Friday, August 27, 2010
Evan "Relic" Hunter
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Golf Cart Hell Ride
Having mastered the technique of mentioning places she'd like to go in order to indirectly request rides, she's relied on the good will of my father for transportation throughout their marriage.
I heard through a family member that she almost drowned herself and my nephew in one of the alligator-infested canals that line the glorified trailer park where my parents spend their winters last year.
We were on a golf cart ride one sunny afternoon when I asked her to tell me about it. She pointed out the spot where it happened. She had tried to make a U-turn between two canals, but miscalculated. The golf cart started sliding down an embankment into the murky water, and she and my nephew jumped off either side.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Dental Damn
I'd been reading Catcher in the Rye in the waiting room, and the dental hygienest complimented me on my taste. She asked me if I were reading it for school after sticking one of those things in my mouth they use when they give you X-rays, and smiled as I tried to articulate an answer. When she took it out, we chatted about how I had quit smoking since my last visit. She told me about her two-year old. She seemed like a real sweetheart.
But there was another side of her. A darker side. A side you don't even want to think about.
It first came to the surface when she produced a water pick from outside my peripheral vision. She was ruthless, this one, and she might as well have been tattooing my gums with it. I asked her if it were a pressure washer for your teeth after she "accidentally" sprayed me in the face with it, and she said "that's exactly the way I describe it to people!"
Then she took out one of those pointy devices they use to scrape the plaque off your teeth. I could see the smile widening behind her mask as she examined it, probably wondering what it would feel like to stab me in the eye. Allegedly, they call this device an explorer, which makes sense because she dug into my gum line like she was searching for buried treasure. My body tensed as she tried to scrape away what was left of my gums. She's just doing a good job, I told myself. From the amount of blood on her gloves, you would have thought she was performing open heart surgery. "Are you comfortable?" She asked.
"Yeah," I said, lying. I was about as comfortable as a prisoner of war.
Finally, she left the room. The dentist came in and prodded my teeth with her explorer, searching for cavities. She found three small ones, and wrote up a treatment plan that would cost me a fortune.
I thanked them for all of this, and thanked God that I wouldn't have to go back for another six months. Except, of course, to get the three fillings the dentist said she probably won't even need to numb me for.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Look at my Family!
First of all, these stickers are a serial killer's wet dream. If you're driving around with those on your car, and you don't live in a gated community, you're practically begging to get slaughtered. "A woman living alone with her two small children, and no dog? I'm there," the Ted Bundys of the world must say to themselves.
I saw one the other day that had a woman and five or six cats and dogs, and man was that sad. You know they must be all she has to live for, and what's worse, she's got those damn stickers on her car to tell everyone about it. I could just picture her driving home from the animal shelter where she works to lie down on her mangy living room floor, where she coos to her animals until they come and rub themselves up against her.
Sometimes I want to put those stickers on my car as a joke. Maybe have just one guy and about thirty children taking up the entire window. "Different mothers," I would say when questioned about it. Or maybe on my friend's car I could put just two men and a cat.
Fortunately, I don't think I'm acquainted with anyone that's got these stickers. If you know anyone who does, you should do them a huge favor: peel them off and incinerate them. Or at least peel their heads off.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Eves Dropping has Never been so Dangerous
As I stood there waiting for my coffee, I noticed a large circle of women who had rearranged the entire south side of the cafe to accommodate their posse. One of them, pudgy and bespectacled, was crafting what appeared to be either a knit cap or an oven mitt. Yellow yarn was coiled on the floor beside her thick calf. When my coffee was ready, I wandered over to the table that housed the cream and sweeteners. As much as I tried to mind my own business, I couldn't help overhearing the woman talk about a recent encounter she'd had with one of her teachers.
"He made me dress up in my nicest business clothes to meet with him," she said. I tuned her out for a minute after that, thinking that this group of gossip-mongers reminded me of a group of women who used to meet at the coffee shop where my sister worked in Los Angeles. They called their meetings Stitch 'n Bitch. Then she said something that caught my attention:
"I have a pair of purple sparkly fishnets," she said. Before I could block it from entering my mind, an image of her wearing them, holding a ball of yarn, was burned into my consciousness.
