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Tag Archives: puddul shift

The other day, I was in the car with my sister and brother-in-law (bil) and as we were talking, we were interrupted by the obnoxious throaty rumbling of a high end sports car. Not that the rumbling of a sports car is obnoxious, but the guy driving the car was being obnoxious and revving the car for no apparent reason other than to be loud.

My sister declared that people driving really high end sports cars (and probably those who are being obnoxious about it) are suffering from mid-life crises. But as the car passed us and we looked over, it was a pretty young guy who was driving. He looked young enough to be having a quarter-life crisis. So she amended her comment to just some kind of life crisis, not necessarily mid-life.

Bil wondered if anyone really thought about the age implication of saying “mid-life crisis” and if it was really just a general term. I thought about it and decided that I’m going to just use random fractions from now on to describe life crises and 1) see if anyone notices and 2) see if they actually think about the fraction.

I don’t mean I’ll be using “normal” fractions either. Quarter-, third-life crises are too bland. People are familiar with these fractions (I would hope). No, I’m going to say things like 3/16-life crisis and observe if people are actually going to think about the age range a 3/16-life crisis would imply and then try and match it to the age of the person going through the person. Like, if I applied a 3/16-life crisis to myself, people should think that I’m being pretty optimistic about my life-expectancy. Foolishly optimistic. Because I don’t think the oldest human in recent history has lived much past 120 years of age.

But I won’t just be using ridiculously small fractions in relation to age. I’ll be using abnormally large ones too. Like a 7/8-life crisis. If I were to apply a 7/8-life crisis to myself, people really should look concerned or at least think I have a very morbid sense of humor (I do, btw).

I very much would like to start doing this. I just need to figure out a way to steer conversations to life crises more often.

Oh, yeah. Do you think [some very young guy] is having their 33/64-life crisis? I feel bad for him…

How about [this other old dude]? I think he’s having a 13/172-life crisis…

This…amuses me more than it should.

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Hey Boris.  I’m really sorry.  I never thought you would be kidnapped.  Guitar-napped?  I guess the proper term really would be “stolen.”  It’s been a month.  I think I should just accept it now.

But I really didn’t think it would happen.  I mean, you were always safely ensconced in your case when you weren’t with me.  And more often than not, you’d be in the trunk.

Yes, Puddul’s trunk may not have been the absolutely best housing. The massive swing in temperature really isn’t good for any instrument, but you took it in stride.  I didn’t detect any warping.  And there was such a nice space for you at the bottom of the cage.  Really, it was the perfect fit.  And you didn’t even mind when Yaris would try to use your case as a step stool.

And you sounded good in Puddul’s interior.  You kept me from going insane in the middle of the work day.  It helped knowing that if I needed to, I could spend some time with you during lunch.  And…now I can’t.  And the kids don’t have any accompaniment anymore either.  It’s going to be tough times ahead.  The blue shell is still around, but I can’t carry the blue shell around with me everywhere.  He’s much too big.

I really hope whoever kidnapped you has realized that you’re a really good companion.  Hopefully you’re travelling the world now and seeing new sights and experiencing new things and delighting kids in different parts of the world with your funny shape but great portability and nice action and warm tone in a small, enclosed space.

Hope you have a nice life, Boris.