Wednesday Wa Pic - Downsizing R Us

 I found where they print all the pink slips.

Wednesday Wa Pic - Melville ate here. Hardly.

 The best novelists avoid adverbs and so should you.

Wednesday Wa Pic - Hey, who's chicken?

 WYNGZ, as described in Wikipedia:

"Wyngz is a chicken food product that is in the shape of a chicken wing...but is not actually a wing."

Do you suppose the pizza in the box is topped with melted "chyzz?"

Wednesday Wa Pic - When nuts are not enough

 I always want to bust through the door of a place like this, mock frantic, and gasp "Where's the stuff?! I need the stuff!"

Wednesday Wa Pic - z best sandwich in z world

 Meaning early in the morning. You know, before you are even clothed. So that bread is fresh, and you will definitely want to buy a sandwich utilizing it. Good slogan.

Special thanks for this photo to my only authorized guest Wa Picker, my wife.

Wednesday Wa Pic - Question answered

 So that's where the states get it from.

Wednesday Wa PIc - Brushing Beauties

 

Yeah, I remember back in college when a group of us guys would lean our heads together, admiring a passing beauty, and say, "She looks like she could scrape the baked-on cheese off a casserole."

. . .

Wednesday Wa Pic - Whack to the future

Got a rift? Stuck in a decade you didn't intend? Call Galvin. Personally recommended by Doc Brown.

. . .

Wednesday Wa Pic - A homeowner's mixed message

Um..."four more years"? Or four more years of bad luck?

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Wednesday Wa Pic - Pay what you want?

 Unfortunately, this is also what the cashiers say when you order. Service is slower than you can imagine.

Wednesday Wa Pic - a bounty of trust

 Because once your company's paper towels have gained the trust of educators, you have truly turned a corner.

. . .

Wednesday Wa Pic - the case of the disturbing pickle

 Say it out loud and it just sounds wrong.

...

Wednesday Wa Pic - Extra crispy. And undead.

 Need to feed a large crowd during the zombie apocalypse? Wal-Mart's got you covered.

Wednesday Wa Pics - L.A. County Fair does not disappoint

What I love most about the Los Angeles County Fair is that you see things you just never see in normal life. For example...

 

Not wanting to be presumptuous, I asked him, "Your highness, may I get a photo?" I think he forgot he was not allowed to speak, because he grunted something and then caught himself. I do not know why he had a frog slave held captive in his crown, and I didn't ask. With royalty, there are certain things you just don't do.

Shave seven months off your life. You know you want to.

 

I do not know why this Native American was playing Scrabble.

Some people? ALL people find a chicken's behavior entertaining. I will fight anyone who disagrees.

Pimp hats 4 kidz.

Four words you will fall in love with: "plant based memory foam."

Hope nobody has an allergy to neon.

Fun House mirror gave me Nosferatu fingers!

 Pirate mannequins and zebras. Discuss.

 Why, for all your zebra needs, of course.

I guess the only other name choice for this donkey-zebra hybrid would have been "Debra." They made the right call.

Again, would anybody pay money to go see a "Hebra"?

Once again this year, we searched in vain for the giant cinnamon roll. A lady at the Information Desk told me that shop has been gone now a couple of years. But if you hear different, please let me know. The giant cinnamon roll is now my Sasquatch.

 . . .

Paintball, and the state of our economy

They say the economy is at its worst since the Great Depression, and yet there are professional paintball leagues. There are enough people with enough money that they can afford to buy balls of paint for one-time use against the hindquarters of strangers.

I hear during the Great Depression they chucked dead squirrels at each other for fun. Then they cooked them for dinner. Just a little historical perspective.

Paintball is an expensive hobby; cost-wise, it ranks just above hang-gliding but just below self-publishing.

The fancier guns alone can cost a grand (and often are not even referred to as "guns," but as paintball "markers.") Unlike the "markers" which teachers use on dry-erase boards, these can fire a dozen .68 caliber skin-stinging balls per second.

Let me just say this: I know a few teachers who would like to have one of these babies.

As long as such hobbies thrive, we know we are not yet at the abyss. Economically, at least. Culturally? Well.

Fun paintball facts:

There is a World Cup of paintball. Yes, I said a World Cup of paintball.

Players hide behind inflatable bunkers. Yes, I said inflatable bunkers.

