It’s Christmas! It is my favorite time of the year. I just love the lights, the sounds, the decorated trees, the people, and the wrapped gifts. I get pleasure from the candle-lit churches’ interiors. This season just seems to put the whole world in a festive mood.
And, I must confess, I like the gifts I receive. Yet, the older I get, the less I know what I want for Christmas. After all, there is just Ann and me in the house. When we see an item we want or need, we get it.
That makes it hard for the children to buy us something that we need or want, and difficult to surprise us.
Well, Ann, kids, and grandkids, not to worry, this year I stumbled across an item I wish to receive for Christmas. You will be pleased to know, I found something I really want!
It is a man’s wristwatch. Not just any wristwatch, but one that has four dials on it. It shows hours, minutes and date. The watchband is beautiful brown leather.
It is made by a company I am not familiar with, Bvlgari. (No, that is not a typo.) You can visit this company’s web site at http://www.bulgari.com/.
Now, please do not be shocked by the prices you see. Well, on second thought, you may wish to have a defibrillator nearby. But be assured, I do not wish for the most expensive item listed within the men’s watch department. Oh no, I would not impose such a sanction upon you.
The one I want - - Bvlgari-Bvlgari -- lists for a mere $12,900. But before you gasp and suck the computer screen down your throat, I want you to know I have seen it in eBay for as low as $,6,099. That’s less than listed half-price. Moreover, it is a whole lot cheaper than other Bvlgari watches shown on their web site.
I do not think that price includes applicable taxes, shipping and handling.
I know this is a tad more than you usually spend on me. Nevertheless, I feel it is a real status symbol. I’m sure it comes with a thirty-day warranty. Just think of all the people that will be impressed to know I am wearing a wristwatch that cost almost as much as the car they are driving.
I do want to make one thing very clear, though. I do not want you calling your Uncle Gordon in Texas and asking him to go to Mexico to get this for me. I want the real thing this time. I say that because that so-called genuine Rolex he got from Mexico loses time and turns my wrist green when I perspire. Too, that gray metal wrist band gives off an eerie, green glow at night.
Remember, Santa watches (Not with a Bvlgari, I’m sure) everything you do. So, remember, it’s Bvlgari.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Searching for Panties
I have been on the Internet searching for panties. Frilly panties. No, not the kind women wear.
This past Saturday was our Friends Dinner. It is an annual event where we host a meal for four couples we chum with. And we always try to have a very nice, sit-down meal. Ann tries to find something different to fix. This year we decided to revisit the crown pork roast.
As noted, I said, “revisit.”
The last time we served this; I went on the Internet and found a web site that told how to make those little white paper thingies that are placed on the exposed bones of the roast. Those little white paper things are called panties. (Do not ask me why, because I do not know why.) However, six-plus years have past since the last crown roast, and I have forgotten how to make the panties.
So, I went to my favorite search engine, Google, and typed in crown roast panties.
I found recipes for crown rib roasts. I found recipes for crown roast stuffing. I found photos of crown roasts with panties. I found stories of women who wore only panties while fixing a crown roast. (Remind me to decline her dinner invitation, if she ever invites me.) But, I did not find how to make the crown roast panties.
In my clicking on certain web sites that I thought would take me to my desired destination, I went to places that I should not and did not want to go, pornography sites. I saw lots of panties, but none on a crown roast. In fact, I saw panties on places . . . Well, that is another story for another time.
At one web site, my anti-virus guard was activated; I was told I had contracted some kind of virus. And this virus just happened to have, and offer, a virus removal program for a mere $49.95.
Fortunately, I use another virus cleaner I had previously installed. It safely removed the virus along with the ad that wanted me to spend $49.95.
I also visited places that spoke of roasting Matt Lauer, Dean Martin, etc.
In the end, I have yet to find how to make those paper panties that go over the exposed bones of a rib roast. However, I did see a variety of panties. But they won’t fit my need for the roast.
To close this, if you know how to make those paper panties, share the secret.
This past Saturday was our Friends Dinner. It is an annual event where we host a meal for four couples we chum with. And we always try to have a very nice, sit-down meal. Ann tries to find something different to fix. This year we decided to revisit the crown pork roast.
