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Showing posts with label pirate. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pirate. Show all posts

Monday, July 11, 2011

A Pirate's Life for Me


I’m under attack! Turns out that just when my ship was coming in, it was hijacked by pirates. So in spite of my best intentions to sail this blog straight and true through the summer, I find myself swept out to sea by a band of hearty brigands.

I’ve been promising this particular pirate captain that I would take some time off and devote whatever spare brain cells I have left to a longer project. I’m not promising anything, mind you, but when the Captain says he wants to see a book, I’m pretty sure he’s not thinking “Green Eggs and Ham.” And “Mutiny on the Bounty” seems kind of self defeating in this case.

So I’m going to let Mind Over Mullis drift for a month or so, while I take off on a brand new voyage. Feel free to drop by every now and then and hoist up a word of encouragement.

THANK YOU to every one of you who stop by to share life’s little “Don’t Let This Happen to You” moments.” It seems like somebody always seems to drop in just when I’ll be needing an alibi.

I expect I’ll round up a lifeboat and be back by the end of August. If not I’ll stick a note—or a lime--in a bottle, so you’ll know what I’m up to.

Until then. . .I’m gone fishin’. Lord only knows what I’ll catch.

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY HONEY! LET THE ADVENTURES BEGIN!

Saturday, January 1, 2011

Out the Window

The Captain strolled into the living room. I’m sure he has a targeting sensor that alerts him when I’m busy and don’t want to be disturbed. He wears it on his belt in a holster. Like his multipurpose tool, his phone, and his app-heavy iPod. Batman designed his utility belt after a chance meeting with my husband.

The Captain plunged his hands into his pockets and commented.

“What’s that?”

Figures. I’ve waited twenty years for him to start a conversation and he picks this moment for inspirational dialogue.

“It’s a list. I’m making your New Year’s resolutions.”

“Um, shouldn’t I be in charge of that?”

“You never put the right things.”

“I don’t put the right things on my own list?”

“No, you put things you can’t accomplish. Then you get discouraged. I’m making it easier for you.”

“So you’re helping me out by making my New Year’s resolutions?”

“Exactly.”

“You take that whole helpmate thing to heart, don’t you?”

“I’m glad you finally noticed.”

“So what are my resolutions?”

“Well, you know how you always want to get the windows washed? I’m putting that on your list.”

“My New Year’s Resolution is to wash windows?”

“Yep. And so it won’t be overwhelming, I’ve figured out an easy way. One window every day!”

“So, all I’m going to accomplish next year is washing windows?”

Every day.”

“Right. I get to wash windows every day.”

“You don’t sound excited.”

“I can’t think why.”

“Very funny. This is a fool-proof plan. So to speak.”

“No so far.”

“Don’t you see. By breaking down the chore into small bits, it’s manageable.”

“So instead of getting them all done in one day, it will take me all year to do it.”

“Right.”

“So there’s no need to put anything else on my To Do list.”

“This isn’t your To Do list. It’s your resolutions. Your To Do list is on an Excel spreadsheet in the computer.”

“Why can’t I make my own resolutions?”

“Because your only resolution is to end up stranded on The Island of Morally Bankrupt Actresses with Penelope Cruz who is wearing nothing but a grass skirt and a pair of coconuts, drinking rum like it was cherry Kool-Aid and singing “Shake Your Bad Thing” while shimmying like a loose shingle in a strong wind.”

“Would you put that on the list?”

“Sure. There’s a spot on November 31st right after you finish the attic windows.”

“November doesn’t have 31 days.”

“And we don’t have an attic.”

“Got it.”

“Nothing slow about you.”

“Could we go see the movie where she plays the pirate captain?”

“That’s not until May. Let’s see how you do with your resolutions.”

“I have a resolution.”

“Oh?”

“It involves Penelope Cruz doing windows.”

“I have a resolution, too.”

“What is it?”

