Monday, August 25, 2008
Conversations at home last night.
ME: "Hey come here and look at my blog....you'll like it."
YOUNGEST: "Later."
-------------------------
ME: "Hey...look at my blog. You'll like it....it's about Joe Biden."
OLDEST: "Who is Joe Biden? I never heard of him."
------------------------
ME: "Hey....did you read my blog?"
WIFEY: "Yeah"
-----------------------
So To Sum Up.
Later Biden....yeah.
YOUNGEST: "Later."
-------------------------
ME: "Hey...look at my blog. You'll like it....it's about Joe Biden."
OLDEST: "Who is Joe Biden? I never heard of him."
------------------------
ME: "Hey....did you read my blog?"
WIFEY: "Yeah"
-----------------------
So To Sum Up.
Later Biden....yeah.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Saturday, August 23, 2008
An Interview with VP candidate Joe Biden
ME: "So Joe...may I call you Joe? How big of a fish did you catch?"
JOE: "You articulated that question very well....it was about :::holds hands apart::: this big."
ME: "So Joe...how close do you think the race will be?"
JOE: "You articulated that question very well....the race should be about :::holds hands apart::: this close."
ME: "So Joe....how big is your penis?"
JOE: "You articulated that question very well....it's about :::holds hands apart::: this big."
ME: "So Joe....can you show us your vice presidential karate chops?"
JOE: "You articulated that question very well...How about :::shows karate move:: this?"
ME: "So Joe...how big of an asshole are you in fact?"
JOE: "You articulated that question very well....I'm this much :::holds hands apart::: of an asshole."
ME: So Joe...finish this statement, 'Pattycake, pattycake baker man..."
JOE: "You articulated that very well...'bake me cake as fast as you can'..."
ME: "Thank you for your time."
Friday, August 22, 2008
Quick Insanity Theatre
In my business and homelife I encounter odd things each week. Some are job related, some are just because I look for it.
Here are a few from this week:
---------------------
THE HOT BIKER CHICK
So this hot young women(mid 20s?) rides her BMX-type bicycle INTO my store. Here is the conversation:
HOT CHICK: "Are you hiring?"
ME: "Nope...not right now, but thank you for asking!"
----------------------
THE POST OFFICE NAZI
I bring a standard size envelope up to the counter...it's a tad heavier than a regular piece so I'll need additional postage.
NAZI: "You'll have to pay an extra surcharge of .20 cents because it's too thick."
ME: "Too thick?"
NAZI: "Yes...it's over 1/4" thick and requires the surcharge."
ME: "It's not a 1/4" thick."
NAZI: ::takes out measuring device thingy the post office has for just such an item:: "A 1/4" envelope won't slip through this slot." :: my envelope slips through slot::
ME: "See."
NAZI: "Well it ALMOST doesn't fit."
ME: "But it does, doesn't it?"
NAZI: "You'll still have to pay the surcharge because you put something in the envelope to keep it from bending."
ME: "Do you think you could bend that envelope?"
NAZI: "Yes...but you still have to pay the 20 cents."
ME: "Okay...but please don't bend that envelope."
---------------------
THE CIGAR GUY
A guy comes into my store SMOKING A CIGAR! Here is that conversation:
CIGAR GUY: "I can't stay long because of this cigar." :::blabblabblabblabblabblab:::
ME: "Let's finish up this conversation outside."
--------------------
THE STRANGELY HOT RUSSIAN COUPLE
So we're out for Buddy Nite last night (me, The Hoag, and The Blonde) and we notice this Russian couple sitting next to us speaking Russian. They're in the early 30s or so.
Not sure how it happens but we start talking to them (In English) and we start showing off with our knowledge of Russia. We say stuff like NYET! And Sputnik! And Gulag! And (Rootin' Tootin') Putin...and talk about Stalin and World War Two and stuff.
Something about the Russian accent on a gal is just very appealing (only a French accent is better)
But I digress.
So the couple leaves.
And The Hoag chimes in with this:
HOAG: "Damn....I should have got her to say MOOSE and SQUIRREL.
------------------------
THE BOYS ARE THE BOSTON RED SOX
So the other night I'm sitting in my chair and Wifey is on the couch with the TV remote in her lap. Here is that conversation:
ME: "Why don't you turn on the boys."
WIFEY: "I can't reach from over here."
--------------------
And that my friends is another installment of QUICK INSANITY THEATRE!
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Don't trip on the weeds.
Most of the time when I come into my house I come in through the garage.
So do most folks.
But at night we have to shut the garage doors or animals will come in (skunks!)
Or we can use the front walkway. It's brick.
And because we don't use it that much the weeds grow in between each brick.
Still with me?
So anyhow, last night we had some folks over and when it was time for them to leave they asked if they should go out through the garage or out through the front door.
ME: "Go out through the front door....but don't trip on the weeds!"
::Oldest daughter chimes in::
TINY HANDS: "You know Dad, you can't trip on weed."
ME: "Huh?"
TINY HANDS: "You just said 'don't trip on the weeds' and I'm telling you you can't trip on weed."
ME: "I once tripped on weed."
TINY HANDS: "Impossible."
ME: "Not impossible...I was at a Supertramp concert in 1979 and I tripped my brains out on 'weed' "
TINY HANDS: "Well....there must have been LSD in it or something because you can't trip on weed."
ME: "Whatever. I tripped on weed."
---------
SO TO SUM UP:
Normal Hand Size daughter? Please weed the front walk. Don't trip. And put some Supertramp on your IPOD.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Talking like a superhero.
Wifey is leaving this morning and here is our conversation:
WIFEY: "Okay...have a great day, see you tonight!"
ME: "Okay...be well!"
WIFEY: "Why are you talking like a superhero?"
ME: "Huh? I ain't talking like a superhero."
WIFEY: "Doesn't one of your little superheroes say 'Be Well and Prosper'?"
ME: "I didn't say 'Be Well and Prosper' and second of all that isn't the expression, It's 'Live Long and Prosper' and Spock says it...not one of my little superheroes."
:::laughter::
WIFEY: "Okay...bye!"
:::Wifey leaves but only to come back in the house ten seconds later::::
WIFEY: "Nanu-Nanu."
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
The Out Of State Carnival Worker
I was listening to the news this morning and they mentioned this out of state carnival worker who was arrested and charged with raping two girls.
Out of state carnival worker.
Accused of rape.
*gasp*
The owner of The Carnival (I'm not making this up) was quoted as saying that his references and background checks all came out good.
So let me get this straight....I want to join The Carnival and they check my references? They do a background check on me?
And where do they do this? How do they do this?
Does a desire for rape show up in a background check?
"Oh yeah, Charlie liked to rape broads in between his stints on the Tilt-O-Whirl so we had to let him go..."
"Let's see...Charlie. Oh yeah...Charlie. Hard worker. Never late. Rapes broads. Can guess weights like nobodies business. Ring tosser supreme. Whatever happened to him?"
SO TO SUM UP:
I want some fried dough. With powdered sugar and cinnamon on it.
And melted butter.
Out of state carnival worker.
Accused of rape.
*gasp*
The owner of The Carnival (I'm not making this up) was quoted as saying that his references and background checks all came out good.
So let me get this straight....I want to join The Carnival and they check my references? They do a background check on me?
And where do they do this? How do they do this?
Does a desire for rape show up in a background check?
"Oh yeah, Charlie liked to rape broads in between his stints on the Tilt-O-Whirl so we had to let him go..."
"Let's see...Charlie. Oh yeah...Charlie. Hard worker. Never late. Rapes broads. Can guess weights like nobodies business. Ring tosser supreme. Whatever happened to him?"
SO TO SUM UP:
I want some fried dough. With powdered sugar and cinnamon on it.
And melted butter.
Olympics Update: The Women's Discus
So last night I'm watching The Olympics (a series of athletic events in China) and all of a sudden the Women's Discus competition begins.
My dog started howling.
My wife started howling (yet again)
My oldest started howling.
All throughout this land the howls could be heard.
THIS GAL CAME IN SECOND PLACE.
SO TO SUM UP:
The universe really does have some kinda balance....Women's Beach Volleyball > Women's Discus
My dog started howling.
My wife started howling (yet again)
My oldest started howling.
All throughout this land the howls could be heard.
THIS GAL CAME IN SECOND PLACE.
SO TO SUM UP:
The universe really does have some kinda balance....Women's Beach Volleyball > Women's Discus
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Your duty as a parent.
It's your duty as a parent to find your child's weakness and then exploit it for your own amusement.
Find a flaw. Make fun of flaw. Create complex about said flaw.