Last year, the Tampa Bay Damage won the Cup, beating out 270 teams. Yes, I said 270 professional teams.

Actual quotes from the rule book:

"A squeegee is not a barrel plug."

"Beaver tails are required for all Auto Cocker markers."

"A player who deliberately uses a non-participant as a shield will be eliminated."

Samples from a glossary of paintball terms:

"BYOP": bring your own paint

"Dorito": a pyramid-shaped bunker

"Guppy": a paintball refill canister

"Pants": an expression, meaning "cool," as in "Dude, the way you hosed that Dorito was totally pants."

"Shake 'n' Bake hopper": I don't really care what this means. I am in love with it.

Actual team names include Portland Uprising (which sounds like something which might happen if they ran out of sandals) and Omaha Vicious (because when one thinks "ruthlessly cutthroat," one thinks "Nebraska.")

There is a team named Chicago Aftershock (Possible motto: "Illinois. Earthquake capital of the United States.") Not to be outdone in the category of inexplicable references, landlocked Indiana has its own team, Indianapolis Mutiny.

Call your bunch of guys what you want, but to me all this means is there is enough disposable income around to prove we are doing O.K. We're gonna make it. In fact, I'll just say it: We're totally pants.

. . .

Wednesday Wa Pic - like a rug

 The perfect restaurant in which to confront somebody you suspect of an affair.

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10,000 steps, 10,000 hours, 0 patience

They say to be healthy you should walk 10,000 steps a day, although good luck trying to find out who "they" is. Perhaps "they" are out on that daily five mile walk.

They also say you should drink 10 eight-ounce glasses of water a day to be healthy. So maybe "they" are just in the bathroom.

The experts who put out this kind of advice are elusive. I have often wondered, in fact, if they are red pandas.

They say you should do a crossword puzzle every day, so your brain does not become addled as you age. (As if a crossword puzzle could possibly counteract the effects of all those political ads, not to mention "Jersey Shore.")

If you don't like crossword puzzles, they say, you can do a Sudoku, which is like a crossword puzzle for people easily irritated by demands for nine-letter words describing Charlotte Bronte's heroines.

They say you have to practice a thing 10,000 hours in order to master it. That is an awfully convenient, round number, a clear tip-off that it is nonsense, along with the 10,000 steps a day and the 10 glasses of water.

Arbitrary, repeatable hokum.

I would like the job of proclaiming how long a person needs to do something to be healthy/masterful/swell. In fact, I will claim that job right now.

Please post my proclamations to all social media far and wide:

In order to be healthy, a person needs to own 10 dogs in his lifetime. At least 51% of them must be brown. Otherwise it doesn't work.

To retain a supple skin, a person needs to exfoliate biweekly with a mixture of Coca-Cola, cucumber paste and whipped salmon. Rub this in using counter-clockwise motions only, for a period of one minute or until the flies become unbearable.

In order to retain mental sharpness, a person must entirely forego screens of any type, be they computer, television or smart phone, one day per week, using that time to read at least 50 pages from a book (minimum reading level, Sue Grafton, "A is for Alibi.")

Everyone everywhere must eat 20 pitted black olives per day. This ensures excellent digestion as well as entertainment, if you place them on your fingers first and make them "talk."

Ignore these rules at the peril of your sanity, health and longevity. Hey, and while you're on your long walk today, somebody bring me by a pizza, O.K.?

. . .

 

Wednesday Wa Pic - Colored growing

 Do not swallow your Colored Growing. Don't...hey, don't do it! 

I know you want to. It looks delicious. Don't.

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Somebody toss me a (land) line!

Recently my phone service was mistakenly shut off. I called Customer Service on my cell.

Me: "We just need you to restart our land line phone service."

Customer Service: "When you say 'land line,' sir, do you mean 'analog?'"

Me: "Yes. We don't want voice-over-IP service."

CS: "And when you say 'yes' do you mean 'yes?'"

Me: "Yes."

CS: "One moment, sir. I am going to transfer you to someone who can cost you an hour you will never get back, I mean, who can set up installation."

I held for 20 minutes and was disconnected. I called back.

Me: "I'd like to reinstate my analog phone service. It got turned off by mistake."

CS: "I am sorry for your inconvenience, sir, and let me assure you that I will do my best to solve your problem. May I have the security code associated with this account?"

