One Bad Apple

I converted about two years.

To the religion of Apple.

P.C.?

P.U.!

I've now got the iPhone.

iMac.

iPod.

iPad.

iTunes.

iThis, iThat.

If it's got an "i" in it.

I'm in.

However...

During my most recent trip to Cooperstown, my MacBook Pro died.

My 10-month old MacBook Pro died.

At last check 10 months is less than a year.

So that should be good for my iWarranty.

I was actually writing a blog, when it happened.

BLACK!!!!

The screen disappeared.

That was three days ago and the screen is still black.

The trip to Cooperstown has been amazing, but it's missing two things.

A Starbucks.

And a Genius Bar.

Fortunately there is something resembling coffee to keep me awake for a few hours each day.

But there is nothing that looks anything like an apple store.

So --- the bad news is I won't be publishing a new blog for a few days.

The good news is I should have plenty of material to post several hilarious, creative, well-written, thought provoking, inspiring, comical blogs next week.

I'll tweet (@sirbacon123) when I've posted a new one.

Thanks as always for your support.


Update:   I just got back from the Genius Bar and the damage was a broken backlight on my screen.  $493 to fix, but fortunately it is covered under warranty.  

Coffee Talk

I walked into my local Starbucks a few days ago.

As I do frequently.

Way too frequently.

Thankfully I have about 25 Starbucks to choose from.

Within 10 feet of where I live.

So I have managed to avoid “The Norm Treatment.”

You know, I walk in.

The barista yells “Norrrrrrrrrrrrm”.

And a cup of my favorite beverage comes flying at me without putting in an order.

Sure, it would be nice to walk in and have them make my drink without having to ask.

But that would feel like an addiction.

I think denial is a much healthier way to live.

I usually get the same exact drink.

Large  (no made up words like “Venti” for me).

Sugar-Free Vanilla (I gotta watch my figure).

Americano.

With half hot water.

And half steamed soy.

I usually like it in the PM.

Instead of the AM.

And if it’s late enough in the day, I get it half-caff.

Why not, it’s my drink.

This concoction usually rings up at around four bucks.

I say usually because the price is different almost every time I order.

Its as inconsistent as airport security.

Sometimes they make you take off your belt.

Sometimes they don’t.

I don’t get it.

Well at Starbucks, sometimes they charge for the flavor.

Sometimes they don’t.

Sometimes they charge for the soy.

Sometimes they don’t.

Or maybe, just maybe, my order is so confusing I have figured out a way to beat the man.

One thing I do love about Starbucks is their policy of having to read your drink order out loud.

So everyone can hear it.

Usually it goes a little something like this....

We have a ..... Venti ... Soy Americano... um.. Misto ... with half...

Giggle giggle giggle.

At which point I say, is there Sugar-Free Vanilla in there?

They really love me.

Well thanks to my frequent drinker status at Starbucks, they sent me a gold card.

That gives me big time perks.

No pun intended.

I get free flavor.

And free soy.

And after every 15 orders, they send me a coupon for a free drink.

Anything I want.

My high is a $7 latte.  For free.

I don’t even remember drinking it.

But I sure did love ordering it.

I think my gold card says that I have reached Average Addiction Status.

They call me an ASS for short.

But either way, all of my discounts make quite the difference,.

Dropping my daily habit to about three bucks a day.

Cheaper than meth, right?

I try not to go to the same Starbucks two days in a row.

For good reason.

I visited the drive-thru a couple of days ago and made my order.

To which the barista responded, “hey, I remember you.”

Ouch.

I was humiliated.

No less than four billion people go to that Starbucks every day.

And she remembered ME.

I think it’s time for a little detox.

Or maybe a little more rotation in my venues.

The nice thing about where I live is that if you are looking for a Starbucks, you have a lot of choices.

If you don’t want to wait in line at the real Starbucks.

You can walk 100 yards to the grocery store.

And get your coffee at the mini-Starbucks.

I’ve done that more than from time-to-time.

A few days ago I was cruising through my old neighborhood when I stopped by my old grocery store.

While I was waiting in line to order, I noticed a picture of the barista that usually works there.

As I took a closer look at the picture, I noticed there were dates next to her name.

As in birth date.

And death date.

It turns out she was diagnosed with cancer a few months back.

And a few months later, she was gone.

Just like that.

My mouth literally fell open.

I couldn’t believe it.

It’s not like we were close.

She might’ve known my drink.

But she certainly didn’t know my name.

Turns out she was 62.

Never would’ve guessed that.

I found out she was working a full shift at Starbucks.

And then a full shift at the department store.

Across the street.

Every day.

Just to make ends meet.

I didn’t know that either.

I just knew her as the person who made my drink.

Notes on a DC Scorecard

My week-long trek through the nation’s capital is over.

And what a long, spectacular trip it was.

Eight days.  Three states.  One district.  Of Columbia.

56 Hamburgers.

Perfect.

If school would’ve been this much fun when I went.

I might’ve went longer.

I learned so many things this week.

And not all of it was inside a museum.

I learned that there is a court higher than the Supreme Court.

It’s a basketball court.

On the roof of the building.

That’s what our tour guide told us.

He was really proud of that one.

The tour guide for our final day was Forrest Gump.

Not the real one.

But it could’ve been.

He used to be a cab driver in New York.

Once went running with the bulls in Spain.

Fought for our country in Panama.

And Serbia.

And Iraq.

Went to school with a famous sportscaster.

Not college.

Kindergarten.

And he told us that Theodore Roosevelt didn’t like being called Teddy.

Wait there’s more.

Taxes may be a hot subject on Capitol Hill.

But if you buy something at the Capitol Building Gift Shop, there is no tax.

It’s twue, it’s twue.

