There are Starving People in China

Ralphie's mom wasn't lying - there are millions of starving people around the country. Everyone has their own way of addressing this topic - some people donate their time or money to food shelves, some turn a blind eye, and some bring politics into it. While this is a year round battle, every holiday season news stations around the world pull this issue to the front lines featuring a news story to highlight the need and generosity of man kind.

This year we were given a special treat during our regular news broadcast. After seeing the sad, desperate faces of hungry Minnesota families, we were streamed into live coverage of the first annual Turkey Bowling. Yes... bring me your weak and hungry, and I shall take out that 7 - 10 split with a 10 pound Butter Ball. All politics aside, isn't it a little backwards to ask people to bring in a dented can of kitchen cut green beans in exchange for a try at taking out 10 2-liters of Mug Root Beer with a fresh Golden Plump?

Yet another well thought out fund raising idea. With think tanks like this around, I don't know how poverty hasn't been resolved yet. Maybe next year if everyone donates a Canadian penny to end poverty they can get a chance to burn a stack of 20's to make a great big pretty fire.

Where's the Salt? Where's the Salt?

Dear Musak industry:

I must say, I have been a fan for years. I can always count on you to provide a bit of entertainment during a long elevator ride, or an extended stay in a dentist waiting room. Your musical renditions often leave me stumped wondering "is this Backstreet Boys, or Elvis?" But you never fail to put a little ditty in my head. So, thank you for the years of enjoyment you have provided.

I do however have one tiny little bone to pick with you. Margaritaville?? Really? Sitting in the doctor's office for a record 4 minutes was a special treat, though you clearly set me up for 4 minutes of sheer emotional torture. You obviously have not been informed of the state college's required Pavlov-style course held every Thirsty Thursday and Friday evening. (Also held on Saturday and Sunday for those extra credit hogs).

No thanks to you, I was able refrain myself from shouting "Where's the salt? Where's the salt..." mainly because I was side tracked picturing the handful of seniors in the waiting area sitting on a bar, salt shakers in hand. You left me confused - no beer in hand, and nobody to sing with. In fact, I'm still a little discombobulated.

So, dear Musak industry... if you can, please refrain from playing Margaritaville Musak, and for goodness sake, do not - I repeat do not play Sweet Caroline.

Thank you.

Free Gas!

Excuse me, are you always this flatulent? Do you pass gas this freely during board meetings, or do you save it up all day so you can crop dust your way to the back of the bus? Maybe I just missed the notice welcoming riders to let em' rip upon boarding.

Next time you feel so compelled to release your toxic stank, please be man enough to own your odor. And let the record show, with every silent puff you pass while staring at your sodoku puzzle, I am holding up imaginary moose ears to in fact proved that while I smelt it, it wasn't me that dealt it. That's right.... I shall blame it, and rightfully refuse to claim it.

Panhandling Put Downs

Reading his sign pleading for money made me genuinely sad. I was sad that he looked so rough and down on his luck - being reduced to begging for money. I felt bad that according to his sign, he could not work because he was blind and mute. Just when I had that feeling that I should do something to help this guy out, maybe make a difference in someone's life, I had a sudden urge to smack him in the face with a shoe.

Oddly my ability to care and sense of empathy ends when a blind mute guy refers to a man as a "stupid white prick" when he refuses to toppins the bag. Yes, sir. My sympathy and good nature will end with one small tip - If your sign says you can't see or talk, it's a good idea to play dumb.

Sweet Dreams are Made of This

You stayed up past your bedtime again, didn’t you? Once again your torso has flopped onto mine, your head looming over my shoulder, and thigh obviously crossing the line that defines my seat from yours. The snoring has begun and a freakishly long string of drool is threatening my Downy fresh cardigan. It is very clear that my intentional nudging and throat clearing is not going to wake you from this deep slumber, as your arm is twitches like a sleeping dog chasing a rabbit.

Please don’t worry about moving when I pull the cord. I’ll just hurdle over you when my stop approaches. Sweet dreams, sir. I hope you catch that rascally rabbit.

The Escalating Decent

Excuse me, sir, but there is only one way off of the escalator, and you seem to be blocking it completely. I patiently waited behind you as we slowly climbed to the second floor. I even refrained from aggressively tapping my toe or trying to squeeze by as you selfishly stood in the center while holding both germ covered railings. Your lunging stance, one foot anxiously placed two steps above the other, didn’t fool me. I knew you were going to be “that guy” just enjoying the ride.

You may not have noticed, but now that we’ve reached the top I am still waiting for you to move out of the way. Your lack of preparation and slow decision between strolling right or staggering left has caused a back log of people, leaving us breathing down your back – which just so happens to have been exposed to one Aqua Digio squirt too many. Please, sir, I ask that tomorrow you take the 1.5 minute journey to devise a game plan of which way to go. Please do not be surprised that they ride has come to an end, or wait for a recorded multi-lingual voice to tell you that the end is approaching.

Consider this a warning, because tomorrow I may not be so patient. After all, you have just become the one thing that stands between me and Starbucks. Do you really want to find yourself in that position?