So trivial, yet it really ticks you off.

[Fading Fast]

You have missed out on one of life's great experiences -- sitting up all night to do homework fueled by an entire box of Devil Dogs. Plus they came with cut-out baseball cards on the bottom of the box!

My mom hated cooking and, pretty much, would buy me any junk food I wanted so that she didn't have to make anything. Many breakfasts and lunches were made up 100% of Drake's cakes / Hostess stuff (those incredible Pink Snowballs) and Entenmann's (the Louisiana Crunch Cake might be the most efficient sugar-delivery system ever designed by man). To this day, I feel good just seeing those items in the store (and many still make it to our house).

 

[vitanola]

In the mid-1990s my wife and I bought a 1975 Dodge Royal Monaco from an older couple who lived on the same street as her parents. The first warning sign should have been when we tried to have it's smog equipment tested so we could register it, only to find out that the couple's son, who was allegedly a mechanic, had completely disabled it. Even the "expert" we took it to couldn't get it to work properly, but got it working well enough to pass the test. A few months later I was taking a friend to the airport when we heard a loud siren-like whine which turned out the be the rear differential. Long story short (and that's an understatement) it was in the shop for nine months because our mechanic couldn't find a replacement--the parts were no longer being manufactured, and every used differential he found was in worse condition than ours. He finally cobbled one working differential together from the usable parts taken from what he had available, but that was only because the owner of the shop found out how long the car had been there and threatened to fire everyone involved if it wasn't gone within the week.

Around the same time, back in the mid-1990's, I had a 1927 Peerless Six with a bum rear end. Now, this was a machine which was made in pretty small numbers. The manufacturer had discontinued the production of these generally excellent automobiles in favor of Carling's Black Label Beer some SIXTY years before. It took a while to find a replacement. About eight weeks. The problem is seldom the absolute unavailability of a given component. It is generally the fact that in a commercial shop time spent seeking out parts is uncompensated, and there is too much other work to allow for a really thorough search. It is generally best, when parts turn out to be hard to get, for the car owner to take over the search and relieve the mechanic of the burden. She part will turn up faster and the mechanic can spend his work hours at his profession, rather than running a missing parts bureau.

 

[Harp]

Dylan Cease traded to the Sox. Quintana is a fine and welcome addition to the Cubs bullpen, but I hate to see DC go.

 

[Zombie_61]

Around the same time, back in the mid-1990's, I had a 1927 Peerless Six with a bum rear end. Now, this was a machine which was made in pretty small numbers. The manufacturer had discontinued the production of these generally excellent automobiles in favor of Carling's Black Label Beer some SIXTY years before. It took a while to find a replacement. About eight weeks. The problem is seldom the absolute unavailability of a given component. It is generally the fact that in a commercial shop time spent seeking out parts is uncompensated, and there is too much other work to allow for a really thorough search. It is generally best, when parts turn out to be hard to get, for the car owner to take over the search and relieve the mechanic of the burden. She part will turn up faster and the mechanic can spend his work hours at his profession, rather than running a missing parts bureau.

The shop I had taken our Royal Monaco to was a Goodyear tire retailer and repair shop where I had worked approximately a decade earlier, and that's the reason I took the car to them for the repairs; I knew the mechanic, and knew he was good. The shop was an approved member of the California Bureau of Automotive Repair and, as such, I was told they had to source the parts themselves or they wouldn't be able to provide any warranty whatsoever on the work they performed. I was told the same thing when I worked there and it sounded reasonable, so I accepted it at face value and never looked into it further to find out if it was true or just another excuse they could use when repairs took longer than expected. Besides, I wouldn't know one differential from another, so odds are I would have screwed up and brought them parts that were even more useless.

On the other hand, my familiarity with the shop did garner a few favors on occasion. After we sold that Royal Monaco I brought my next car to them for a smog check. The mechanic told me it had failed because of one of the parts in the system, but that they were having trouble finding a replacement. I was working for an auto parts distributor at that time, so when I got to work the next day I was able to get one. Of course, the problem still existed with the Bureau of Automotive Repair, so when I called the mechanic to tell him I had the part he told me, "Stop by the shop on your way home, leave it on the front seat of your car, and if anyone asks tell them you just stopped by to see if we found one yet." *wink*wink*nudge*nudge* Sure enough, when I picked up the car the next day I was charged for nothing more than a smog check, which the car passed with flying colors.

 

[GHT]

I am a bit envious of our friend Stearman in that he has his motorcycles and loves riding.

I maintain my motorcycle endorsement but I haven't owned a bike in at least 20 years. And I doubt I will ever own another. My senses are failing and too many of the four-wheeled vehicle operators are too busy fiddling with their smartphones for me to be entirely comfortable sharing the road with them even when enveloped in a 3,500 pound steel cocoon, let alone out there on a bike.