It’s a federal building.

And they don’t charge tax there.

Good news if you plan on committing a crime in the Maryland-Virginia-DC area.

They tell you how much it costs before you do it.

No seat belt?

No problem.  

If you get caught, that’ll cost you $50.

And two points on your record.

That’s what the sign said.

Feel like parking in a handicap spot.  

Then you should feel like coughing up $98.   

That’s what it costs.

You better yield for pedestrians too.

If not that’ll cost you “$100-$500”.

$100 TO $500? 

Do you pay by the height?

Spending a week with several dozen teenagers was another learning experience.

I learned that while four of out of five dentists may recommend Trident Gum.

Five out of five must be recommending braces.

Nearly every kid on this trip either had.

Has.

(Or I’m sure will have) the four-figure smile fixer.

I hadn’t seen this much metal in a mouth since my last Lil Wayne concert.

Now once you get those braces, that means no gum chewing.

Which is a good thing in DC.

We were greeted at every venue with the same list of demands:

No Food.

No Drinks.

No Gum.

When did Bubblelicious become one of America’s Most Wanted?

Hey, rules is rules.

But do you know how much extra cash these museums could rake in with a little out of the box marketing.

How ‘bout this....

Starbucks...

The official drink of the Declaration of Independence.

Come on, a guy wearing a George Washington wig serving up an “Americano” while you read the Bill of Rights.

You could sell that for at least $60.

No tax.

Of course.

Sick and Twisted

Nobody has ever died of a Vitamin-C overdose.

Well I can’t confirm that.

But when I googled “Vitamin C” and “Overdose”.

Nothing like that came up.

So it must be true.

And that’s a good thing.

Because I think I tested the limits yesterday.

Disclaimer:   If you take too much Vitamin C, you can get a bad case of the runs, maybe even some hurling.   If that happens, the internet says, stop taking Vitamin C and drink lotsa water.

You see, I developed this nasty head cold.

And I tried throwing everything with a C at it.

Emergen-C.

Cough Drops with Vitamin C.

Vitamin C tablets.

There were so many C’s, I thought I was looking at my college transcripts.

Even at lunch, one serving of my barbecue potato chips had 10% of the daily vitamin C requirement.

Really.

Good thing I had four servings.

But even with all that, this cold was kicking my behind.

And I couldn’t limit my meds to just the letter C.

I had my one a day vitamin.

Tylenol.

Tussin DM.

The younger, cheaper brother of Robitussin.

Don’t worry.

I took the recommended dosage.

At the recommended times.

But nothing was working.

I stayed hydrated.

With water.

And Vitamin Water.

And this concoction from Starbucks that some barista threw my way a couple of years ago.

Hot tea.

Honey.

And steamed lemonade.

A shot or two.

Honestly, I have no idea if it works.

But the good news is they have no idea how to charge me for a shot (or two) of steamed lemonade.

So they rarely do.

When I’m sick, I will listen to anyone who has a cure.

Gargling with warm salt water.

Chicken soup.

Steam.

Vicks VapoRub.

Euthanasia.

Echinacea.

Whatever.

You name it.

I’ve tried it.

And exactly... none of them work.

Well, none of them work right away.

I’m sure they all work with a good night sleep.

But how I am supposed to sleep when my nose is stuffed like a thanksgiving turkey?

And my throat is as raw as the daily special at Sushi Roku.

And my eyes are as watery as...

Well you get it.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have the luxury of lying in bed.

I had already committed to a field trip with my sixth grade son’s class.

And I wasn’t going to pass on that.

I had done that too many times in the past.

So I brought my box of kleenex.

And my sack lunch.

And I got on the bus.

Sitting next to me was one of the teachers.

And she sniffed out pretty quickly that I had the sniffles.

So she suggested a new remedy.

Well, a new one for me.

Take two tablespoons of Apple Cider Vinegar.

Mix in some Cayenne Pepper.

And gargle.

Who came up with this?

Dr. Emmett L. Brown?

I don’t think so.

But thanks for thinking of me.

So I fumbled and stumbled my way through the trip.

And through the rest of the day.

Until it was time for my son’s basketball practice.

By this point, I was major league hurting.

But I’m an assistant coach on the team.

And what kind of role model would I be if I missed practice.

When we got there, the head coach realized pretty quickly that I left my A-game at home.

But instead of sending me there.

He sent me to the store.

“Have you ever tried ACV?”, he said.

ACV?

Before I could figure out he wasn’t talking about something sold in a dark alley, he jumped in.

“Apple Cider Vinegar.”

Ex-squeeze me.

Baking powder.

“Wow,” I said.  “I was told earlier today to gargle it.”

“With Cayenne Pepper.”

“Don’t gargle it,” he snapped back.

“Drink it!”

So let me get this straight, I’m supposed to drink Apple Cider Vinegar?

Actually, Organic Apple Cider Vinegar.

And that is going to cure me.

“Yep,” he said.

He told me that it cured him of pneumonia in 2006.

And he hasn’t been sick since.

Anytime he feels a bug coming on.

Mix two tablespoons of vinegar with a glass of water.

And presto chango, “you feel better in 20 minutes.”

20 minutes?

Where do I sign?

“Whole Foods,” he said.  “They have the organic kind.”

So after practice, I headed over there, got the goods and took it home.

$4.99 for one of them big jugs.

And I did exactly as instructed.

The glass of water.

The two tablespoons.

And within minutes....

My stomach was burning.

Well, not burning burning.

But I could feel it.

But I could also feel myself feeling better.

I’m not sure how much of this was in my head.

And how much of this was in my blood.

But somehow this little ACV thing actually worked.

Well it worked for now.

I’ll know more in the morning.

If I wake up.