Making Utah look even stoopider…

From the Salt Lake Tribune, Feb 3, 2015 (no, not 1955):

"If an individual has sex with their wife while she is unconscious ... a prosecutor could then charge that spouse with rape, theoretically," said Rep. Brian Greene, R-Pleasant Grove."That makes sense in a first date scenario, but to me, not where people have a history of years of sexual activity."

Same place, Feb 4, 2015:

This year, lawmakers are lining up to order a special edition AR-15, manufactured by Tegra Arms in Orem, a semi-automatic rifle similar to the M16 used by the military.

The carbon fiber weapon is surprisingly lightweight, covered in a white Cerakote finish with a gray beehive pattern. The state motto, "Industry," is emblazoned on the side with a beehive. On the stock is etched a honeybee, the state insect, and the phrase "Vox Populi," the Latin phrase for "Voice of the People," which is the motto of the Utah House.

And finally, published on the 3rd of this month:

Utah lawmakers looking to make a statement want to change the oath of office and require elected officials to swear to defend Utah's Constitution first, ahead of the U.S. Constitution.

Rep. Brian Greene, R-Pleasant Grove, said state lawmakers are elected to act as protectors of the state and its constituents against the federal government.

Yup, our illustrious leaders thing that it is not possible for a husband to rape his wife, gave out an assault rifle as a commemorative trinket of their time at this legislative session and see the U.S. Government as the enemy.

I’m sooo proud to have them “representing” me.

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And from the “how the hell did THAT happen” file; saw this on the way home yesterday:

2013’s Bangerter

Over 20 years ago, when I was just starting on my path to become a teacher, teachers were already complaining about Utah’s huge class sizes and lowest per-pupil spending in the nation.  Then Governor Norm Bangerter told teachers to quit complaining and “take two aspirins and go back to work.”

We’ve made a lot of progress since then.  Now Governor Gary Herbert, as reported by the Salt Lake Tribune, recently commented “A teacher could have gone to sleep 100 years ago, come back 100 years later and felt very comfortable in the classroom – because nothing has changed.”

That’s probably because he hasn’t been in a classroom for over 100 years.

For a (beginning) list of things that would freak out a teacher from 100 years ago, go HERE.

Stupid move #3.5943x10^24

You know what happens when you forget to put 2 little drops of oil in those each of those 2 little holes in the power sprayer after cleaning?

Nothing, until you try painting again.  Then this happens:

Instead of coming out in a nice smooth spray, you get some big obnoxious globules of paint in with the even spray.  Ok, maybe they’re not that big, about ¼ inch or so (the size of the gap between the hood and the fender), but splatted on an otherwise smooth painting of the hood of a car, they look like the Grand Tetons.

The back was done before I ran out of paint and had to go out and get more, cleaning the painter before I left.  Now I have to sand down the hood and paint it all over again.

But that’s ok, I was going to put 2 coats on anyway, now it’s just going to end up being 3.  And since I rearranged it so the car has the whole garage to itself, the painting goes pretty smoothly (as long as I remember to properly prepare the sprayer.)

How to spread a big fat lie.

A chain letter that originally started as a text has made it’s way onto Facebook.  I’ve commented about how I hate those “if you don’t pass this on…” emails (and now texts and Facebook posts) and how even if I like their message, I remove that part before sending it on.

It annoys me.  It’s a flat out threat, calculated to scare people into passing on the originator’s point of view, or in this case a bold faced lie.

A lot of times it’s a way for someone to insure a cause they believe in gets out there.  I this case, since the information being spread is an irrelevant false statistic, I think it’s just some moron out there that gets off on manipulating people.

Duhn, duhn, da!

Guess I’m going to have a bad week.  Or not.

What we have here is a failure to communicate.

I call him “Copenhagen® guy”.  He’s in his late 40’s or early 50’s, chews Copenhagen® tobacco and has a serious Napoleon complex.  Although he doesn’t come in often anymore, he’s been buying his tobacco at the Chevron since before I started working there.  And he’s always arrogant, condescending, rude and impatient.