Me: "1776; it's symbolic of the freedom I hope to gain from this phone hell some day before my children are old enough to procreate."

CS: "Very good, sir. I see an order for high speed Internet service."

Me: "Yes, how about one to start up my analog phone service."

CS: "By 'analog,' sir, do you mean your land line?"

Me: "Yes."

CS: "I will transfer you to someone who can set up that installation."

Me: "Is his name Doctor Who? Because I feel like I'm in a time warp."

CS: "Very good, sir." (Hold music begins, while an invisible Pac-Man eats 30 minutes I will never see again.)

CS: "Hello, my name is Cynthia. How may I provide you with exceptional service?"

Me: "That ship has sailed, Cindy. But I wonder if you could schedule the installation of phone service to my house."

CS: "Certainly, sir. But first, for security purposes, can you tell me the name of your favorite restaurant?"

Me: "Porky's Ham Shack."

CS: "That's not what I have on file, sir."

Me: "I'm just sayin'. My wife set this up, so it's probably La Boheme."

CS: "Correct. Now, do you want everything to stay the same as on your prior account?"

Me: "By 'the same' do you mean 'the same?'"

CS: "Yes."

Me: "Then yes."

CS: "All right, the installation is set for September 14th."

Me: "That's in a week!"

CS: "Yes, it generally takes 7-10 days."

You may wonder why I want a land line at all. I may wonder that too.

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Wednesday Wa Pic - Quiet street, 4 BR, 2 BA, 1 RR

There was a time in Southern California real estate circles when a swimming pool could sell a house, and then, later on, the same could be said of a "great room." No more. 

Meet the new "must-have," people.

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© George Waters, The Wa Blog

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Political quiz pokes fun at both sides

It is an election year, and as a great American once said (I think it was either George Washington or Bobby Jindal), you can't have too many political quizzes.
Remember, there are no wrong answers, only wrong beliefs.

Finish the sentence: "When I choose a president, I look for..."

a) a regular Joe I feel like I could have a beer with.
b) a gazillionaire I feel like I could have a beer with.
c) I don't like beer.
d) I would vote for beer.

I would describe the current political climate as:

a) warming, unlike the planet.
b) chilly as Michele Bachmann's breath on a mirror.
c) hot, like that Elizabeth Warren.
d) stormy as Newt Gingrich's Civil War bodice-rippers.

How many delegates attended the Republican National Convention this week?

a) 2,286. Wait, do we count both Latinos?
b) I do not know. I was too busy dreamily mooning over that quintet of hunky manflesh known as The Romney Sons.
c) For the record—Tagg, Matt, Josh, Ben and Craig. Woof!
d) I do not know the number, but I have not seen so many white people hopping around since that Devo concert in '81.

Fun fact: "Obama Biden four more years" can be turned into the anagram, "O dear me! Brainy, famous bore!"

Marco Rubio is:

a) the name of a summertime Cuban swimming pool game.
b) a famous fish taco baron.
c) merely a rising star in fish taco circles.
d) no Tagg Romney.

Fun fact: The letters in "Mitt Romney for president" give you the anagram, "Prettify tender moronism."

The biggest difference between Barack and Mitt is:

a) the ability to sink a fadeaway jumper from three-point range.
b) $190 million.
c) Barack has the weirdest name. Barely.
d) the number of African cousins.

What is the greatest problem facing our nation?

a) Four potential years of "magic underpants" jokes by standup comics.
b) Joe Biden continues to be one heartbeat away from the freakin' presidency.
c) Drone strikes are not allowed on members of Congress.
d) The "nanny state" has been extended so far into our lives that every American will soon be required to hire an actual nanny, and that nanny will belong to a nanny union, and her union dues will go into a fund supporting gay marriage for members of the Armed Forces.

There is no answer key. Much like in our democracy, the main thing is participation and, of course, the secret knowledge that you alone are right.

. . .

Wednesday Wa Pic - ah, the eternal question

BECAUSE MY ANCESTORS CAME FROM THE SEA, O.K., MISTER CURIOUS?

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© George Waters, The Wa Blog

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Newspaper corrections faux your approval

From time to time every newspaper prints corrections for mistakes which have appeared in the paper. Today I am catching up on some of my own:

In my column about the Olympics, I erroneously referred to the mayor of London as a "nit." A nit, it turns out, is a type of head lice. What I had meant to write was "git" ("a completely ignorant, childlike person with no manners.") I apologize to head lice for the mistake.