My cousin's oldest offspring, a fellow in his early 40s, died from injuries he sustained while riding in spring of last year. That was in Wisconsin, where helmets aren't required by law. I'm now in Colorado, which is also a helmet-optional state. I understand the temptation to ride sans helmet, and as one who may well be a candidate for an organ transplant someday, I wouldn't lobby for changing that law. But I hope Stearmsn never gets astride a bike without first putting on his helmet, and I hope that law enforcement cracks down hard on distracted driving.

There's a group of motorcycle owners here in the UK that my retired, paramedic wife, tells me that crews refer to as, born again bikers. They make up such a disproportional percentage of the two wheeled casualties that they have also earned the sobriquet, organ donors. They are mostly Baby Boomers who haven't been on two wheels since they got married and the kids came along. Now in their dotage, they climb astride some massive widow maker without realising, this isn't 60's technology. A crash helmet is no protection against inexperience.

 

[tonyb]

There's a group of motorcycle owners here in the UK that my retired, paramedic wife, tells me that crews refer to as, born again bikers. They make up such a disproportional percentage of the two wheeled casualties that they have also earned the sobriquet, organ donors. They are mostly Baby Boomers who haven't been on two wheels since they got married and the kids came along. Now in their dotage, they climb astride some massive widow maker without realising, this isn't 60's technology. A crash helmet is no protection against inexperience.

Two-wheeled motor vehicles have long been known as "donor cycles" among emergency room personnel here stateside.

This is not to say that a motorcyclist is likely to die from injuries sustained while riding, but only that getting around on a motorcycle IS much more likely to kill a person than is driving a car. Motorcyclists who remain ever mindful of that plain reality dramatically increase their chances of dying of natural causes at ripe old ages.

 

[Ticklishchap]

Going back to the theme of trivial things that tick us off, I have one which might expose cultural (or maybe even linguistic) differences between Britain and America, but here goes anyway. It's incredibly irritating when older - or shall I say mature - people use age-inappropriate language to sound a la mode. For example, I recently heard from a woman in her 70s with whom I used to work who spoke (toe-curlingly IMHO) of having a 'chat' soon. Then I heard from an old friend now in his 80s who lives a few hundred miles from London, who talked about sending a 'pic'.

The trouble with this is that it makes the people concerned sound so ... err ... old! In other words it's the verbal equivalent of 'mutton dressed as lamb': it draws attention to their age and makes them look undignified and lacking in gravitas.

For the record I'm 51 and I talk rather than 'chat' and send photos or photographs rather than 'pics'.

 

[LizzieMaine]

I used to have a boss in radio who'd sashay into the office with "Yo, whut it izzzzzzzz!" He was in his forties at the time, and was as white as the driven snow. If you look up "Lame" in the encyclopedia, his photo is prominently featured.

 

[Harp]

Going back to the theme of trivial things that tick us off, I have one which might expose cultural (or maybe even linguistic) differences between Britain and America...
The trouble with this is that it makes the people concerned sound so ... err ... old! In other words it's the verbal equivalent of 'mutton dressed as lamb': it draws attention to their age and makes them look undignified and lacking in gravitas.

"Saddle up, we're moving out. And take point." Use to hate that, 'till I started having to bark orders.
...wonder what they say in the British Army or Royal Marines when its time to move out?

 

[ChiTownScion]

"So trivial, yet it really ticks you off."

Those chirpy "family news" missives that are enclosed with holiday cards. I give a pass to those which contain a healthy dose of tongue in cheek self deprecation ("Jimmy Junior is doing especially well. His parole officer informed me that the metal working skills which he mastered while making license plates will serve him well in finally landing a full time job.."), but the ones which get insufferable by reminding us about how brilliant, hard working, delightful, and adorable the kids or grandkids are a great argument for justifiable homicide.

 

[tonyb]

I use "chat" and "pic" frequently. I occasionally refer to people -- male people particularly if not exclusively -- as "dudes." And I'm in my seventh decade.

There's nothing affected in it, really. Language changes, as does my usage of it, unconscious as that change in my idiolect might be.

An old girlfriend came from a well-to-do family in the greater Detroit area. She and her parents and her siblings all held advanced academic degrees and worked in the professions -- the law, predominantly. One of her sisters had come out West to visit and offered her opinion of me, as reported by the former girlfriend, as a man who affected a bad-boy persona. This amused me, as it betrayed nothing so much as the sister's inflated sense of herself. It was as if I cared enough about some hack shyster's opinion to bother considering how she might perceive me.