As noted, I said, “revisit.”
The last time we served this; I went on the Internet and found a web site that told how to make those little white paper thingies that are placed on the exposed bones of the roast. Those little white paper things are called panties. (Do not ask me why, because I do not know why.) However, six-plus years have past since the last crown roast, and I have forgotten how to make the panties.
So, I went to my favorite search engine, Google, and typed in crown roast panties.
I found recipes for crown rib roasts. I found recipes for crown roast stuffing. I found photos of crown roasts with panties. I found stories of women who wore only panties while fixing a crown roast. (Remind me to decline her dinner invitation, if she ever invites me.) But, I did not find how to make the crown roast panties.
In my clicking on certain web sites that I thought would take me to my desired destination, I went to places that I should not and did not want to go, pornography sites. I saw lots of panties, but none on a crown roast. In fact, I saw panties on places . . . Well, that is another story for another time.
At one web site, my anti-virus guard was activated; I was told I had contracted some kind of virus. And this virus just happened to have, and offer, a virus removal program for a mere $49.95.
Fortunately, I use another virus cleaner I had previously installed. It safely removed the virus along with the ad that wanted me to spend $49.95.
I also visited places that spoke of roasting Matt Lauer, Dean Martin, etc.
In the end, I have yet to find how to make those paper panties that go over the exposed bones of a rib roast. However, I did see a variety of panties. But they won’t fit my need for the roast.
To close this, if you know how to make those paper panties, share the secret.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
DUCK!
It was a bright, sunny Sunday afternoon on an otherwise boring winter day. And after being cooped-up in the house for the week, I wanted out! Thus, Ann and I went for a ride.
The traffic was light, almost non-existent as we drove along Illinois Route 154. The sun was shining through the car’s windows and the heater was softly blowing warm air. In short, I was soon becoming the victim of road hypnosis. I was oblivious to the outside world.
Suddenly Ann yelled, “Duck! Duck!”
With that warning, I snapped out of my daze and immediately hunkered down as far as I could from the windshield. My eyes were scanning the road before us as well as the sky above us. I did not know what danger was about to befall us, but I was frantically looking for something. Anything!
“What? What” I worriedly asked.
Ann, pointing to my left side replied, “Over there. A duck.”
I looked to my left and caught a fleeting glimpse of a caged emu. “That’s not a duck; that’s an emu. That thing could eat a duck”, I angrily replied. “Why did you say ‘Duck!’?”
“I couldn’t think of the name of it and I wanted you to see it. All I could think of was duck,” Ann said.
“Well, the next time don’t yell Duck!” I said. “I thought a rock was coming through the windshield or an airplane was falling out of the sky. I was trying to get as low as I possibly could.”
The rest of that afternoon ride was silent as I fumed over the scare. However, I was no longer oblivious to the road ahead. After all, I might have to duck to see a duck.
The traffic was light, almost non-existent as we drove along Illinois Route 154. The sun was shining through the car’s windows and the heater was softly blowing warm air. In short, I was soon becoming the victim of road hypnosis. I was oblivious to the outside world.
Suddenly Ann yelled, “Duck! Duck!”
With that warning, I snapped out of my daze and immediately hunkered down as far as I could from the windshield. My eyes were scanning the road before us as well as the sky above us. I did not know what danger was about to befall us, but I was frantically looking for something. Anything!
“What? What” I worriedly asked.
Ann, pointing to my left side replied, “Over there. A duck.”
I looked to my left and caught a fleeting glimpse of a caged emu. “That’s not a duck; that’s an emu. That thing could eat a duck”, I angrily replied. “Why did you say ‘Duck!’?”
“I couldn’t think of the name of it and I wanted you to see it. All I could think of was duck,” Ann said.
“Well, the next time don’t yell Duck!” I said. “I thought a rock was coming through the windshield or an airplane was falling out of the sky. I was trying to get as low as I possibly could.”
The rest of that afternoon ride was silent as I fumed over the scare. However, I was no longer oblivious to the road ahead. After all, I might have to duck to see a duck.
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