t
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Off The
Record BY PATO
Onorato's First
Novel Published
 X
To order your book write: Pat at
P.O. Box 1108, Lucerne Valley, CA 92356
or email: research@sisp.net |
GO AHEAD! MAKE MY DAY
*Customer: * Hi, this is Celine. I can't get my diskette out.
*Tech support: * Have you tried pushing the Button?
*Customer: * Yes, sure, it's really stuck.
*Tech support:* That doesn't sound good; I'll make a note.
*Customer: * No -- wait a minute. I hadn't inserted it yet... it's still on my
desk... sorry...
==============
*Tech support: * Click on the 'my computer' icon on to the left of the screen.
*Customer: * Your left or my left?
===============
**
*Tech support: * Good day. How may I help you?
*Male customer: * Hello... I can't print.
*Tech support: *Would you click on 'start' for me and....
*Customer: * Listen pal; don't start getting technical on me! I'm not Bill Gates.
===============
**
*Customer: * Hi, good afternoon, this is Martha, I can't print. Every time I try, it
says 'Can't find printer'. I've even
lifted the printer and placed it in front of the monitor, but the computer still says
he can't find it.
============== =
**
*Customer: * I have problems printing in red.
*Tech support: * Do you have a color printer?
*Customer: * Aaaah......................thank you.
===============
**
*Tech support: * What's on your monitor now, ma'am?
*Customer: * A teddy bear my boyfriend bought for me at the 7-11.
===============
**
*Customer: * My keyboard is not working anymore.
*Tech support: * Are you sure it's plugged into the computer?
*Customer: * No. I can't get behind the computer.
*Tech support: * Pick up your keyboard and walk 10 paces back.
*Customer: * OK
*Tech support: * Did the keyboard come with you?
*Customer:* Yes
*Tech support: * That means the keyboard is not plugged in. Is there another
keyboard?
*Customer: * Yes, there's another one here. Ah. That one does work.
===============
**
*Tech support: * Your password is the small letter 'a' as in apple, a
capital
letter V as in Victor, the number 7.
*Customer: * Is that 7 in capital letters?
===============
**
*Customer: * I can't get on the Internet.
*Tech support: * Are you sure you used the right password?
*Customer: * Yes, I'm sure. I saw my colleague do it.
*Tech support: * Can you tell me what the password was?
*Customer: * Five dots.
===============
**
*Tech support: * What anti-virus program do you use?
*Customer: * Netscape.
*Tech support: * That's not an anti-virus program.
*Customer: * Oh, sorry... Internet Explorer.
===============
**
*Customer: * I have a huge problem. A friend has placed a screen saver on my
computer, but
every time I move the mouse, it disappears.
===============
**
*Tech support: * How may I help you?
*Customer: * I'm writing my first email.
*Tech support: * OK, and what seems to be the problem?
*Customer: * Well, I have the letter 'a' in the address, but how do I get the little
circle around it?
===============
/A woman customer called the Canon help desk with a problem with her printer.
/*Tech support: * Are you running it under Windows?
*Customer: * 'No, my desk is next to the door, but that is a good point. The man sitting
in the cubicle
next to me is under a window, and his printer is working fine.'
===============
And last but not least...
*Tech support: *'Okay Bob, let's press the control and escape keys at
the same time. That brings up a
task list in the middle of the screen. Now type the letter 'P' to bring up the Program
Manager.'
*Customer: * I don't have a P.
*Tech support: * On your keyboard, Bob.
*Customer: * What do you mean?
*Tech support: * 'P'...../on
your keyboard/, Bob.
*Customer: * I'M NOT GOING TO DO THAT!
Submitted by Mary F. of Apple Valley, February 7, 2010
A COMMUNITY ON THE EDGE
The ''OSTREECH''
It was a beautiful and seemingly
restful September day in Lucerne Valley. I had just punched the pillows on my ‘old
chair’ and set up the portable typewriter to record my 70 years of tumultuous living.
Now, I thought smugly, it was my turn to relax; a calmness overcame me and as I tapped
away on my antique typewriter relentlessly chipping out metal imprints of the keys the
ring on the telephone startled me.
I picked up the phone,
"Hello."
"Hello, "Pot? Deese eease Marteen at the Lu Cerne Val Le Gar- rrage. Eets zee
ostreech ... zee es loose."
"What? Who? Ostreech? Where?" I snapped.
"Queek. I need for you to 'elp me. I bean trying to catch eet for two hour...You got
a gun, yeah?'
"Yeah!" I said. "Well, not a gun but a rifle. A .22 caliber."
"Dats goot, we shoot it, yeah?"
Well, not knowing, or having ever
looked an 'ostreech' in the eye, and I might add, having never shot at anything other than
a tin can, I replied, "Come get me. I'll be outside the gates."
SHOTS FIRED
While I waited for Martine to
arrive (she lives 10 minutes from me) I quickly removed the .22 from the gun rack, blew
the dust off of it, loaded the 8_shot automatic magazine and put it in my pocket. Short of
slipping into my army camouflage fatigues, I stormed outdoors, looked for a clear space
above me and then fired the rifle to make certain no bullets were in the barrel. I heard
the 'click.' "Ah, a good sound for an empty rifle, " I thought. Just as I rushed
outside the gates carrying the rifle across my chest, I could see my friend Martine’s
car racing down the street to pick me up.
"Queek! Zee ostreech, sheez on Crystal Crick" she snapped brushing some debris
off my seat.