The other day he struts in and commands “4 Copenhagen pouches.”

There’s only one tin up in the display, so I look under the counter to see if there is any more.  I grab a roll of what happens to be Skoal® pouches, not recognizing the difference since they are both brown and I don’t chew the stuff.

“Those aren’t pouches” he barks at me.

Looking at the roll in my hand, right to where it says “Pouches”, I respond with “what?”

“Those aren’t pouches!”

“Says ‘pouches’ right here.”

I his best condescending “are you too stupid to understand what I’m saying” tone, he replies “Not Copenhagen pouches.”

“Oh, not Copenhagen, now I see what you meant to say.”  I wanted to say “Well, why the $*&# didn’t you say that in the first place?”, but I knew that I was going to ruin his day by having only one tin anyway, so I just let it go.

He bought his one tin and stomped out, dissatisfied with our store once again.  Dude, if we suck so bad, why do you keep coming back?

On a lighter note, here are some pictures I took that same day, of the evening sun shining on the Wasatch Mountains.

And one final picture I just took a minute ago, that was just too cute not to post.

Can we get any dumber?

I was looking out the window towards the gas pumps when I was at work tonight.  There’s a guy standing at the driver’s door of his silver Dodge Durango and I watch him light up a cigarette.  Figuring he’s just about to get in and leave, I don’t move to do anything about it.

Until I see him walk to the back of his SUV, with the smoke in his mouth, and open up the gas tank.  This is where I jet over to the intercom, punch the 1/2 button (for pumps 1 and 2) and dumbfoundedly  spit out “Um, there’s no smoking around the gas pumps, put out the cigarette immediately please” just as he removes the gas hose to bring it over to his truck.

Fortunately, he leans over and crushes out the smoke.  But he must have been a bit embarrassed, because he just hung up the pump and took off.  Without closing his gas tank filler.

Stupid is as Stupid does.

A little common sense folks.

 

Seriously folks, I know the job market is grim out there, but if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.

If these crooks had rented a store front, placed an ad in the paper and interviewed people who came to them in an office, I could understand falling for the scam.

But when someone walks up to you in a Wal*Mart or the South Towne Mall and on nothing but sight offers you a high paying job, you gotta (or ought to) question their honesty.

Then when they hire you on the spot, between the tighty-whities and the tube socks, and ask for your bank account information so they can direct deposit your paychecks, you gotta (or ought to) pull off your best Bill Cosby imitation and respond with “Riiiight!”

Now, I truly feel sorry for the people who got scammed, you should be able to trust your fellow human beings.  And I feel especially sorry for the mentally handicapped man that these people stole from.  But at the same time, I have to ask anyone with their full mental capabilities “What the hell were you thinking?”  Did no one think to ask where this business was going to be, to insist on seeing the working conditions, want to get a feel for the place they would be spending 8 hours a day, 5 days a week at?

People, people, people.  Think.  Ask.  Expect good answers.  And if your gut is telling you this is too good to be true, you’ve never been this lucky before, then triple check and don’t give out ANY information unless you are sure they are a legitimate business.

Please, I’m tired of seeing these stories and asking “How could anyone fall for that?”

Stupid is as stupid does.

Life lesson #5A-627B, subsection iii:

When you are called before a judge, for whatever reason, do not wear sagging pants that show your boxers.

Life lesson #5A-627B, subsection iv:

When the previously mentioned judge asks you to pull up those sagging pants, don’t tell her to “F”-off.

We got a 14 day reprieve from one of our more disruptive and disrespectful students because he chose to ignore those life lessons.

Why do you ask little Running with Scissors?

… Kid kind of limps into my class the other day so I ask him what happened.  “I fell and popped my butt knuckle.”

… Couple days later I overhear one student saying to another “Old people are cool.  They’re just like us, only they’ve lived longer.”

