It's your old pal, Chip back with another quip about the folks in Kooterville. I'll tell you what, that place is full of fascinating individuals with all kinds of stories to tell. Today I wanted to tell you about Kooterville Kate, the waitress who remembers names more than orders.
It seems Kate was going to school to become a Dental Hygiene Assistant or some other college girl dream, when she ran into a wall known as personal debt and failing grades. Now, Kate is one of the smartest ladies in Kooterville when it comes to thinking up stuff and sticking to it. She just has a hard time remembering when to pay her bills and what table 14 ordered ten minutes ago. I swear you wouldn' think short term memory problems would interfere with the world of waitressing, but it does. Just ask Kate.
I remember one time in particular this fella from Fred's Quarry orders two eggs sunnyside up, a side order of bacon, extra crispy and a cup of coffee with two sugars. That's pretty easy to take care of, especially if you write it down on your order form. Well, Kate turns up at the table 10 minutes later with two sugars sunnyside up, a side order of coffee with two extra crispy eggs, and a look on her face that said "hell if I know what happened". Turns out Kate can't read her own writing and she's dyslexic on top of it. When it rains it pours and sometimes the old clean out ain't working so well.
That Kate couldn't remember her name if it wasn't misspelled on her name tag. What she lacks in the memory department is definitely made up in the smile department. Kate's got a smile that would make a sad man happy for the rest of his life. And can she remember names? She can tell you every customer by name that ever sat in her section. So can her boss, and he don't think that's something she should brag about to friends or potential customers.
Next week, we're going to meet Wandering Willie, The Directionless Cab Driver. Until next time, keep laughing at yourself before somebody laughs at you with their mouth full.
Did you ever hear somebody say that " you ain't got a leg to stand on?" How about bringing a one legged fool to a four legged dance contest? No? Those don't ring a bell or sound an alarm in your head like it's the volunteer fire department preparing to put out Fred Tittle's Weber Grill? I swear to god, that man's burned more steaks than my wife Kelly and she never grilled anything that didn't come out smelling and tasting like a pair of I-tailian shoes.
The reason I'm asking these questions is because today's column is about Keith, the Wooden Legged Post Man in Kooterville. Keith delivers the mail, rain or shine, unless his arthritis acts up or his leg gets waterlogged. One time Keith had to deliver a special package to a family that worked at the saw mill. He came home with an empty sack of mail and a whole two inches shorter. Never trust a band saw when you can use a jig saw.
Keith has been walking his mail route for thirty years, 29 of them with that wooden leg he affectionately calls Woodrow. He remembers every package he had to get special postage on and every time he got stuck in Maralee Barton's flowerbed. Maralee, you know Keith is your mailman not a wind sock or an involuntary scarecrow? Keith is set to retire at the end of the year. That means he can spend more time at home whittling birds and weird doo dads and carving initials in Woodrow, and less time having to revarnish his leg every time the Postmaster General comes by for an inspection and puts out his heater in Keith's knoll.
I know he's a good mail man cause he never missed a day of work in his life, unless you count the time that Keith's leg spontaneously combusted and he had to be put out by the volunteer fire department which we all know consists of Fred Tittle and that Daniels kid with the trick leg, but that's a column for another day. Hey, I mean to tell you folks, laugh at yourself before somebody laughs at you first. Next week, Kooterville Kate, the waitress who recalls names, not orders.
Don't adjust your computer. That's my actual face. It's not gonna get any prettier. You can't improve perfect. Just ask Fat Gladys in receivable accounts. The last thing Gladys received was a cease and desist order at the all you can eat buffet at Old Country Buffet. The only account that was receivable to Gladys was the company transfer account on account it was transferrable from one foot to the other when she stood on the scale at home. Gladys ain't such a bad gal, she keeps us on our toes. Everytime she steps on them. I'm not saying she's heavy, but we found out our profits were down because Gladys was sitting on them. I tell you that woman sure likes to eat. She was once so hungry she said she could eat a horse. They had to close the horse track down the next day. It's a shame. She's got such a pretty face and nice personality. If she was in a beauty contest she'd win first place for Miss Congeliality, if that means her blood congeals every time she tries to eat some more of her fried chicken. I know I kid Fat Gladys, but the company couldn't make it without her. She knows her way around receivable accounts and receivable pizza deliveries. Well, that's all I gotta say about Fat Gladys. I think next column, I'll head over to Kooterville and talk about Greg With The Wooden Leg at the post office. They say he don't got a leg to stand on. He might not have a leg, but he sure has a log. That's all for Chip's Quips this week. Laugh at yourself, before somebody beats you to it.
