First date, post-divorce.

The fingernails tip is huge. It's one of the first things women notice. Partly because they want you to be clean. And partly because they don't want to get sliced to ribbons during foreplay.

You know a good way to tell if a woman is lesbian or bi? Fingernails. They all have short fingernails.

Also, I know universals are generally dangerous, but I've come to believe that all women hate cargo shorts. Which was quite a blow for me. I now have several pairs of non-cargo shorts and something in my hands at all times.

 

I was referring to refractory periods!

 

But what do you do with your change?? I swear I could get rich following JR around and picking up the coins that fall out of his pocket when he lies down for a nap, lounges too far back on the couch, etc.

 

The change gets chucked into my car console. It builds up fast.

 

Next time you're at the airport, look around. American men dress like toddlers. T-shirts, colorful puffy sneakers, giant shorts

Thirty years ago: Change goes into the pocket - isn't that what the cargo shorts are for - then into the jar on the dresser. $100 a year.

Now: Change goes to whomever looks like she or he needs it most on my way home.

I love this quote from Beryl Bainbridge.

"That is what money is for, to be given away."

 

My brother, I am not a handsome man, and I have done just fine post-divorce. Most women, particularly middle-aged women, aren't hung up on appearances the way men are. They want someone who makes them laugh, and is good with kids, and has a good heart, and knows where the clitoris is. They've spent their whole lives being treated like shit by good-looking men. Once they turn 30, they just want a good time. Who doesn't?

 

I go out of my way to hoard change. I’ll go to a Coinstar machine a couple times a year and end up with a couple hundred bucks or so. Coinstar gives fee-free gift certificates for Amazon, so I feel just fine making those frivolous 2 a.m. purchases.

 

Brother. You may be a hero, but you'll still be a dork.

 

Oh, this reminds me of how I made my Credit Union madder than hell a long time ago.

I not only rolled my coins, I drove up to their drive through, and made a deposit through their pneumatic tube system. At first I started with just a couple of rolls into the carrier, and they made it into the building, no problem.

Well, I turned this into a glorious fucking physics experiment. I kept succeeding, adding more rolls on successive visits, and then finally I did it - I exceeded that pneumatic system’s capability to suck that thing, and it got hung up somewhere in the ceiling of the drive-through roof. The system started making very high pitched loud noises, and the teller, some guy, started going ape shit. This was after 5 PM, so all his co-workers were gone. It was just him, me, and the sucking, straining, squealing pneumatic system.

I stayed in the car and just observed what the hell was happening. I figured in advance that I’d hit a limit someday. What I didn’t expect were the sound effects. And the teller’s apocalyptic reaction.

This went on for about 45 seconds. Me, in the car, trying to keep my composure and not bust out laughing. I had noticed the high pitch whine was changing, and I was thinking - hey, it’s chewing on it, the tube carrier is actually moving a bit every now and then. The pneumatic system is really trying to unconstipate itself! And meanwhile the teller is flailing his arms and making faces at me through his window. I made a few shrugs back, like, fuck if I know. It’s your tubes, man.

Finally there was a loud whoosh as the carrier deposited itself into teller’s booth, and then peace and silence.

Until the teller got on the microphone and angrily said “Don’t ever do that again!” I mean, this guy was really, REALLY PISSED. I played dumb, and said I had sent rolls over before, no problem, which was true. But one roll of dimes, two rolls of nickels, two rolls of pennies and, the coup de grace, two heavy rolls of quarters - that was enough to get the carrier stuck. Oh man, was it stuck for a bit.

The deposit was made, I got my deposit slip back, and he had my name and probably thought I was an idiot.

Nope, I was just taking an ordinary everyday situation and turned it into a glorious physics experiment.

The sight of what transpired was great, but the sound and fury was beyond awesome.

As it was happening, I sat back and admired my masterpiece in awe of the havoc I had caused.

Two weeks later, I revisited the drive-through. It was like returning to Ground Zero. But, the Credit Union had added a bunch of stickers, like this:



Oh yeah, right. Take the fun out of everything.

I haven’t done it again, but every time I’m there, I laugh at the stickers. It’s been about 20 years.

Those stickers are just daring me to do it again.

And I probably will, just for good old times.

It really was glorious. An experiment far, far better than I had expected.

I know where that teller works - he moved to another branch. I should go ask him when was the time he was the angriest at a customer, and see if he remembers. He did give me the evil eye for over a year, probably thinking: IDIOT! I kind of smiled back and just said to myself: Physics!

VB

 

This is the best thing I've read in a while