Category Humor

Say Cheese

Michael 12 Comments

I had my picture taken yesterday. I know, most people on the Internet seem to have a complete photo diary of their whole existence. I grew up with a Kodak Brownie. We took pictures only if necessary. Like on a vacation. In a different state.

The picture I he had taken yesterday was even more monumental than an out of state vacation. It was for my driver’s license. And it was about time too. The last time I updated my driver’s license was 4 years, 3 operations, and 100 pounds ago. I bore as much resemblance to my ID as …. let’s just say it wasn’t actually representative. In fact, the one time I actually needed a photo ID that anybody paid particular attention to, the nice TSA agent kept looking from it to me to it to me to it. Fortunately I had that renewed my passport two years ago which was after the 3 surgeries and 100 pounds. More fortunately I decided to bring it along with me even though I wasn’t traveling outside the country. Most fortunately that particular TSA agent was perusing my travel documents on the return portion of that trip and I really didn’t want to spend another night in New Orleans.

I figured something out on my way to the photo center. I was going for my eleventh renewal. Here ours renew every 4 years. That’s a lot of driving. And based on heads and shoulders at least, a pretty nifty photographic record of changing hair styles. Or it would be if they were on all my licenses. We only started using pictures on our licenses here in 1976 so my first couple documents were just black type on color coded card stock. Now it just so happened those license periods also coincided with my under 21 years.

DLIDs without photos are hardly identifying yet that was the standard in the dark ages of paper licenses. Of course that eliminated an entire cottage industry since it meant there was no need for a fake ID business. All you had to do was find an older somebody who wasn’t going out the same night as you who reasonably matched your basic info … height, eye and hair color, and sex. Sex is important. Having an older sister is of no benefit when you’re a younger brother.

But that won’t do today. Now there are pictures on licenses. And bar codes and holograms and for some reason a second picture. I guess that makes up for all the years there were none.

I figured I’m good for a while now. I have 4 new years on my driver’s license, 8 more years on my last password renewal, and no job and no school to go to that might require a photo ID card.

I don’t have to worry about a good hair day until 2022!

 

Reduce, Reuse, Recycle

Michael 12 Comments

I had my transplant evaluation appointment today. This post won’t be about that. I’ll chronicle that next step of the journey in my next post. Today I want to talk about paper. Everywhere I went today, there was paper.

Years ago when I was working in the hospital we were promised that a paperless environment was on its way. In fact, I think they might have been planning that when I was in college. The first time. In the 1970s. They ain’t got there yet. They’re trying. Really, I do believe that. But I think they are fighting a really big uphill battle.

It’s an accountability thing. When I was still working, many of our suppliers used paperless invoicing. Anything you needed to know you could get from their partner sites on line. Yet whenever we would receive anything from a supplier, the contracted delivery service had their copy, in duplicate, and we had to make 3 copies of each invoice for our records. Corporate, hospital, and department each got its own copy. Everyone looked out for himself.

That extends to patient records. Today I electronically reviewed then signed the authorization to treat, release of records, and informed consent forms. After the ceremonial signing, they printed off two copies of each form. One for me, one for the paper file to go along with that electronic copy. Each department that I visited, which had received an advanced electronic order of whatever test was to be performed, printed a copy for me to pass on to the technician who would perform the test who then scanned the order that was previously printed from the computer system back into the computer system upon completion of the test verifying the test had been completed.

Receipt

Yes, that is a 16 inch ruler. No, I don’t remember where I got it.

This paper hanging is not peculiar just to health care. Stop for a late lunch on the way home and count on the waiter, who would enter the order on an electronic tablet, to bring two copies of the check at the end of meal just in case you want to pay by card, and then two more if you actually do.

My final stop was at the supermarket for a handful of items. It’s a store I regularly use and my email address is on file there. I randomly receive electronic coupons and when I check out I am offered the choice of a printed or emailed receipt. I always go for the email version because stores receipts have become the length of War and Peace. They include the purchased items, any discount on those items by way of weekly sales, deductions made due to coupons or loyalty rewards, progress towards those rewards, surveys, upcoming specials, and of course the store name, address, phone and hours. Just in case you forgot where you were shopping I suppose. Whether you elect paper or e-receipt you get printed versions of the coupons that had recently been emailed. Today, the clerk failed to ask how I wanted my receipt and just printed it off. All 21 inches, 3-1/4 inches which actually reflected my purchases. (Yes, in fact, I did measure it.) (Because I have that kind of time, that’s why.) (I’ve told you that before.)

