"Sir,would you like a hamburger with your hamburger?"

One of my Daddy’s favorite expressions was, “I can sure pick ‘em.”

He was known to throw this out this little ditty quite frequently because he usually could. 

As in pick ‘em.

He seemed to him that he always got the inept waiter, the check-out line at the grocery store where the lady had the last can of whatever and they had to dial up India for the price check, or the particularly disgruntled DMV employee on his last day before retirement.
Once he was sent to Jack in The Box to get hamburgers when they were like 5 for $1.00. (Hey, this was a while ago!)
Anyway, he bought a ton of them, hurried home and was shuffling them around to all of us hungry birdies at the table like cards on poker night.
Everybody sat down to eat and when he finally was able to sit down and opened up his burger it was empty! 
Blank.
Nada.
Just bun, no meat, no nothin'.
Not even a hint of ketchup.
We all sat there not knowing whether to laugh or cry or what our proper reaction should be to this missing meat malady.
He looked up from his naked bun and declared, "Deal 'em again, cuz Daddy got the joker." 
Well said, Pop.
As I said, he always did say that he could should sure pick 'em.

So his favorite saying popped into my head the other day as I stood behind a guy in the ATM line.

Now if you Google ATM machines, you will discover that they have been around for a few years.

In other words, they didn’t just sprout up on every corner last weekend.

So anyone over the age of four should be acquainted with this amazing invention by now.

At least you would think so.

But here I was, in a hurry of course, standing behind the Fred Flintstone of finance who couldn’t seem to figure out the whys and wherefores of this electronic banking marvel.

Please insert card into the automatic card sucker. ( how this can be intimidating?!!)
There is a little picture that gives a kindergarten-like slide show of a person performing this procedure you moron!

Please choose which language you prefer. (now we are doomed because there is no choice for “I speak stupid”)

Enter your PIN. (I swear I would not have been shocked if he had whipped out a Bic Clic and tried to jam it into the audio input hole)
Fumbling and mumbling now ensued with him slapping randomly at the keyboard with his sausage fingers trying to extract his dough.
Which apparently there wasn't any because the machine refused to cough up the cash.
At this point in time he turns to me and exclaims, "Its broken, it's not working!"
Now listen to me carefully, Forrest.
If there is no money IN your account you cannot take any money OUT of your account.  Capeesh?
And you can't withdraw change in five cent increments....
He now begins to shake his fist at the heavens proclaiming the injustice of these "new fangled machines" and their stupidity. 
Say, what??
He again turns to me and shrieks, "I say it's broken!!"
Thanks for the heads up junior achievement, now go home and try to figure out how to work the toaster.
But first, GET OUT OF MY WAY SO I CAN GET SOME CASH!!
He then steps to the side so I can do my banking business.
Okay, here is the deal.
There is correct ATM etiquette which they should explain to people when they issue them the little plastic cards.
First, you should move away from the machine when you are finished doing your stuff.
Nobody wants to wait while you sift through your Grand Canyon wallet or purse so you can put your card back in its proper home.
We don't care.
Second, do not get too close when forming a line behind the person at the machine.
I don't want you hovering over my shoulder like a Disney undertaker buzzard and if I can smell your brand of Tic Tac, you are way too close.
People get antsy about these things and you are liable to end up with an elbow to the groin.
As for this piece of work, he shuffled his rotund belly slightly to the side so I could reach the machine but was still close enough where I could see his hairy navel through his threadbare off-white t-shirt.
Not far enough for comfort but hey, I have pepper spray on my keychain.
I put in my card and miracle of miracles, it gives me cash!!!
Shocking....
See sir, this is not a magic money tree.  It will only give you money if you have money in your account! 
As my twenty dollar bill slides into view he now proceeds to bellow, "What???" "That is not possible!" "It's  broken!"
No my portly pal, it is not broken, you just don't have any money.
Hence you can't get any money....
And while we are on the subject, I would seriously hate to be behind this guy at the check-out line at Target or CVS or any other retail spot.
Since when did checking out with a debit card become the final round of Jeopardy?
Can you be asked any more questions during this process?
What form of payment are you using?
Please slide your card.
Please enter your pin.
Please wait for cashier.
Is this amount correct?
Do you want any cash back?
Do you want it all on this card?
Do you want to contribute to the latest charity organization?
Do you want to lose 20 pounds in two weeks?  (just kidding)
YES, YES, YES....for pity sakes,YES!
I'M JUST TRYING TO PAY FOR MY TOILET PAPER AND GUM!
I DIDN'T KNOW THIS WAS THE LSAT'S FOR MEDICAL SCHOOL!
And heaven forbid if during this procedure the little pin pad "yes" button would actually work and not be completely trashed from people jabbing their fingers onto it a thousand times a day!
There you are viciously pounding your digit into the tiny rectangle and eventually the weary check-out clerk mumbles, "Please use the fake pencil hanging from the little plastic string." 
"And Ma'am, don't break our machine."
TOO LATE!
IT'S WAAAY PAST BROKEN!
IT WAS BROKEN TWO YEARS AGO!
NOW IT'S JUST A SHADOW OF ITS FORMER SELF!
"Do you want paper or plastic?"
"And lady, did you bring your own bag with you or are you a frivilous earth hating non-recycler who wants plastic?"
"Of course I brought my bag with me, but it's in the trunk of my car where I always forget it when I come into the store!"
"Which is why I have enough empty plastic bags at home to fashion a personal hot air balloon!"
"Awww, just hand me my gum and put a sticky carrying handle on my toilet paper so the whole world knows what kind of wiper I am!"
"I'm just trying to go home!"
"Well I would, but your card was just declined."
"Apparently you have no money in your account."
"Say, what???"
..............I'm just sayin'