In my column about frolicking at a water park, I suggested that a churro vendor should deposit his product in a bodily region not in keeping with good Christian anatomy. I regret the outburst and my description of churros as "the devil's hornpipe." Let me just say here for the record that in a civilized society there is room for all types of confectionery.

In my column about the tourist town of Big Bear, I wrote that there were so many carved wooden bear statues, the ratio of humans to bear statues was 1:1. This was inaccurate. There are actually five times as many bear statues as there are people in Big Bear. I want to apologize to Bear Carvers Local 114, the fine folks at Bears R Us, as well as Smitty's Chain Saw Masterpieces. Carve on, my brothers.

In my column about the new "Transformers" ride at Universal Studios, my suggestion that a 90 minute wait was "totally not worth it" was incorrect, according to a knowledgeable source I like to call the "Universal Legal Department." The ULD reminds me that a "wait" of any duration, however lengthy, is a prime opportunity to "get to know your family better" and to "shut the heck up about wait times." Point taken, ULD. Point taken.

In my recent column about "the Cloud," I used the phrase "agile, scalable infrastructure." I do not know what those words mean, nor does anybody at the paper. I copied them from an Internet article. In fact, I have my suspicions that they are not even real words. Going forward, I promise to fact-check my computery columns with a teenager before publication.

Finally, in writing about Venus' recent "transit" of the sun, the auto-complete function of my word processor unfortunately replaced it with the word "transvestite." As far as I know, astronomers have not found any transvestites in space, and not for lack of trying. I sincerely regret the error, and, frankly, for getting your hopes up.

. . .

Wednesday Wa Pic - Where the cool kids go

 OMG, you don't even want to be seen going into those other libraries.

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© George Waters, The Wa Blog

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Facing fears on an epic slide

There comes a time in every man's life when the opportunity arises to complete an act of reckless stupidity he somehow missed in his youth.

I missed a lot of those, because I was a sober teen; something Shakespeare advised against, by the way.

The opportunity came for me this week when I plunged down a water slide with a seven-story vertical drop.

I had visited this local legendary water park, which I will call here Rampaging Wetness, several times over the decades, and walked past that flume thinking "You'd have to be crazy to do that."

Not because of the free-fall, but because of the epic wedgie awaiting you at the bottom; a wedgie so intense, rumor had it your swimsuit sometimes passed through your entire digestive tract, and you ended up wearing it as a hat.

But I have lived a happy life and I figured if I died at least they could use my body for wedgie research, which is woefully under-funded.

There is great value in facing your fears. At least that is the sentence I kept repeating to myself as the line crept slowly up the tower toward the top.

Rampaging Wetness, in its wisdom, soothes aspiring flume-plungers by blasting hip-hop music as you wait in line. For someone of my generation (a generation which prided itself on appreciating music involving guitars), this was akin to waiting in line to walk the plank while all the while being heckled by foul-mouthed parrots.

The line was made up almost entirely of young men, there to prove something to each other or themselves. During the time it took to reach the top, two people bailed out of the line from fear. "No shame," I wanted to reassure them as they passed, but my mouth was too dry from fear.

The time came. I lay down at the top of the slide, crossed my ankles and arms, and the lifeguard shoved me off. I closed my eyes and thought of England. I had never realized England was so terrifying.

At the bottom, flushed with manliness and the applause of my family, I basked in glory as I put back on my sandals. Then I saw her—the little girl who came down the flume after me. She was tiny.

"How old are you?" I asked.

"Eight," she said.

The rest of my day went pretty well, though.

. . .

Wednesday Wa Pic - Romance and a "twist"

From the cinema collection at the Los Angeles Public Library. 

Relive a time when romance was just one salty snack away.

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© George Waters, The Wa Blog

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Wednesday Wa Pic - Nope

 Look, it doesn't matter what it is. Just don't, O.K.?

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© George Waters, The Wa Blog

. . . . . 

The dark and funky side of Christmas Carols

George Waters column for Sunday, Dec. 29, 2013:



Now that Christmas has passed I can say it: a lot of those carols are messed up.