Simple. Fun. Your duty.
So years and years ago we noticed my oldest child's head was enormous.
So we made fun of her. For years and years. And years.
Yet that child would just smile and shrug it off and go to school and be all happy and stuff.
And the other kids wouldn't make fun of her giant head. Or wouldn't notice it.
Or something.
But me and Wifey kept at it. Day after day, month after month, year after year.
(and yes, Wifey was complicit in this act)
This damn child of ours was gonna get a complex about her hefty noggin or we would die trying!
Or something.
Infant morphed into toddler. Toddler morphed into whatever toddlers morph into.
Pre-teen into teen. High school into college.
And never the damn desired complex!
She has a massive head, yet nobody but us makes fun of it!
How could that be?
How?
But we kept at it.
Still no complex. Why?? WHY?
Did she have a mutant power we didn't know about? Some non-complex gene?
Or something?
---
So the other night I'm at home listing some items on ebay, measuring them with a tape measure, when all of a sudden I look at Ol' Muffin Head and walk up to her.
{With tape measure in hand}
And I measure her gigantic head!
Width of said melon!
Height of said melon!
Aborted attempt at circumference of said melon! (tape measure was metal...it made it difficult to get a true reading)
And the results were in...
Turns out her head is normal sized.
Normal. Size. Head.
She just has real thick hair and it made her head look enormous all these years.
---------------
SO TO SUM UP:
When you see my oldest daughter take a look at her hands. They're wicked tiny. Freakshow tiny.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Yet another adventure at "The Dollar Store"
Earlier this year I swore off dollar stores forever.
Forever is actually about three months.
So anyhow, the other day I needed something and the dollar store had them. A different dollar store I might add then the one I swore off forever.
On their sign outside and on their windows and all throughout the store it proclaimed "EVERYTHING IS A DOLLAR!"
So I brought up six items to the register and held up one of them and asked:
ME: "How much is this?"
MONKEY: "Everything is a dollar."
ME: "Even these?"
MONKEY: "Yup."
ME: ::holding up another item:: "How much is this?"
MONKEY: "That's a dollar also...EVERYTHING is a dollar."
ME: "I notice on the candy bars it says TWO FOR A DOLLAR....How much for just one?"
MONKEY: "Fifty cents for one, two for a dollar."
ME: "So EVERYTHING isn't really a dollar, now is it?"
MONKEY: "It's two for a dollar."
ME: "Can I buy your cash register for a dollar?"
MONKEY: ::Puzzled look:: "The cash register isn't for sale."
ME: "So EVERYTHING isn't really a dollar, now is it?"
MONKEY: "It's not for sale."
ME: "What if I gave you fifty thousand dollars for the cash register...would you sell it?"
MONKEY: "Ummmm....I guess so. I'd have to clear it with the manager first."
ME: "So EVERYTHING isn't really a dollar, now is it?
MONKEY: "You're just teasing me, aren't you?"
ME: "Give me a dollar and I'll tell you."
Forever is actually about three months.
So anyhow, the other day I needed something and the dollar store had them. A different dollar store I might add then the one I swore off forever.
On their sign outside and on their windows and all throughout the store it proclaimed "EVERYTHING IS A DOLLAR!"
So I brought up six items to the register and held up one of them and asked:
ME: "How much is this?"
MONKEY: "Everything is a dollar."
ME: "Even these?"
MONKEY: "Yup."
ME: ::holding up another item:: "How much is this?"
MONKEY: "That's a dollar also...EVERYTHING is a dollar."
ME: "I notice on the candy bars it says TWO FOR A DOLLAR....How much for just one?"
MONKEY: "Fifty cents for one, two for a dollar."
ME: "So EVERYTHING isn't really a dollar, now is it?"
MONKEY: "It's two for a dollar."
ME: "Can I buy your cash register for a dollar?"
MONKEY: ::Puzzled look:: "The cash register isn't for sale."
ME: "So EVERYTHING isn't really a dollar, now is it?"
MONKEY: "It's not for sale."
ME: "What if I gave you fifty thousand dollars for the cash register...would you sell it?"
MONKEY: "Ummmm....I guess so. I'd have to clear it with the manager first."
ME: "So EVERYTHING isn't really a dollar, now is it?
MONKEY: "You're just teasing me, aren't you?"
ME: "Give me a dollar and I'll tell you."
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Switch Flops have arrived!!
(don't google)
That's what the sign said in front of the retail establishment. Not 'don't google', but 'Switch Flops have arrived !!'
And it had the two exclamation points so you know Switch Flops are awesome.
You also know that they've arrived and that's something to be double-y excited about.
Afterall...SWITCH FLOPS HAVE ARRIVED!!
So why do I say don't google?
Well chances are, other than the Lovely (and Curvaceous) Sparkle Plenty none of us probably know what Switch Flops are and why it's so wonderful that they've arrived.
I still haven't googled. I don't plan to.
Again, why?
Because I want Switch Flops to always be something exciting and wonderful and delicious.
Or something.
If I google, Switch Flops will be some kind of new concrete or roofing material. Or lima beanean cousin.
Possibly a new sewing stitch. Or vitamin supplement.
I want Switch Flops to forever be worth the two exclamation points!!
I want The Hoag to get scammed buying said Switch Flops.
I want to invest in Switch Flops and make a killing.
I want to show Wifey something magical using my new Switch Flops. Or Switch Flop singular.
I want World Peace using a single Switch Flop and some duct tape.
Switch Flops are the answer. You know it. I know it.
They've ARRIVED!!
Switch Flops.
If you're weak like the Lovely (and Curvaceous) Cake...go ahead, google.
Just keep it to yourself.
I wanna dream.
I wanna live.
I wanna Switch Flop and fly!
That's what the sign said in front of the retail establishment. Not 'don't google', but 'Switch Flops have arrived !!'
And it had the two exclamation points so you know Switch Flops are awesome.
You also know that they've arrived and that's something to be double-y excited about.
Afterall...SWITCH FLOPS HAVE ARRIVED!!
So why do I say don't google?
Well chances are, other than the Lovely (and Curvaceous) Sparkle Plenty none of us probably know what Switch Flops are and why it's so wonderful that they've arrived.
I still haven't googled. I don't plan to.
Again, why?
Because I want Switch Flops to always be something exciting and wonderful and delicious.
Or something.
If I google, Switch Flops will be some kind of new concrete or roofing material. Or lima beanean cousin.
Possibly a new sewing stitch. Or vitamin supplement.
I want Switch Flops to forever be worth the two exclamation points!!
I want The Hoag to get scammed buying said Switch Flops.
I want to invest in Switch Flops and make a killing.
I want to show Wifey something magical using my new Switch Flops. Or Switch Flop singular.
I want World Peace using a single Switch Flop and some duct tape.
Switch Flops are the answer. You know it. I know it.
They've ARRIVED!!
Switch Flops.
If you're weak like the Lovely (and Curvaceous) Cake...go ahead, google.
Just keep it to yourself.
I wanna dream.
I wanna live.
I wanna Switch Flop and fly!
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
The National Geographic food rating system, whipped cream, and other delights. Maybe even Herb Albert.
So the new National Geographic comes in and inside it has this chart of best foods to crappy foods.
The better for you nutritionally, the closer to 100 the listed food scores.
No surprise...broccoli was number one with 100 points.
On the very bottom, with a very sad one point, was the lovely popsicle.
So To Sum Up:
Don't always believe what you read in The Geographic.
------------------------
So I'm out last night at a steakhouse getting some dinner. I ask for my steakburger (hamburger) medium and with NO lettuce, onion, or tomato.
So the steakburger (hamburger) comes and on the side is a huge onion and some lettuce. No tomato.
So To Sum Up:
The cook screwed up the order if he read what the waitress wrote down or he screwed it up if she didn't write it down.
---------------------
When I got home I put on the TV, clicked to NBC for the Olympics, and started to watch Men's Beach Volleyball.
So To Sum Up:
Men's Beach Volleyball sucks.
------------
Herb Albert (you thought I was lying....didn't cha?)
The better for you nutritionally, the closer to 100 the listed food scores.
No surprise...broccoli was number one with 100 points.
On the very bottom, with a very sad one point, was the lovely popsicle.
So To Sum Up:
Don't always believe what you read in The Geographic.
------------------------
So I'm out last night at a steakhouse getting some dinner. I ask for my steakburger (hamburger) medium and with NO lettuce, onion, or tomato.
So the steakburger (hamburger) comes and on the side is a huge onion and some lettuce. No tomato.
