PRETTY LADIES AND OLD LADIES

TV PHOTOS

So I've been pausing my TV and taking photos of the still images lately. Here's some of my best work:

This is a pretty lady. She talks about soccer. She knows soccer. And talks about it to me on the TV. 

This is from the show "The Bridge." See, my car isn't the only one a crow can perch on. Or maybe the crows have found a way to fuck with me through television. Those bastards are good. 

This is Alex. She is the best female soccer player in the world. And she's looking mighty fine at the ESPYS. 

Seems likes the Pelicans have a new player. And he's the smartest guy in the NBA! It's backup point guard Brain Roberts. Yes, I watch summer league basketball. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom doesn't like the condition of my garden. "Tear everything down and lay some fucking grass. I made the mistake in my yard of not getting rid of a fucking bush. Still dealing with it."

Mom picks me up from church in a downpour and stops with her car halfway in a lane and halfway on the shoulder. "People going around me. They can't wait one second? And there's two cops standing right there with their thumbs up their ass."

Mom read on the Internet that Netflix doesn't always function properly. "The fucking thing keeps fucking up. And people still pay for that shit."

Mom doesn't have Netflix but is watching Orange is the New Black on some nefarious website. It shut down the other day, though. "I wonder whose fucking idea it was to take that down."

Mom was unsure if she would like Orphan Black. "They speaking in British. I can't understand a fucking word."

The across-the-street neighbor cut down a tree a while back, but perhaps not in time. Termites have gone from that tree to nearby trees and into another neighbor's house. "Paul had to tear down walls. He thinks Tom should have cut the motherfucker sooner."

55 IS THE NEW 29

I had a dentist appointment Wednesday before meeting Rachel and Kelly for lunch at Outback. 

My hygienist, Cheryl, has been cleaning my teeth for a long time, and even though she only works one day a week now, I'm on the short list of clients she won't drop. 

We were discussing how long we've known each other when I asked if my file showed when our first meeting took place. 

Cheryl: Let's see (looking it up). How old are you? 26?

Me: 29.  

Cheryl: Oh my god. You're almost 30. (Finding it.) It was January 1988. 

Me: I was 4. 

Cheryl: Wait a second. My birthday is in March, so I was 29 in January 1988. 

Me: So I am now the age you were when you first started on me. 

Cheryl: Damn. I'm old.