It makes me crazy when people wear their shoes in my house. What habit/act drives you crazy? How do you prevent it from happening?
Long ago I’ve gotten over things that drive me crazy. Once you realize that there are a whole lot of things that you do to drive others crazy…
When I was a teenager a bachelor uncle lived with us. His eating habits were intolerable. To say he ate like a pig would be an understatement. After asking him on a couple of occasions to be less noisy and more mannerly with no improvement I ate elsewhere.
As in Krista’s situation if there are people who do not remove their shoes when entering your home and you have asked them, simply stop inviting them. If they should ask why they are no longer invited politely tell them why.
Here is a short story about a barroom discussion down at Billy Bronco’s, a mythical bar where all the Boise State faithful drink beer, talk Boise State football, talk sports, and drink beer. And they don’t remove their shoes. In fact there are some who don’t wear shoes.
The Production of Hair At Billy Bronco’s
Louie brought pictures of five old basketball players to Billy Bronco’s the other night. He laid them on the bar without so much as a word. There was some passing interest, but nothing to amount to anything.
Finally Sailor Sam said, “Louie, why on earth did you bring those old pictures in here?”
Louie replied, “Can anybody name them?”
“Hank Luisetti is one of them?” Dawg Breath said.
“Did you just make that up or do you really know who he is?” Sailor Sam said.
“I’m from Oregon,” Dawg Breath said, “and my grandpa said Luisetti was one of the first guys to use the one handed shot. It was the beginning of the jump shot.”
“There’s always been a jump shot,” Kevan, the bartender said, “Right?”
“That’s right,” Dawg Breath said, “my grandpa said he hit a 3 point jumper in the Idaho state finals in ‘55 to win by 1.”
“They didn’t have 3 pointers then,” Sailor Sam said.
“You callin’ my grandpa a liar?” Dawg Breath said.
“When did Idaho become a state?” Kevan said to quiet things a bit.
Sailor Sam made something up so as not to offend Dawg Breath. “Idaho experimented with the 3 pointer for one year. Of course your grandpa wouldn’t lie to you.”
Dawg Breath settled back into his stool at the bar. “He also told me he stuffed Chamberlain in a pick-up game in Pocatello in‘57.”
Sailor Sam spit out a mouth full of beer.
“Let’s get back to it, does anybody know these guys?” Louie said.
There was a collective, “No.”
“Tell us,” Sailor Sam said.
“Jerry Lucas, Bob Petit, Bob Cousy, Charlie Tyra, and Wayne Embry” Louie said. “What do you see different than you do players today?”
“There’s too many white guys to be a really good team,” Broadway Joe said.
“Well that’s obvious,” Louie said. “What else?”
“You ain’t gonna tell until somebody buys you a beer, right?” Sailor Sam said.
“Kevan,” Broadway Joe signaled. “Get the sap a beer so he’ll tell us.”
Kevan drew a beer for Louie and sat it in front of him.
“They’re all hairy,” Louie said. “Where has the hair gone today? Especially on the legs, but those guys are hairy all over.”
“It’s evolution,” Dawg Breath said. “We don’t need as much hair anymore; they don’t wear the short trunks like they used to. They hang almost to the tops of their socks now. We‘ve had to adapt.”
“Ahhh,” Sailor Sam said, “they shave their legs now days.”
“Just another way feminize a manly sport.” Dawg Breath said. “They won’t be satisfied until it’s coed and there will be two baskets at each end; an eleven foot basket for men and a nine foot for women.”
“It’s okay with me so long as the women shave their legs and arm pits.” Broadway said. “Remember some of those Russian babes from the 50s?”
“I really don’t think they were women,” Dawg Breath said.
“Oh my, here comes the evil empire conspiracy stuff,” Sailor Sam said.
“Back to the pictures,” Louie begged.
“What’s your point?” Broadway said.
“Players just aren’t as hairy as they used to be,” Louie said.
“Yeah, come to think about it the last hairy guy was Rony Seikaly,” Sailor Sam said.
“What about beards?” Dawg Breath said.
“Beards don’t count,” Broadway said.
“It has all to do with the tattoos,” Dawg Breath said. “I mean who wants hair growing through a tat?”
“I’ve got one,” Broadway said “It was supposed to be of an old girl friend, but it looks like Elmer Fudd with hair. Well, she really wasn’t a girl friend, but alcohol was as much to blame for the tattoo as it was her.”
“Okay, Louie,” Sailor Sam insisted. “You must have a stupid point to make.”
“No,” Louie said, “ but there was a time when players had more hair on their body than they did their head and I wanted a free beer. This place is so easy.”