Greetings from sunny, tropical Playa del Carmen.
And by sunny, tropical Playa del Carmen, I mean a window seat, 25F to be exact, above the Gulf of Mexico, en route to Playa del Carmen. I’ve just read two chapters of “The Sun Also Rises,” followed the mighty Mississippi River to its delta, and am reasonably sure to have spied a colony of Men O War drifting in the gulf.
So, excuse me if I’m a bit full of it.
You’ll get a different version of Go Ask Daddy than had I written this from the reasonably comfortable Charlotte Douglas Airport, eating my $4 Burger King breakfast sandwich, unable to connect with airport Wi-Fi (100% operator error).
Instead, I’m looking down at clouds and one Miami Air plane wing.
By the time I hit publish on this post, I’ll be lousy in sand and sun, just enough rum, and ready to run – my bum ankle has been cleared to start over with the Couch to 5K program again, and I will take a turn on a Mexican shore Friday.
On Saturday, I’ll go on a short run too, in memory of a blogger and runner. A drunk driver struck and killed Meg Menzies, a mother of three, as she ran Monday morning in preparation for the Boston Marathon.
I’ll try to find someone with a functioning smartphone and post a picture of my run, with the hastag #Megsmiles.
Do the same Saturday, if you get the chance.
Now, get a load of what the kids have asked lately.
1. Do stores hire people who just put things away?
Specialists are everywhere.
Long snappers in football come in only to spiral the ball between their legs on punts and field-goal attempts. Hockey enforcers have rules with fists ever since the Original 8. Basketball used to have slow white guys who planted themselves on the perimeter to take 3-point shots at a high success rate.
There’s even such a thing as a burger stylist. (Where do I sign up?)
Our friend Alecia at Food Lion starts her night on the ethnic food aisle, armed with a milk cart and precision focus, and blocks the entire store – which means she lines up all the Jarritos soda bottles, two items deep, and doesn’t stop until she’s fronted the bargain-brand toilet paper on aisle 13.
In an exclusive interview with the Coach Daddy staff, Alecia revealed the darker side of the life of a grocery-store blocker, and what she finds in the trenches.
“You are of course familiar with the eaten/half-eaten food tucked away behind product … Ew,” Alecia said. “Because that’s the one that gets me the most, I’m going to have to say a bag of completely eaten chicken wing bones in their deli packaging has got to be the worst. It’s just wrong!”
2. Are thumbs fingers?
In the hand of life, I’ll always consider myself a thumb.
You can’t make a fist without a thumb. You also can’t hitch a ride, give a thumbs up or thumbs down or even the OK sign, or presumably paint a picture. We go by the rule of thumb, twiddle our thumbs when we’re bored, and when we manage to not kill our plants, we attribute it to a green thumb.
There are no rules of pointer fingers, a green ring finger simply means cheap jewelry, and just try and twiddle your middle fingers in public and see what happens. That said, there are two schools of thought:
The thumb is a digit, and thus, a finger, for the other four fingers are also digits.
The thumb, composed of two bones and not three, is decidedly unfingerlike, and as such must stick out. Like a sore thumb, even.
The second theory feels awfully fascist to me. After all, in an oven mitt, fingers must share quarters, but the thumb – he gets his own room.
The thumb is sentimental. Did you hear what he said to the pointer finger, even after all this isolation?
“I’m in glove with you.”
3. What does the AC in AC Moore stand for?
Awfully Crafty, I suspect.
Or maybe Arturo Caballo? Or Antonius Cornelius?
It’s actually just Arts & Crafts. And Moore. Get it? Because there’s a lot of it.
I’d hate to have to block the aisles in an AC Moore. Can you imagine? All those stamps and wooden letters to paint and silk flowers. Not to mention the glass beads and sewing thread and bins of markers that girls named “Ashley” and “Heather” feel fit to write “Ashley was here!” on the shelves with.
I’d rather take my chances with half-eaten chicken thighs and tapped out My Essentials soda cans.
4. Do you have to pay for those little pokey things you use for your blood monitor?
Yes, because I have a job.
They don’t cost much, although you wouldn’t know it by how I once used them. I used to use them more than once. I did. It’s my own blood, after all. Having disclosed that, I shall never again poke fun at Gigi when she runs a dishwasher of plasticware and Solo cups. Like, ever.
5. How long ago did Michael Jackson die?
Michael Jackson, the tiny kid with the humongous voice in the Jackson 5 who went on to become an innovative solo artist recognized as the King of Pop, died June 25, 2009.
His doctor gave him a lethal combination of drugs to try and treat him for anxiety and a sleep disorder. The circus atmosphere after Michael Jackson’s death overshadows what a brilliant artist he was. When he took over the pop scene in the early 80s, I wasn’t a fan. Unlike every other kid on the planet, I was buying Daryl Hall & John Oates albums, Not Thriller.
Later in life, I’ve come to appreciate Michael Jackson, especially the old-school stuff, Pre Thriller and Bad, stuff from Off the Wall, such as Don’t Stop ‘til You Get Enough and Rock With You.
I’m honored to say Michael probably would have classified himself as a thumb, too.