So To Sum Up:
The cook screwed up the order if he read what the waitress wrote down or he screwed it up if she didn't write it down.
---------------------
When I got home I put on the TV, clicked to NBC for the Olympics, and started to watch Men's Beach Volleyball.
So To Sum Up:
Men's Beach Volleyball sucks.
------------
Herb Albert (you thought I was lying....didn't cha?)
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Women's Beach Volleyball
Am I now officially the biggest fan of this sport?
I might just be.
Is it because of the long legs?
The sleek graceful moves?
The tight thighs?
The little bikinis?
The grit....the determination?
The tanned youthful skin?
The cool sunglasses?
The tattoos?
The diving and sprawling on the ground?
The vertical leaps?
The high fives?
The body contact bewteen teammates?
The crushing spikes?
The tight buttocks?
The flat bellies?
The sports bras?
The ponytails and visors?
The Nike swoosh across their arses?
Are these the reasons why I'm now the #1 fan of Women's Beach Volleyball?
Of course not.
What do you take me for anyhow?
I just like sand.
I might just be.
Is it because of the long legs?
The sleek graceful moves?
The tight thighs?
The little bikinis?
The grit....the determination?
The tanned youthful skin?
The cool sunglasses?
The tattoos?
The diving and sprawling on the ground?
The vertical leaps?
The high fives?
The body contact bewteen teammates?
The crushing spikes?
The tight buttocks?
The flat bellies?
The sports bras?
The ponytails and visors?
The Nike swoosh across their arses?
Are these the reasons why I'm now the #1 fan of Women's Beach Volleyball?
Of course not.
What do you take me for anyhow?
I just like sand.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Someone is killing the great Mother 'effers!
As you all know, the death of Mother 'effers come in threes.
First it was Bernie Mac. A bad mother 'effer.
Then over the weekend Issac Hayes. They say that cat Issac was a bad mother 'effer....
::::SHUT YOUR MOUTH!::::
Who is next?
Samuel L. Jackson perhaps?
Afterall, he spotted the Mother effin' snakes on the Mother 'effin plane.
Does that make him a bad mother 'effer?
What in fact makes one a bad Mother 'effer?
And why does being a bad Mother 'effer mean you gots to die this week?
I axe you...why?
First it was Bernie Mac. A bad mother 'effer.
Then over the weekend Issac Hayes. They say that cat Issac was a bad mother 'effer....
::::SHUT YOUR MOUTH!::::
Who is next?
Samuel L. Jackson perhaps?
Afterall, he spotted the Mother effin' snakes on the Mother 'effin plane.
Does that make him a bad mother 'effer?
What in fact makes one a bad Mother 'effer?
And why does being a bad Mother 'effer mean you gots to die this week?
I axe you...why?
Saturday, August 09, 2008
Friday, August 08, 2008
Chinese OUTRAGE!
So, the Olympics are starting and a few of the US athletes got off the plane in Tokyo, or wherever they landed in China, and they were wearing face masks to protect themselves from the smog.
That's all we've heard about for the last few weeks leading up to THE GAMES. How bad the air is.
So the US athletes took precautions and now all of China is pissed off at them cuz they were wearing the masks.
They wore the masks because they heard the smog was bad. Or was it the air that was bad?
And of course, China was disrespected.
Or something.
So what is my point?
My point is that this morning when walking down the street to the post office I notice sitting inside the Nail Salon are all these female Chinese athletes WEARING MASKS and grapping the hands of old ladies!!!
Now that's disrespect!
Screw you, Tokyo!
That's all we've heard about for the last few weeks leading up to THE GAMES. How bad the air is.
So the US athletes took precautions and now all of China is pissed off at them cuz they were wearing the masks.
They wore the masks because they heard the smog was bad. Or was it the air that was bad?
And of course, China was disrespected.
Or something.
So what is my point?
My point is that this morning when walking down the street to the post office I notice sitting inside the Nail Salon are all these female Chinese athletes WEARING MASKS and grapping the hands of old ladies!!!
Now that's disrespect!
Screw you, Tokyo!
Thursday, August 07, 2008
The Rascal Extraordinaire
An old lady just came in my shop and told me I was 'The Rascal Extraordinaire'.
I told her she was Peachey McAdams.
I told her she was Peachey McAdams.
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
THE question that mankind should have been pondering
I see something and instantly have to call The Hoag.
Nobody else comes to mind.
It's a question that's laid dormant for years. It's never even entered our minds. Or yours. Yet it really was always there.
Floating on the surface.
Sitting there. Unanswered. Unasked.
For decades it sat. In plain view for anybody with a brain.
I knew The Hoag would have the answer. He had to have the answer. I hoped he would have the answer.
I was nervous.
Very nervous.
I dialed up his number (actually I pushed one button as he is on speed dial for just such a situation)
::rrrring rrrring:: ::ringring:: (actually not really a ring...more of a beepbeep or something)
It felt like forever.
But he answered.
I took a deep breath and asked the question.
I could practically see his heart stop. (Or did it beat quicker? I really have no clue as we were on the phone.)
Hoag said one word...if in fact it was a word.
A stunned Hoag could only answer with a hushed: "Woo!"
I paused. Re-grouped, and then asked him again. We discussed. We used logic.
We had no real answer. We were flummoxed. If in fact flummoxed is a word.
We discussed some more.
But we really had no idea who was faster...Speedy Gonzalez or the Road Runner.
None at all.
----------------
Thank you to DC Comics for raising this question in the new Looney Tunes comic, issue #165 avaialble at your local comic retailer. To find a comic shop in your area call 1-888-Comic Book or look on the internet at http://csls.diamondcomics.com/
Nobody else comes to mind.
It's a question that's laid dormant for years. It's never even entered our minds. Or yours. Yet it really was always there.
Floating on the surface.
Sitting there. Unanswered. Unasked.
For decades it sat. In plain view for anybody with a brain.
I knew The Hoag would have the answer. He had to have the answer. I hoped he would have the answer.
I was nervous.
Very nervous.
I dialed up his number (actually I pushed one button as he is on speed dial for just such a situation)
::rrrring rrrring:: ::ringring:: (actually not really a ring...more of a beepbeep or something)
It felt like forever.
But he answered.
I took a deep breath and asked the question.
I could practically see his heart stop. (Or did it beat quicker? I really have no clue as we were on the phone.)
Hoag said one word...if in fact it was a word.
A stunned Hoag could only answer with a hushed: "Woo!"
I paused. Re-grouped, and then asked him again. We discussed. We used logic.
We had no real answer. We were flummoxed. If in fact flummoxed is a word.
We discussed some more.
But we really had no idea who was faster...Speedy Gonzalez or the Road Runner.
None at all.
----------------
Thank you to DC Comics for raising this question in the new Looney Tunes comic, issue #165 avaialble at your local comic retailer. To find a comic shop in your area call 1-888-Comic Book or look on the internet at http://csls.diamondcomics.com/
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
Monday, August 04, 2008
Sunday, August 03, 2008
Another untold tale from the files of Doctor Intimacy
So we all attend functions and parties and family gatherings, correct?
And what happens at all of these events?
You arrive and you say hi to folks.
Men usually greet other men with a handshake, they greet women with maybe a kiss on the cheek.
Sometimes just a nod of the head or maybe a wave.
When relatives are involved you pray for the air kiss. No actual contact with Auntie Gulch please!
So anyhow...
I arrive at this party last week and start saying hi to folks, hands shaked, cheeks kissed, nods given, waves a plenty.
And then The Brit walks up to me and starts to kiss my cheek. And I tell her to kiss my neck.
And she does so without hesitation. I have her well trained.
And then I tell her to whisper in my ear.
But she doesn't. Or won't. Or something.
And the party goes on. No big deal.
Flash forward a few hours:
The party is winding down and the obligatory nods, and waves, and handshakes, and goodbye cheek kisses commence.
And then The Brit walks up to me and starts to kiss me goodbye on my cheek and I tell her to kiss my neck instead.
And she does so without hesitation. I have her well trained.
And then I tell her to whisper in my ear.
But she doesn't. Or won't. Or something.
And the party ends. No big deal.
-----
So the week goes on and I ponder why she won't whisper in my ear. Is it too intimate?
She had no problem kissing my neck. Is whispering in the ear some strange intimate British thing?
I have no idea.
So I start asking folks:
"What is more intimate...kissing someone on the neck or whispering in their ear?"
And people take the question seriously. They want to get it 'right'. And they ponder it and explain why they think such and such is more intimate (not sexual).
I ask dozens and dozens of people. Most of those people answer the same way.