So, the next time somebody mentions the paperless office, you know what the real score is. But please, feel free to print this missive for later reading if you want. You’ll be in good company.

 

 

 

 

*Batteries Not Included

Michael Leave a comment

The 2017-18 NHL hockey regular season ended yesterday. The playoffs begin later this week and I have a few days to evaluate my own hockey scorecard. Over a few hundred games I’ve seen just about everything a hockey fan could want to see. I’ve see pre-season games, regular season games, and post-season games. I’ve seen games that clinched playoff spots, I’ve seen playoff series open and I’ve seen playoff series close with wins and with losses. I’ve seen penalty shots, the most exciting play in the fastest sport. I’ve seen games finish in overtime and games finish in shoot outs. I’ve touched the Stanley Cup and been up close to every other trophy awarded by the league. I’ve even seen the NHL draft live and in person. (Oddly, or aptly, I got to see a fight breakout at that draft but it was in the stands between two groups of opposing fans.) I have towels and programs and pucks signed by players who were right in front of me.  But there are three things I’ve not done. I’ve not been to an outdoor game. I’ve not been to a Cup winning game. And I’ve never seen a goalie score a shutout. Well, in point of fact, I have seen a shutout but it comes with an asterisk.

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BroncosI wrote this post while at dialysis Saturday afternoon. I had not seen the news Friday night or Saturday morning and was unaware that on Friday afternoon a bus carrying the Humboldt Broncos junior hockey team from Humboldt, Saskatchewan was involved in a deadly traffic accident. The team featured players 16 to 20 years old. Among 15 killed in the accident were 11 players, 2 coaches, a radio announcer, and a statistician. My sympathies go to their families and friends, the Saskatchewan Junior Hockey League, and the entire Canadian hockey family. I mean no disrespect to the memories of these young people and their supporters and hope that by my words, I can honor them.

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That little asterisk, the famous * symbol, says so much for being so little. I don’t know the earliest use of the asterisk but I remember the first time I saw it. It was on a box holding a new transistor radio (if you remember what that is) and it preceded the words “batteries not included.” Lots of things back then didn’t include batteries but they were mostly toys, or so it seemed to me, but those boxes didn’t hide the need for batteries behind our little one character attention getter. They put those words big and bold right on the front of the box. BATTERIES NOT INCLUDED. Occasionally you’d see an asterisk in a newspaper ad for a bank’s free checking offer. Today advertisers dispense with cluttering their come-ons with extraneous markings and just fill the bottom third of their spot with print in fonts smaller than what you think is actually possible with the exclusions and modifiers.

In the 1980s, amazing feats of strength and power were witnessed at baseball parks across America. The steroid era had arrived. More accurately, the steroid era had been noticed. Someone figured out that mere mortals just couldn’t do some of the things athletes of the day were doing. Most athletes of the day would have cringed at being called mere mortals. As would quite a few fans. Still, critics prevailed and convinced the powers that be of the day to look closer at those accomplishments. Yes, they determined that mere mortals could only do those things if they got some help. Help in the form of steroids to allow mortals to transcend their mere-ness. Record shattering performances of the time and the times before were scrutinized to investigate the possibility that the performers were performing in other than unadulterated states. If there was a question, the record remained but the suspicion that steroids were used was noted with an asterisk. Nobody wanted an asterisk. The reference mark had become a mark of shame. It persisted and expanded. Even in academia the asterisk was feared. I can recall in graduate school discussing a fellow fellow’s research results and heard someone remark, “oh sure, he can prove the theory but someday somebody is going to put an asterisk after his paper.”

Today the asterisk is regaining its popularity. Or maybe it’s losing its ignominy. Whichever, you’re starting to see it again, even in the occasional blog post. It simply means ” Hey, check it out. There’s still some more to the story.” And that’s why I’m not ashamed to include an asterisk with my personal hockey bucket list accomplishments. Yes, I’ve seen a shutout. There’s just more to the story.

