The World According to Zed

You've Got a Friend ...

noreply@blogger.com (Zed) — Fri, 15 Apr 2011 01:52:00 +0000

You've Got a Friend

Carole King (Tapestry Album)
Copyright ©1971 by Colgems EMI Music (ASCAP). All Rights Reserved.

When you're down and troubled
and you need a helping hand
and nothing, nothing is going right.
Close your eyes and think of me
and soon I will be there
to brighten up even your darkest night

You just call out my name,
And you know wherever I am
I'll come running to see you again
Winter, spring, summer or fall
All you have to do is call
And I'll be there, yeah, yeah, yeah.
You've got a friend.

If the sky above you
should turn dark and full of clouds
and that old north wind begins to blow
Keep your head together and call my name out loud
and soon I'll be knocking upon your door.

You just call out my name
and you know wherever I am
I'll come running to see you again.
Winter, spring, summer or fall
Hey now, all you have to do is call.
And I'll be there, yes I will.
You've got a friend.
You've got a friend.

Hey ain't it good to know that you've got a friend
When people can be so cold?
They'll hurt you, and they'll desert you.
They'll take your soul if you let them.
Oh, but don't you let them

You just call out my name
and you know wherever I am
I'll come running to see you again.
Winter, spring, summer or fall
Hey now, all you have to do is call.
Lord, I'll bee there, yes I will.
You've got a friend.
You've got a friend.
Ain't it good to know you've got a friend.
Ain't it good to know you've got a friend.

I'll be back, but I don't know when. Someday soon. If you need me, write me. You've got a friend.

Zed
zedsworld@msn.com

They're Not Trying to Be This Beautiful ... It's Accidental

noreply@blogger.com (Zed) — Sat, 09 Apr 2011 03:45:00 +0000

Ms. Frankie. She may look humble, but she smacks Johnny
on the head whenever he walks by.

Handsome Johnny. He eats first his food, then moves on to Frankie's food.
It understandable that Frankie smacks him whenever he walks by.

Mr. Cat Universe. He's got super good looks
and large muscles, but he's not conceited about it.


Frankie, The Cat with the Golden Eyes. Where's Johnny? She wants to smack him a few times.

Photos taken today by my friend and neighbor, Sharon.

Positive Marketing

noreply@blogger.com (Zed) — Tue, 05 Apr 2011 04:33:00 +0000

Was $249.99; Now on Sale for Only $259.99

What if this sort of thinking was taken further?

1. "We're giving you a raise. You were earning $65,000 a year, but we're reducing your salary to $40,000 in May. You'll pay far fewer taxes! Isn't that great? Congratulations!"

2. "We're having a two-for-one sale. If you buy one item, we'll only charge you for two. Deals like this don't come along every day!"

3. "We could charge you just $17,999 for this new car, but we won't. We want you to look like a big spender, a dynamic buyer, so we're charging you $45,999 instead. It's for your benefit!"

He SHOULD BE Depressed

noreply@blogger.com (Zed) — Thu, 31 Mar 2011 19:25:00 +0000

He does look a bit under the weather, I have to admit ...

I'd offer to help this guy, but honestly, with sideburns so long and fluffy; a combover; an overgrown and overly full mustache; and an ugly, bulky, shoulder-padded dark-gray wrinkled overcoat, he should be depressed. Get this man a stylist! Stat!

Hudson River Views. Wait. No. That's Mauritius!

noreply@blogger.com (Zed) — Mon, 28 Mar 2011 19:00:00 +0000

Outside my window, the Hudson River is rather dark, non-blue, and murky (possibly from the decomposing bodies in there, human and animal).

The Hudson River doesn't quite compare to the waters surrounding Mauritius, 900 km to the east of Madagascar, off to the east of Africa.

Could someone send me a pre-paid plane ticket to Mauritius? I have heard it is the only way to fully recuperate from the stomach flu. At least that's what I heard.

