Adventures

—1) So here I am at the vaunted Canandaigua YMCA......

......blasting quietly away on an exercise bicycle.
Brooke Shields comes on the wall-mounted plasma-baby, offering a pleasant respite from -a) old grayhead striding into a hospital-room waving a .357-magnum, -b) buxom young tarts with unfinished dresses arguing anxiously over the egg foulup at the fertility clinic (“Mother.......”), or -c) dark-haired al-Qaeda Mark Spitz wannabees rescuing wailing flaxen-haired Baptist hotties from onrushing Nickel Plate Berks at the last nanosecond.
Shields is pushing Colgate toothpaste, the kind all my siblings say is of-the-devil because that’s what I use (instead of God-blessed Crest — Jesus used Crest). But not the kind I use, which is “Luminous;” she’s pushing “Total.”
The ad begins with Shields stretching her languorous limbs — I didn’t know you were supposed to stretch before brushing your teeth.
Then a shot of her kissing a tiny naked baby — probably the love of her life; at least that’s what she says.
Then we see Brooke madly attacking her teeth.
I can just imagine the following scenario: “Brooke, sweetums. Not enough emotion, baby. Ya gotta put more into it!”
—Shoot number-two: Brooke attacks her teeth with a vengeance, but again “CUT! Not enough emotion, baby.”
—Shoot number-three: Brooke goes completely bonkers, but it can’t be toothpaste, because even though a giant billow of foam is partially obscuring her pretty face, nothing is drooling into the sink.
Any time I ever had bubbling toothpaste-foam build up it ended up in the sink, or on my hands.
Lots of Sturm und Drang, but is she actually using Colgate toothpaste?

—2) Departing the mighty Canandaigua Weggers.......

..........I hear a horn plaintively beeping as I start across the parking-lot.
Uh-ohhhhh....... Somebody came too close to one of them cars with an anti-theft system — or Granny hit the wrong button on her electronical key-fob.
I glanced around, and it was a Honda Accord in a handicap-slot; headlights also flashing.
An older woman with bifocals was standing silently behind the car furtively stroking all the buttons on her radio keyfob.
I was tempted to go help the poor lady, but a male passerby intervened.
“Do you know how to shut this thing off?” she asked.
The man started stroking all the buttons, but “beep-beep-beep!”
After about 45 seconds I finally attained the Bucktooth Bathtub, and the horn stopped beeping.
Is it any wonder none of our cars have the anti-theft system?
Years ago when the Faithful Hunda got crashed, we rented a Chevy Malibu from Enterprise with the anti-theft system.
Here I am, in the kitchen, inside the house, and the Malibu is in the garage.
I inadvertently brushed the horn-alarm button, and all-of-a-sudden “pramp-pramp-pramp!” from the garage.

“Plasma-babies” are what my loudmouthed macho brother-in-Boston calls all high-definition wide/flat-screen TVs. Other technologies beside plasma are available, but he calls them all “plasma-babies.”

RE: “Dark-haired al-Qaeda Mark Spitz wannabees rescuing wailing flaxen-haired Baptists hotties from onrushing Nickel Plate Berks.........” —Years ago, I visited the Roanoke Transportation Museum near where my baby-sister lives in Va., with she and my brother-from-Delaware. I had them pose in front of a stored Nickel Plate Berkshire (a railroad steam-locomotive), him on the pilot rescuing my baby-sister. Seeing the picture again, she remarked he looked like Mark Spitz. I think he looks like an al-Qaeda terrorist. My sister-in-Floridy also related the silliness of the Spanish soaps in her area, which often have “blonde vixens tied to railroad-tracks.”

RE: “Baptist hotties.......” —A loud famblee argument has surfaced about “hottie.” I follow the old definition where “hottie” equaled a slut. But all my Christian-zealot relatives loudly declare that “hottie” has become a symbol of Christian virtue and attractiveness.

“Mighty Weggers” is Wegmans, a large supermarket-chain based in Rochester we often buy groceries at. They have a store in Canandaigua.

“The Bucktooth-Bathtub” is our 2005 Toyota Sienna van; called that because it’s white and like sitting in a bathtub, and appears to have a bucktooth on the grill.

“The Faithful Hunda” is our 1989 Honda Civic All-Wheel-Drive station-wagon, by far the BEST car we ever owned, now departed. (Called a “Hunda” because that was how a fellow bus-driver at Transit [Regional-Transit-Service in Rochester, where I once worked] pronounced it.)