When you're in a place like Vietnam you get to a point where you don't care anymore. You're in a place that's foreign to you, and you know for a fact that many people there hate you and will kill you if they get the chance. It really does something to your mind to know that many of the people living around you don't like you and want you to die.” - Si Robertson.
Good Morning all. You have come to the OCD Seminar. If you arrived here in error, please feel free to stay otherwise you may leave. “What's that? What is OCD?” Let me explain. Please help yourself to a fresh glass of water. OCD stands for Obsessive Coffee Disorder. Never heard of it have you? It is somewhat rare and hard to define. A Google search will yield tons of merchandise for it but little hard facts. That is why we are gathered here today.
My name is Doyce Bailey and I am addicted to fresh ground French Roast coffee. I have been clean for 13 minutes and 27 seconds. My addiction is so severe that I cannot start my day without at least two cups. On those days requiring fasting, such as a blood test, I am unbearable. I am nasty, grouchy, miserable and cranky. When I finally get my fix of French Roast later, my entire metabolism has been screwed up for the day. I seem to be blacking out more and more lately, the last time was right after I said to my current wife, “You're as crazy as your mother.”
I was at Wal Mart a couple of days ago. I was really suffering. No French Roast and I was crashing. My current wife and daughter Debby, the younger elder, were accompanying me. We were in the grocery area. Specifically, I had just turned the corner back by the yogurt, cheese and etc. when I noticed ahead of me a kid lying in the refrigerated meat display. I mean he was fully prone wiggling around on top of the meats. Laughing and geeking at his brother. His mother was apparently down an aisle. I had stopped waiting for my entourage to catch up. Suddenly, someone yelled, “Hey, kid get out of there. People won't want to buy that stuff you are laying on.” He was startled and crawled out of the case. I was shocked to realize that it was me who had yelled. It was like an out of body experience. That is so not like me. I looked around for support only to find Debby studying the yogurt intensely and my current wife had a new found need for Drano. Make certain that someone always has your back.
One day when in the height of my French Roast euphoria I began thinking about, of all things, my clothes. I realized I didn't really know much about the clothes I take for granted. Yes, I wear some most days but what are they? Sure they are all produced in sweat shops in Asia. A little research and I found the following. My boat shoes were designed by Paul Sperry. The soles were designed after his dog's paws. The dog has no memory of this however. Who Knew? The button down collar was designed for Polo players to prevent the collar from flying up in their face. Polo shirts you ask? No, they were not designed for Polo players. They were designed for tennis players. Perfectly logical. The triangle on the front of some sweatshirts near the collar was originally put there to absorb extra sweat. Now the important question. You were probably not aware that one in eight men admit to wearing their underwear 2-3 times between washings. 3 of 3 people surveyed after hearing that said “eww”. Last but not least. A question that has haunted me since the 60's, what does the “YKK” on each zipper mean? It stands for “Yoshida Kogyo Kabushikikaisha. YKK was founded in Japan as a zipper manufacturing company in 1934. Thank God for a support group like OCD.
We will get your stories another time. I took too much time and I need to get some other things out there. On to some newsy items. Isn't this Iowa weather just the greatest! How can you not love winter in Iowa? I love snow especially through a window; while I am under a blanket; drinking Bailey's and Hot Chocolate. Maybe this is the medicine to cure my OCD – Bailey's and hot chocolate.
A husband went to the police station to report his wife is missing. Here was the conversation.
Husband: I've lost my wife, she went shopping yesterday and has still not come home.
Sergeant: What is her height ?
Husband: Oh, 5 something, maybe 5' 5”
Sergeant: Build?
Husband: Not slim, not really fat, but could loose a few.
Sergeant: Color of eyes?
Husband: Dark. Not sure - maybe Brown.
Sergeant: Color of hair?
Husband: Changes according to season - lightish brown now
Sergeant: What was she wearing?
Husband: I don't remember exactly but she wears jeans a lot.
Sergeant: Did she go in a car?
Husband: yes.
Sergeant: What kind of car was it?
Husband: 2015 Corvette Stingray 3LT with the Z51 Performance Package, shark gray metallic paint, with the 6.2 litre V8 engine with Direct Injection generating 460 HP. 8-speed paddle-shift automatic transmission, and Black leather GT bucket seats, and has a very thin scratch on the front left door near the....... at this point the husband started crying...
Sergeant: Don't worry sir.......We'll find your car.
I would win American Idol easily if they let me bring my shower on stage. Just sayin'. Don't tell anyone though. I am afraid they may put one in the choir loft at church.
We are just a few days away from bringing home our new Boston Terrier. He has no name yet. We have been studying a lengthy list of potential monikers. Names such as Bentley, Keller, Winston, Gunner, Mr. Beans, Norm (from Cheers), Guinness, Boyd, Murphy, Brady and so forth. Any of you have suggestions? I think it is fair to say we are all excited. I hope he likes us. Next week I should have some initial impressions.
There is no need to thank me for this valuable information: I'm doing it as a public service. – Should we meet again we meet again -TA!
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