YSaC, Vol. 703: Remember Alice?
To gig or anyone who knows how to deal with municipal trash
I have lost my certified mail receipt for the mail that was mailed
sometime in the end of July 2006-begin Dec 2006 from the XXXXXXXX
metro area (zip codes XXXXX or XXXXX to the following
address:[Address redacted])
Can someone help me find it? I turned my apartments upside down, can’t
find it. I don’t care if they find it on the streets somethere becaue
I saw it, it existed. I wrote down several numbers but can’t find this
particular one.
If you find it will pay more for the paper
This was posted in September 2009.
However, I know JUST who can help. Who’s really good at locating pieces of paper under large piles of garbage?
Officer Obie, that’s who. He tracked down Arlo Guthrie, after all! And he’s good with several numbers, because he’s got twenty-seven eight by ten color glossies with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one explaining what it is.
This is definitely a job for Officer Obie. Or maybe the seeing-eye dog.
Thanks for the listing, Sam!
“You can get anything you want
at the Llamanun’s restaurant.
You can get anything you want
at the Llamanun’s restaurant.
Walk right in, it’s around in back
just a little snark at ol’ YSaC….”
Add this after the first two lines: Except the Llama-nun!
Happy Father’s Day, Grampdaddy!
Thank you, dear Ms. Lola…
You can get anything you want at Alice’s Restaurant … and yet I think this guy is out of luck. I believe he’s looking for Alice’s Landfill.
I’m particularly compelled by “I don’t care if they find it on the streets somethere becaue I saw it, it existed.” This sounds more like Beat poetry to me than it does an ad. Don’t know what it means, man, but it’s cool. *snap snap* Can you dig it?
“If you find it will pay more for the paper.”
Yep, beat poetry or Beatles rip off band…
…or a really complicated bid for weed.
So, if this post gets 50 comments, does that mean we have a movement?
I don’t know, but in the meantime you can sit with me over here on the Group W bench.
What are you in for?
Littering …
And disturbin’ the peace.
Dan will probably be willing to testify that the Group W Bench is the name of a real head shop in New Haven, CT.
Unfortunately, it’s not visible in Google Street View, or I’d give you a link.
Hey
ObieIsaac, I can only help if there were [they existed] twenty-seven 8 x 10 color glossy pictures with the circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one explaining what each one was…I’ll bring the shovels and the rakes and implements of destruction.
“Hi, I saw your ad on CraigsList and decided to come help you look for a small slip of paper from three years ago. Could you tell me where you keep your valuables? I thought I’d start looking there.
Oh, just ignore my rather large friends, they are just here to watch.
You know what might help take your mind off things? I could teach you a magic trick! It’s super fun. Just get inside this large box for a second and we’ll make the contents of your apartment vanish. No peeking! ”
Wait – you mean someone wants to pay me to dig through their garbage? Score!
Bonus, you get to keep any bags of crisps you find!
(/corey) Sadly, Officer Obie passed on in 1994, on my birthday. Here’s a great tribute to the great man himself: http://www.arlo.net/obie.shtml (/end corey)
Thanks for the link, Windrose! I had no idea he was the officer in the Norman Rockwell paintings as well. NPR had a great interview with Alice last summer. I’d link but their mobile site doesn’t have archives.
On another note, I’l bet people don’t forget your birthday!
christina, you are correct in that! It’s turning in to a huge, nation-wide day of flag waving and candle lighting. I’m proud to share it with those we will never forget. *cues patriotic background music* Sorry, I do feel the distinction deeply, but can never be serious for very long.
OT, but I needed to come tell you all how lucky you are, and to rub it in that I’m luckier.
Every day you get to come visit this site and amid the hilarious postings from the llamanun and the ostrimu, you get to enjoy a bit of the snark and humor of one phenomenal man. He makes up alternate lyrics to songs, invented the term catulator, and has caused many of you to need vats of brain bleach. He stalks you. He befuddles you. And he makes you laugh (when you’re not shaking your head and wondering where you can get some of whatever it is that he is on.)
I’m luckier though – because for 34 years I’ve been his daughter. I’ve had years of enjoying made up songs, terrible puns, and more than my share of “ewwww where’s the bleach???” moments. If nothing else, his sense of humor definitely kept him from killing me many, many times.