I said I have never seen a goalie score a shutout in a game and that is true. But a have seen a shutout and that is also true. It was February 2, 2011. I remember the date because it was Groundhog Day and I was wearing my official Punxsutawney Phil hat rather than a more traditional hockey themed baseball cap. The home team was up 3-0 with 16.5 seconds left. The back-up goaltender was in for the number one net minder after the main guy played to a shootout win the previous night. As the game wound down, the home team was on the offense and a player made a break to the goal. The puck slipped past him and as he skated across the crease the opposing goalie took him down with a forearm. This did not sit well with the home goalie, who dropped his stick and gloves and advanced toward center ice. The visiting goalie also approached and gave the universal “come on” sign. Home goalie crossed the red line and his fate was sealed. He would receive a game misconduct and be ejected with only a few more than a dozen seconds left in the game. The home team inserted number one goalie who completed the shutout but since it was split between two goalies, the starter was credited with the win but neither goalie was awarded a shutout. Thus my asterisk.

But on the bright side, I did get to cross off “see a goalie fight” from my hockey bucket list.

 

 

 

All Stuck Up

Michael 7 Comments

It’s time for me to come clean. I don’t have a favorite mayonnaise. Hellmann’s or Kraft is ok with me. I couldn’t tell the difference between a store brand and Duke’s. Whether regular, light, or olive oil based, I don’t care. Once I even made my own. For all the work involved, any advantage was lost on me. Sorry. Mayo is mayo and as long as it’s thick, white, and has a little tang it fills my mayo need.

On the other hand, every other condiment in the world has gone through extreme testing and I have strong preferences. These fall into two categories. Those I like and use and those I would rather do without. Rather do without. That doesn’t mean I don’t bend if I have to. If I’m at friends’ house and they are serving one of those other mustards at their cookout, I won’t turn my nose up and whip out my brand from a handy condiment belt. I’m not a snob. Except …

Except for honey and syrup. You might say that when it comes to honey and syrup, I’m pretty much stuck on what I like. I got to thinking about this because I just used the last of my honey this past Sunday when I made the glaze for the Easter ham and the last of my syrup on this morning’s breakfast pancakes.

(If you have a good memory you know in my last post I mentioned that we went out for our Easter dinner. That’s right, we did. But that didn’t stop me from baking a ham.)

(Some traditions die harder than others.)

(We now return you to your regularly scheduled blog post.)

I may have even mentioned before that I can be a honey and syrup snob. There aren’t specific brands of either that I have hitched my wagon to. Rather there are specific sources. Local sources. Local is always better. Think about last summer and the green beans you got at the farmers’ market versus those you got at your snow bound mega-mart’s produce section on your last shopping trip. I prefer the summer stock also, but that doesn’t stop me from eating green beans in January. But honey and syrup. Those are two different stories. If I can’t get local, I don’t get.

Fortunately, our local maple festival is this weekend. Those little plastic bottles of refined tree sap will soon fill my pantry! Honey isn’t a big seller at a maple festival. In fact, it’s not a seller at all at this one. Fortunately, right outside the park hosting the festival is a farm store where the natural nectar fills the shelves. So it looks like in one smooth motion I’ll be able to restore honey harmony and syrup snobbery to my kitchen.

And I, for one weekend, will be the most stuck up guy in the country.

 

Timing Is Everything

Michael 4 Comments

Time’s Up

Yesterday for Easter, the family went out for dinner. It was a very good and we had just as much fun visiting and chatting at a table among other tables of families doing the same as we would have had at a table within one of our own set of walls. The only downside was that after the meal, after the dessert and coffee, after sitting back into a good stretch for a moment or two, as we waited patiently for our check, our patience ran thin as that patient wait ran to 20 minutes before we even spotted the person with our check to be in her apron pocket. Not for the first time did an efficient wait person who was always ready with a suggestion, always available with a drink refill, always timely with the next course, was nowhere to be found when the time to say goodbye came around.

 

AprilSnowThe Little Scamp

Yesterday was a hockey night and on the way into town as the late afternoon sun shone through the car windows warming the interior close to July levels I almost thought about switching on the air conditioning to have a good preseason run through knowing it wouldn’t be long before warm days become hot days. This morning, the day of the local baseball team’s home opener, we woke up to four (yes, 4 (!)) inches of snow. I know Punxsutawney Phil promised us six more weeks of winter but he usually orders them up consecutively.

 

Best of Two

Today is Peanut Butter and Jelly Day. Yes, it is. Really. To celebrate I was going to have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch, something I do maybe once a year, usually on Peanut Butter and Jelly Day. Plans were going well. I got out the peanut butter. I got out the jelly. I got out the bre… hey! there’s no bread. Then I remembered that late night post hockey game ham sandwich assembled on the last of the bread and saying to myself it was ok, I’d run out in the morning and get some. For those of you following along, that was the same morning that found 4 inches of snow on the ground and me saying boy I’m glad I don’t have to out for anything this morning.

