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Frog Legs and Ham

“Frog Legs and Ham!  Who would eat that?” Joseph cried out excitedly.  (I mean I heard it in a vague way from the deep recesses of the van but I don’t pay close attention to anything they say back there other than the words “brown,” “fountain” or blood.)  I figured he was mis-reading a sign.

Still something about his tone of voice piqued my interest and I actually turned the van around.  And I’m glad I did:

I find the “dinner seafood” both compelling and troubling: we’re not in a town remotely close to the shore.  I guess scaring up frog legs couldn’t be that hard.  And Ham?  Why not tapas?

(I love the sandbags holding the sign in place.)

This says a great deal about our town, however, and none of it is hopeful.  It’s a town obsessed with the super buffet–preferably the Jumbo Chinese variety.  Portion size is all that counts.  People are not concerned with health ratings, either.  The town squelches out any quirky, ethnic or healthy restaurant that tries to emerge.

Why am I so bitter about our town?  Why do I write about ham so much?

Posted on 30 July '08 by , under Humor/Disconnected Miscellany. 2 Comments.

See the culprit?

I’ve written before about the evil leveled against me by my “Internet service provider”–a term I use loosely.

I’ve railed on the dangers of their wires criss-crossing my yard and tripping unsuspecting trick-or-treaters.

I’ve lamented the unsightly holes, mosquito-attracting mud bogs and outright grass murder their many attempts at “burying” important wires have wrought.

I’ve threatened “supervisors,” “client retention agents” and poor call center workers alike.

I’ve racked up overages on my cell phone waiting to speak with a “live agent.”

I have seen this company install signal “boosters” all over my house–the last one in my daughter’s room because it was the optimal site.

I’ve been charged by this company for work done down the street.

I could rail on and on about my displeasure with this provider but that would only bore you further.

And lest you wonder why I wouldn’t just switch to a different provider, let me assure I have tried other providers to no avail.  There are few choices in this sad sister of a town: remember our restaurant options?


A year later and this billboard still stands, the restaurant thriving!  Thriving I tell you!

OK, I digress.  Back to the cable issue.

Yesterday they actually managed to send a live person to my house to, yet again, “check the line.”

This fellow plodded his muddy feet all over my house (even when I told him the problem was with the outside line) and then charged out into the yard only to emerge, triumphant, twenty minutes later.

“I found it, ma’am.  Yes I did,”  he encouraged, sweat dripping onto my newly-mopped floor.

“Found what?’ I countered, fully ready to believe that rodents or snakes or bats had severed a cord or built a damaging nest.

“The (insert complicated cable part here) had melted.  You see that occasionally but not that often.”  Figures…

“I’d like to have that old (complicated cable part) for my records if you don’t mind,” I challenged.

He returned a few minutes later with this:


Doesn’t look so complicated, does it?

Are you buying this?

Does anyone agree that he might, just might have grabbed some old part out of his truck in an attempt to appease the ignorant but slightly belligerant housewife?

I’ve got the piece in my posession and there is nothing melted about it.

Nothing melted at all…

Posted on 16 June '09 by , under Humor/Disconnected Miscellany. 11 Comments.