You call him Grampdaddy. I’m lucky enough to call him my dad. Happy Father’s Day, Dad!
We now return you to your regularly scheduled snark, already in progress…
Damn it, Child! – you’re holding my grandchildren for ransom – what else can I do??
Silly Grampdaddy, I’m not holding them. They’re at the table, playing with PlayDoh.
Manda, you are very lucky indeed! My dad has a good sense of humor, but I never got to live with him. We are at least friends now. But in some ways, the man I married is just like your dad. He can recite most Monty Python sketches and movies by heart, he reads Terry Pratchett books to me and does all the voices, and he cooks the most amazing foods. He loves my birds, shared his children with me, and makes my world shine. Happy Father’s Day, honey!
*Now I have to go bug him to come read this!* 8)
Grampdaddy, please have a great day because it sure sounds like you deserve it!
Windrose, if the man you married is just like me, you (and Mrs. Grampdaddy) have my deepest sympathy. Every morning when I wake up, I give thanks that I woke up. It means she didn’t hold the pillow over my face – yet.
Happy Father’s Day to everyone (male or female) who has ever acted as a role-model, disciplinarian, mentor, coach, conscience, hugger, and protector of any child – their own or someone else’s – blessings be on you all.
Thank you, Honey!
Grampdaddy, please don’t give her any more ideas.
MandaB, I love that we have not just general intergenerational snark on here, but intergenerational within the same family. I share a lot of my humor with my parents – it’s where I get it, after all – but this particular vein of snark is mine alone. It’s cool that you have that.
[recommence snark]
My mom actually started reading this blog before I did…but she hasn’t joined in the commenting.
Gasp! Bridgete, your mom is a — a — *gulp* Lurker??!?!?!
You always gotta keep an eye out for those things. I recommend carrying a 10′ pole, and checking the ceiling frequently.
She is indeed. And she doesn’t just read the post and move on…no…she reads the comments. 😉
Ooooooooo, lurkers…….
*waves to Bridgete’s mom*
In my family (Grampdaddy and Mrs. Grampdaddy were foolish enough to have 5 kids), I’m known as the “not funny one”. For years there were rumors that my lack of snark, at least in comparison to my siblings, might get me traded to another team for a player to be named later.They haven’t disowned me…yet.
OT – not so much that MandaB wasn’t funny, but timing wasn’t always good. Required having children of her own before snarkiness/timing became synchronized. Her foolish brothers still do not recognize the inherent talent residing within…
It’s always the late bloomers that rule the world!!
Had late-bloomers for a while, but switched over to boxers…
….less chafing.
Either one is great for running up the flag pole. Aren’t you glad that these articles are no longer made of flour sacks? 🙂
Happy Father’s Day to Grampdaddy, Taco, and any other dads here!
Sadly, I can’t properly snark ’till I get home and can look up the cultural reference which has blown right over my head. So, I shall merely wish Grampdaddy a wonderful Father’s Day, along with anyl other fathers here today on YSaC.
On second thought, I shall snark. 2006? What have you been doing for 3 years, Sparky? And now you’re prepared to let the same kind of weirdos who bedazzle deer hooves and hire roosters as paperback writers come search your home for a scrap of paper? If you’re not in the morgue already, then you can contact me at the [location] Starbucks. Pay in rare cereals only, obo.
Who else thinks Sparky is trying to sue someone before the statute of limitation runs? Just me? Okay…
Already thinking like a lawyer, I see! Good job!
If this lack of organization is indicative of his skills in general (in terms of grounds for a possible case), I suspect that the intended defendant is probably (however justifiably or not) quite safe …
Thanks! =)
I think you’re spot on with your assessment of Sparky’s case. I certainly wouldn’t take i, not even for elebenty boxes of rare, vintage cereal.
Huh…the “t” for the word “it” up there seems to have run off.
Further, just who is this “gig” to whom the missive is addressed?
It’s reading, to me, with and admitted twist, as if Sparky owns a complex of apartments.
Which may or may not have difficulties with contracted garbage collection.
Sparky has then used certified mail to document his woes with the solid-waste people, but failed to corral his mail documents, allowing them to become “un- stowed.”