I finished stirring my coffee as quickly as possible, and sat down beside a couple of teenagers, who appeared harmless. I opened Word, and started to scan through what I'd written yesterday. Then the boy beside me started talking:
"Let me thee. I can't find it. Well anyway, it theth in here thomewhere that there will be a bunch of earthquaketh." Were it not for his lisp, I might have been a little more frightened by the apocalypse talk. He was trying to explain the book of Revelation to his little girlfriend. I thought of asking him if he'd ever considered seeing a speech therapist, but then decided I liked him better with a lisp. Besides, they seemed to really be hitting it off, and I didn't want to interfere with true love. I moved on, relocating to my beloved spot in the corner by the trashcan.
Now I'm listening to horrible muzak and wondering how many times I can hear Led Zeppelin's "Kashmir" played by an orchestra before my eardrums start bleeding. Sometimes I think the whole world has gone crazy.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
The Fine Art of Procrastination
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Crutchy
> From: "Evan Hunter"
> To:
> Sent: Tuesday, October 03, 2006 2:00 PM
> Subject: Crutches
>
> > Hi,
> > I sprained my ankle skateboarding and I'm interested in the crutches, are they still available?
> >
> > Thank you,
Mark
To: Mark S.
Sent: Thursday, October 05, 2006 12:00 AM
Subject: Re: Re: Crutches
Hi Mark,
Thank you,
Evan Hunter
evan@cellularabroad.com
2006-10-05
======== At 2006-10-05, 09:11:00 you wrote: ========
Before you got this? What do you mean by "this"?
I emailed you at least 5 times now, starting with right after you originally emailed me.
Please help me understand here.
Thanks,
Mark
----- Original Message -----
From: Evan Hunter
To: Mark S.
Sent: Thursday, October 05, 2006 11:50 AM
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Crutches
Before I got your original email. In other words, I don't need the crutches.
Thank you,
Evan Hunter
evan@cellularabroad.com
2006-10-05
======== At 2006-10-05, 11:00:00 you wrote: ========
Oh ok! So you mean between the time you emailed me and the hour later in which I replied, you bought some. OK I think I understand.
So why wouldn't you just tell me so? Why not reply to my 5 or so previous emails? (Don't you think that would be the courteous thing to do?)
Thanks,
Mark
----- Original Message -----
From: Evan Hunter
To: Mark S.
Sent: Thursday, October 05, 2006 12:20 PM
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Crutches
I'm extremely busy, and this is my work email address. If you have nothing better to do with your time than shame me for not buying a pair of crutches then you need a hobby. I figured you would just let it go if I didn't respond, but obviously you won't so I apologize. Hope you can find someone to take those crutches off your hands.
Ta,
Evan Hunter
evan@cellularabroad.com
2006-10-05
======== At 2006-10-05, 17:48:00 you wrote: ========
Hi Evan,
Oh you're extremely busy? Oh!!!!!!!!
Cool, cause that was kinda my point. How come you don't understand that others are extremely busy too? Perhaps you're the only one on the planet that's extremely busy? I think that's what you're trying to say, cause that's the impression I'm getting.
You see, I'M EXTREMELY BUSY TOO. That's why I asked you So why wouldn't you just tell me so? Why not reply to my 5 or so previous emails? (Don't you think that would be the courteous thing to do?)
Maybe you get my point now. Or maybe not. Maybe YOU are the only one on the planet that's extremely busy. I'm just trying to figure it all out.
Thanks,
Mark
----- Original Message -----
From: Evan Hunter
To: Mark S.
Sent: Friday, October 06, 2006 12:00 AM
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Crutches
Dear Mark,
If you're so busy, why waste your time writing 5 emails to someone who didn't respond to your first one? You are wasting your time if you think you can hold everyone on Craig's list accountable. I'm starting to think you have some kind of mental disorder.
Thank you,
Evan Hunter
evan@cellularabroad.com
2006-10-06
======== At 2006-11-03, 07:40:00 you wrote: ========
You are welcome to think I have some kind of mental disorder. The fact is, you've still never answered my questions, and you just talk in gibberish.
