Funny Things My Callers Say pt 3.1, 3.2 and 3.3

Just another day in the life at 911. All the callers were "girls".

Caller: I'd like to report an olderly man driving recklessly.

Me: A what?

Caller: An olderly man.

Me: ...okay...
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Caller: I'd like to report a reckless driver on the freeway.

Me: Ok, let me have you to talk to the State Patrol...

WSP: What are you reporting?

Caller: A reckless driver on I90.

WSP: What are they doing?

Caller: Well, I'm going at least 85 and he's totally pulling away from me.
(FYI, our speed limit there is 70 mph)

WSP: Um, you wanna slow it down to 70 ma'am?

Caller: Uh, what?

WSP: You can't go 85 ma'am, and if you do you shouldn't tell me about it.

Caller: Oh. Okay.
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and my personal favorite of the day :

Caller: I'd like to report a lady walking down the street who looks like she having some trouble walking. She might be drunk.

Me: Okay, how old is she?

Caller: She's elderly.

Me: By elderly, what do you mean, 70, 80, 90?

Caller: No, I'd say she looks about 42.

Me: Where are you? I'm gonna come beat you with my cane kick your ass. (No, I did not really say that to her, but I really really wanted to!)

Things...

...that irritate me and make me laugh all at the same time:

When one of our crazy mental "frequent flier" callers calls and states that someone else needs to go to the mental hospital because they are crazy.

Today I am torn between "Takes one to know one" and "Take me! Take me!"

Somewhere That's Green

A matchbox of our own
A fence of real chain link
A grill out on the patio
Disposal in the sink
A washer and a dryer and
an ironing machine
In a tract house that we share
Somewhere that's green

He rakes and trims the grass
He loves to mow and weed
I cook like Betty Crocker
And I look like Donna Reed
There's plastic on the furniture
To keep it neat and clean
In the Pine-Sol scented air,
Somewhere that's green

Between our frozen dinner
And our bed-time: nine-fifteen
We snuggle watching Lucy
On our big, enormous
Twelve-inch screen

I'm his December Bride
He's father, he knows best
Our kids watch Howdy Doody
As the sun sets in the west
A picture out of Better Homes
and Gardens Magazine
Far from Skid Row
I dream we'll go
somewhere that's... green

(lyrics from Little Shop of Horrors/image from Plan59)

I'm so tired of all this...crap. Terrorists. Bailouts. Deficits. Mexican Swine flu. Blah blah blah.
I want a more simple time. When men were men and women were housewives (I know, that sounds chauvinist, but hey, I benefited a lot by my mom being home all the time and, come on, wouldn't you really rather be at home? I would). When neighbors were actually neighborly. When cocktail hour started promptly at five.

When we knew who the bad guys were (and they weren't our own politicians!) and they didn't crash planes into tall buildings (seriously, people, watch it. We can NOT afford to forget!) When the things we bought were still (mostly) American made. When movies weren't all about shock and gore. No telemarketers from India. No internet scams, mail scams, people stealing your credit card numbers. No meth, no crack, no gang shootings in suburbia. Moms didn't drown their kids. Dads didn't rape the babysitter. (Well, maybe on rare occasion, but not all the time, like you hear now on the news.) And speaking of the news, it was actually news and not commentary disguised as truth.

I think I'm going to build a bomb shelter in the back yard (a la Blast from the Past) and mix up a pitcher of martinis. Anyone wanna come?