You want milk with that Happy Meal?

The Train.

I love Amtrak.

It is usually peaceful, the scenery is spectacular and you can look 

out the window and press your nose against the glass if you want to.

Plus if you are lucky you will find cool stuff people left behind on 

the seats you can play with on your trip.

Please see below.

Can’t get any cooler than a sticky purple rubber lizard.

Riding the train always makes me happy, I love the train whistle 

and as previous posts can attest to, it seems to always give me a 

great deal of blog material.

Traveled on the train last Saturday to L.A. in the wee hours of the 

morning and it was obvious there was some kind of bulletin posted 

in some loony bin that they were looking for people to accompany 

me on my journey.

Apparently on this trip AMTRAK stood for, “All-maniacal-

travelers-really-are-knuts”

Because of my haste to get to the City of Angels, I boarded the 

earliest train possible which is actually listed on the train schedule 

as the “butt crack of dawn”. 

6:11 A.M. to be exact, and a dear friend of mine was kind enough 

to pick me up and drop me off in one bleary eyed lethargic lump at 

the Old Town Trolley station.

I boarded the train, plopped my carcass into the seat, drug out my 

Ipod shuffle and earplugs, presented my E-ticket to Mr. Train 

Conductor with his coffee can style black hat, and prepared to be 

enchanted by the ocean view as I sped up the California coastline.

It was at this exact moment that I spied Jerry Garcia.

He was sitting right behind me with his hair in a ponytail gazing out the window.

He looked pretty good for a guy that has been dead since 1995.

Or Gratefully Dead as the case may be.  (sorry, I had to say it)

I remained cool and calm and just hoped Bruce Willis wouldn’t sit 

down next to me and tell me I was seeing dead people.

I occasionally peeked around to see if he was whipping out a guitar 

and belting out a tune but he remained stoically mute.

A couple of stops later I look up and striding towards me down the 

aisle is Jason Mraz!

What is this train, the singer Surfliner?

Who’s next, Elvis?

I happened to be listening to him at that exact moment on my Ipod 

and now here he was in front of me!

A vision in denim!

Cool fedora, signature Jason Mraz nose, earthy backpack and what 

appeared to be a Rolex on his wrist.

Jason lowers his lanky frame into a seat directly across the aisle 

from me and thus begins my mission to stare at him without 

actually staring at him.

Difficult.

There is the infamous sideways eye cut.

This just makes you appear cross-eyed.

Then there is the “I’m-just-getting-something-out-of-my-travel-bag” move.

Never fooled a soul.

Eventually you find yourself hanging over the seat like a five year 

old drooling on his Birkenstocks.

“Is that really him?”

“It looks exactly like him!”

“Naaaaa, he wouldn’t take the train!”

“Would he?”

“He is very earth conscious!”

“I’ll just be cool and pretend to read my magazine.”

“Should I offer him a bite of my bagel?”

“That would be neighborly!”

I was just starting to settle into a good stalking position when down 

the aisle a hurricane swept into view.

Mom, Dad, Casey and Emma.

I suspect they had originally been seated downstairs and the 

seniors ran them out of their area with their canes and some pitchforks.

This hypothesis was confirmed a few moments later when they set 

up camp in the “Family Seating” area two rows in front of me.

Two seats facing forward and two facing the opposite direction.

This is so you can keep an eye on each other during the ride.

Please understand, at this wee hour of the morning 99% of the 

people in the train car were asleep.

I emphasize the word, WERE.

The family travel outline must have gone something like this:

1.  Wake the children up at dawn by plying them out of bed with a box of Captain Crunch, 6 Pop Tarts and some shots of Red Bull.