 

Sometimes the time’s timing is running a little bit late.

 

Hi Mom

Michael 5 Comments

Are you going to watch the reboot of Roseanne? That was the seemingly innocent question asked on Facebook last week. Among the “if nothing else is on,” “can’t wait,” and “yes, yes, yes,” was an “ABSOLUTELY NOT!!!” If the all caps weren’t dramatic enough, the multiple exclamation marks made me pause and consider that the writer’s negativity was not aimed toward the creative aspect of the production or the wisdom of rebooting a 30 year old story line.

A closer review of the comments confirmed my suspicions. The particular commenter expanded on her cyber outburst declaring that when once Ms. Barr has been a bastion of progressive thought, no woman should have to be subjected to her new conservative rantings. Word has it that in the new series, Roseanne supports some of the current administration’s efforts and this will be a point of disagreement between her and Jackie, her sister. This apparently displeased the young commenter.

In 1988 when Roseanne debuted, the show was hailed as groundbreaking. A family centric comedy with strong female characters took on the topics of the period. Typical for working class 30-somethings, Dan and Roseanne had to fight the system for any edge they could muster. It was entertaining but was it groundbreaking?

JeanHagen

Jean Hagen, America’s first TV mom

American TV has always featured strong females and story lines that reflected contemporary family values and struggles. Jean Hagen, Donna Reed, Marjorie Lord, Lucille Ball, Barbara Billingsley, and Mary Tyler Moore played strong characters dealing with the issues of their time and were some of our favorite mothers.

As strong women portraying strong women they had strong opinions. What was paramount in the 1950s wasn’t in the 1980s and isn’t now. Things change. Once upon a time in polite society we kept political and religious convictions in our hearts. Perhaps that too is changing. Today, if there isn’t a political overtone to something, some people make certain to inject one. Occasionally without spending much time in the thinking portion of the thought process.

If you ask me will I be watching the Roseanne reboot I’d have to say I don’t know yet. I liked the show when it first aired but over 7 years I became disenchanted with it. Not because I disagreed with the premise that anybody could win a lottery but because to me it wasn’t funny anymore. If I watch it on Tuesday I’ll be looking to see how entertaining it is and does it amuse me. It won’t be because either Roseanne or Jackie agrees or disagrees with my political view.

I personally don’t turn to an entertainment medium for input into my political opinion. I’d rather use news sources for that but what do I know. I’m old. Maybe that’s the latest thing so we can watch TV, play with our phones, and decide who we’re going to vote for in the next election all at the same time. Still, I require my entertainment to be just entertaining.

Although, now that I think about it, a show where real people get their political convictions from fictional characters might be pretty hilarious. I wonder who I send that pitch to.

 

Things Numerous but not Sufficiently Voluminous

Michael 4 Comments

I’ve had too many odd thoughts running around in my head and it’s time to get rid of some things that don’t make any sense to keep.

ModernThinkerHave you seen the new Internet food fad, donut chips? The last time I was at the store I purposely sought out day old donuts to try them. What you’re supposed to do is split your leftover donut in half so you have two skinny disks. Then you coat these in sugar and cinnamon and press them in a panini press. Don’t waste your time. Or your donuts. Unless you like flat, scorched, stale donuts.

I’ve seen this a lot in the last few weeks. A vehicle with appropriate handicap placard or plates idling in a handicap marked parking spot with a driver. This confuses me, particularly when I am walking past the vehicle in question after having has to park my handicap marked vehicle 3 rows away. Is this idling driver an able bodied person who dropped off his or her handicapped passenger at the store front and will return to the door to then pick up the passenger? Or is it a handicapped driver who dropped off his or her able bodied passenger and is himself (or herself) not intending on getting out of the vehicle. In either case, does that car have to be in that spot?

PatioSnow

View from my patio early Wednesday morning

Should it be normal that I didn’t think anything odd that almost 9 inches of snow fell here on the first full day of spring?

Baseball, the game of the boys of summer, starts its season March 29. Hockey and the boys of winter start the Stanley Cup playoffs on April 11. I wonder if this is why baseball style caps are the biggest hockey fashion accessory after replica sweaters.

There is a difference between being chronically ill and being disabled. Yes, a person can be both one leading to the other, and can be both neither affecting the other, and one can be either and not the other. The struggles are real for any of the above.