CHIP'S QUIPS CAN BE FOUND IN THE OLINOY REPORTER EVERY FRIDAY. THIS IS A NEW COLUMN FROM JULY 26, 2013. CHIP WILL BE AT THE BOOK BARN THIS SUNDAY JULY 28, 2013 TO SIGN COPIES OF HIS NEW BOOK "CHIP'S QUIPS".
The Sofa Sage, or Jeff, as he's known to the guys in IT, is back with more insights into the mystery of life. Please remember that this mystical gift is not meant to substitute for the truth, but merely to indicate the potential knowledge shared by the man who has sat on that outdated brown leather sofa grazing through awful cable programming choices and many a take out meal, so that you may be afforded the following words of wisdom:
- nobody wins if everybody loses,
- this place isn't going to clean itself,
- money doesn't grow on trees,
and the cataclysmic epiphany that has tongues wagging around the globe:
-You aren't going to get anywhere sitting around this house all day, that's for damned sure!
Do not try to come up with your own path to pure understanding while watching ESPN2 or entering the second day of a Police Academy Marathon. The Sofa Sage is closely aligned with the planets and various wireless packages and knows what he's doing and saying long before you or your friends do. Next time, the Sofa Sage predicts what will happen " if I have to come over there".
Dr. Joe McCratty here, with another edition of Did You Know With Dr. Joe? Today we answer the question Did You Know That Things Are Not What They Appear To Be?
The Museum of Collected Items has a new exhibit on the phenomena that makes people see things as they appear, when in actuality they are not anything like that at all. You see the human eye is a deceptive little bugger that makes us think we are looking at an item, when we very well may be looking at an entire collection of items or, even in rare cases, things. You may look at your children as special, when in reality, they are not that different from the whole of humanity, and in fact may be viewed by others as merely ordinary or, dare I say, run of the mill. Don't be disappointed, blame it on our untrustworthy friend the human eye and it's stubborn tendency to make us see one thing and think another. Just like a close up magician or that confounded test my eye doctor gives me that is supposed to be able to tell us whether one letter is clearer than another. Now, do you see how things are not what they appear to be, but what they actually are in reality? Good, then I've done my job. Can we move on?
Please drop by the Museum of Collected Items and enjoy our summer family fun section dedicated to Summer Things To Do To Kill Time. All families with items they no longer need or want and no idea where to put them, are half off for the weekend.
This has been Did You Know With Dr. Joe, a public service of the Museum of Collected Items Where A Collection is Always One Item Away From An Exhibit.
Jean, here, with another chance to see the world from a mother's point of view. I guess I should tell you that the reason I have been running old columns for the last month is because my daughter in law decided to enforce something called a cease and desist law when it comes to anything written about her in a public forum. Once a stripper, always a stripper, I say. You can take the stripper out of the dysfunctional home life, but you can't take the dysfunctional home life out of the stripper. But more on that later, ladies.
I have really enjoyed my time off. I have been gardening and I have to tell you that it is just so much fun planting my prize winning roses, feeling the power of mother earth in my dainty hands, and eavesdropping on my hillbilly neighbors and their comical attempts at domestic bliss. If I have to call 911 again, I'm going to be on a first name basis or buy a frequent caller plan. I have also had time to get down to the Book Barn and pick up some wonderful new books including When Mom Is Right, God Loves Everyone Except You Know Who?, and my current page turner, The Stripper Wife Code which is about the dark and very pregnant underbelly of stripper wives and the men who marry them. I bought an extra copy for my son. I haven't received a thank you card for my efforts. Some people don't know how to navigate the world of family etiquette. Oh, well, tomorrow is another day and another mail delivery.
Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes, my daughter-in-law is apparently fit to be tied about the fact my columns often mention what she used to do and, to the best of my knowledge, still does for a handful of indistinguishable crumpled dollar bills at bachelor parties and establishments with expiring liquor licenses on the edge of town. Listen, I can't change history or the facts. The truth has a funny way of coming back to bite us in the posterior, something I'm sure my daughter in law features in her stage show. I should wrap this up. Again, I am so glad to be back writing about the world from a mother's point of view and I look forward to hearing from you all as well as the lawyers currently employed by my thin skinned, pole dancing daughter-in-law. Isn't life wonderful?