My Green Skin

noreply@blogger.com (Zed) — Fri, 25 Mar 2011 17:52:00 +0000

Do not under any circumstances get this year's stomach flu. DO NOT. No, no, no. NO! You have been warned. Three to five days of pure hell.

That picture? Nope, that's not me. I'm greener.

Please stay well, everyone!

The Irish Sure Have a Way with Words

noreply@blogger.com (Zed) — Thu, 24 Mar 2011 02:41:00 +0000

1
May those who love us love us.
And those that don't love us,
May God turn their hearts.
And if He doesn't turn their hearts,
May he turn their ankles,
So we'll know them by their limping.

2
No butter be on your milk nor on your ducks a web
May your child not walk and your cow be flayed
And may the flame be bigger and wider
Which will go through your soul
Than the Connemara mountains
If they were on fire

3
May you be afflicted with the itch and have no nails to scratch with!

Ah, the Irish. They sure have a way with words.

The Good Stuff's Inside

noreply@blogger.com (Zed) — Tue, 22 Mar 2011 14:39:00 +0000

Catnip, anyone? (from Frankie's stash)

Dunce

noreply@blogger.com (Zed) — Sat, 19 Mar 2011 15:37:00 +0000

marriedtothesea.com

Dunce.

Rigatoni and the Faeries Aire

noreply@blogger.com (Zed) — Tue, 15 Mar 2011 14:54:00 +0000

I sat down to play something on the piano this morning, and I chose one of the less difficult pieces I have available. The sheet music was hidden away in my piano bench, along with very simple things like Beatles pieces and "Take Me Out to the Ball Game."

I just breezed through this one, though when I came to the instruction "Rigatoni" halfway through the first page, I must admit I was unsure whether to speed things up or slow things down. I'm just plain unfamiliar with the "Rigatoni" notation.

If only I could play this wonderful piece for you here. You'll just have to imagine the beauty of it all and how incredibly well I play it.

Music notation for babies and wimps.

No DisneyWorld for Mrs. Brown

noreply@blogger.com (Zed) — Fri, 11 Mar 2011 14:40:00 +0000

Even in her final days, Mrs. Brown could not find anyone to cut her a break. No DisneyWorld for her.

Beer and Hot Dog Gum

noreply@blogger.com (Zed) — Wed, 09 Mar 2011 17:43:00 +0000

Here's a non-yummy food item for you (if one can consider this food):

Imagine you're at Yankees Stadium cheering on your favorite team and you think "How can I participate wholeheartedly in this game without (a) going on the field and getting arrested or (b) getting drunk on beer and committing a DUI on the way back to Brooklyn?" You know what you can do? You can chew Hot Dog Gum! Or Peanut Gum! And forget about the real beer! Instead, chew Beer Gum!

Yummy!

Get it here: http://www.fredflare.com/customer/product.php?productid=6860&cat=418

Bacon for Your Boo-Boos

noreply@blogger.com (Zed) — Tue, 08 Mar 2011 00:19:00 +0000

Come and get 'em. Bacon bandages.

The Fred Flare site has an entire bandage collection for your future boo-boos:

http://www.fredflare.com/customer/product.php?productid=2331&cat=311

I can only hope that scrambled egg bandages will not be far behind.

I Long for Dead Fish in Plastic Wrappers ...

noreply@blogger.com (Zed) — Sun, 06 Mar 2011 18:12:00 +0000

Here's a snack. Yum. Not.

I went recently to one of the Korean markets in town, and of the 14 long aisles in the store, 1 has food with recognizable labels. Some food with recognizable labels. Most of the labels have no image to help one figure out what's in the can, and the lettering is entirely written in Korean.

In an aisle containing peanut butter, no Skippy Super Chunk, no Skippy Creamy Peanut Butter, no Skippy anything could be found. No Peter Pan or Jiff. Off brands ruled. I was devastated. I bought some honey, but it might be thickened gluey pee, I don't know. I'm GUESSING it is honey. There was no Half 'n Half, no cream, no yogurt. There WAS milk, but none of it was 1%, 2%, or skim. It was milk. Period.