It turns out to be a good question.
----------
And then about a week later I run into The Brit at a restaurant and we discuss the party and I tell her about the question and then ask her what she thinks.
And she answers.
"I think a kiss on the neck is way more intimate then whispering in someone's ear."
And I reply:
"So why wouldn't you whisper in my ear last week at the party?"
And The Brit says:
"I had nothing I wanted to say to you."
-----------
And if you look up to the top right of this blog you'll see a little poll I'm running. Feel free to click on your choice.
And what happens at all of these events?
You arrive and you say hi to folks.
Men usually greet other men with a handshake, they greet women with maybe a kiss on the cheek.
Sometimes just a nod of the head or maybe a wave.
When relatives are involved you pray for the air kiss. No actual contact with Auntie Gulch please!
So anyhow...
I arrive at this party last week and start saying hi to folks, hands shaked, cheeks kissed, nods given, waves a plenty.
And then The Brit walks up to me and starts to kiss my cheek. And I tell her to kiss my neck.
And she does so without hesitation. I have her well trained.
And then I tell her to whisper in my ear.
But she doesn't. Or won't. Or something.
And the party goes on. No big deal.
Flash forward a few hours:
The party is winding down and the obligatory nods, and waves, and handshakes, and goodbye cheek kisses commence.
And then The Brit walks up to me and starts to kiss me goodbye on my cheek and I tell her to kiss my neck instead.
And she does so without hesitation. I have her well trained.
And then I tell her to whisper in my ear.
But she doesn't. Or won't. Or something.
And the party ends. No big deal.
-----
So the week goes on and I ponder why she won't whisper in my ear. Is it too intimate?
She had no problem kissing my neck. Is whispering in the ear some strange intimate British thing?
I have no idea.
So I start asking folks:
"What is more intimate...kissing someone on the neck or whispering in their ear?"
And people take the question seriously. They want to get it 'right'. And they ponder it and explain why they think such and such is more intimate (not sexual).
I ask dozens and dozens of people. Most of those people answer the same way.
It turns out to be a good question.
----------
And then about a week later I run into The Brit at a restaurant and we discuss the party and I tell her about the question and then ask her what she thinks.
And she answers.
"I think a kiss on the neck is way more intimate then whispering in someone's ear."
And I reply:
"So why wouldn't you whisper in my ear last week at the party?"
And The Brit says:
"I had nothing I wanted to say to you."
-----------
And if you look up to the top right of this blog you'll see a little poll I'm running. Feel free to click on your choice.
Friday, August 01, 2008
The Saga of Captain Moneybags
So I'm at this anniversary party the other night at this fancy function place and I get up to get something to drink...I look around my table and ask if anybody would like a drink.
The polite thing to do. Correct?
A few people say yes, I saunter up to the bar, get said drinks, return to table, distribute drinks.
A nice normal thing to do.
Folks are talking and dancing and having fun. I'm doing two of those things.
I finish my drink and decide to get another. So I ask again if anybody wants something. I take a few orders, re-saunter to bar, repeat.
Drinks are flowing. Folks are having good conversation. You know...a party.
I look around. Some folks are with empty glasses so I ask if they would like something to drink.
Take orders. Saunter. Distribute.
Laughs. Dancing. (not me since the 'accident') Talking. Fun. You know...a party.
Drinks get emptied. I look around to see who might need a refill. Take orders. Saunter.
Repeat.
Possibly repeat again. Possibly saunter some more.
And then Wifey comes up to me. Not that she cares or anything, but it seems I'm buying folks too many drinks. $50.00 or so a round. Maybe 5 or 6 trips to the bar. Tips galore.
She's just curious what's gotten into her Captain.
I look at her.
And then I tell her.
"It's an open bar."
And that my friends is the Saga of Captain Moneybags....generous to a fault.
At an open bar.
The polite thing to do. Correct?
A few people say yes, I saunter up to the bar, get said drinks, return to table, distribute drinks.
A nice normal thing to do.
Folks are talking and dancing and having fun. I'm doing two of those things.
I finish my drink and decide to get another. So I ask again if anybody wants something. I take a few orders, re-saunter to bar, repeat.
Drinks are flowing. Folks are having good conversation. You know...a party.
I look around. Some folks are with empty glasses so I ask if they would like something to drink.
Take orders. Saunter. Distribute.
Laughs. Dancing. (not me since the 'accident') Talking. Fun. You know...a party.
Drinks get emptied. I look around to see who might need a refill. Take orders. Saunter.
Repeat.
Possibly repeat again. Possibly saunter some more.
And then Wifey comes up to me. Not that she cares or anything, but it seems I'm buying folks too many drinks. $50.00 or so a round. Maybe 5 or 6 trips to the bar. Tips galore.
She's just curious what's gotten into her Captain.
I look at her.
And then I tell her.
"It's an open bar."
And that my friends is the Saga of Captain Moneybags....generous to a fault.
At an open bar.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
the AM/PM guy makes an appearance
GUY: "How much does this Batman cost?"
ME: "It's priced on the bottom of the package."
GUY: "How much is this Spider-Man paperweight?"
ME: "It's priced on the bottom."
GUY: "Where are the Captain America comics?"
ME: "I put them in the bins in alphabetical order."
GUY: "Can you show me?"
ME: "Yes...they are right....here...in the C section."
GUY: "Where are the Spider-Man comics?"
ME: "They should be in those bins over there ::points over there:: in alphabetical order in the S section."
GUY: "Can you show me?"
ME: ::shows him::
GUY: "How much are they?"
ME: "All the comics in the bins have a price tag on the upper right hand corner."
GUY: "How much does this one cost?"
ME: :::looks at price tag on upper right hand corner:: "That one is $4.75!"
GUY: "Where are the Flash comics?"
ME: "They are in the bins in alphabetical order...check the F section right over there :::points to F section right over there:::
GUY: "I can't find them...all I see are Fantastic Fours."
ME: "The Flash are right there next to them!"
GUY: "Found them! Thank you, My Friend!"
:::GUY brings up stuff to the register:::
ME: :::rings up stuff and gives him the total::: "That will be $48.91."
GUY: "Can you put my stuff in a bag before I pay you?"
ME: "Sure!" ::I do as requested::
GUY: ::gives me $50.00::
ME: "And here is your change...9 cents makes $49, and a dollar makes $50."
GUY: ::looks at change in a funny way:: "I gave you a Fifty."
ME: "Yes. the total was $48.91 and I gave you $1.09 in change which adds up to $50.00 on the button!"
GUY: "You are right! Thank you my friend! You'll be seeing a LOT of me!"
ME: "Thank you! Have a great day, My Friend!"
GUY: "What time are you open tomorrow?"
ME: "11:30am until 6:30pm"
Moral of the story?
Guy won.
ME: "It's priced on the bottom of the package."
GUY: "How much is this Spider-Man paperweight?"
ME: "It's priced on the bottom."
GUY: "Where are the Captain America comics?"
ME: "I put them in the bins in alphabetical order."
GUY: "Can you show me?"
ME: "Yes...they are right....here...in the C section."
GUY: "Where are the Spider-Man comics?"
ME: "They should be in those bins over there ::points over there:: in alphabetical order in the S section."
GUY: "Can you show me?"
ME: ::shows him::
GUY: "How much are they?"
ME: "All the comics in the bins have a price tag on the upper right hand corner."
GUY: "How much does this one cost?"
ME: :::looks at price tag on upper right hand corner:: "That one is $4.75!"
GUY: "Where are the Flash comics?"
ME: "They are in the bins in alphabetical order...check the F section right over there :::points to F section right over there:::
GUY: "I can't find them...all I see are Fantastic Fours."
ME: "The Flash are right there next to them!"
GUY: "Found them! Thank you, My Friend!"
:::GUY brings up stuff to the register:::
ME: :::rings up stuff and gives him the total::: "That will be $48.91."
GUY: "Can you put my stuff in a bag before I pay you?"
ME: "Sure!" ::I do as requested::
GUY: ::gives me $50.00::
ME: "And here is your change...9 cents makes $49, and a dollar makes $50."
GUY: ::looks at change in a funny way:: "I gave you a Fifty."
ME: "Yes. the total was $48.91 and I gave you $1.09 in change which adds up to $50.00 on the button!"
GUY: "You are right! Thank you my friend! You'll be seeing a LOT of me!"
ME: "Thank you! Have a great day, My Friend!"
GUY: "What time are you open tomorrow?"
ME: "11:30am until 6:30pm"
Moral of the story?
