell over and knocked the lead actor senseless. His understudy took over for him until he was released from the hospital. One of the “bit players” chipped a tooth when he tripped over a prop bag I accidentally left onstage. After that, things went along very smoothly. Dress rehearsal was flawless, and everyone looked great in their 1800’s costumes. On opening night, the theatre was packed! In the first act when the leading lady made her entrance, I didn’t realize that I was standing on the train of her dress. It detached itself and she walked onstage with only the front of her dress. The audience was treated to a splendid view of her bloomers. She played the rest of the scene seated on the sofa and refused to make her exit.
Before the second act started, I noticed that one of the doors wouldn’t stay closed.
I fixed it just in time. However, in the middle of the second act, the lead actor had to make his entrance through the window, because the door I fixed was stuck shut. By this time, the director’s eyes were rolling in opposite directions, and he was chewing on his shirt. He only stopped when he began choking on a button and they had to call the paramedics.
In the third and final act of the play, there is supposed to be a violent storm. Dennis did an excellent job at making the lightening, and the prop man was working the big thunder sheet. It sounded so real that I asked the prop man if I could try it, and he reluctantly agreed. I guess I shook it too hard because the whole thunder sheet came loose from its hooks and klunked the prop man squarely on the head. At this time, the murderer was supposed to make his grand entrance through the French doors with the lightening, thunder and wind behind him. I didn’t know when the prop man would regain consciousness, so I tried to operate the wind machine. I might have had it on too high a setting because hats, wigs, beards, and assorted articles of clothing were flying around the stage. They brought down the curtain and the stage manager walked out onstage and narrated the rest of the play to the audience. I never did find out what happened to the director; he was never seen again.
When I got home, I called my sister. She had been in the audience, but refused to comment on the play. I told her that it wasn’t as much fun as I thought it would be, and that I was going to retire from show business. She said: “Hats will fill the air in New York and Hollywood.” When I asked her if she thought it would be a good idea to start my own theatre company, she hung up on me.
“Did you ever…?” is a weekly newspaper column by Melech
©Copyright 2009 by Melech. All rights reserved
The next column will be posted on June 27, 2009
File#RBCOL41
by Melech
Did you ever wonder what it would be like to be an actor? I had quite a bit of free time on my hands, so I decided to join the local community theatre. They were in the process of casting for their fall production of a murder mystery, and there were plenty of parts to go around. At the tryouts, I discovered that I had no talent for acting, so I took the director’s advice and consented to work backstage. I was assigned to work with my neighbour Dennis who would be in charge of lighting. When Dennis was trying to teach me to operate the lighting board, I nearly electrocuted myself and the theatre was without power for two days. The director reassigned me to work with props and scenery and he continued with the auditions by candlelight.
Several days later, all the parts were cast and rehearsals began. It was all very exciting to watch. Everything was going along fine until one of the scenery flats that I forgot to secure, fell over and knocked the lead actor senseless. His understudy took over for him until he was released from the hospital. One of the “bit players” chipped a tooth when he tripped over a prop bag I accidentally left onstage. After that, things went along very smoothly. Dress rehearsal was flawless, and everyone looked great in their 1800’s costumes. On opening night, the theatre was packed! In the first act when the leading lady made her entrance, I didn’t realize that I was standing on the train of her dress. It detached itself and she walked onstage with only the front of her dress. The audience was treated to a splendid view of her bloomers. She played the rest of the scene seated on the sofa and refused to make her exit.
Before the second act started, I noticed that one of the doors wouldn’t stay closed.
I fixed it just in time. However, in the middle of the second act, the lead actor had to make his entrance through the window, because the door I fixed was stuck shut. By this time, the director’s eyes were rolling in opposite directions, and he was chewing on his shirt. He only stopped when he began choking on a button and they had to call the paramedics.
In the third and final act of the play, there is supposed to be a violent storm. Dennis did an excellent job at making the lightening, and the prop man was working the big thunder sheet. It sounded so real that I asked the prop man if I could try it, and he reluctantly agreed. I guess I shook it too hard because the whole thunder sheet came loose from its hooks and klunked the prop man squarely on the head. At this time, the murderer was supposed to make his grand entrance through the French doors with the lightening, thunder and wind behind him. I didn’t know when the prop man would regain consciousness, so I tried to operate the wind machine. I might have had it on too high a setting because hats, wigs, beards, and assorted articles of clothing were flying around the stage. They brought down the curtain and the stage manager walked out onstage and narrated the rest of the play to the audience. I never did find out what happened to the director; he was never seen again.
When I got home, I called my sister. She had been in the audience, but refused to comment on the play. I told her that it wasn’t as much fun as I thought it would be, and that I was going to retire from show business. She said: “Hats will fill the air in New York and Hollywood.” When I asked her if she thought it would be a good idea to start my own theatre company, she hung up on me.
“Did you ever…?” is a weekly newspaper column by Melech
©Copyright 2009 by Melech. All rights reserved
The next column will be posted on June 27, 2009
File#RBCOL41
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)