Am I the only person who still uses the 3 part recipe – eggs fat, and heat – for scrambled eggs and adds a splash of half and half in my morning meal mix?

QuestionIt’s been eleven days since we changed our clocks to Daylight Saving Time and I still have one clock that hasn’t’ been advanced yet. If people want an extra hour of daylight in the summer why don’t they just get up an hour earlier?

Why are there braille markings on drive up ATMs?

How many spiders are living with me that I can wipe out all the cobwebs in the corners on Monday and they’re all back Tuesday morning? And should I be worried about that?

Thank you for listening. I feel much lighter now.

 

Late for a Very Important Date

Michael 1 Comment

Hey, I’m really late!  Sorry about that.

I (almost) always post on Monday and Thursday and yesterday was Monday and I didn’t. You might have noticed. If you didn’t, I’m crushed. And now I’m quickly running out of Tuesday if I want to be just a day late. I hope nobody has been traumatized by not having my ramblings to read but I have a good excuse.

You see, Sunday and Monday were killer days for me and not because I lost an hour sleep Saturday night. Actually I slept the same number of hours Saturday night as I do on any other Saturday night so what I lost was an hour of awake time on Sunday. But since I was out a couple of hours past my regular Sunday bedtime I got it and more back. That just made me want to sleep late on Monday but I couldn’t because I had a day’s worth of appointments to keep. I guess I finally lost that hour of sleep Sunday night. Maybe three.

So let me just tell you about my last couple days.

Sunday started as a normal day with my normal chores which usually include writing a post for Monday. But since Monday was going to include some time with the tax preparer for this year’s extraction I spent what would have been writing time gathering forms, receipts, and other dreaded paperwork. I would have written Sunday night but I was at a hockey game, hence the late bedtime on Sunday. I would have written before the game but I had Dinner with Daughter instead.

Speaking of the hockey game, two fans sitting to my left intrigued me. I think they were fans. I couldn’t tell because they were conversing in a language I neither understood nor even recognized which covers almost all languages other than English. And a few dialects of that also. But I think they were hockey fans because not only were they there at a hockey game, they were very enthusiastic about it. Cheers break all language barriers.

Also at the game, sitting in front of my daughter was a young fan and I could tell indeed he was a fan because he not only spoke English, he also spoke it in my regional dialect and he spoke it very loud. And from what I heard he’s going to be a really good hockey fan for a lot of years to come. I’d say he was around 9 or 10 years old and he was explaining the game to his (presumably) father. And explaining it correctly! Gotta love the young fans.

So that wiped out all potential writing time on Sunday. Monday was going to be filled with lots of doctors’ appointments and the tax review. Every 3 or 4 months I make the rounds of most of my doctors. Who I don’t see on one round I get to the following quarter. I like to see them all in one day so I can…well, I’m not sure why but it seems to work. So I thought I’d write a post between appointments. I had a pretty good chunk of time between appointments 2 and 3 and figured I’d sit in somebody’s lobby with my trusty tablet and peck away. Except…

Except I was hungry so I ate instead. I would have included visual evidence here but I didn’t think of it until I left the diner. It was a good diner. Diners are always good and this one even had its 15 minutes of Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives fame. If you ever get there be sure to have the Reuben omelet. Yum.

After lunch I had appointments 3 and 4 and then Tax Guy and that got me home just in time to be hungry again, this time for dinner. After dinner I sat down fully expecting to write the long delayed post when I saw that Roman Holiday was on TV. I love you guys (at least I presume I do if I was to ever meet you) but I am fanatically in love with Audrey Hepburn (regardless of the fact that I never met her either). That took me to the point of exhaustion and even though I love you (see above) I needed some sleep.

ImLateAnd then it became Tuesday. Tuesday is a dialysis day so I knew I had a few hours ahead of me with little (like nothing) to do so I thought I’d write this then. Once I got all hooked up and settled in I thought I’d check today’s paper, then the doctor was making her rounds, the social worker hers, then I went back to the paper, then I checked my email, then I remembered “I have to write a post!”

And this is what I came up with. Now go ahead and tell me I don’t love you guys (see above) (again).

Now I just have to go home, eat dinner (yes, again), proof this (absolutely!), and post it (finally.) You’re welcome!

 

The “Not Togethers”

Michael 5 Comments

I like yogurt. I like chocolate. I recently found out I don’t like chocolate flavored yogurt. Some things aren’t meant to go together. Even when not obvious, it soon becomes apparent that you are facing a combination that never should have been. Eventually the natural order of things will correct the imbalance and life goes on.

