Charlywalker's Blog

The stats helper monkeys prepared a 2011 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

A New York City subway train holds 1,200 people. This blog was viewed about 4,300 times in 2011. If it were a NYC subway train, it would take about 4 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

{November 24, 2011}   To Err is Human, to Blog is Divine

My television is on it’s last tube and needed to be laid to rest. We owned this antiquated boob-tube for fifteen years and it followed us through-out our trans continental locations with out obtaining one scratch from the moving company.( Even the remote laid intact, batteries included…….).  This ancient analogue helped raise my children and provided entertainment(?) for our family  during Prime Time…………and not for prime time.

I don’t know where this TV ‘s final resting place will be, because…well….I don’t know where TV’s go when they run out of their power supply and forfeit their vertical stance for a horizontal time- base.  I guess the amplifier is out cold and syncing into the contrast as it separates the demodulator which will never flyback in order to transform…..

In other words I am  now faced with having to purchase a replacement.

I hate shopping for Large Electronics. Unless it is a life-like robot of Brad Pitt.    I particularly do not like to shop for  a large electronic  housed  in a giant ware -house that offers the Cost- Consumer, what they deem,  a  fair and balanced deal.  

  Unfortuneately, one day while unloading my five gallon olive jar onto a conveyer belt during checkout,  my membership was inadvertently upgraded to a higher level. This was LED by princess Leah wearing a yellow see through vest wielding a laser ,holding me at gun point, which I later found out is  disguised as  random price checks….

SO…. now I get to make  Executive decisions when I spend on items that nurture a shelf span of eternity and could possibly supply a small nation. 

I have been a member of this giant house of Cost-Containing surplus since their conception, and never took the opportunity to investigate their backlog of electronic offerings, until our faithful Panasonic died.

I entered the wear-house in anticipation of leaving with a new TV. A new and improved TV.  A   television of our times. A television that my children can be proud of that contains the current mechanisms to import whatever attachment they may need to export for their viewing pleasure.  Something that will tickle their little pixels…..

I spent two hours pacing through the television aisles with various brand names and notable features staring at me. I had fragments of the alphabet swirling in my head, with the likes of:

LCD…LED…HD..CRT….DLP..HDTV…..all those abbreviations gave me a thriving ADHDS………Attention Deficit (to) High Density Systems.  Soooo many choices and my time was running short.   I immediately ruled out Plasma,…….. who wants to watch a clear yellowish fluid flow out from the screen……..

Finally, a Cost-Courtious employee approached me, well I think it was an employee, this one had on a red vest. I was grateful that  it wasn’t security as I had been  occupying the  same area for  hours with out assistance, possibly raising a height of suspicion around the store.  (Yes…I’m sure to them, I was a candidate to conceal a 60 inch  SMART-HDTV under my  Victoria Secret Hoodie and shuffle out the wired doors wearing platform booties onto the lot, where I inevitably always forget  where my car is parked…… ). I guess I could have pitched a tent in stead of a fit, but I wasn’t in the camping aisle….

Even under non emergent  shopping days I spend a leisurely   2 plus hours trolling the hallways  of this giant ware-house.  One day in particular I noticed a tall  man with dark hair following me about as I meandered between the 50 lb coffee bags and dancing on through the plastic utensils that can service a table of 500. It wasn’t until I lingered too long in the women’s necessity aisle that I caught a glimpse of him eying me through a peep-toe shoe, and I waltzed my flat-bed of items to the front desk to complain.   I ranted about the blatant obviousness of their security methods and do they really think I can smuggle a frozen King Salmon in my spanks………unnoticed????  Chilling thought.

The manager listened intently and had me describe the man to him that was following me throughout the store. I did this with intense detail from his cologne  all the way to his fake pinky ring.  The manager gave a slight chuckle and exposed to me that his store only has  women security agents employed today.  I  thanked the manager and asked him  that when I am ready to check out would he kindly furnish me with an escort to my car as I do not want to end up sleeping with the frozen fillets…….

Meanwhile, I was LED back to the Electronic ranch to listen to the courteous  attendant start to describe the differences in the various makes and models of the HD haven that was spread out before me.  I stood there in my TV trance and I snapped too when I heard him utter the word “Smart Television”. 