2.  Mommy drinks a Bloody Mary followed up with 2 Ambien.

3.  Pack boxes of crayons, coloring books, juice drinks, fruit roll-ups and toys to amuse the kids.

4.  Forget this stuff on the kitchen counter at home

They piled into the seats, Mom pulled out her satin eye mask which 

sported two huge cartoon-esque eyes with eyelashes.

It appeared as if Miss Piggy was staring me down.

I think this was a ploy to convince the kidlets that even though 

Mommy was snoring, she was actually awake and watching their 

every move.

And then the games began…..

Dad, aka Alex Trebek.

“Casey, what do you see outside?”

“THE OCEAN!”

“RIGHT!”

“Emma, what do you call the car at the end of the train?”

“THE CABOOSE!!”

“RIGHT AGAIN!’

With each subsequent answer their voices got louder.

I didn’t think this was humanly possible.

It was.

To give props to Casey and Emma, they were very bright for 

youngsters their age.

This did not stop me from despising them.

This educational screaming session lasted about 30 minutes when 

Dad finally said, “I know, let’s count!”

“YEAH!”

It was like a pre-school version of, “99 Bottles of Beer on the 

Wall.”

Sesame Street purgatory.

“What comes after seventy nine?”

To which Casey replies, “SEVENTY TEN!”

Gales of laughter…..

Cries of, “You are sooo funny!”, from Dad and an actual grunt of 

acknowledgement from Mom.

Immediately both Casey and Emma began to singsong chant, 

“seventy ten, seventy ten, SEVENTY TEN!!!!”

If I could have snatched Jason Mrazs’ watch, I would have beaten 

them to a pulp with it.

It looked incredibly heavy.

Mercifully, now we were starting to pull into the Los Angeles 

Union Station which if you have never done this, takes awhile.

It is surrounded by acres and acres of what appear to be old repair 

yards and graveyards of train stuff.

Bottom line is, they announce you are arriving long before you 

ever get there.

The minute they announced our arrival, everyone in my car 

whipped up their luggage and ran toward the stairs to disembark.

So I grab my junk and vault down the stairs, only to find that Jerry 

Garcia has beaten me to the punch.

He is the first in line on the bottom step.

As I stand there digging my toe anxiously into the carpet, I realize 

this is a blessing in disguise.

I swing my gaze to the lower level aisle and swaying towards me in 

slow-train motion is a woman.

Shirt completely open.

With what appeared to be a kindergarten age child suckling at her 

enormous pendulous breast!

This child was huge!

Please let me paint you the full visual.

Full length cotton skirt.

Kaftan style button up blouse fluttering in the breeze.

Rustic sandals.

Hair in a tremendous bun with wooden sticks holding it in place.

The one fully exposed bosom sporting a red rose.

Used to be a rose bud.

Now it’s a long stem.

Tremendous muscular arms straining under the weight and the 

difficult hitching up of her knee to enable this giant human the 

ability to belly up to the bar!

Let me just say before anybody gets too preachy on me, I am a big 

fan of breast feeding.

Breast fed all of my kids.

Cheaper than formula, better for the baby and the bottle is always 

warm.

Hence my previous post about bra purchasing hassles.

But come on lady!

Seriously??!!

First of all, if your kid is old enough to order his own Happy Meal 

and pick out the toy, it’s time to close the saloon door.

And secondly, who nurses their humongous toddler when you are 

standing at the door getting ready to jump off of a train?

Anyone with half a brain cell to rub together knows how jerky bus 

and train stops can be!

With all the choppers this kid was sporting, she was just asking for 

an unfortunate areola amputation!

If Junior is that thirsty, take a seat and give him a toke or two.

Or better yet, text him that he has to wait a minute til’ you get in 

the train station.

He was just playing Candy Crush on his phone anyway!

As it is, Jerry will be lucky if you don’t poke out his eye with your 

“Madonna Mountains” when we screech into the station!

Jiminy Cricket Madam, think it through!

This 10 minute cruise into the station seemed like it took an 

eternity.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of Mother Earth and her offspring.

In my defense, it was a self-preservation move.

I had put on my sunglasses to protect my precious orbs from any 

residual flying flesh.

Jerry Garcia was in front of me with his jaw permanently on the 

floor.

The pseudo Jason Mraz was impatiently waiting behind me.

I knew when he pulled out the Cheetos and Snicker bar it wasn’t 

my health conscious vegan idol.

Plus he didn’t have a ukulele.

Above my head, Casey was still screaming, “SEVENTY TEN, 

SEVENTY TEN!”

Let’s just say when the door finally opened I flung myself to the 

platform and began to weep with joy.

It was at that exact moment I overheard the nursing kid mutter to 

his mother as she slowly rearranged her upper quadrant and 

stepped over me,

“Hey Ma, NOW can we get a Happy Meal??!”

“I’m still hungry!”

……I’m just sayin’