I'm the little angry guy who fights the fights you can't fight because you don't know how to fight the people in power. A letter came across my desk the other day from one of you little guys who had to fight city hall and our mighty mayor.
This letter described the way the city had given this fellow the runaround. I don't need to tell you that it involved parking tickets, licensing fees, patronage jobs, school closings, private contracts, park district shenanigans, and a whole laundry list of problems that I can't go into right now without getting even angrier than the photo that accompanies this column.
I decided to do something about this letter and I immediately made a call to city hall. I let it ring three times before leaving a message with a number where they could reach me between the hours of 9 am and 1 pm on Mondays and every other Thursday. Needless to say, I didn't hear anything from city hall. Not even Mayor Moves His Mouth had any comment. I decided to send a letter through a bike courier with a title on top that spoke volumes: Open at your convenience! I think they knew this wasn't going to end in their favor or any time soon, so one of the city hall rats sent a letter through the US Postal service that was marked with the cryptic message " Undeliverable due to insufficient funds". I guess they had read my column on the waterfront project and the Mayoral Campaign For Insufficient Funds, because the only time somebody from city hall sends a response by US mail is when they know it needs to be there within a week or ten days and they can't get one of the stool pigeons at the other paper to write some PR column.
I know how to fight city hall and I will do it for you if I have the time and there's nothing more important on the agenda, like fighting big business, tall orders, large conspiracies and overgrown government. Remember, I am always here for you, the little guy, and I'm angry on top of it. So stick that in your pipe and smoke it unless you are trying to quit. Oh, by the way, you know what happened to that letter about city hall? It ended with a nice form letter from the hooligans at city hall that actually had the signature of the mayor on the bottom. That's called getting results. For now.
Hi, everybody. I forgot to tell you the story of how my dad once dropped us off in a really bad part of Chicago and made us walk through that place while he parked the car.
We were going to see the Chinese New Year Parade and it was fun because this one guy had to take a pee on a telephone pole and I was pretty sure it was not part of the parade.
Anyway my Dad did find a parking spot that was only seven blocks away and we all watched the parade and everyone went home happy and didn't say a word in the car for the entire trip home. My dad wins again! Next time I will tell you how my Dad's friend showed up drunk at our house and fell down in some grass. I promise you it's funnier than it sounds.
Jean, here, to keep you up to date on what the world looks like from a mother's perspective. I know it's been awhile since I last wrote an original column for this space and I appreciate Sandy Sanders ably filling in with Sandy's Sentiments. It's nice to know that I can take some me time to visit my other son and not have to worry about this column.
I should let you know that my other son, Greg, is going to be promoted to Vice President at his company and that his wonderful wife, Alexis, is expecting their third child any day now. It's amazing what a real family looks like when you only visit them once a year. I sure do love their children. Caden is 5 and entering some sort of Christian Kindergarten that teaches the alphabet, if the letters were signals of the coming apocalypse. It also has a wonderful character building unit where the children learn how to survive the end times on a bag of granola and the kindness of strangers. Catie is 7 and completing the second grade, where she is learning how to live in a pioneer cabin and make sense of a world that scorns the family values of a society that still uses the term child bride a little to frequently for my taste. To each their own, right?
I just found it so refreshing to live for a week without the constant interruptions of electricity, running water, and up to the minute information. I know my other son would say I'm playing favorites, but, then again, he's the one who chose to marry the stripper and send his kids to the infernal hell that is public education, but that's for another column. We're always about putting a smile on your face and a mother's perspective in your hearts. Don't forget the Ladies Auxillary has the annual fundraiser coming up. It's Sonsense, a very funny play about being a son in this topsy turvy world. Until next time, love with an open heart, live with an open mind, and talk with an open mouth.
I'm the Little Angry Guy. I used to be the Short Slightly Peeved Man, and before that I was the Obviously Upset Gentleman of Short Stature. I have used a Napoleon complex and a peptic ulcer to get things off my chest for 10 years. I have the kind of fury, rage, and instability that makes John Kass skip the last drink at closing hour and Richard Roeper order a new pair of elevator shoes just to walk as tall as I do among the little people. Little people like me.
You can find me on this blog whenever I need to vent about anything that gets under my skin like a virus with no cure. I am the first on the scene, the last in the line, and somewhere in between when it comes to being little, angry and a guy.
So put your seat belts on, it 's going to be a bumpy ride. One with twists and turns and sources that I probably met at the company cafeteria after finishing all of my paper work.
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