  Hmmmm.. I am tired of that adjective being attached to items of every day use………… Smart tv, Smart phones, Smart washers & dryers, Smart clocks,……. Smart Alec’s………..I’m not playing this Panel Game Mr. Smarty pants…..

I don’t want to own anything that is smarter than me.   I might lose control. And God knows how often the Control’s get lost in my house……

After a long and arduous meeting of the neurons, I opted for the Smart -TV costing a bundle and causing my wallet to smart.  The Cost-Conscious employee loaded the flat screen into my car and off I drove into the sunset toward the reluctant  teen at home awaiting to help me assemble this work of art.  This ART that carries a 90 day return policy. This Smart -piece-of-crap-de-resistance hung flawless in our home up  until the 99th day when it decided to use it’s craft and emit distortion and ghost figures followed by pixel interruptus……

My Panasonic never gave me any back talk…

I went through the proper Channels to remedy the problems which ultimately LED me to dismantle the Hair-brained TV and lug it back to the giant Cost-consuming store.  I stood in line with receipt in hand and was approached by a Blue vested worker who loudly announced that I was “past the ninety days for a return”. ( At this point I was thinking maybe  I should have opted for the Plasma, at least the blood pulsating through the veins in my head would have been replenished….)

The large mouth bassy flopped over her deck of returns and handed me a business card with a toll free number of a concierge unit belonging to the giant Cost-conglomerate and fished out the words “good-luck”.  

Luck I don’t need….a working TV…..I do.

I tried to remain calm and not activate the spare key on my key chain to the wine cabinet…….but I  realized I was  not in the confines of my own  home, and I don’t have key roaming…..

I was instructed to “step aside” for the other customers as I stood guard of my flat screen and dialed the number issued to me for problem resolution.  I explained the situation to this Cost-concierge in grave detail and was LED to the  call center of the manufacturer of the Smart-TV,who told me to:

“Go home and set the the TV back up and we can troubleshoot and call the repair person for replacement parts”.

O.K.  let’s re-cap: “I spent mega-bucks on an electronic item from a Cost-corrupt environment that is barely 3.5 months old, who is waiving their responsibility to assist me in exchanging this faulty TV and passing me on to the Maker who produces this product , who want to send someone to replace a part which has not yet been determined if that is the root of the problem?  In other words….you are telling me that my  brand new  recently purchased smart -TV  is in need of repair”.

I buy a Brand spanking new TV.  I go home and plug it in.  I turn it on and it works, it works for the first 90 days.  Now they want to put parts in it with out investigating the TV.  They will not give me another one. They will not give me my money back.  I am stuck with this Brand New HDTV that, even if parts are exchanged or repaired , could still cause issues after the warranty expires. Then what? More repairs?  Hmmmm… very Smart of them……

I walked over to the Armoire sitting across the room that carried the old Panasonic in it’s cupboard and looked at the bare shelf and pondered at the changes over those 15 years. Changes involving the advancements in our society.  Changes in the products,the people, the customer service from Neverland, the hand-off of accountability, no more dumb TV’s…….

Changes that LED me to turn that empty cabinet into a wine closet where I will sit and toast my Brand New Flat Screen Smart HDTV  with all it’s ghost like manner  spewing  fireworks of distortion, while I wait for the Smarty-Pants repairman……..

spread the humor

I just received notice of an acceptance package into a nursing program I had applied to over a year ago. I should be elated and bouncing off walls much like my puppy’s tennis ball when in play. Except I am not.

I am having mixed emotions about continuing this venture. I am an older student reinventing another career after playing stay-at-home-mom for the past fifteen years and sacrificing my worldly goods for the betterment of raising children. I am sitting on the white picket fence now about attending this program for many reasons;

One major issue is the cost of the program. This is an expenditure that has a healthy bite to it and I am at a time in my life where I should be mimicking menopause in the Mediterranean and petting my pup while we lap up the Chianti and gnaw on biscotti;  Instead of pawing at textbooks containing fonts that even my +250 reading glasses can’t pick up. Come to think of it the only glass worth picking up should be half full of red wine.