Guy won.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
a special evening interlude for all of the night owls in the audience
Every single DUDE in The Big Lebowski.
Crusty Bunker
So today is new comic book day and as I flip through a brand new series by Marvel Comics one of the characters mentions a sex act.
The dialogue goes something like this:
HOOKER: "He wanted me to give him a "Crusty Bunker"...and here I thought I've heard and done it all."
So I flip through the story some more and come across this passage:
HOOKER: "And before I forget...for those of you that need to know--there's no such thing as a 'Crusty Bunker'. "
--------
SO TO SUM UP:
The world apparently needs a new sex act and it needs to be called the Crusty Bunker.
PS
Thank you Marvel Comics!
The dialogue goes something like this:
HOOKER: "He wanted me to give him a "Crusty Bunker"...and here I thought I've heard and done it all."
So I flip through the story some more and come across this passage:
HOOKER: "And before I forget...for those of you that need to know--there's no such thing as a 'Crusty Bunker'. "
--------
SO TO SUM UP:
The world apparently needs a new sex act and it needs to be called the Crusty Bunker.
PS
Thank you Marvel Comics!
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
Idiot Savant to be alone
PHONE RINGS AT STORE:
ME: "Groovy Store, may I help you?"
GUY: "What are your hours?"
ME: "Monday through Friday 11:30-6:30, Saturday 10:00 through 5:00, and Sunday 12:00 through 5:00."
GUY: "What are your hours on Monday?"
ME: "Monday-Friday 11:30-6:30. Saturday 10:00-5:00, and Sunday 12:00-5:00."
GUY: "What time do you open on Monday?"
ME: "11:30."
GUY: "AM or PM?"
ME: "AM"
GUY: "What time do you close?"
ME: "6:30."
GUY: "AM or PM?"
ME: "PM."
GUY: "What time do you open on Tuesday?"
ME: "11:30."
GUY: "AM or PM?"
At this point I know I'm doing an Abbott and Costello routine with the guy.
ME: "AM."
GUY: "11:30 AM?"
ME: "Yes."
GUY: "What time do you close?"
ME: "We are open Monday thru Friday 11:30-6:30, Saturday 10:00-5:00, and Sunday 12:00-5:00."
GUY: "I was down your shop the other day and it was awesome and I can't wait until two and half weeks from now to come down and spend lots of money. I want everything!"
ME: "Great...looking forward to you coming down!"
GUY: "What time do you open on Wednesday?"
:::sigh:: This goes on all the way through the days until Sunday. I give the answers he needs, and I can practically see him writing down each individual day and their times (AM and PM...you know, cuz lots of my type of stores open at 11:30 at night and close at 6:30 in the morning)...but I slog through it.
GUY: "What time do you open on Sunday?"
ME: "12:00"
GUY: "AM or PM?"
And all of sudden I was the dumbest guy on the planet. I had a retard on the phone asking retard questions yet the retard stumped the Boy Genius. I had no idea if 12 noon was AM or PM.
ME: "12 noon."
GUY: "Is that AM or PM."
ME: "12 in the afternoon."
GUY: "AM or PM?"
ME: "And Sunday from 12:00 in the afternoon until 5:00 in the evening. Thank you, hope to see you soon!"
-----------------
former, latter, moon revolves around sun, left loosey, righty tighty, Winston Churchill....
ME: "Groovy Store, may I help you?"
GUY: "What are your hours?"
ME: "Monday through Friday 11:30-6:30, Saturday 10:00 through 5:00, and Sunday 12:00 through 5:00."
GUY: "What are your hours on Monday?"
ME: "Monday-Friday 11:30-6:30. Saturday 10:00-5:00, and Sunday 12:00-5:00."
GUY: "What time do you open on Monday?"
ME: "11:30."
GUY: "AM or PM?"
ME: "AM"
GUY: "What time do you close?"
ME: "6:30."
GUY: "AM or PM?"
ME: "PM."
GUY: "What time do you open on Tuesday?"
ME: "11:30."
GUY: "AM or PM?"
At this point I know I'm doing an Abbott and Costello routine with the guy.
ME: "AM."
GUY: "11:30 AM?"
ME: "Yes."
GUY: "What time do you close?"
ME: "We are open Monday thru Friday 11:30-6:30, Saturday 10:00-5:00, and Sunday 12:00-5:00."
GUY: "I was down your shop the other day and it was awesome and I can't wait until two and half weeks from now to come down and spend lots of money. I want everything!"
ME: "Great...looking forward to you coming down!"
GUY: "What time do you open on Wednesday?"
:::sigh:: This goes on all the way through the days until Sunday. I give the answers he needs, and I can practically see him writing down each individual day and their times (AM and PM...you know, cuz lots of my type of stores open at 11:30 at night and close at 6:30 in the morning)...but I slog through it.
GUY: "What time do you open on Sunday?"
ME: "12:00"
GUY: "AM or PM?"
And all of sudden I was the dumbest guy on the planet. I had a retard on the phone asking retard questions yet the retard stumped the Boy Genius. I had no idea if 12 noon was AM or PM.
ME: "12 noon."
GUY: "Is that AM or PM."
ME: "12 in the afternoon."
GUY: "AM or PM?"
ME: "And Sunday from 12:00 in the afternoon until 5:00 in the evening. Thank you, hope to see you soon!"
-----------------
former, latter, moon revolves around sun, left loosey, righty tighty, Winston Churchill....
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Trial by Gravy
The other day I gave my dog a bit of my mashed potatoes and gravy.
I put it in her dog dish.
Puppy ate said mashed potatoes.
A few days later Wifey says to me: "Damn dog, she got gravy everywhere!"
One simple act. One simple statement.
But let's examine that further, shall we? Under the guise of a trial.
-----------
BALLIFF: "Please state your full name."
WIFEY: "Wifey D. Ogghader."
BALLIFF: "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"
WIFEY: "Whatever."
DASH McLAWYER: "Did you state in your sworn deposition that the "dog got gravy everywhere"
WIFEY: "Yes."
DASH: "Did the dog in fact get the gravy everywhere?"
WIFEY: "Yes."
DASH: "Did the dog get the gravy on the countertop?"
WIFEY: "No."
DASH: "Did the dog get the gravy on the toaster?"
WIFEY: "No."
DASH: "Did the dog get the gravy on the phone?"
WIFEY: "No."
DASH: "Did the dog get the gravy on the doorknob?"
WIFEY: "No."
DASH: "Did the dog get the gravy on the table?"
WIFEY: "No."
DASH: "Did the dog get the gravy on the television set?"
WIFEY: "No."
DASH: "Can you please tell this court, where in fact, the dog got the gravy!?"
WIFEY: "Everywhere."
DASH: "No further questions. The prosecution rests."
I put it in her dog dish.
Puppy ate said mashed potatoes.
A few days later Wifey says to me: "Damn dog, she got gravy everywhere!"
One simple act. One simple statement.
But let's examine that further, shall we? Under the guise of a trial.
-----------
BALLIFF: "Please state your full name."
WIFEY: "Wifey D. Ogghader."
BALLIFF: "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"
WIFEY: "Whatever."
DASH McLAWYER: "Did you state in your sworn deposition that the "dog got gravy everywhere"
WIFEY: "Yes."
DASH: "Did the dog in fact get the gravy everywhere?"
WIFEY: "Yes."
DASH: "Did the dog get the gravy on the countertop?"
WIFEY: "No."
DASH: "Did the dog get the gravy on the toaster?"
WIFEY: "No."
DASH: "Did the dog get the gravy on the phone?"
WIFEY: "No."
DASH: "Did the dog get the gravy on the doorknob?"
WIFEY: "No."
DASH: "Did the dog get the gravy on the table?"
WIFEY: "No."
DASH: "Did the dog get the gravy on the television set?"
WIFEY: "No."
DASH: "Can you please tell this court, where in fact, the dog got the gravy!?"
WIFEY: "Everywhere."
DASH: "No further questions. The prosecution rests."
Friday, July 25, 2008
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Obama
Anyhow...
So I hear this on the radio this morning:
RADIO GUY: "So you gave money to Obama, huh?
CALLER: "Yup."
RADIO GUY: "Just practicing for if he gets elected?"
------
SO TO SUM UP:
There will be another major terrorist attack on US soil in a year or so and you're gonna pay more taxes but troops that enlisted and were willing to go to war might come home early.
Or something.
God Bless The USA.
So I hear this on the radio this morning:
RADIO GUY: "So you gave money to Obama, huh?
CALLER: "Yup."
RADIO GUY: "Just practicing for if he gets elected?"
