ROBBLOG #888- Give Me A Bag, Please

 

Many years ago my Mother and her friend were talking about an acquaintance.

This acquaintance they had not seen for several years.

"I wonder how old he'd be- if he's still alive at all"- the friend says.

"Oh Goodness,"-says my Mum," He must be an awful age by now..."

An awful age.

That's 70.

That's me.

Today. It's right where I am at and let me tell you, it IS an awful age- especially if you still believe- inside, you're 27.

I wouldn't want to be 27 again but being a tad younger would be nice.

Life is good and I can't complain.

"You go Gurl!"

Then, there was yesterday.

We were lunching and shopping in Victoria with friends.

After lunch we headed to the Bay Centre. 

I needed some eye cream from The Body Shop. I've been using this particular cream under my eyes for a century it seems and I believe it keeps my eyes looking younger and refreshed.

Anyhow, I pick up two small bottles of the eye cream and it tallies seventy-seven dollars and change.

The young gal behind the counter who also suggests I spread the cream on my lips, asks -

"Would you like to place your Body Shop purchase in a bag for 25 cents?"

Well, my first reaction was WTF?

The next was...well never mind...but it pissed me off.

I spend seventy-seven bucks and The Body Shop is too cheap to throw in a quarter bag?

Good Grief!

Earlier, I had made a purchase at a new shop run by a gal from Dublin- Ireland, who by way of Saskatoon, ended up on the Island. She sells Floral Perfumery.

A beautiful shop. It's at www.zingaropure.com

She gives the Mister and I our purchase in a lovely bag tied up with fresh, fragrant greenery.

How nice.

No charge and a big smile too.

I also remember the day before here in the Cowichan, we shopped at a lovely home store run by a former Ontarian from Buckhorn. Brian's been on Island for 10 months. His shop is just barely a couple of months old and he gave us two "free" bags.

Check him out at-

www.countryhomeandkitchen.ca

So what I am trying to say is here's The Body Shop who happens to be a chain where I've spent hundreds of dollars over the years and they are too Fucking cheap to place my purchase in a little bag.

They could have gone to the Dollar Store and bought a box of doggie poop bags and had 60 bags to use for customers. It doesn't sit well with me- environment conscious or not, or whatever the reason for the pathetic 25 cent charge.

It's just wrong and that's that.

Customer service is key and if the little guy can do it- why can't the Body Shop?

Yesterday, it ruined my almost 70 year old afternoon. My friends and the Mister are tired of hearing the story but after all I'm an old guy now and I can vent if I want to...

Do you hear that Body Shop?

ROBBLOG #887- Don't Call us Anymore- You're Old.

 

So I have a rather large birthday ahead.

I will become a septuagenarian.

A Gay septuagenarian.

Damn and Double Damn. Many of my friends are in the same age bracket.

Nothing I can do about it. Seventy may be a very pleasant place to be in this game of life we all play.

I tell the Mister that I have another 13 good years left. 13 times to put up the Christmas Tree.

13 more trips to Hawaii, 13 more summers.

It's a short ride. 

Only time will tell how short.

I still have most of my hair.

I can jauntily climb out of bed- most mornings.

I can walk many kilometres in a stretch.

I ride my bile. Okay, it is an ebike but still I do a lot of  the pedaling myself.

I don't take my shirt off in public anymore which results in the best "farmer's tan" I've ever seen on a septuagenarian.

My dimming eyesight requires glasses for not just reading but distance and I may have glaucoma developing in my left eye. That will be confirmed or denied in the next month. 

Not a happy thought.

I can still pee unassisted and I am not yet wearing those under panties in a box I pass by every time I shop at WalMart. Actually, the handsome "Daddy" on the box's cover seems quite proud to be wearing the fashionable diapers. I hope I feel that proud when I slap on a pair.

You've all heard it before- we're not here for a long time. Just a short time.

We had better make the best of it.

The Angel of Death could come calling at any moment! I hope he's handsome!