Every now and then, however, an aberrant pairing sneaks through and escapes corrective action. Sometimes they work. For consideration I give you oil and vinegar. Sometimes they don’t. Think pineapple and pizza. (Do not try to argue that point. If you disagree you’re wrong.) (Period.) Sometimes they should never have been put together in the first place, like good food with bad service in a restaurant.

Tuesday a friend of mine mentioned that she and her husband were going out for dinner. Since this was in celebration of their anniversary they had picked a new to them restaurant. I hadn’t heard much about it and since it was a dialysis day, I had 4 hours in front of me with not much to do. So I pulled out my trusty tablet, connected to the free guest WiFi, and did some research. Regardless of the source, I found consistency in the reviews. The food is very good. The service is below average.

What do you do with that kind of information? Going out to dinner is more than just eating. At a fine dining restaurant that goes without saying but what about at a local, family owned eatery. Good food coupled with a good wait staff gets added to the permanent dining rotation. Bad food brought by disinterested servers is equally a no-brainer; there is no reason to ever go back. Pleasant efficient wait people serving bad food is a little challenging. You don’t ever go back and spend money on disappointing food but you should slip the name of a good restaurant to the waitress in hope of a career upgrade.

But the good food/bad service establishment can be problematic. It’s hard to argue with good food. On the other hand, with a little planning and some care and attention, you can make your own good food in your own good kitchen. And as I already noted, going out to dinner is more than just going for the food. Service is called service because you expect to be served. And you want to be served well. You can’t separate the food and the delivery.

YogurtIf the server and the cooker are related you absolutely take the establishment off your future consideration list. Otherwise the decision is difficult. As much as you want the tasty morsels you can’t subject yourself to bad behavior to get them. Maybe you give them one more chance and see if the owner saw the errors in his or her earlier hiring practices and has upgraded the front of the house staff. On the other hand, if a subsequent visit reveals the same poor presentation, well that’s a combination that just has to go.

Just like chocolate yogurt.

 

Suiting Up

Michael Leave a comment

Twelve is a very important number. There are twelve months in a year, 12 animals represented in the lunar calendar, and twelve gods resided on Olympus. An American jury has 12 members; a Canadian football team has 12 players. There have been twelve men who walked on the moon. The Bible speaks of the Twelve Tribes of Israel and the Twelve Apostles. Beowulf has 12 followers, Thorin has 12 dwarfs, and there are 12 generals in Paradise Lost.

And in twelve weeks it will be Memorial Day.

What? Memorial Day? Yep. In 12 weeks America celebrates Memorial Day, another holiday no American gets to celebrate with a day off except for government employees but, and this is important, a day all Americans not lucky enough to live in Florida, Arizona, or Southern California get to celebrate with pool openings!

I thought this year I should celebrate Pool Opening Day with a new pair of trunks. Somewhere along the way, men have gotten the short end when it comes to swimwear. It may run from the classic Speedo and all that threatens to blind you when you think of most men in a Speedo to the classless board shorts and all that threatens to blind when you know those things are going to fall off at any moment. But between those extremes are the basic trunks in dark solid colors or inoffensive prints. Take reasonable care of them and they will last 40 or 50 years. And stay stylish throughout that time.

But only a short trip through the Internet’s e-mall and I saw that boy, was I wrong.

I knew I wanted something more distinctive than basic blue swim shorts and in an uncharacteristic fit of silliness (as opposed to a fit of uncharacteristic silliness) I typed “funky trunks” into the search bar. I didn’t know there is an actual company called “Funky Trunks” specializing in funky trunks. I guess technically Funky Trunks is a trademark of the Way Funky Company of Melbourne, Australia from where they supply funkily styled trunks to swimmingly adventurous men in Australia, Canada, throughout the UK, and in the USA, and maybe in a few other countries too. I stopped looking when I saw how much they cost for how little material they use!

NotMe

Not me in not my new suit

I won’t pick on just the branded funky suits and their high prices. All men’s swimsuits have gotten more expensive than the last time I went recreational clothing shopping.  To me, $60 (US) seems like a lot for something to wear to the pool. But I hadn’t bought any for a while and then it was probably at a store with “mart” in the name on an end of season clearance rack so what do I know.

So then I thought the couple pair I have will have to do until sometime this fall when the end of season racks are filled with funky style trunks. Or maybe basic blue.