Showing posts with label heaven. Show all posts
Showing posts with label heaven. Show all posts

Aug. 14: R.I.P., Yankee dude

Yankee Hall of Famer Phil Rizzuto died today. So, Kath, I guess Dad has another Yankee buddy in Heaven. I'm sure they're all gathered, making fun of the Red Sox and Red Sox fans and anything else having to do with Red Sox. And Dad's probably trying to work in some jabs about the Mariners too.

I read this amusing bit about Rizzuto in one of today's articles:
Yankee fans also loved his unusual commentary. In an age of broadcasters who spout statistics and repeat the obvious, Rizzuto delighted in talking about things like his fear of lightning, the style of an umpire's shoes or even the prospect of outfielder Dave Winfield as a candidate for president. He liked to acknowledge birthdays and anniversaries, read notes from fans, praised the baked delicacies at his favorite restaurant and send messages to old cronies. And if he missed a play, he would scribble "ww" in his scorecard box score. That, he said, meant "wasn't watching."

I'm embarrassed to admit that my knowledge of Phil Rizzuto is limited to that I learned from watching the Seinfeld episode ("The Pothole") when George loses his keys. It's one of those when all the storylines tie together and is hilarious.

George puts his keys on the table. On the ring is a miniature head, clearly a caricature of someone.

JERRY: What is that?

GEORGE: Ahh, Steinbrenner gave 'em to us, in honor of Phil Rizzuto being inducted into the Hall of Fame.

He squeezes the miniature head.

HEAD: Holy cow!

JERRY: They don't actually have to squeeze his head to get him to say 'holy cow,' do they?

GEORGE: Just the last few innings of a double-header.


Dad, please don't annoy Mr. Rizzuto, mmkay? You may know a lot about baseball, but he actually played the game.


—Jen

July 26: The Way I See It #230

This morning when Vic woke me to say good-bye he said he hadn't made coffee because we were out of creamer. And then he ran out the door so's not to suffer the consequences.

I hate when we run out of creamer. I especially hate when we run out of creamer when I'm finally on the verge of getting rid of a severe headache I've had for four days. Caffeine sometimes eases my headaches a bit. Not having caffeine is guaranteed to make them much worse. So I was left with no choice but to go to Starbucks this morning.

You might be thinking, "But Jen, you could have dranken the coffee without creamer..."

And I would respond, "Dranken is not a word, you dummy. And I like my coffee beige, like my men."

Venti nonfat mocha, please. Thank you.

The quote printed on my cup this morning, courtesy of Joel Stein, a columnist for the Los Angeles Times, made me chuckle: Heaven is totally overrated. It seems boring. Clouds, listening to people play the harp. It should be somewhere you can't wait to go, like a luxury hotel. Maybe blue skies and soft music were enough to keep people in line in the 17th century, but Heaven has to step it up a bit. They're basically getting by because they only have to be better than Hell.

And that is all I really felt like saying this morning because I'm still a little pissed about the creamer status in our house and it better be different tomorrow morning.


--Jen

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