Or Sparky used the mail receipts as impromptu post-it notes, and the phone numbers are needed (possibly the numbers are for psychic media, who have pre-cogitated this contretemps, and are all off, humming, staring off in the distance, ignoring the frantic-ness . . . )
I’m with you on the pop culture befuddlement, but what makes me cross is that Sparky here apparently can afford multiple apartments, along with his delusions about the kindness of strangers, while I’m thoroughly jaded and cynical and am only able to rent one house which leaks in the rain (so, always) and is so cold I have to wear gloves and a jumper while sleeping.
Jen, sending warm thoughts down and around to you! Sunny California wasn’t too hot today, but the summer isn’t fully in force just yet. Your constant rain sounds rather appealing to me.
Hi. I need someone to help me find something I lost. I’m not sure when I lost it completely – If anyone has seen my innocence, I’d appreciate having it back. I used to keep it on the nightstand next to the bed, along with my virginity. (The one lasted longer than the other, and I don’t want the latter back).
Anyway, I know I first misplaced my innocence when Nixon was in office, then found it again, but it may have completely disappeared around 2000. You’ll recognize it because it is kind of scuffed up and well-worn, but has tremendous sentimental value – I got it from my mom and dad.
Will gladly pay in vintage cereal, antique Crisco, Gerberts, or will trade for a pick-up truck with bees, firm or b/o.
I believe it went out for a ride with my sanity and never came back.
Must have gone the same place as my common sense.
Chipmunk threw it in the plunk?
*Only MandaB has any hope on this one*
Don’t worry. In a fit of karmic retribution, the universe saw fit to make my car keys vanish several years ago. I suspect a next generation chipmunk did away with them for me.
Probably one of those hybrid models; they’re really sneaky.
I’m not any good with municipal trash, but whenever I lose something, I let the dog, or my child get into stuff. Whatever was lost then turns up. Usually destroyed, or severely mangled… but hey, it’s found now!
Paying someone a finders fee is definitely cheaper.
Oh, hey, I’m in the box!
**clutches cheap plastic replica of an Oscar to his chest**
I’d like to thank my dad for giving me his sense of humor, because my mom says there’s no way it came from her.
Okay, I’m ready for my punch!
Astro, you deserve this and more! Punchity Punch Punch!
G’Night, Stockbridge!
oh dear. can YOU say OCD?
More like saying “Hoarders”. I bet that piece of paper is under a big pile of garbage in the living room with a mummified flattened feline on top of it.
“It has memories…”
I wish I had seen this yesterday. I loved that song. No one else in my high school seemed to know it or like it but it still cracks me up & I sing along when the oldies station plays it on Thanksgiving. Screw Sparky & his lawsuit; thanks for the warm fuzzy, Dan!
Oh, and I got new glasses. They’re purple. Can you tell?
Just let municipal authorities in D.C. think that they can fine you for it. It’ll turn up.
Aside: I have my earworm for the day. That was one of the albums that my father played incessantly when I was a little ferret.
Lately, Dave, this has all been about you. What’s up with that?
How many apartments do you have, Spark? Has the manager seen what you did there? This is going to make looking for one paper more of a challenge that waiting three years to start has already done!
I did that once, bad idea. You wouldn’t believe the trouble I had peeing in the toilet.
However, peeing on the ceiling was easier than ever before.
If you find it will pay more for the paper
*gets blank certified mail form from Post Office*
Here you go Sparky, here’s your receipt. I’m afraid it’s been de-inked, but it is the one you’ve been looking for.
*collects reward*
Score!
Obviously the person Sparky is looking for is Gig Garbahzhman, Landfill Librarian. Gig was the city official responsible for assigning a tracking number to every piece of collected trash since 1982, and could tell you exactly where to look for it in the vast municipal refuse system, along with its likely state of decomposition. Sadly, Gig was forced to retire in 2005 due to early onset dementia, so it looks like ol’ Spark is up the creek on this one. In fact, if he hasn’t tried looking up the creek, that’d be a good place to start.
Mudsy, your grate comment will live in the annals of YSaC forever! Punchity Punch Punch!
Good Morning, Litter Louts!