 

[cm289]

There's plenty of inaccuracies and anachronisms from the Indiana Jones series, but for some reason Hitler's signature looking nothing like the actual thing in the Grail diary always bugged me...

Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

 

[tonyb]

"So trivial, yet it really ticks you off."

Those chirpy "family news" missives that are enclosed with holiday cards. I give a pass to those which contain a healthy dose of tongue in cheek self deprecation ("Jimmy Junior is doing especially well. His parole officer informed me that the metal working skills which he mastered while making license plates will serve him well in finally landing a full time job.."), but the ones which get insufferable by reminding us about how brilliant, hard working, delightful, and adorable the kids or grandkids are a great argument for justifiable homicide.

Happy to report that in recent decades I've read more parodies of such missives than any delivered without tongue in cheek.

My brother authored a couple of such literally efforts during his second marriage. (He's up to three now.) I'm still embarrassed for him.

 

[MisterCairo]

Edamame beans.

 

[Trenchfriend]

I bought some nice "Pink Lady"-apples, days ago and didn't pay enought attention and forgot to watch the originating country. So, the Pink Ladys are from Chile, not from Germany.

 

[MisterCairo]

"So trivial, yet it really ticks you off."

Those chirpy "family news" missives that are enclosed with holiday cards. I give a pass to those which contain a healthy dose of tongue in cheek self deprecation ("Jimmy Junior is doing especially well. His parole officer informed me that the metal working skills which he mastered while making license plates will serve him well in finally landing a full time job.."), but the ones which get insufferable by reminding us about how brilliant, hard working, delightful, and adorable the kids or grandkids are a great argument for justifiable homicide.

We get those from aunts, uncles and cousins on my wife's large extended family side. Often, the "year in review" IS the Christmas card, that is, no actual card, or even one of those cheesy family "Christmas" shots taken in October with the family identically dressed.

Though we do get some of those too...

We send out Christmas cards with hand written greetings.

 

[sheeplady]

I do the cheesy family cards. I make the kids wear matching outfits I make. We send them at New Years though, and take pictures from either across the year or the week before.

I am totally cheesy and love camp... so, yeah. "It's so gaudy and sparkly and so... so gaudy... I love it" applies to 90% of what I do for the holidays. Seriously.

 

[Ticklishchap]

"Saddle up, we're moving out. And take point." Use to hate that, 'till I started having to bark orders.
...wonder what they say in the British Army or Royal Marines when its time to move out?

Moving out is the last of their problems at the moment. Numbers are down - there is a marked inability to recruit young men, even in areas of high unemployment. Regimental Headquarters are being sold off. Recruiting offices are no longer run by the Forces but by a private, contracted-out civilian entity. There has been a mixture of extreme funding cuts under the rubric of austerity and politically correct idiocies (combat roles for women, etc.) which are part of a broader agenda of civilianisation or imposing 'ordinary' standards and attitudes. All great news for Putin, Islamic State and any other potential enemies.

 

[Ticklishchap]

I use "chat" and "pic" frequently. I occasionally refer to people -- male people particularly if not exclusively -- as "dudes." And I'm in my seventh decade.

There's nothing affected in it, really. Language changes, as does my usage of it, unconscious as that change in my idiolect might be.

An old girlfriend came from a well-to-do family in the greater Detroit area. She and her parents and her siblings all held advanced academic degrees and worked in the professions -- the law, predominantly. One of her sisters had come out West to visit and offered her opinion of me, as reported by the former girlfriend, as a man who affected a bad-boy persona. This amused me, as it betrayed nothing so much as the sister's inflated sense of herself. It was as if I cared enough about some hack shyster's opinion to bother considering how she might perceive me.

'Dude' is a really nice word. I think this is best understood as a linguistic and cultural issue, with these words taking on a different connotation - and having different associations - in the US than the UK. I shall therefore react to them completely differently when I hear them from Americans. This is one of the enriching things about cultural exchange between friendly countries.

 

[Ticklishchap]

"So trivial, yet it really ticks you off."

Those chirpy "family news" missives that are enclosed with holiday cards. I give a pass to those which contain a healthy dose of tongue in cheek self deprecation ("Jimmy Junior is doing especially well. His parole officer informed me that the metal working skills which he mastered while making license plates will serve him well in finally landing a full time job.."), but the ones which get insufferable by reminding us about how brilliant, hard working, delightful, and adorable the kids or grandkids are a great argument for justifiable homicide.

Aren't they horrible? They have been parodied mercilessly in Britain, notably by a brilliant writer called Lynne Truss. This means that most people are too embarrassed to send them. Some are still shameless enough to do so - and they are mainly, as you say, about improbable and 'fantastic' achievements by precocious and horrible children.