"Angels We Have Heard On High"? Angels we have heard WHILE high, more like it. "And the mountains in reply, echoing their joyous strains"? Only at the holidays can you anthropomorphize alps.

I have also never understood the part that goes "In Excel sheets day-o!" Maybe the tally man uses them for figuring.

In the second verse of "Hark the Herald Angels Sing" they rhyme "come" and "womb." That is loopy, unless you are in Liverpool. But then in the fourth verse they rhyme "come" with "home." I guess if you have just had a visitation from angels, consistency is not high on your list of priorities.

At least in "Jingle Bells" they keep the rhyme, but only by making up words: "The horse was lean and lank, misfortune seemed his lot. We got into a drifted bank and then we got upsot."

"Up on the House Top" details the contents of the stocking of Little Will, to whom Santa delivers a hammer, lots of tacks and a whip that cracks. God help his sister.

"God rest ye merry, gentlemen, let nothing you dismay" sounds like a word order Yoda would come up with.

"Away In A Manger" proclaims "The stars in the sky looked down where he lay." I guess it's not just the hills that have eyes.

"It Came Upon A Midnight Clear" offers up this gem: "the world has suffered long" under "life's crushing load." Luckily, that flutter of wings you hear? It's not another hawk, come to carry off another of your young. It's just angels. Angels are a good sign! Um, right?

We think of Christmas carols as jaunty and uplifting, but if you manage to reach the fourth verse of "We Three Kings," you get "Myrrh is mine, its bitter perfume breathes a life of gathering gloom. Sorrowing, sighing, breathing, dying, sealed in a stone-cold tomb."

Wassail!

Pop Christmas tunes can be just as strange. "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year" promises there will be "marshmallows for toasting" and "scary ghost stories." You can kinda tell the writers had just lived through the Cuban Missile Crisis.

Well, that's all behind us now. New Year's is coming up, and "Auld Lang Syne" will rule. Just don't look up the lyrics. Trust me.


Readers may contact George at george@georgewaters.net

Wednesday Wa Pic - tuber edition

 

Who knew they needed one, right?

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© George Waters, The Wa Blog

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Wednesday Wa Pic - Railroaded

Weird mixed message. Are they hinting that flying is more dangerous than train travel? Also, why, if they call it AMtrak, do they use the Canadian spelling of flotation? Did they outsource to an ad agency in Manitoba? This does not suffuse me with confidence.

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© George Waters, The Wa Blog

. . . . . 

Best. Campaign. Slogans. Ever.

The history of presidential campaign slogans is a rich one, and by "rich" I mean "pretty funny."

Slogans have ranged from rhyme ("All the way with Adlai") to homage ("All the way with JFK") to double entendre ("All the way with JFK.")

Sometimes, within just four years, a slogan can go from timeless ("I like Ike") to charmless ("My pick is Dick.") At least, mercifully, the latter is no longer repeated.

In the old days, they did not have focus groups to boil the message down to a pithy point. Thus: "Be vigilant and watchful that internal dissensions destroy not your prosperity" was Millard Fillmore's catchphrase in 1856, a slogan which did not, understandably, vault him into power.

Then there was "Henry Clay for his country feels, but Polk would stop our water wheels." In 1844, you apparently did not mess with Americans' water wheels.

Not that brevity was necessarily better. Dewey's slogan in 1948, "Save what's left," did not exactly launch ships.

Harsh slogans are nothing new either: "Better a part-time president than a full-time phony" was one cry. Other winners included "Coolidge or chaos," "Dump the Hump," "In your guts you know he's nuts," "Perhaps Roosevelt is all you deserve," "Nixon and Spiro = zero," "Phooey on Dewey," "Had enough?" and the endearingly lackluster "He's all right."

Herbert Hoover ran on the slogan "You never had it so good." The year? 1928. Four years later, after the Depression had ravaged the country, his reelection motto was "It might have been worse." It might well have been true, too, but truth is generally not the best crowd-rouser.

A slogan is advertising, plain and simple. So "The same currency for the bond-holder and the plow-holder" just comes off as clunky. Not to be out-clunked, Horace Greeley ran on "Universal amnesty and impartial suffrage."

Woo-hoo, right?

Samuel Tilden tried "We demand a rigorous frugality in every department of the government," a sentiment which still plays today, but only in the more Tweetable form, "Cut the fat."