------
SO TO SUM UP:
There will be another major terrorist attack on US soil in a year or so and you're gonna pay more taxes but troops that enlisted and were willing to go to war might come home early.
Or something.
God Bless The USA.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Everybody has an opinion...this guy is just an idiot....and whipped cream and other delights.
So I get a phone call last night from someone telling me how awful the new Dark Knight movie is.
This person has in the past told me how good Christmas With The Kranks is.
I don't think I'll be paying for his movie reviews anytime soon.
-------------
Over on Cake's blog she mentions singing at concerts. Lots of people sing at concerts.
Wanna know something?
It's rude.
Don't sit next to me and sing at a concert. Shut up!
If I'm paying to see Celine, I wanna HEAR Celine!
---------------
So The Blonde is (was) part of buddy night and she missed four weeks in a row. So she got the boot.
But we decided to be fair and let her voice her excuses in an Arbritration Hearing this Thursday night (Buddy Night)...guess what? She blew us off once again. 5 weeks in a row!!
Wanna take her spot for Thursday night hijinx?
Feel free to submit your resume at iaintnooprah@aol.com
This person has in the past told me how good Christmas With The Kranks is.
I don't think I'll be paying for his movie reviews anytime soon.
-------------
Over on Cake's blog she mentions singing at concerts. Lots of people sing at concerts.
Wanna know something?
It's rude.
Don't sit next to me and sing at a concert. Shut up!
If I'm paying to see Celine, I wanna HEAR Celine!
---------------
So The Blonde is (was) part of buddy night and she missed four weeks in a row. So she got the boot.
But we decided to be fair and let her voice her excuses in an Arbritration Hearing this Thursday night (Buddy Night)...guess what? She blew us off once again. 5 weeks in a row!!
Wanna take her spot for Thursday night hijinx?
Feel free to submit your resume at iaintnooprah@aol.com
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
The note
A couple of things you need to know:
I have a small dog that stays in the house but needs to be taken out to the garage where the WC is.
The other thing you need to know is that Wifey and Youngest went away for the week.
And Wifey leaves the obligatory note on the counter telling us what needs to be done....you know, the kinda onlya wife would leave.
And in that said note, after all of the: don't light the couch on fire and turn off the shower when you're done with it kinda stuff she leaves this gem:
"Take the dog out constantly."
Constantly.
Take the dog out constantly.
So to sum up:
Wifey and Youngest are out in the sun on the beach drinking wine coolers and eating lobsters and me and Oldest are taking the dog out.
Constantly.
I have a small dog that stays in the house but needs to be taken out to the garage where the WC is.
The other thing you need to know is that Wifey and Youngest went away for the week.
And Wifey leaves the obligatory note on the counter telling us what needs to be done....you know, the kinda onlya wife would leave.
And in that said note, after all of the: don't light the couch on fire and turn off the shower when you're done with it kinda stuff she leaves this gem:
"Take the dog out constantly."
Constantly.
Take the dog out constantly.
So to sum up:
Wifey and Youngest are out in the sun on the beach drinking wine coolers and eating lobsters and me and Oldest are taking the dog out.
Constantly.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Jesse Jackson talks about the new Batman movie.
That's what today's blog was gonna be about.
And then I realized that except for the film being called The Dark Knight and the Joker kicking Batman in the nuts there really wasn't anyway to tie it all togther.
So then I thought maybe I'd change the title to: Hillary talks about the new Batman movie.
But then I realized except for when The Joker kicked The Batman in the cankles there really wasn't anyway to tie it all together.
So then I thought what if I changed it to Ed McMahon talks about the new Batman movie.
But other than Ed having a broken neck and not being able to move his neck...and Batman mentioning that he also can't move his neck with the stupid costume on, there was no way to tie it all together.
So then I thought maybe I could make it about Virgil Tibbs talking about the new Batman movie but all I had was a IN THE HEAT OF THE DARK KNIGHT joke, and though brilliant, I couldn't quite pad a whole blog out with it.
Or could I?
BATMAN: "I'm Batman."
VIRGIL: "They call me MISTER Tibbs"
So now I have two jokes. But two jokes about Virgil Tibbs and Batman still do not make a blog.
Or does it?
And then I realized that except for the film being called The Dark Knight and the Joker kicking Batman in the nuts there really wasn't anyway to tie it all togther.
So then I thought maybe I'd change the title to: Hillary talks about the new Batman movie.
But then I realized except for when The Joker kicked The Batman in the cankles there really wasn't anyway to tie it all together.
So then I thought what if I changed it to Ed McMahon talks about the new Batman movie.
But other than Ed having a broken neck and not being able to move his neck...and Batman mentioning that he also can't move his neck with the stupid costume on, there was no way to tie it all together.
So then I thought maybe I could make it about Virgil Tibbs talking about the new Batman movie but all I had was a IN THE HEAT OF THE DARK KNIGHT joke, and though brilliant, I couldn't quite pad a whole blog out with it.
Or could I?
BATMAN: "I'm Batman."
VIRGIL: "They call me MISTER Tibbs"
So now I have two jokes. But two jokes about Virgil Tibbs and Batman still do not make a blog.
Or does it?
Friday, July 18, 2008
Conversation with The Bank Teller
So I go into the bank to make a cash deposit.
Here is the conversation:
ME: "Hi."
BANK TELLER: "Hi."
:::a few newer bills sticking together noise::::
BANK TELLER: "We've been getting A LOT of new bills lately."
ME: "Oh?"
BANK TELLER: "We get lots of old bills also."
ME: "Do you ever get any bills from like four or five months ago?"
BANK TELLER: "Oh yes, we get those also!"
ME: "So basically you get most kinds of bills that are in circulation, correct?"
BANK TELLER: "Yup!"
-------------
PS
And then she got up and walked over to the bill counting machine and I noticed that her lower half was at least six times larger than her upper half.
Though I'm not quite sure what that has to do with: Conversation with The Bank Teller.
Here is the conversation:
ME: "Hi."
BANK TELLER: "Hi."
:::a few newer bills sticking together noise::::
BANK TELLER: "We've been getting A LOT of new bills lately."
ME: "Oh?"
BANK TELLER: "We get lots of old bills also."
ME: "Do you ever get any bills from like four or five months ago?"
BANK TELLER: "Oh yes, we get those also!"
ME: "So basically you get most kinds of bills that are in circulation, correct?"
BANK TELLER: "Yup!"
-------------
PS
And then she got up and walked over to the bill counting machine and I noticed that her lower half was at least six times larger than her upper half.
Though I'm not quite sure what that has to do with: Conversation with The Bank Teller.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Jesse Jackson wants to cut off nigger's nuts !
Seems Jesse got himself into trouble once again by saying the word Nigger .
(Last week it was cutting off of Nuts.)
The press would report it as:
'The Rev. Jesse Jackson wants to cut off N*****'s N***.
Or possibly:
'The Rev. Jesse Jackson wants to cut off the N's of a N-word'
Or maybe:
'The Rev. Jesse Jackson would like to cut off the testicles off of an African American peer.
Or something.
Back to fishing...
(Last week it was cutting off of Nuts.)
The press would report it as:
'The Rev. Jesse Jackson wants to cut off N*****'s N***.
Or possibly:
'The Rev. Jesse Jackson wants to cut off the N's of a N-word'
Or maybe:
'The Rev. Jesse Jackson would like to cut off the testicles off of an African American peer.
Or something.
Back to fishing...
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Kids still play marbles?
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>Nujood Ali is 10 years old, but she already has been married and divorced. Chastised in Yemen for challenging convention, she recently told CNN she was raped and abused by her husband. "I didn't want to sleep with him, but he forced me to," she said, between playing marbles with her siblings<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
-----------------
The above was on CNN.com today.
I wonder if this story will make marbles popular again?
-----------------
The above was on CNN.com today.
I wonder if this story will make marbles popular again?
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
"They're a grubby-looking bunch of caterwaulers."
I have no real post for this. I just liked the sentence.
It might be on my top ten list of great sentences.
To find out what the sentence means in context, it's right here...
http://fieldnotes.msnbc.msn.com/archive/2008/07/15/1199774.aspx
It might be on my top ten list of great sentences.
To find out what the sentence means in context, it's right here...
http://fieldnotes.msnbc.msn.com/archive/2008/07/15/1199774.aspx
I surrender.
Clinky is SO gonna win for the next month or so. We don't stand a chance.
It's a competition, correct?
It's a competition, correct?
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Friday, July 11, 2008
The 10th anniversary of 9/11
How original, huh?