I carefully placed the rifle between us (by now, in my mind, the rifle had become a hand
grenade with a loose pin).
MARTINE SPOTS IT!
Martine, a likeable petite French
woman in her 40's with a commanding personality, hit the pedal to the metal jerking me
almost through the windshield. Excited, in her strong French dialect, my friend cried,
"Zere! Zere she eese...the ostreech."
Where? WHERE? I snapped shifting my head from side to side anxiously looking like Mr.
Magoo (the first thing to go at my age is the eyesight).
"Zere! Zere she eese," Martine said pointing to the bushes in the empty fields
on Crystal Creek Rd.
Finally, I saw, among the tall weeds and spiked yuccas, a highly raised
head with a long neck like a giraffe and a body like a hippo. Like a commando in combat I
slipped the mag in the rifle.
"THAT'S IT?" I asked frozen in my seat.
"Queek! Out of zee car. Lai's geet it before it ‘urts someone," ordered my
battalion chief.
Instinctively. I jumped out of the car and carefully picked up what I now felt was a the
pin_less hand grenade. Looming above me I saw a sheriff’s helicopter swirling in
circles around the ostrich as patrolmen on foot disappeared in the wake of dust tornados
raised by the copter. The sheriff’s, in an effort to lure the 'scared to
death'ostrich away from the traffic on Crystal Creek Road, faced a challenging situation.
Everyone was in danger, particularly me, since I was the one holding the pinless grenade.
I fell into my sexless infamous prone position while carefully scrutinizing the area for
objects which may cause the bullet to ricochet (Note: I did say singular, bullet ... since
I do consider myself a marksman) , then I propped the rifle telescope to my eye, where I
might add, its black and blue imprint remains today, and I took careful aim at the
frightened ostrich. As I focused on the ostrich, it stared back at me intently, while
relieving itself profusely. I slowly cocked the hammer, paused, wiped the sweat from my
brow, focused and said, "Not today kid! I can't shoot this animal ... it's too
big!" I got up, dusted myself off, and, with rifle in hand, walked back to the car,
removed the mag from the rifle and placed the rifle between the front bucket seats.
HELICOPTER SPINS
In the meanwhile the helicopter came in so low I
thought I was going to have headless ostrich for Thanksgiving. About this time, as I
scurried back to the field to help Martine, two sheriff cars arrived to assist. I told
them what I was up to, then I asked, "Don't you think that all this commotion is
scaring the hell out of that poor animal?"
Things began to calm down and the ostrich, with a little nudging from the sheriffs,
Martine, and the helicopter, did move a safe distance from Crystal Creek Road.
CROWDS
CHEER
To emphasize the seriousness of
having a mentally deranged wild, half_crazed ostrich threatening the human population, the
battlefield now consisted of four sheriff cars. a helicopter, several concerned citizens
cheering us on, a lunch wagon, a paramedic unit and ... a partridge in a pear tree.
Two Sons of the Pioneers lassoed the ostrich and maintained a taut hold from each side
while Martine slipped a sock over its face. I coming from the east Bronx, a city girl,
thought, my god, if it wasn't scared before, it sure as hell is going to go into
convulsions now. Right? Wrong!. The ostrich, much to my amazement, calmed down and we were
able to walk almost a mile with it hobbling along followed by all us munchkins as we
skipped down the yellow brick road ... the only things missing were Toto, the Wiz, and
Dorothy.
Finally, when a trailer was brought in from the Hesperia Sheriff department and the
ostrich had to be lifted on to it ... it was, in the final analysis, " The Great
Marteene"who rustled that animal to intimidation and flung herself on its neck
hanging on wilder than a cowboy bumping on a Brahma bull! Her small frame bounced around
like a kid spinning on a maypole. She was amazing, her face a deep red, but she could not
lift the enraged animal on to the open trailer. The sheriffs continued to cling to the
rope which they used to control the beast.
It was then that I, who knows better than to get into a confrontation with , of all
things, an "ostreech," grabbed its leg and with all my strength, lifted it on to
the trailer...also, it was then I realized the situation was getting very personal., sort
of a vendetta. It seemed that Martine and I were fighting a life and death struggle
desperately trying to get the ostrich on the trailer but the ostrich had a mind of its own
and it, also, took it very personal. And, even though my hand was crushed against the
metal trailer rails, we did get it 's two legs on the trailer. It was then, I swear, I saw
the 'ostreech' stick it's tongue out at me. And, all that fussing around certainly didn't
help the rheumatoid arthritis in both my shoulders either! By the time this incident was
put to rest I felt, and looked, like I came out of the war_zone jungles of Cambodia.
And, finally, the masked ranger, I mean the
blindfolded ostrich, was hauled into the trailer to its compound on the Martine & Aziz
ranch, while two sheriffs sat in the trailer clinging to the rope to keep the animal
immobile. And, you ask, where was Aziz, Matine's husband? Well, word has it that he was
earning a living; adjusting a carburetor with a small screwdriver at their Lucerne Valley
Garage or answering the phone or doing something really manly and important.
Well, the day ended for me when I collapsed in the fluffed up pillows on my 'old chair'
with a double scotch and water on the rocks ... on second thought, hold the water... and
the rocks . Just another September day in the life of any old lady, right, Martine?
>>>click
here>>>FRIENDSHIP PHOTO GALLERY<<<click here<< .. ..
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<<<So what's
buggin' you, UGLY?
Such dramatics. She shoulda been a conductor.