Unidentifiable Korean beverage. I'd like a diet Dr. Pepper please.

There were aisles containing barrels of what could have been fish. These fish didn't have tails, scales, or even eyes in some cases. So scarey. And the barrels were not covered--the fish just resided within. I rushed off those aisles, fearing a fish might jump out at me.

Fish, I thnk. Maybe.

Of possibly 200 people in the supermarket, I was one of three Americans. When we three saw each other, we ran toward each other with open arms, and spoke with great warmth, though we were strangers. I wanted to hug this unknown couple right there in aisle 3 and invite them to dinner. They told me they didn't recognize any of the foods and felt lost and alone. I appeared as an oasis in a vast dry desert. From my inner being, I felt truly loved and I loved these people in return.

More fish, possibly.

In all, I bought honey, unidentifiable milk, a possible can of tuna fish (won't know for certain until I open it), peanut butter (surely not Skippy), Splenda and Special K (they sell Splenda and Special K, go figure). I did not buy fresh "fish" from the barrels. Or meat, at $16.49/lb.

Oh how I long for the former days of identifiable food products. I long for English lettering on food cans. I long for 2% milk and Skippy peanut butter. I long for beef at $3.49/lb. I long for food that I recognize. I long for dead fish in plastic wrappers. Where is my dead fish in plastic wrappers?

Thirteen Words That Might Change the World

noreply@blogger.com (Zed) — Fri, 04 Mar 2011 23:44:00 +0000

I purchased a birthday card for one of my friends today.

The birthday card I chose had six words on the front, seven words on the inside, and was wrapped in plastic. There was no special picture, drawing, or anything else but a little bit of pink on the first page and a total of 13 words.

That must have been an important author who wrote the words in this plain greeting card--say, Jane Austin, Lord Byron, or Ernest Hemingway, someone who needed to rise from his or her grave to compose this message. The card and the 13 words cost $6.99; with local/state tax, approx. $7.49. I hope you understand, this was a greeting card I purchased, not a paperback novel.

I hope my friend likes the card. I really, really do. I hope it is the best card she and her family have ever seen. I hope her kids are inspired and decide to become an important author like Austen, Byron, or Hemingway. I hope it brings tears to my friend's mother's eyes, and makes her husband love her even more. I hope all this, 'cause for $7.49 for a small piece of folded paper and 13 words, it is the least I can expect.

Bad Singers

noreply@blogger.com (Zed) — Tue, 01 Mar 2011 02:25:00 +0000

A friend swears that she was asked to perform in an opera as well as in a Broadway play because of her great singing voice.

I'd never heard her sing before, until recently, during American Idol, which I watch frequently enough with her and her husband. I cannot state it any more emphatically: The woman cannot carry a tune and is completely and totally tone deaf. T-o-n-e d-e-a-f.

I'm staying home this week. I can watch AI on my own television.

And the worst singers always sing the loudest. Apparently, it's the law.

Could be ...

noreply@blogger.com (Zed) — Sun, 27 Feb 2011 04:08:00 +0000

I'm going to post again. Honest. Just not today.

It's possible I'll post tomorrow, but if it's sunny, I won't be home tomorrow. So try me Monday. Yes, definitely Monday I'll post. Or Tuesday. But maybe tomorrow.

noreply@blogger.com (Zed) — Thu, 17 Feb 2011 21:51:00 +0000

marriedtothesea.com

Getting the Crankiness Out

noreply@blogger.com (Zed) — Tue, 15 Feb 2011 20:08:00 +0000

     
         Grrrrr.

Boo!

Take a hike!

Buzz off!

Wow, I was feeling particularly cranky today before I posted that. ... Thanks, everyone!

