Jon Dawson: Hat rack deployed to save local man from ceiling
Do you start the day with a shower or a cup of coffee? If you said a cup of coffee in the shower, it may be time for counseling.
I’ve never had a cup of coffee in my life, but I can’t fathom a morning without a shower. It's a way to start with a clean slate and attack what could be a difficult day with a head full of steam.
Of course, by 8:40 a.m., your day will have likely pummeled you to the point you don't remember how to blink, but up until 8:39 a.m., there was at least hope.
My idea of a shower is a stream of water strong enough to detach the stubble from a man’s face without the need of a razor. The force of the water needs to be strong enough to make you forget you just left a comfortable bed.
Having to grab onto the shower curtain lest you be knocked through the wall by a Silkwood-strength shower head clears your mind and gets the ol' synapses a-firing quicker than a barrel of Sanka.
To some, the idea of travel conjures images of adventure. To me, it means there's a 64 percent chance the shower in my hotel room will either have the thrust of a butterfly sneeze or I'll need to call the NASA hotline to figure out how to operate it.
Once during his time as a cast member in the traveling production of “Whoop-Dee-Doo!”, my friend Michael Gagliano actually held his lighter under the shower stream in an effort to get some hot water at a Red Roof Inn in Sheboygan.
To quote Special Agent Dale Cooper from Twin Peaks, "once a traveler leaves his home he loses almost 100 percent of his ability to control his environment" — which is a truly terrifying thought.
Over the last few years, my taste for travel has diminished rapidly. For starters, gas is so expensive you need to inherit an oil derrick and devise a refinery using jumper cables and a colander . Otherwise, the vacation will be two laps around the mailbox and an ice cream sandwich split four ways (five if you bring the dog).
Even if you happen to strike oil in your back yard, you’ll then you have to contend with a few thousand Ricky Bobby Jr.’s on the highway. I’m not sure if it’s the video games or too much time spent standing next to a microwave with a faulty seal, but these drivers are slinging cars in and out of traffic like gnats on Red Bull.
Just this week I've been passed twice on a double line by people rocketing towards the beach as if Chick-fil-A was handing out free samples at the Carteret County line. Chances are you'll get sunburned while you're at the beach, which in a way is good news for the sharks as I hear they prefer their humans well-done these days.
To the three of you who still own a real stereo and realize listening to music on ear buds is akin to licking a stamp and calling it a meal, why not avoid the beach and just invest in a CD of ocean sounds?
These nature CDs are so specific now that along with the sounds of waves hitting the beach and seagulls in the distance, they also feature spouses arguing over who forgot to bring the suntan lotion. There’s even a bonus track of a family trying to convince an inebriated uncle who just drank 17 beers that the ocean is not his water bed.
To further the ocean experience, pick up a $12 plastic pool, fill it with water and salt. Add that element of danger that now comes with swimming in the ocean by tossing a few mouse traps into your pool. They won't cause as much damage as a shark, but you can let your kid rescue you and they'll feel like a big shot.
Today when you finish your ninth cup of coffee and your coworkers are trying to peel you off the ceiling with a coat rack, use the few minutes it'll take them to hook onto your belt loop to reflect on that refreshing shower that started your day.
There's another one around the corner … unless your water heater breaks down.
Jon Dawson's humor columns are published weekly by Neuse Neuse. Contact Jon at firstname.lastname@example.org and www.jondawson.com.