I am an older student and am competing with young bloods. So far I have been superseding  this nouveau wild bunch, but they still act like I’m the token geriatric for the course. Sometimes I feel as though I don’t have a dog’s chance in getting through this, much like the hits I have been getting lately on this blog,….. an all time low.  Someone suggested I turn this blog into a book, she actually called me a “good writer”. I have been tauted as being funny, clever, and witty, but never referenced as a good writer. To me that was an ultimate compliment. I started to give this writing a chance but I didn’t know how to transform my blogging into an actual book.

I was out with a friend the other day driving to a bar and grill to discuss,… well, to discuss,….. um, anything.   As she drove through the maze of rural blacktop now covered in dirty snow, I mentioned to her the prospectus of making this “Bloggie with Doggie” into a manuscript. She likened the idea but pondered on the meat of the book. I mentioned my thoughts to her about” aligning my puppy perils with the coping mechanisms of menopause…… without the prescribed meds”.

She turned the green Chevy Sedan through filthy snowbanks and muttered something about…. “making it more dirty..”.

I reiterated that that was a possibility and; “I guess I could add some porn to perk up the readers libido, after all doesn’t sex and filth sell well? Much  like my over priced puppy products at Pet Smartie?”.

My friend slowed down to a speed where I could recognize and read the street signs and she turned to me laughing:

“You Moron, I was referring to the snow, I can’t believe how dirty it is”.

 So I guess trying to add “Charly-dog Does Dallas” or “Deep doggie Throat” a dog’s fun with a Cautionary Tail, is not on the menu?

Fine then, just order me a martini that matches the melting snow…..Dirty……….. stirred not plowed.

Ain’t marriage grand? Don’t you just love the long silent pauses and passing each other by the bathroom like two ships in the night with only one fog horn that is actively tooting.Isn’t is amazing how twenty years can sneak by faster than gas escaping my husbands ass during an afternoon nap.  Much like I have been experiencing with my new puppy.

Charly-dog and my husband have many similarities that they don’t even know exist. They both run around on weekends  unshaven with their bed heads disheveled yawning as they transport their bodies from the couch to the floor.

 Their table manners are lax in the department  of keeping their compartments closed while they chew and finishing their meal by licking their bowls in unison.

 I have witnessed the two loitering around the stove while dinner is being prepared begging for a tasty preview.  The only difference lately that I have recorded is that I get jumped on more by my Dog…..

My parents were married for ever, and I asked my mother: “Why?”….why stay married for fifty years. What’s the point. The kids are grown and gone and maybe the things you thought you had in common aren’t  there anymore. Maybe two people have grown apart and have different desires and dreams then they did fifty years ago when they  first met. Why stay together if you are not truly elated and passionate about each other any more. I asked my then 70 year old mother these questions and her reply was:

“You marry for companionship. The companionship follows you into old age  ’til death do you part”.

Companionship? Get a dog. There is less barking and minor messes to contend with. Dogs curl up at your feet and can keep you warm and protected during the night without the snoring. They don’t have any excess baggage of extended family members. I can’t imagine one of Charly-dogs siblings phoning us for money or, God forbid, his mother calling daily to complain about the shiksa Shih Tzu he married.Dog’s make great companions, they smother you with  unconditional love even when they are faced with a rolled up newspaper above their nose.

 My husband has always traveled a lot and most of that time  for me was filled  with raising  children, I never stopped to take a breather, I just kept following the lead line.

 There can be a lot of things that get misplaced in a marriage besides your keys. For instance ,those times in your relationship where the initial spark lasted longer than  a brisk kiss goodbye out the door. Those times when a dinner and a movie meant actually getting out of the family room for a night.

Relationships fall into the hands of both parties involved and each is responsible for their part. It takes two to Tango…unless your mate doesn’t like to dance.  Charly-dog likes to dance. He waltzed over to me once in the kitchen poised on his hind legs mimicking a Cha-Cha as I attempted to tackle  a Chicken Marsala. I grabbed his front paws and we swayed to they songs of Michael Buble blasting from the Bose speaker. I picked him up into my arms and extended his paw toward that Tango path of a hallway allowing him to take the lead. Charly has the perfect emotion for that dance; he harbors a perennial grin as he exploits the pencil  in his teeth that he stole from my book bag.

Yes I think Dogs could replace  husbands in certain categories, now if Charly could just get out there and earn a buck I’d have it made in the shade. Maybe I’ll send him for some Salsa Lessons at Juilliard. Maybe I’ll just send him out for Hot Salsa & Chips to go along with my Hot flashes..

spread the humor.