I'm not being morbid here and I'm not dwelling on the end of days for me- although The Mister would tell you a different story. I am just trying to get my head around the swiftness that brought me from a little kid to an "old man".

Me at about 23 years of age with long hair- ya damn hippy!

That's my brand, spanking new Volkswagen Beetle in Clementine Orange. I loved her.

Then yesterday to drive home the point that I have a relatively short time left on earth, the Royal Bank of Canada sends me a letter. The letter says due to the fact that I am turning 70, they will not be able to cover my on demand account with life insurance at month's end after my birthday.

How nice of them.

Banked with them for decades.

Paid their stupid fees and now they don't want to take a chance on me any longer. I am lucky there's a nil balance on the account but still- what the fuck?

I am not just a liability, I am an old fucker who's a liability.

I mean they didn't even wish me a happy birthday.

"Sincerely" the form letter was signed.

Not "Sincerely and Happy Birthday" just "Sincerely".

There was a postscript:

"If the information that we have about your birth date is incorrect, please call us as soon as possible you old fart."

Okay, I added the old fart but really couldn't they have said- "Best Wishes on the occasion of your 70th- you old fart"?

It's not all been black and dreary news however.

I've had some happy septuagenarian news this week.

I was at the dentist.

Dr. Tom tells me I have 31 of my 32 teeth still in my head.

"That's remarkable"- he says, "The missing tooth is a wisdom tooth and you didn't need that one anyway."

Yes indeedy do, I still have three wisdom's and I'm thinking that's why I'm so damn intelligent at this stage of life.

Well, what  other explanation is there it?

ROBBLOG #886- Then I Saw Her Face

 

The "church" has been in the news of late- hasn't it?

What with the Catholics in shit with their residential schools and treatment of indigenous kids, to the Pope sitting on his gold throne refusing to recognize or at least ignoring the past and the need to say something.

Personally he could fart an apology and it would mean diddly-squat. Why people are expecting it or saying it's the right thing to do is beyond me. The sooner governments stop funding churches the better for all. Well, maybe not the churches...

Anyhoo, not to dwell on all things religious, I felt I needed to tell you of a remark made to The Mister and I earlier this week. There was a general discussion about something or other when the person who had the floor turned to us and said- "I know you're non-believers but I am going to tell you this story all the same." 

"Pardon me?"- I thought. "Non- Believer?"

I bit my tongue.

"Ouch!"

The teller of the tale commenced to tell us of a church-goer who was down on her luck. It seems a bunch of the flock from this particular church got together and prayed real hard. They clenched their fists and clasped their anus muscles very tightly praying with all their might. I used to clench my teeth when I was a church-boy back in the day. If I had of been a Catholic Lad, I would have been an altar boy- over 16 years of age, praying for extra attention at the end of mass- but that's just me.

Anyhoo, low and behold the angel of the Lord came down and gave the poor Christian Lady a bunch of money. 

That's right- a bunch of money!

I don't think she had references.

If it was that easy to become fluid, I would have been down on my knees a lot more than I was over the years and for a completely different reason too. I know one can make money from "old guys" by getting down on one's knees for the thing one gets down on one's knees for when one needs to make rent. I read it on the Internet...

However, simply wishing and hoping and praying for cash is a whole different aspect to getting down on one's knees. I never knew.

A reasonable facsimile of me sitting and thinking- only without the beard.

After being called a "Non Believer" I was taken aback.

I wanted to be able to have a snappy retort being the Humanist I am but nothing came. I thought about it for a couple of days.

Still nothing.

Damn looking back now, I should have prayed but to who?

I did get an answer eventually.

You see, the words "non believer" are nothing to do with me or The Mister and nothing we need to reply to. The words are part of being immersed in a Christian philosophy not part of an agnostic, atheist or Humanist's life. Christians just need to have a term for those that don't tow the line- besides words like sinners, the fallen and Satan's flock. 

So you see, I wasn't at a loss for a retort. I responded the way I should have by saying nothing.