Normal blogging will return to this page tomorrow February 16, or maybe not.

Stupidity at Its Finest

noreply@blogger.com (Zed) — Thu, 10 Feb 2011 19:34:00 +0000

I have no words. None.

Ringy-Dingy at the Gigantic Infrastructure and Waste of Everyone's Time Corporation

noreply@blogger.com (Zed) — Wed, 09 Feb 2011 00:32:00 +0000

Yesterday I called my former employer (Gigantic Infrastructure and Waste of Everyone's Time Corporation), and a recorded message said: If you know the name of the person you are trying to reach, please press 596279 NOW. Otherwise, please stay on the line. Fine. I knew the name of the person I was trying to reach, so I dialed 596279.

Another recording now said: If you know the name of the person you are trying to reach, please enter it NOW, beginning with the last name and followed by the first few letters of the person's first name, followed by the pound (#) sign. For names containing a Z, please use the 9 key.

All of our extensions are now preceded by a three-digit code. If the number you previously called was, for example, extension 3549, you must now add 493 before the 3549 extension. You would dial 493-3549 to connect with the person you are trying to reach. Please make a note of the extension prefix for your records, since notice of this addition to our phone system will be removed from this message by June 18, 2011. The number 493 must still used, but callers will no longer notified through this message that it is required.

Wow, this phone call was getting rough! So much pressure! I spelled out the person's last name using the numeric pad, but a recording said: There is no such name in our database. Please try again.

OK, it's possible I misdialed. I entering the name again very slowly and carefully. Again, the recording said: There is no such name in our database. Please try again.

I got through finally and of course the call went directly to voice mail. Since I was already connected to the company, I thought I'd call the personnel department with a question about benefits, but apparently the phone system does not allow someone to reach specific departments, only specific p-e-o-p-l-e. Great. I was told: If you do NOT know the name or extension of the person you are trying to reach, please press 596280 or hold the line for an operator.

Well, there was no point in holding the line for an operator since I know for a fact that this company doesn't HAVE an operator, and haven't had one since the recession started. They only have this stupid non-human-being electronic telephone system. Further, I couldn't even imagine the point of pressing 596280 again. So, I pressed 596280. Again. The recording said: You have reached the end of this message. If you were unable to speak with the party you were trying to reach, please try calling back again later.

And it was at this point the Gigantic Infrastructure and Waste of Everyone's Time Corporation hung up on me. THEY hung up on ME. Oh, the injustice ...

A Grumbling Request

noreply@blogger.com (Zed) — Sat, 05 Feb 2011 20:24:00 +0000

And make it Cabernet Sauvignon, please.

From www.marriedtothesea.com

The Triangular, Four-Sided, Pointy-Top Scheme

noreply@blogger.com (Zed) — Fri, 04 Feb 2011 16:08:00 +0000

A while back, I attended a meeting concerning the building of a home-based business–well, actually, it turned out to be a meeting for the building of a pyramid scheme.

At the end of a long, droning, boring, Gantt chart presentation, I asked one of the presenters for written material about how the company works and how someone actually makes money beyond the people at the top of that thing they had drawn on the chalkboard that sure looked like a "pyramid," but that they refused to call a "pyramid."

They told me no, they couldn’t give me any written material on the "we're-not-a-pyramid" operation because I might share it with someone and that person might not "understand properly how the company worked." Yeah, that person might think it’s a pyramid scheme.

After that, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. However, they were just as happy to see me go because I had dared to question how this pyramid-scheme-they-refused-to-call-a-pyramid-scheme works. In fact, once I asked that question of them, they literally turned away from me, crossed the room, and put all of their attention into some poor soul who had driven in all the way from Staten Island and who, at the end of the meeting, said, "Well, how would I get involved?" Uh-oh; mistake. What was this Staten Island guy (SIG) thinking!?