I keep seeing ads everywhere for drugs that cure depression that include a grandfather clause of  “adverse symptoms” longer  than Iron Butterfly’s drum solo from In-A-Gadda-Da-Vita.  I know depression is a serious matter and not to be taken lightly, but isn’t there abetter way than to just mask it with medication?

Maybe get a dog instead. My puppy perks my dog day afternoons.  You know those days where you stand in the shower with the warm water racing down your back washing away every thought that has your mind on postponement. You bask in the warmth of the pure (?) liquid   spewing in from the underground pipes that are re- routed from a DuPont run-off.

Those days when you are begging God for two more minutes under that toasty comforter before the morning commotion starts.

Those days where you sit on the front stoop stroking your dogs back and mumble -on about hormonal heartache.

 Those days where you are laying on the floor staring at the unpainted ceiling for over an hour listening to nothing.

Those days that make you feel separated from all the rest while you face the corners of your mind.

I can see why someone would want to pop a pill to help their elevator go all the way to the top. It’s easier. Just add water.

I think a puppy is a cure for depression and menopause. There is no way that a frisky mongrel will let you have an inch of downtime to dwell on yourself. Puppies are in constant motion and challenge you to try to keep up. They force you to get out there and walk amongst crowds while they bark their bobble heads off. They make you laugh your grey mater right through the dyed roots with their obscure performances as they race around life.  Dogs make every day a good day.

I was out with ex co-workers last night and we downed decorative martini’s that hailed from the Baroque era.  While the sumptuous liquor flowed through us we laid our doggie stories on the table. They own older dogs  and have a lot more experienced with their pets than I  do.

I listened intently as they offered up some mongrel counsel  while I scribbled their advice onto cocktail napkins. There were a lot of similarities in our puppy parables especially about our dogs having to relieve themselves in sub zero temperatures.

I was thankful to hear that one friends pit-bull absolutely refused to go out into the snow and pee. This dog is well past five years and lives in the same geographical region that mine does and should be well aware of the weather conditions by now, yet this dog decided on his own to refuse to go into the winter  blizzard aftermath and plant a daily deposit.

I asked her how she handled that situation.  And she just said:

” He just doesn’t go he holds it.”

Mind you the snow was lasting well over a week. There must be something genetically altered in a pit-bulls system that allows him to hold for an eternity.

Maybe there is Camel in their ancestry.

Maybe science needs to tap into this secret and apply it to three women over 50 who are out in a Thai  restaurant  fighting for the ladies room every half hour.

Maybe The owner should purchase a Potty Patch and  place it in a dark corner of the bar.

  My other friend has twin schnauzers and they have access to a doggie door. I researched these canine stairways to heaven and they are quite the event:

First, take your special order door off its hinges then you balance it across two saw horses and use a template to sketch the measured opening.

Second: you CUT a square into your raised paneled solid mahogany door and glue the leak proof rubber flap with a one way valve onto the external margin. “Protects against weather leaks, helps with potty accidents, and keeps the bugs out”.

Right. My puppy cost me fifty bucks, my house is worth over a half a mil…the only openings I’ll make in this building is the Front Door as I turn the knob and pull towards me and send my pup outside into the cold weather, making his potty accidents on the white turf, and keeping the bugs to himself.

It’s a dog’s life and I’m sure the lack of eco-high tech Latrine gadgets to accommodate my puppy’s tinkles will not enhance or help with potty mishaps. Besides Charly-dog hates change. He is a product of routine. Introducing a new change in his daily routine could result in a negative effect. Might cause a set back and he could retract and withhold his bladder like the Pit-bull.  Might turn that incontinence into aggression. Not Charly, he might fall prey to depression and just sleep all day.

My dog is too hyper to sleep all day, even if he were to dip into his Pill-Pockets.

One time the Vet gave me a prescription of a sedative for my dog. The prescribed amount was one pill a day to induce sleepiness in order for me to be able to trim his nails without the dog snapping at me.  I gave half the recommended dosage and waited for my dog to get drowsy and flop on his bed. Five hours later this puppy was racing around the house barking at drapery patterns.

I think mixing Mutts and Meds are hazardous to ones health.

et cetera
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