As the Yorkshire Dales folk across the pond would say- "It's knowt to do with me."

I could have said "Duh" but I didn't.

I could have said "puh-hard-on me?" I did not.

I could have foamed at the mouth. Nope.

I might have called on Satan for help. Being that he's a fallen angel he'd have some measure of displeasure at the comment. Naddah

But, I didn't use any of the above.

I just sat there still as you like, smiling sweetly, sipping away at my morning coffee.

What a good boy am I!!

ROBBLOG #885- Bippety, Boppety

 

From time to time I check in on the Virgin Mary.

No, she hasn't appeared to me- not yet at least.

I check in via a webcam.

She still looks the same. Hasn't aged a bit.  She always looks older in photos (paintings) and sculptures, when in reality she was- what 14(?) when God did the dirty to say nothing of her May/December romance with Joseph.

Of course her sexual relations with the Almighty were a hands-off kind of "bippety-boppety-boo."

That's what makes it okay in the eyes of believers- at least "flocks" are told it's okay. Goodness in this #MeToo age that wouldn't travel far. The Lord would be playing cards in jail with the likes of  Epstein or that Hollywood producer- what's his name.

 

Mary wasn't the first to say- "Keep your hands off me!", there's been there a few times myself- in earlier years, when I had to say to the gent on the barstool next to mine- "Lord fellah, keep your hands off my bippety. I'm just sat here having a drink. That's all!"

While we're talking all things Mary, does she always appear to folks in a wardrobe from centuries back? Well-tailored clothing from all accounts but does she not want to update her wardrobe?

Is there no Winners in Heaven?

Actually, her son is no different. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree the snake's hiding in. He's still imagined in a flimsy, cotton-like shift with no underwear and sandals on his tootsies. No pockets in that shift either! Where the hell does he put his mobile, let alone VISA credit card.

So, yes, I check on Mary via a webcam from Lourdes. Google it.

There's the grotto where she appeared to those kids centuries ago. Up in a cave overlooking several rows of pews, there's the statue of her. She looking down lovingly with blue sash hanging from her waist as the kids reported.

I keep staring at the statue expecting it to come to life. 

It hasn't so far...

In the grotto a stone altar with a pyramid of candles is blazing away.

If you pick the right time of day- late evening is best from Canada, you'll see a priest and nun celebrate mass to usually a dozen or so faithful- no matter the weather. Of course it's morning in Italy.

Do another Google search for Mary in Portugal and you'll find another webcam showing a church where she has appeared- before the church was built of course.

Have you ever wondered why she just appears to Catholics?

Is it only Catholics who find her image on toast at the breakfast table?

Anyways, to be truthful, I check in at both cams now and then expecting one day to see her swoop down from Heaven in the latest Paris couture and knock that statue to the ground. Then, she'd peer into the camera, call my name and motion to me with a beckoning finger.

It could happen- couldn't it?

By the way I've had a virgin or two beckon me with a finger and more. That's for another Blog on another day...

Why do these strange, supernatural happenings always manifest themselves to poor, uneducated kids, poor Catholics who eat toast or two rednecks in a Chevy truck drinking beer in the woods.

It's rednecks you see, who observe strange things flying through the air. Of course they see strange things- they're drunk on beer! Too drunk I'd imagine to see Mary hovering above their rusted pick up truck.  Too drunk to offer her one from the cooler in the back. 

I don't think Mary drinks anything but red wine anyway. I know this because it seems she always had her son whip up an extra batch at parties in the early days of the holy land before wine stores opened up.

I've seen strange things too when friends have over-served me on Vodka.

You know who you are...

Only I have- as I previously stated, never seen a Virgin on a rock or Aliens while drinking Vodka on the rocks.

Just sayin...

ROBBLOG #884- Monet, Monet, Monet

 

Okay, I haven't done this in a long, long while BUT  it's time for

'DIS & 'DAT

1. There might be an election on the horizon- not that I would vote in one ever again. Ever. Those "Matrons" that ruled the poll where I voted last time can go straight to hell if they're not there already.