“It involves driving you to the Emergency Room where they can pick safety glass out of the seat of your cargo pants with the Jaws of Life.”

“I’m not sure I like this list.”

“Don’t you see the beauty of it?”

“I think the beauty just went out the window.”

“Don’t worry. If the window is clean enough you can look through and see it waving from the other side.”

“Yeah, from over in the neighbor’s yard. Where the grass is greener.”

“Look at the bright side. At least you’re not Bill Gates.”

“Okay, I agree with that. But why?”

“Because halfway through the window, it would close by itself and there would be parts that were irrecoverable. The resulting crash would trash the supports, frighten the dogs, and result in you spending the rest of the day cleaning up the mess.

“So either way I’m doing windows.”

“Yes, but with my way you get to see the pirate movie.”

“Okay, but if Penelope blue-screens on me, I’m going in as technical support.”

I fired up the shredder and let it suck up the resolutions like a Lincoln Navigator drinking fossil fuel. He scratched his head.

“What about my resolutions?”

“That window of opportunity just slammed shut.”

Sunday, November 21, 2010

Smuggler's Blues Clues

By the Cap'n, as told to Bill Mullis

Ssshhh! Don't tell anyone, but the old Cap'n has a secret: he smuggles candy into movie theatres.

See, it's like this. I got nothing against anybody making a profit by selling anything at whatever price the market will bear. And by the Ghost of Blackbeard, when I'm rolling in the doubloons I think nothing of whomping down a sizeable chunk of my hard-earned jack to impress my First Wench by my largesse in the matter of a king-sized box of Junior Mints.

But times have been rough around the old Love Boat this year, what with a couple knaves in the higher educational system, and my pieces of eight have lately been downgraded to pieces of three and a half. Very embarrassing to a Pirate Captain of my stature, as you may be able to understand.

It started in allergy season, with a few hard candies in my pocket. (Cinnamon discs. Burns through the drainage and leaves a smoking crater on your tongue to boot!) I half expected the candy detectors to go off as I entered the theatre, and prepared to brandish my cutlass menacingly at any scallywhacker who tried to stop me.

Nothing happened. I was impressed. I thought I had accidentally hit upon a secret method to get contraband inside the Sanctum itself.

Then my First Wench, AmyDoodle, told me the real secret: "You gunk-head," she said. "There's no such thing as a candy detector! That has got to be the silliest idea I have ever heard in my life!"

What can I say? I rely on her support in all my endeavors.

So I've begun to load my pockets with fun-sized Snickers and Butterfingers. I've figured out that the key is to not act like you're carrying illegal foodstuffs. So I took it one step further: I generally forget I've even got it with me. If I don't know it's there, I can't act suspicious!

Of course, you've got to keep your wits about you. There was the time I reached in my pocket for a Kleenex (Not that I cried through Secretariat. Nope, not me.) and found a half-melted Milky Way. My cry of surprise and alarm ("Augh! What the -- ! Brown stuff ahoy!") did not go unnoticed, and it was only by dint of my lightning-quick pirate reflexes that I was able to avoid the consequences by hiding behind the First Wench.

Not the Cap'n's best moment.

Now I'm working on a way to smuggle fresh popcorn in. The little bags of Otis Reddenbacker fit comfortably my pocket. The trick is going to be the microwave. And I reckon I'll have to run a power cord out to the lobby. Should be doable. I'll just have to disguise it as something non-food-preparational.

But what about those times when popcorn just isn't enough? I figure the truly piratey thing to do would be to set up a grill down front for a little tailgating. I'd even be willing sell a hot dog or two. And take the proceeds out to the lobby for a great big honking box of Raisinettes.

Because Raisinettes are what a pirate loves best.



The Cap'n is your basic pirate with delusions of fandeur. He has served in various capacities and institutions over the years, but has since settled down to a life of (except for that whole candy thing) placid law-abiding domesticity, under the calming influence of his First Wench AmyDoodle, who has actually come closer to domesticating him than anybody else.