Category Archives: Freaky Friday
The other day I posted on Facebook how I thought the town of Gettysburg must be surrounded by some anti-intelligence force field that causes people to forget how to drive when they enter the town. Really, it’s pretty pathetic. So in that spirit I’ve decided to count down the ten most annoying things you can do as a tourist when you get behind the wheel. Hey, being annoying is fun, right? Here we go:
10. Run red lights. Really, what’s the point of them? All that color stuff can get pretty confusing. Just go when you want to, cars will stop.
9. Run stop signs. Even less important than traffic lights. You don’t really have to stop, you know. It’s just a suggestion.
8. Fail to use turn signals. They serve no purpose. You know which way you’re turning (most of the time) and that’s good enough.
7. Drive ten miles under the posted speed limit. It says speed limit for a reason. You shouldn’t go faster than it, but nothing says you can’t go slower. Hey, go as slow as you want.
6. Stop in the middle of the road. There are no signs that say you can’t. Really, look for them. You won’t find ’em.
5. Drive through crosswalks . . . while a pedestrian is crossing. You’re in a car; you’re bigger, they can look out for you!
4. Turn into oncoming traffic. They’ll move. Trust me.
3. Drive the wrong way down a one way street. Whoever thought a one way street was a good idea anyway?
2. Honk your horn when you’re doing something wrong. This will alert those around you that they should pay closer attention. It’s very conscientous of you to do so.
1. Pack yourself and your 50 friends into McDonald’s so locals have to wait a half hour to order a lousy sweet tea. (Okay, that has nothing to do with driving but it’s oh so annoying). The locals don’t mind. They’re happy to have you contributing to the tax base.
So there you go. The next time you go sightseeing or visit a tourist attraction try these solid gold techniques for being a really annoying tourist driver. Trust me, you’ll thank me for the heads-up.
Got any other ways we all can be uber annoying tourists? Let’s hear ’em . . .
With tonight being the opening ceremony for the 30th Summer Olympic games in England, I thought it might be appropriate and fun to come up with some ideas for how to celebrate the games, British-style.
- Eat a meal of fish and chips. Doesn’t really matter what kind of fish and what kind of chips. To Americanize this, serve fish sticks and potato chips.
- Say everything in your very best British accent. For some help, watch this video. Riveting stuff here.
- Men, wear a derby. Women, wear one of these hats.
- Read your favorite Charles Dickens classic. The whole thing, cover to cover.
- Serve tea and scones every day. Black tea with milk and sugar, served in a China tea cup.
- Use only the metric system for the duration of the Olympics.
- Uses words like dialing code instead of area code, swimming costume instead of bathing suit, zebra crossing instead of crosswalk, and cheerio instead of good-bye.
- Drive on the left side of the road. If a cop pulls you over just say you’re driving British today and they’ll completely understand, say “Cheerio,” and send you on your way.
- Wear tweed, lots of tweed. It’ll feel real nice in the middle of summer.
- Prepare a delicious meal of sheeps internal organs. It’s called haggis and you can get a recipe here.
That should give you a good start.
Any other suggestions?
I hate shopping. That’s it; it’s out in the open. Now I no longer have to walk around in shame because I’ve been hiding that dirty secret. And when I say hate, I mean really hate. Loathe. Detest. HATE.
I’m not afraid of shopping or of people or of spending money. This isn’t about fear. It’s about hatred. Shopping for clothes or some new appliance or a car is akin to having every bone in my body broken one by one. I don’t even like running an errand for a single item. A can of spray paint, a quart of oil, a gallon of milk. I do it, yes, but I don’t like it.
Correction . . . I hate it.
You may think I’m weird; you have no idea.
Here’s a list of the top 10 things I’d rather do than be subject to entering a store to shop.
10. Rub chili peppers in my eyes.
9. Bathe in jelly fish.
8. Go to a Justin Bieber concert.
7. Walk a mile on broken glass.
6. Get a nasogastric tube placed.
5. Take 8th grade math over again.
4. Floss a piranha’s teeth.
3. Watch an entire professional chess tournament.
2. Get tarred and feathered.
1. Listen to Nancy Pelosi talk for an hour.
There. Now do you know how much I hate shopping?
Every so many Fridays I’d like to do a new feature here on the blog called Freaky Friday where I get to delve into the nonsensical part of me. There’s something about removing inhibitions and just being goofy that is very liberating. It’s also exposing and that can be a little nerve-wracking. You may see a side of me that you find shocking, frightening, or even just bizarre.
Please, don’t judge me as a whole based on these posts. I am all of the above at times but never one all the time.
So, recently I had the opportunity to interiview a popular childhood icon. The coversation went something like this.
Mike Dellosso: Hi George, thanks for taking the time to speak with me. How have things been going for you?
George Porgie: Not the greatest. I made one mistake and got slapped with a label that’s followed me around my whole life.
MD: Let’s go back to that time and set the stage. You were a kid, right? And everyone called you Georgie.
GP: I guess. I mean, yeah, they called me Georgie. It was a name my mom gave me, and my aunt. Everything was Georgie this, Georgie that. Isn’t Georgie so cute.
MD: So were you okay with Georgie Porgie?
GP: No, not really. I wanted to be called George or maybe just “G” but what was I going to do?
MD: But it gets worse, doesn’t it?
GP: Don’t even go there.
MD: Puddin’ Pie? What’s up with that?
GP: My mom again. And my aunt. My cheeks were so pudgy they used to squeeze them and say they felt like pudding pie. Plus I liked to eat pudding pie.
MD: That’s just weird.
GP: Yeah, tell me about it.
MD: So what happened on the playground that day?
GP: What do you mean?
MD: Something happened.
GP: I was playing on the playground. It was recess. I loved to swing and was the first one out there so I could get the best swing. These girls came out–
MD: Do you remember their names?
GP: Sure I do. Emma, Sharon, and Lucy.
MD: And what happened then?
GP: We were alone and I kissed them. On the cheek. Look, it was no big deal. Everyone’s made such a big deal about it.
MD: Why did you kiss them? I mean, that’s kinda weird, don’t you think? Enough to frighten any girl?
GP: I don’t know. It just happened. They wanted the swings and I wasn’t about to give up the best swing. I was there first. So I kissed them. On the cheek.
MD: And what happened after that?
GP: They started to cry like girls.
MD: They were girls. Was that the intended reaction?
GP: No. Maybe. I don’t know. Look, I was a dumb kid with chubby cheeks. Geez. Talk about a misunderstanding.
MD: But that’s not all, is it?
GP: Well you know the story. Everyone does. These guys came out then.
MD: And they saw the girls crying.
MD: And what did you do?
GP: I don’t understand the question.
MD: Georgie, you ran away, didn’t you?
GP: Well wouldn’t you? I mean it was like four to one, is that fair? No. No, it’s not fair, but everyone makes me out to be some chubby wimp, kissing girls and running away from their protectors. It didn’t happen like that.
MD: No one ever said you were chubby.