You can go back to a Blog I wrote after the last election day to see what the hub-bub was all about. Now for the other minions and millions that will cast a ballot, I sincerely hope that the Prime Minister- Justin, gets a freeking haircut before he expects anyone to vote for him in that mad do of his.

He looks like the trapper that came in from the cold.

2. So those military guys who went golfing. What a sad little story. No meat to that one. A fucking game of golf so they can do the "buddy" thing and talk about another officer's tits. I am surmising here. Why they might even talk about a female officer's body parts too. Look, can't we spice these stories up a bit. Picture four military men with square jaws and perfectly trimmed neck hair entering a sauna, stripped down to their bits and bites. They sit down side by side where, perhaps, occasionally their thighs touch- occasionally. Now wouldn't that make a better story- albeit they would all have to be consenting adults

to be sure and to be sure it's wrong talking about anyone's tits

3.Did you read about the BC guy who stopped his vehicle to help a car and its driver that had driven off the road into a ditch. As the story goes, he left his keys in his vehicle and while he was playing the Good Samaritan with them,  somebody drove off with his. What did Mother always say?

Don't leave your keys in the ignition- Good Samaritan or not. Damn!

4. From this moment on, I am to be known as Rob (He/Him). Step up everyone.

5. Canada leads the world in the share of National Populations who have been vaccinated against Covid. Is Mr O'Toole eating crow yet? How about that leader of the NDP who is as much a whiner as any conservative- nationally or provincially. To think I coulda voted for him. He coulda been a contender. Now, all he'll do is fuck up a majority win for the Liberals- if there is to be a summer or autumnal election, which if you refer to point #1- I am not voting in anyway...

6. That David What's His Name who came to fame on one of those "Let me Show You I Can Sing" programmes has come out "Bi". Now, I know he has a good voice and I even play his Christmas Songs on both radio stations during the Holidays but dang, I thought he was Gay- and I've only seen him once or twice- but dang- I could have sworn he was Gay or on his way to Gay. I guess when he hit the fork in the road he stood there having no idea which branch to take. Dang....

7. The UK may renege on their plans on wide re-opening after Covid. It seems PM Boris wants more time. There's a worry about the Delta virus making a mess of things across England. Meanwhile back in Canada the Premier of Ontario is moving ahead with re-opening his province and stirring up shite by invoking the Notwithstandingclause which he is doing because....well really, just to be a dick. Ontarians are now wondering if there are any more Fords coming along to dash all hopes of ever being Canada's favourite province again. Meanwhile, back in the UK, Andrew Lloyd Webber says he'll open his theatres hennaway, which may result in him going to jail. Sounds like an idea for a new musical...

8. Those two kids- you know the cute guy and the girl who's had too much plastic surgery, who are suspects in a Hamilton murder, have been found by police in Hungary. I didn't even know Hungary had police. Also I mean Hamilton the City- not the musical.

9. I hear that Nova Scotia fishermen are looking for the whale that swallowed that guy off Provincetown the other day. They expect the whale to swim with a swisssy sound and it's fins will be a little limp. There's also been a report that the fishermen have invited Jason Kenny out for a swim- once the whale's been located.

10. Someone has found a painting by David Bowie in a dump. Bette Davis found a house once that was also a dump. The finder of the Bowie picture paid five dollars for it. I saw it. They paid too much. I have a painting of flowers in a vase that I am almost pretty sure was painted by Monet. I found it in a thrift shop. I also paid 5 dollars for it. I even thought about telling the world that I have it and become rich and famous but I'm not going to. I know that sounds stupid but at least I know for certain my stupidity is real.

...and dats dat. Another 'DIS and 'Dat.

ROBBLOG #883- Longing

 

I'm longing.

Longing for summer?

Not number one on my list of longings but it was Mayuary here on the Island and now it's Juneuary.