With that, the two presenters, one male and one female, descended on this SIG like birds of prey, sitting on each side of him, smiling, almost cheek to cheek, ready to get him to sign up. The woman presenter kept touching his arm and smiling seductively, leaning forward in such a way that her bosom was just inches from his face. The male pyramid scheme guy just kept talking in circles, round and round, saying not much of anything except to insist the SIG would eventually earn a lot of money and eventually just sit back and collect profits on the efforts of everyone else. Right. Probably not.

All I could think was, yeah, let's everyone buy $300 of this company's products to get started, spend hours of precious time selling the products, get nothing in return for years, pay $100 for the privilege of becoming a distributor, and maintain and continually reinvest in a $250 inventory.

Here, let us give you this MONEY so we can SELL your products for you. Hey, show me where to sign up!

As I grabbed my bag and said a quick goodnight (the presenters never even looked at me as I left), I heard the SIG ask for a pen to "sign up." Sad. Even now, a few years later, I think of him and how he'd been taken, as many have before him. Sad. Welcome aboard the "triangular, four-sided, pointy-top scheme" train. We're going for a ride!

Visit Egypt if you must (well not right now), but don't invest in companies using this scheme.

The Toaster Oven from Spookyville

noreply@blogger.com (Zed) — Wed, 02 Feb 2011 02:40:00 +0000

All of these years, I have been the only human on Earth who doesn't own a toaster oven (well, me and the Amish). But I went to Target last week and got myself a neat-o model.

After a few days I noticed the lettering on the front right corner of the oven window that says something like, "If a fire should erupt, keep the oven door closed and pull out the plug."

Not my model, but close. Very close.

Things go on fire in there? Really? So now I stand and watch everything I cook. If it takes 20 minutes, I’m standing there staring at the oven for 20 minutes, or I pull up a chair and stare. I’m glued to the front of the toaster oven and try not to blink.

And it makes inexplicable, ear-piercing clanging noises as if it’s possessed. Loud, clanging sounds, like a ghost wearing heavy chains and dragging its feet. I’m surprised it doesn’t cry out "Mary! Mary!" or "Boo!"or "Is Jack Nicholson available if they turn this into a movie?"

It’s the toaster oven from the town of Spookyville, but it's mine and I'm loving it. I’m in the twenty-first century now, baby. Next I might buy a blender. Yes, a blender.

What Mess?!?

noreply@blogger.com (Zed) — Mon, 31 Jan 2011 03:44:00 +0000

This afternoon, a neighbor showed up unexpectedly at the door and asked if she could come in so I could sign a petition regarding my building, what I like to call The Fortress. I said "sure." Big mistake.

I had worked since early morning, and I didn't realize there were bits of cat fur rolling down the tiled hallway and across the wood-planked living-room floor. In addition, the sauce pan used to saute mushrooms was still on the stove, minus the mushrooms. The kitchen sink had a few items in it that I planned to put in the dishwasher four minutes before the bell rang--I never got around to it.

There were also two small bags of garbage: one contained a bit of used scoopable litter and the other contained two empty cans of cat food, as well as several items I took from the fridge and intended to, yes, that's right, throw down the garbage shute. Not the cleanest this place has ever been, but certainly not horrific. If I had been given four additional minutes, I could have run to the garbage room and then put everything in the dishwasher. Voila! The place would have looked great! Only thing left would have been the rolling cat hair.

I kept apologizing to this person, a stranger, and stammering about the mess in my apartment. Things were being put in the dishwasher as we spoke. I even used vanilla Febreeze spray to make sure everything smelled super. I looked like an indentured servant picking up for the Queen.

So, now GET THIS, on the way out the woman said, "Go. Clean up the mess. Bye!" Huh? Huh? I repeat: Huh?

I let go of the door, and it slammed, narrowly missing her butt. Through the closed door, I shouted "Sorry!" Let's face it, while I can say this place is a mess, this woman can't.

Mess? She said, "Clean up the mess"? What mess?!?

... Got to clean up that cat hair!