Before you got "this"? What do you mean by "this"? I emailed you at least 5 times, starting with right after you originally emailed me. Are you simply just a selfish pig? What's the delio? So you mean between the time you emailed me and the hour later in which I replied, you bought some crutches? If so why wouldn't you just tell me so? Why not reply to my 5 or so previous emails? (Don't you think that would be the courteous thing to do?)
Please help me understand here.
----- Original Message -----
From: Evan Hunter
To: Mark S.
Sent: Friday, November 03, 2006 12:00 AM
Subject: Re: Re: Crutches
Mark,
I expect that the courteous thing to do would be to leave me alone and stop writing me the same email over and over again. I already received this last week. Were you trying to sell your crutches so you could buy your next fix? You seemed quite desperate. If so, I suppose I can understand why you composed 5 emails in such rapid succession. Please understand that crack cocaine is not a healthy escape from reality. You would be well advised to seek help and learn cope with all the curve balls life throws at you.
Cheers,
Evan Hunter
evan@cellularabroad.com
2006-11-03
======== At 2006-12-04, 07:19:00 you wrote: ========
Dear Even,
You keep writing about your "diagnosis" of my supposed mental disorders, and the reasons you guess that I was selling the crutches. Yet the issue at hand is neither of those.
The issue is simply why you would email me and waste my time, for an item that you were never going to buy anyway.
As I've told you many times now (but for some reason it just hasn't sunk in), I responded immediately to your initial email. (see below). Not only was there never a chance of any transaction taking place, but you just ignored all of my emails for quite a long time. Then in addition, instead of just saying "I'm sorry, I'm a rude idiot", your approach was to go on the attack and to try to insult me. I find that highly rude, don't you? Did your mother teach you to behave that way?
Are you by chance in sales over there at Cellularbroad? If so, I wonder if you like "customers" who just jerk you around, waste your time, and never intend to buy anything. I'll bet your top sales boys even have a name for that type of person. (And I bet it's not a very nice word). If you're not in sales over there, could you run this by the sales boys and see what they think about it?
Thanks,
Mark
Dear Merk,
You are writing about your "diagnosis" of what my job title is, yet you are making the wrong assumption. My job is to deal with people, who, like yourself, demand compensation for all of the bogus things life has thrown at them. They channel their unhappiness into daily interaction with coworkers and acquaintances, until everyone they know realizes how over the top and neurotic they are, and can't help but to mock them as soon as they leave the room.
It struck me as funny that you called me a rude idiot in the same sentence as you condemned me for insulting you. My mother died of cancer when I was eight years old, so no, she didn't teach me to behave this way. I taught myself how to deal with whiners such as yourself. And that's what you are Mark, you are a whiny little baby. I mean look at the tone of your email. Do you honestly think I care about anything you have to say? Why don't you grow a pair of testicles and get back to me, and then I will see about being polite.
Best regards,
Evan Hunter
2006-12-04
But again, the issue is simply why you would email me and waste my time, for an item that you were never going to buy anyway. It's a characteristic we see in "Nigerain scammers". Are you really a scateboarder? Thanks, Mark Actually, Nigerian scam artists use stolen credit cards to place orders for merchandise they couldn't possibly afford. I know a thing or two about them, trust me. I just sent you an email asking if some crutches were available, and I actually bought some at the pharmacy a couple of hours later because I saw a physician and realized that my foot was broken, not sprained. Having fulfilled my need for crutches, I ignored your 5 or so emails, seeing as I was preoccupied with the goings on of every day life. Had I known it would hurt your feelings this much, I might have responded sooner. Or maybe not, because this is all pretty hilarious to me, being the selfish pig that I am. I'm not sure what a scateboarder is, but I certainly am a skateboarder. I'd send you pictures if I wasn't afraid you were going to find me and come slit my throat a 'la OJ Simpson. Cheers, Evan Hunter 2006-12-14
======== At 2006-12-14, 10:05:00 you wrote: ========
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