Where the feck is summer?

Temps are cool.

Just 5c last night.

Osoyoos- where it's basically a desert, had snow last night!

Yes, I guess I could be longing for a typical Island Summer but that's not on the top of my list.

No, what I am really longing for is theatre.

There. I've said it.

Moving to this Island The Mister and I had to give up theatre- both going to and performing in.

We gave up theatre like Mirvish theatre back in Toronto or  the Broadway stuff or West End London stuff. The last big show we saw was "Come from Away" and we didn't even see this Canadian production here in Canada. We saw it while we were in London before covid reared it's most ugly of heads.

Occasionally, a touring Broadway show comes to Victoria here on the Island.

A couple of years back we saw Jersey Boys- again, for the umpteenth time.

We saw it in Toronto twice when it was a sit-down production but longing for a big show we decided to see it in Victoria again. Casts in these touring shows are smaller than the Toronto presentations and it's noticeable.

We've seen some regional stuff in Chemainus which is just 20 minutes up island.  Shows like Mama Mia, Kim's Convenience and Grease were really, really good. However the longing is still there to trod the boards. A Brit show that was live-streamed Sunday night called "The Show Must Go On" was in aid of all people and things theatrical. Seeing all those performers get up an belt a song stirred my heart even more so.

I want to do theatre again.

I just don't know how to start here. 

I may have mentioned this in a Blog before.

I haven't really met any actors where I have developed an ongoing friendship.

Then, there's the age quotient.

Tempus fugit dammit!

 One of the many configurations of my Garage Door Players.
This show was called "The Gospel According to Life".

Writing this Blog helps keep my writing out there- whether you like what I write about or not. I see the numbers that read each blog. I know the stuff you readers ignore and stuff  you read. Some of it based on the title of the blog alone. 

Take a recent blog about penises. 

They've been in the news what with that MP showing his on zoom- not once but twice.

That was not read by a lot of people.

To be fair, if I saw a blog entitled  "Vagina", I'm not sure I'd read it either.

The thing is I can't expect you all to read all my blogs but I still write about certain subjects- like them or not. It is called "RobBlog" not NancyBlog or PeterBlog or KenBlog- right?

Besides this Blog, broadcasting my online radio stations Starlite and The Island's Golden Classics keeps me in "showbiz"- sorta.

However, these past weeks- in my mind at least, I've been re-writing "All for Nun" and calling it 

"All for ONE" but in this new show, the girls aren't Nuns anymore. 

It's a dangerous place to be in today. 

Wearing a habit. 

When it comes to all things Catholic. I'm not sure if the humour would be appreciated.

So my characters- Sister Mary Margaret, Sister Neutrogena, Sister Murray Anne and Father O'Mally, have left their order and church behind and now run a community centre. They won't be the first or last to leave their "faith" behind. "All for ONE" has the same characters only minus the "Sister/Father" title.

I think the schlock and jokes will still work. Mary Margaret will still be in charge and will now be a man in a dress- kaftan actually, not a habit.

I may have Mary Margaret explain the change or maybe I'll just leave it to be written in the programme synopsis. I could use a voice over or an onstage announcer who will tell all at the beginning of the show. The show will kick off with the song I wrote for a previous show which just happens to be called- All for One. I've even toyed with the song being " The Sound of Music" and the characters kick the "habit" before the song ends.

I dunno...

Once I have it laid out in my mind- as I usually do when writing, I'll start to put it down on paper or at least in the computer. Most writers scrawl copious notes. I think it through then rush to get it all down before I forget- keyboards keys heartily tapping. The Mister knows never to interrupt me when he hears a flurry of thought unless North Korea is dropping the bomb or Putin's shirtless on the back of a horse again. Pretty much the same thing.

Some of the initial scenes I write go straight from brain to paper and never see a change until they hit the stage. It's just my funny way of writing.

Burl Ives had a funny way of laughing. 

I have a funny way of writing.