… And under the category of “Thanks for sharing”, written on one of my desks:

… And then there’s always the ever-loved personal opinion about the teacher:

 

Which always breaks my little heart to see.  If they only knew that those comments made us laugh rather than cry. (Now, if every kid hated me I just might cry or find another job, but you’re bound to tick off a few kids just trying to keep your class on task.)  Especially since I’d say the majority of the students like me.

… And I fear for the future of this kid, not being able to tell the difference between furniture and love interests: (click on the picture to get a better view of it).

… And now, the finale, that part which is the inspiration for the title:

… Your mom ever yell at you “Don’t play with those scissors”?  Yeah, mine did too.  Must not have sunk in.  Fourth period, my period from hell, has been pretty good this week.  We’ve actually got some learning done, and although there are a couple of them that didn’t do anything, at least they let me teach the ones that wanted to learn.  So, I must have been on a natural high (yeah, that’s my excuse).  I can’t even remember why I had the scissors in my hand, but I was talking with the class while fiddling with them, and fiddled a nice chunk off one of my thumbs.  (Had to re write THAT sentence a couple of times).  Right there in class.  That’s why it’s taken me an hour to write this post, it’s cut right at the point that hits the space bar.  Fortunately I had band-aids in the desk, but we did almost have to use the oxygen mask on one of the girls that was laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe.  Amazingly, most of the class was more concerned for my finger, and didn’t find it all funny until I was all bandaged and obviously going to survive.

… Anyway, hope you had as interesting a week.

The answer to all my problems

After last night, imagine how excited I was when I got this e-mail this morning. I just know this attachment "check.pdf" will be some description of a windfall for me and how to get a check for several thousand, if not hundreds of thousands, dollars. Maybe I'll open it and see exactly how much I'm getting. Sure gonna help with the repairs of the LTD. Yeah, I have no idea who Barron T Mildred of zdajb@uchile.cl is, but if it were somebody sending it as a scam or a way to infect my computer they would have included some bogus story rather than leaving it blank, right? So, it must be safe. And honest. Well, I'm gonna go open it up and see how lucky I got this morning.

Or maybe I'll just delete it. One blowout a week is more than enough....

Note to Self : Weed whacking in shorts can be painful.

My back yard is hidden behind my garage and undeveloped so it has pretty much become a parking area and weed garden. And a pretty good weed garden at that - especially this year when it was wet earlier in the spring, and now it's dry as hell. Nice dry weeds. And being a couple of blocks from Sugarhouse Park and less than a week away from the 4th of July, it's a fire just waiting to happen. So I pull out the weed whacker and start to harvest the crop. Things are going well until I hit a rock, the tip of the "string" breaks off and heads straight for my calf. Now I know how those poor weeds feel, course they don't bleed. So I head into the house, put on my paratrooper pants, supress my sympathy for the weeds and whack the rest of them. I tried to do the humane thing and kill them all off at the beginning of spring, before they even had a chance to grow - but there's a reason for the phrase "growin' like a weed".

Expecting luxury at economy prices....

Ok, you have had a drunk puke all over the passenger door of your car and for some reason you didn't get around to cleaning it off until it had time to "bake on". You go to the nearest Chevron to go through one of those automated car washes. Baked on puke, do you choose the Supreme car wash, the Plus or the Economy car wash? This customer choose the Economy car wash, lowest one on the list, and then wanted her money back when it didn't get the window clean. Told her that I couldn't give her her money back, but offered her a new wash. She took it complaining the whole way, mumbling something about coming back again and again until it got clean. After the second wash I guess she decided that it wasn't worth the time and sent her daughter in to get her money back. This is when she explains about the baked on puke, and I explain to her that not only can't I give her the money back, she'll have to talk to the manager in the morning, but also that the Economy wash is meant as a quick wash to get the grime off the car, and you really can't expect it to get something that bad off. Not happy, but they did go get one of the window squeegees and scrubbed it off.