Do you even know what this year's candidates' slogans are? Obama's is "Forward," I guess because "Still hoping, still changing" just did not have that winning ring. Romney's slogan, "Believe in America," is as pleasantly vague as the man himself.

Say what you want about President Nixon, he had many slogans. If I could co-opt one of his from 1968, and yell it from the rooftops on behalf of the voters, believe me, I would: "Bring us together."

. . .

Wednesday Wa Pic

Alas, it was lost on its maiden voyage, because it was just too absorbent.

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© George Waters, The Wa Blog

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Wednesday Wa Pic - "products you never knew existed" edition

An actual product. And a direct consequence, if you are not careful, of those boogie nights.

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© George Waters, The Wa Blog

. . . . . 

Wednesday Wa Pic - Spell it right, and live

 I wonder if this aisle includes roadside flaires.

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All pics shot by and © George Waters, The Wa Blog

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Wednesday Wa Pic - Let Davy Jones sort 'em out

 For when you just get tired of wrestling the varmints.

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© George Waters, The Wa Blog

. . . . . 

When your father's in your heart

There is no way to know where, or if, my father is now.

Well, one place I know he is for sure: my head. There he is, doing his "hocus-pocus-dominocus" trick for my nephew Mitch.

There he is in the basement of a halfway house for women where he volunteered, under a maze of leaking pipes, fixing them like a magician.

There he is, pulling me out of the hole I stepped in at the beach just as a wave went over my head.

There he is, sitting on the floor, his back against a wall, eating a sack lunch in a vacant apartment he owned and was painting.

There he is...walking my sister down the aisle at her wedding in the necktie she probably gave him for Father's Day a decade before. In his hospital bed, taking two long, last breaths. Handing my toddler sister baby chicks to play with. Applauding at my high school plays. Cheering at track meets. Wearing a tattered old Fedora against the rain. Jogging in place in the living room to rebuild his stamina after heart surgery.

There he is...diving in our frigid pool in the morning in order to "wake up." Choking back a sob when Edith Bunker died in "All in the Family." Riding our horse Billy, holding the reins with one hand like he was born to it. Wearing his "fun hat" (without which the fun simply could not begin) by the front gates of Buckingham Palace. Throwing my sister and me a football in the park during a road trip lunch stop.

There he is...chowing down on his favorite, a "chili size" at the local diner. Swimming out past the waves at Corona Del Mar. Pretending to like the annual Father's Day tie. Waking up in a sleeping bag next to me under a morning sky. Laying a new brick walkway to the house. Climbing trees to prune the branches.

There he is...riding on a Fourth of July float. Carving the Thanksgiving turkey and sampling it "for quality control." Walking the ancient Roman walls in York. Backpacking and camping out in the mountain chill and the desert heat with me and my Boy Scouts. Posing for family pictures with his six sisters and his brother. Laughing. Always laughing, big. Laughing to shake the roof off.

Forgive me, Dad, I was wrong. I know exactly where you are. Happy Father's Day.

See? The fun can now begin.

. . .

 

Wednesday Wa Pic - A sign of the Renaissance

This is perhaps the most satisfying "To do" list I have ever seen. 

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© George Waters, The Wa Blog

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Bridal magazine inspires humor

June is the month for weddings, traditionally, I think because people want to be married before Independence Day rolls around, rendering their newfound lack of independence ironic.

I picked up a bridal magazine recently out of morbid curiosity, to see what they are trying to sell the unsuspecting brides of the 21st Century. The magazine was titled "BLI$$," or something to that effect.

Reading a bridal magazine, much like predicting the winner of "America's Next Top Model," is not something a straight man should ever do.

If space aliens came down from the sky and looked through a bridal magazine, they would come to the conclusion that the women of our species cannot stand upright without dramatically leaning against something for support.

They would also surmise that women's legs must each be about five feet thick, considering the amount of poofy cloth required to cover them.

The days of ads with a pretty bride posing in a pretty dress are gone, if they ever existed. Now the typical ad shows a young woman, a hand held to her head as if she has just been startled, while trying on a $3000 wedding gown, by a bull moose.

The obvious conclusion, of course, is that this is an Alaskan bridal shop.

Another ad shows a bride striking a pose before an open window with a sheen of sweat on her chest, as if this danged heat is about to drive her to jump.