Everybody on the planet is probably writing a 10th anniversary of 9/11 blog today.
So sue me.
My Mom died in the North Tower that day, and I feel like I can write about 9/11 on it's anniversary. So shut up.
Everybody always asks if you remember what you were doing that fateful day....I sure do!
I was watching a documentary on the JFK assassination, then I switched over to one on the RFK assassination. I watched a bit of the OJ Bronco chase and most of Capricorn One.
And then the planes hit.
I've been a bit obsessive about it ever since (WOW! Ten years....went fast)
And today it hit me! I finally figured it out!
4 planes. Two hit the World Trade Center, one hit the Pentagon, and one crashed in a field.
Well guess what? Bin Laden wasn't after the Trade Center or the Pentagon....he wanted to destroy our fields!!
Our precious fields! Amber ways of grain. And stuff!
Ten years and I finally figured it out!
Our precious fields!
Bastards!
My mom could have been in that field.
Your mom could have been also.
(I wonder if our Moms would have liked each other? I wonder if they would have liked that field?)
And now....everytime I see a field I shudder (or do I shiver?) I always forget.
But I'll never forget this date, ten years ago, when evil tried to wreck our fields.
Never forget.
Field of Nightmares. Field of Dreams. Field of Tossing & Turning and Dying and Burning
Or something.
::wipes away one lone salty manly tear::
PS
Now I want popcorn.
Everybody on the planet is probably writing a 10th anniversary of 9/11 blog today.
So sue me.
My Mom died in the North Tower that day, and I feel like I can write about 9/11 on it's anniversary. So shut up.
Everybody always asks if you remember what you were doing that fateful day....I sure do!
I was watching a documentary on the JFK assassination, then I switched over to one on the RFK assassination. I watched a bit of the OJ Bronco chase and most of Capricorn One.
And then the planes hit.
I've been a bit obsessive about it ever since (WOW! Ten years....went fast)
And today it hit me! I finally figured it out!
4 planes. Two hit the World Trade Center, one hit the Pentagon, and one crashed in a field.
Well guess what? Bin Laden wasn't after the Trade Center or the Pentagon....he wanted to destroy our fields!!
Our precious fields! Amber ways of grain. And stuff!
Ten years and I finally figured it out!
Our precious fields!
Bastards!
My mom could have been in that field.
Your mom could have been also.
(I wonder if our Moms would have liked each other? I wonder if they would have liked that field?)
And now....everytime I see a field I shudder (or do I shiver?) I always forget.
But I'll never forget this date, ten years ago, when evil tried to wreck our fields.
Never forget.
Field of Nightmares. Field of Dreams. Field of Tossing & Turning and Dying and Burning
Or something.
::wipes away one lone salty manly tear::
PS
Now I want popcorn.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
The Sears Truck
A SEARS truck just drove by my shop and on the side of the truck it proudly proclamied:
SEARS: WHERE IT ALL BEGINS.
What the hell does that even mean? Where what begins?
Nothing begins at SEARS.
Except of course maybe the 1930s. Or something.
SO TO SUM UP:
SEARS: Where you go if all other options have already been explored and exhausted and you just have to have a Craftsman Circular Saw Clock for your workshop.
SEARS: WHERE IT ALL BEGINS.
What the hell does that even mean? Where what begins?
Nothing begins at SEARS.
Except of course maybe the 1930s. Or something.
SO TO SUM UP:
SEARS: Where you go if all other options have already been explored and exhausted and you just have to have a Craftsman Circular Saw Clock for your workshop.
"I want to cut his nuts off."
That was the big quote of the week.
It was Jesse Jackson saying it about Barack Obama.
Jesse wants to cut off Obama's nuts.
Once cut off, what on earth was Jesse planning on doing with said nuts? Gonna cook up some brownies?
I wonder if Jesse was planning to cut Obama's nuts off when he visted HymieTown.
Jesse says some kooky things.
PS
I wonder if he also wanted to cut off Hillary's nuts ?
PPSS
I wonder what Jesse wanted to do to the Wax sculpture of Hitler?
http://elections.foxnews.com/2008/07/09/jesse-jackson-apologizes-for-obama-remarks/
It was Jesse Jackson saying it about Barack Obama.
Jesse wants to cut off Obama's nuts.
Once cut off, what on earth was Jesse planning on doing with said nuts? Gonna cook up some brownies?
I wonder if Jesse was planning to cut Obama's nuts off when he visted HymieTown.
Jesse says some kooky things.
PS
I wonder if he also wanted to cut off Hillary's nuts ?
PPSS
I wonder what Jesse wanted to do to the Wax sculpture of Hitler?
http://elections.foxnews.com/2008/07/09/jesse-jackson-apologizes-for-obama-remarks/
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
Lamont has a blog
It's over there in the LINKS section (clever, huh?)
I give him three weeks and then he'll burnout.
Or something.
I give him three weeks and then he'll burnout.
Or something.
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
My Rolled Coin Blog.
Someone mentioned the other day that they were out of ideas for blogs and they were gonna post a blog about coin rolling.
And it reminded me of the time I fought off aliens, saved the princess, and rolled up about 40 large....all in dimes.
---------
I was flying shotgun (I don't even know what that means) in the X-27 Warp Modulator (no clue what that means) and trying to roll up my coin at the same time when all of sudden a fiery red carbopulation cane came streaming towards my docking bay (or something)....it broke of the hinge of the recess hatch.
I was doomed! Silver Roosevelts were floating all over my craft, the princess was still in dire need (winkwink), and I had dinner plans at 8:00!
So quickly I jammed the throttle to hyper-kill, reversed the props, rolled the coin, saved Diana, patched the hinge, returned to sector 52, had dinner.
I was in bed by 11:00.
I dreamt of rolled pennies and Malomar C-47.
But that's a story for another day!
And it reminded me of the time I fought off aliens, saved the princess, and rolled up about 40 large....all in dimes.
---------
I was flying shotgun (I don't even know what that means) in the X-27 Warp Modulator (no clue what that means) and trying to roll up my coin at the same time when all of sudden a fiery red carbopulation cane came streaming towards my docking bay (or something)....it broke of the hinge of the recess hatch.
I was doomed! Silver Roosevelts were floating all over my craft, the princess was still in dire need (winkwink), and I had dinner plans at 8:00!
So quickly I jammed the throttle to hyper-kill, reversed the props, rolled the coin, saved Diana, patched the hinge, returned to sector 52, had dinner.
I was in bed by 11:00.
I dreamt of rolled pennies and Malomar C-47.
But that's a story for another day!
Monday, July 07, 2008
Would this person be stupid or would this person be J*net?
PERSON: "So I'm driving by this clear building and..."
ME: "You mean a building with a lot of windows?"
PERSON: "Well, yes..."
ME: "You mean a building with a lot of windows?"
PERSON: "Well, yes..."
The Stupid Joe Morgan
There are two Joe Morgans.
A good Joe Morgan. A bad Joe Morgan.
One used to manage the Boston Red Sox in the 1980s (remember Morgan Magic?)...and he was funny and smart and just an all around good guy. The Good Joe Morgan.
And then there is the other Joe Morgan. He's an idiot.
He used to play for the Reds back in the 1970s. He wa s agood player...made the Hall of Fame.
The Bad Joe Morgan.
But now he is an announcer and calls the national games for ESPN.
Did I mention he's an idiot?
So last night he's doing the Red Sox Yankees game and he starts to comment on David Ortiz who is out with an injury.
And he says (I'm paraphrasing....I'm sure his EXACT words were worse)
"David Ortiz can make a difference in a 1 run game but not much in a 4 or 5 run game."
------
What are you talking about Joe you big stupid idiot??? Ya big stupid idiot. Idiot.
------
I love baseball but it's painful to watch when this big stupid idiot opens his big stupid mouth.
Idiot.
A good Joe Morgan. A bad Joe Morgan.
One used to manage the Boston Red Sox in the 1980s (remember Morgan Magic?)...and he was funny and smart and just an all around good guy. The Good Joe Morgan.
And then there is the other Joe Morgan. He's an idiot.
He used to play for the Reds back in the 1970s. He wa s agood player...made the Hall of Fame.
The Bad Joe Morgan.
But now he is an announcer and calls the national games for ESPN.
Did I mention he's an idiot?
So last night he's doing the Red Sox Yankees game and he starts to comment on David Ortiz who is out with an injury.
And he says (I'm paraphrasing....I'm sure his EXACT words were worse)
"David Ortiz can make a difference in a 1 run game but not much in a 4 or 5 run game."