So Kids in my moment of theatrical need I am relieving the itch by being creative.

Take this joke for instance-

Mary Margaret tells the audience that a friend of hers had passed recently.

When he was close to the end of his life, a relative leaning over the dying man and asked him if he wanted to renounce Satan before he departed this earthly coil.

The dying friend looked up at the relative and said-

"I'd like to keep my options open- if you don't mind, so feck right off!

Typical Mary Margaret stuff...

ROBBLOG #882- Make My Wishes Come True

 

There are three people in the whole, entire world who can grant wishes. They being Justin Trudeau, Santa Claus and - The Jesus.

Today Dear Readers, I will focus on the latter- not Church of the Latter- but The Jesus.

Now I am not a believer at all and if you have read my Blogs over the years, you will know that. You will also know I believe if you believe in a deity and that turns your crank and helps you get up in the morning, then more power to you. 

Today, I have a list of things I want accomplished. Just for me.

I figure that the Prime Minister is much too busy with covid and Members of Parliament- noticed I used the word "Members", who have the need to show their penises to other members of Parliament. Now I think as Canadians and the very voters who put those "members" in parliament, we should have the right to see a Member's "member" and judge for ourselves if it's a nice penis or not.

I mean changing clothes in front of a possibly "live" camera could have been an honest mistake but to pee on camera, honestly, this MP knew what he was doing- didn't he? You might want to back up and read ROBBLOG # 880 to retrace my own experiences with the sight of penises. 

Anyhoo, Justin's focus is elsewhere...

Now Santa is a busy man but being almost halfway through this year already I think he is just too busy to grant three wishes not to mention an entire list.

That brings me to the latter choice- "The Jesus".

Dear Jesus, listen to my wants and needs list and if you have some spare time please make all my wishes come true.

First item: The Jesus, I have been having a lot of paint in my neck and shoulders recently and this paint has made it way up to my head. Now, I hope I don't have cancer or a blood clot or anything but before I make an appointment with "Dr. Google" couldn't you just heal me now?

I'd be ever so grateful.

Second Item: The Jesus, I have been checked for almost a decade for glaucoma. My Grandmother had it and now it seems my Optometrist sees the beginning of it in my left eye. Yes The Jesus, I can see a specialist- an ophthalmologist, who could quite possibly give me eye drops but I have been told that that is a year and a half to two years wait.

The Jesus, just save me some wait time and heal me now. Please and thank you.

Third Item: The Jesus you already know- because you are omnipotent, that I have another specialist appointment in the near future. This "specialist" is educated in "down there" problems. I was experiencing "down there" stuff almost four months ago when Dr. Google made the appointment but the problem has gone away. I still want to see this specialist because I want his opinion. I want to ask if all this stuff is happening because I am turning 70 very soon or is it just luck of the draw.

Dear The Jesus, just to save me more stress and added worry can you just reach down and tap me with your magic "The Jesus Wand" and make it all better.

So, that's my list The Jesus. You'll notice I didn't even ask you for a million dollars as many other greedy, self-centred devotees of your religion do.

The way I see it, at this point in one's short life I have maybe 10 to 15 good years left. Good years meaning years where I don't have to wear a giant diaper or forget my name or forget where I live or even be aware of the fact that I am wearing a giant diaper.

That's not a lot of time.

Yes, I could live longer but unless some Doctor or Scientist hurries themselves up and invents a pill to keep me youngish and healthy I don't believe I have a chance in Satan's Hell!

I mean that. I really do.

It's a bleak future is it not The Jesus?

Now all kidding aside, let me be perfectly serious for a second.

If...IF you are up there in Heaven The Jesus can you please take a minute or two and make me well- if I need to be made well.

Just give me a little magic whomp anyway. 

It may be good for my soul- if I had one.

Now, The Jesus, I will leave all this and that in your capable, English-Speaking, white hands.

In the meantime, I am going to do a Google Search to find a picture of  The Member's member.

Let's see what all the fuss is about...