Yet another has a pair of dejected-looking waifs with purposely slumped shoulders as if to express, "Yes, I am getting married today, but I am untraditional, and my new husband will need to understand that I am tired of fighting gravity."

Aliens would assume that brides are an unusually hairy and pasty-faced species, judging by the products being hyped. There is a "hydrating razor," "nude air foam" with "aerated pigments" to cover up blemishes, and another type of goo to help "unclog your pores" for the big day.

Some ads sell suits for men as well. In one, a lanky bestubbled hunk gazes into the distance grimly and grips his pinky finger as if the fate of the world depends on pinky pressure.

Or perhaps he is engaged to sweaty-woman. Perhaps his nervous gesture is purely concern for her welfare.

I imagine a whole universe in which these models scowl and slump into and out of relationships. Befoamed. Hydrated. Unclogged. And that is when I realized I had to put the magazine down and walk away.

. . .

Wednesday Wa Pic - Irritable public spaces

 

I found this in Crankytown right across from Kvetch Korner.

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© George Waters, The Wa Blog

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How Venus's transit of the sun affects YOU

Tuesday Venus will visibly pass between Earth and the sun, affecting your personal horoscope in the following surprising ways:

Aries—Your native impulsiveness will cause you to tear the welder's glasses off a friend's face this Tuesday so that you can watch Venus transit the sun. This will not end well.

Taurus—You can be stubborn, and that is a good trait to have this week, because all kinds of people are going to try to tell you that seeing Venus transit the sun is worth missing "Judge Judy." There is a name for these kinds of people—"wrong."

Gemini—Adaptability has always been your strong suit, but seeing a planet punk the sun like this is really going to freak you out. Soothe yourself by wooing a Sagittarius.

Cancer—Your ruling planet is the moon, and the moon is not a planet, but go with me here. The moon will be overshadowed by all the publicity Venus is getting this week, which will make you sad. Find a kookaburra. Laugh with him.

Leo—You are fiery, self-assured and charming. Nobody likes that. Shut up about yourself for just five seconds, strap on some goggles and watch Venus already. Sheesh.

Virgo—Humane and gentle, you are dedicated to serving. All those people out staring at the sun are going to be thirsty. Howzabout you set down that rescue dog and whip up some Arnold Palmers?

Libra—Venus is your ruling planet, so you are bound to be excited by all the press she is getting this week. But keep that even keel you are so proud of, and a new relationship is likely to blossom. Don't wear yellow.

Scorpio—There is always a lot happening under the surface with you, Scorpio. Do you mind if I call you Scorpio? Anyway, I would suggest skipping the Venus transit altogether and dealing with those termite-laden stairs of yours. Call it a hunch.

Sagittarius—A Gemini will try to make time with you on Tuesday, but don't fall for it. Your broad-minded nature may tempt you, but stand firm. I mean, like, a Gemini? Seriously?

Capricorn—You are serious-minded, yet your symbol is a goat? Hmm. Watch the Venus transit online. Avoid pillows.

Aquarius—You are shy and quiet, yet boisterous and eccentric. You love water and take lots of baths. I don't know where I'm going with this.

Pisces—Compassionate, intuitive; you will be too busy with your aquarium to even notice the Venus hubbub this week. You alone, among all peoples, are blessed.

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Wednesday Wa Pic - the times we live in

 You know the culture has turned a corner when even mundane products throw attitude.

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© George Waters, The Wa Blog

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Wednesday Wa Pic - 75% up to off!

I sign maker new one get!

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© George Waters, The Wa Blog

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Wednesday Wa Pic - Universal edition

PLEASE DO NOT SIT ON MOUNTAINS.

O.K., it's an escalator warning sign at Universal Studios Hollywood, but I couldn't resist tilting it.

 

 Gotta wonder what horrible thing happened the last time somebody touched the gate that caused them to put up a sign. Perhaps, like this error I got on my computer, it is a...

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© George Waters, The Wa Blog

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Wednesday Wa Pic - Showoff edition

I have met a few, and this seems over-priced to me.

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© George Waters, The Wa Blog

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Wednesday Wa Pic - Glocks or God?

A guest pic! Shot by my wife during her stay in a Colorado hotel. 

Want to pack heat? It's that way. Want to get straight with your savior? Same way.

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© George Waters, The Wa Blog

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