------
What are you talking about Joe you big stupid idiot??? Ya big stupid idiot. Idiot.
------
I love baseball but it's painful to watch when this big stupid idiot opens his big stupid mouth.
Idiot.
Saturday, July 05, 2008
I wanted to rip off Hitler's head.
The other day they announced that at Madame Tussauds Wax Museum they were putting up a Adolf Hitler exhibit.
But not to glorify him.
They were gonna treat old Uncle Adolf different than the other wax figures. You weren't going to be able to have your picture taken with Adolf.
They didn't want to glorify him. .
The display was going to show him in his final days as a frail tired man sitting at his desk.
They didn't want to glorify him.
And yesterday the exhibit opened.
And the first person in saw him and left.
The second guy to see the exhibit jumped over the barrier they had set up and ripped off Hitler's head.
But not to glorify him.
And he got arrested! For ripping off Hitler's head!
It's a crime to rip off Hitler's head!
And now I'm all jealous because Hitler Head Ripper Off-er is gonna be a prison celebrity!
"What are you in for?"
"I stole a car."
"What are you in for?
"I robbed a bank."
"What are you in for?"
"I ripped off Adolf Hitler's head."
-----------------------
http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,376683,00.html
But not to glorify him.
They were gonna treat old Uncle Adolf different than the other wax figures. You weren't going to be able to have your picture taken with Adolf.
They didn't want to glorify him. .
The display was going to show him in his final days as a frail tired man sitting at his desk.
They didn't want to glorify him.
And yesterday the exhibit opened.
And the first person in saw him and left.
The second guy to see the exhibit jumped over the barrier they had set up and ripped off Hitler's head.
But not to glorify him.
And he got arrested! For ripping off Hitler's head!
It's a crime to rip off Hitler's head!
And now I'm all jealous because Hitler Head Ripper Off-er is gonna be a prison celebrity!
"What are you in for?"
"I stole a car."
"What are you in for?
"I robbed a bank."
"What are you in for?"
"I ripped off Adolf Hitler's head."
-----------------------
http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,376683,00.html
Friday, July 04, 2008
They call me MISTER Dibs !
So last night was Buddy Nite. It usually consists of me, The Hoag, and The Blonde.
Sometime during the day either through text messages, emails, or phone calls we decide where to eat or what to do.
But all during the day yesterday we never hear from The Blonde.
Nothing. El Nada.
So use our back up plan and we meet at the "usual spot" just in case she had some communication breakdown.
Or something.
But she's not there.
And it's at that moment we realize that she must have died. Cuz she would have called , correct?
Here is how the conversation went once we figured out she was in heaven:
ME: "I've got dibs on her new Sony flat screen!"
HOAG: "Dibs on her Bose!"
ME: "New rug...MINE!"
HOAG: "Her undergarments!"
ME: "The grill !"
HOAG: "Good...I hate that grill"
ME: "Her new sectional sofa!"
HOAG: "Fuck."
ME: "Laptop!"
HOAG: "Hammock!"
ME: "Meats and snacks!"
HOAG: "Booze!"
ME: "I don't want anything else."
HOAG: "Me neither."
ME: "What should we do now?"
HOAG: "Go eat."
ME: "I'll miss her."
HOAG: "Me too."
ME: "What should we eat?"
HOAG: "Italian"
So To Sum Up:
They Call Me MISTER Dibs.
They call Hoag, Hoag.
Sometime during the day either through text messages, emails, or phone calls we decide where to eat or what to do.
But all during the day yesterday we never hear from The Blonde.
Nothing. El Nada.
So use our back up plan and we meet at the "usual spot" just in case she had some communication breakdown.
Or something.
But she's not there.
And it's at that moment we realize that she must have died. Cuz she would have called , correct?
Here is how the conversation went once we figured out she was in heaven:
ME: "I've got dibs on her new Sony flat screen!"
HOAG: "Dibs on her Bose!"
ME: "New rug...MINE!"
HOAG: "Her undergarments!"
ME: "The grill !"
HOAG: "Good...I hate that grill"
ME: "Her new sectional sofa!"
HOAG: "Fuck."
ME: "Laptop!"
HOAG: "Hammock!"
ME: "Meats and snacks!"
HOAG: "Booze!"
ME: "I don't want anything else."
HOAG: "Me neither."
ME: "What should we do now?"
HOAG: "Go eat."
ME: "I'll miss her."
HOAG: "Me too."
ME: "What should we eat?"
HOAG: "Italian"
So To Sum Up:
They Call Me MISTER Dibs.
They call Hoag, Hoag.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
A George Carlin story by proxy
I should have told this story last week but I had forgotten about it. Hoag reminded me.
Years ago we went to see George Carlin in concert.
The concert was held at a predominantly Jewish college so when we got to our seats we instantly were feeling kinda out of place as two of the only white guys in attendance.
It's not that folks were mean to us or anything but you could see their stares and points and stuff.
No big deal. We were there to see George. A white guy.
But we were in our seats, which were fold up chairs, all tied together with those plastic fastener thingies that cops use when busting up large crowds.
And it was very uncomfortable. Everyone was sitting way too close together and it was just awkward.
So Hoag takes out his switchblade (knife, not comb) and starts cutting the fasteners away on our seats.
And then some folks close to us see what he's doing and ask if he'll cut through theirs.
So Hoag (friend of the Jews) starts going seat to seat cutting the plastic things and freeing everyone from sitting in rigid rows.
And by the time the show started the two white guys were now pals with a room filled with non-white guys.
POINT OF THE STORY:
Comedy is colorblind.
Or something.
Years ago we went to see George Carlin in concert.
The concert was held at a predominantly Jewish college so when we got to our seats we instantly were feeling kinda out of place as two of the only white guys in attendance.
It's not that folks were mean to us or anything but you could see their stares and points and stuff.
No big deal. We were there to see George. A white guy.
But we were in our seats, which were fold up chairs, all tied together with those plastic fastener thingies that cops use when busting up large crowds.
And it was very uncomfortable. Everyone was sitting way too close together and it was just awkward.
So Hoag takes out his switchblade (knife, not comb) and starts cutting the fasteners away on our seats.
And then some folks close to us see what he's doing and ask if he'll cut through theirs.
So Hoag (friend of the Jews) starts going seat to seat cutting the plastic things and freeing everyone from sitting in rigid rows.
And by the time the show started the two white guys were now pals with a room filled with non-white guys.
POINT OF THE STORY:
Comedy is colorblind.
Or something.
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
Don't Feed The Brids
Years ago we saw that sign up in a restaurant in Laconia, New Hampshire.
DON'T FEED THE BRIDS. The brids.
Was it a typo?
Surely someone must have noticed and told the owner of the place that his sign was all wrong.
Or do brids live in Laconia? Are brids native to Laconia? I never saw them anywhere else.
And why shouldn't we feed said brids? Do they get fat? By feeding the brids do they hang around too long and scare off the tourists?
Now when you go up to Laconia as a teenager and see a sign telling you NOT to do something....well, guess what?
You want to do what it says not to.
SO TO SUM UP:
Me and Hoag fed the brids.
DON'T FEED THE BRIDS. The brids.
Was it a typo?
Surely someone must have noticed and told the owner of the place that his sign was all wrong.
Or do brids live in Laconia? Are brids native to Laconia? I never saw them anywhere else.
And why shouldn't we feed said brids? Do they get fat? By feeding the brids do they hang around too long and scare off the tourists?
Now when you go up to Laconia as a teenager and see a sign telling you NOT to do something....well, guess what?
You want to do what it says not to.
SO TO SUM UP:
Me and Hoag fed the brids.
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
The Circle Of Life
So this past weekend I went camping.
Camping, as in near a lake. In a tent.
In fact, a whole bunch of us went. Near a lake. In some tents.
So anyhow around two in the morning I wake up and need to go to the campground restroom to check how my hair looks (or something)
The restroom is up a hill in the middle of the woods (but close by)
2:00 am hair looks pretty good and I start back to my tent when all of a sudden I spot a bear!
There is a bear standing next to a tree about 20 feet from me.
I remember my bear training from The Hoag and I stand motionless (except for my hair which is blowing nicely in the wind)
And then I hear the bear roar!
"DAD! It's me!"
Holy crap! I'm the father of a bear!!! I'm the father of a talking bear!!"
"Dad, it's me...I'm over here!"
And then it dawned on me....that was my human daughter standing by the tree. At 2:00 am.
I was still wary of bear and remembered my teenage girl training I received from The Hoag...always approach with caution.
So what was human daughter doing at 2:00 am, in the woods, pretending she was a bear?
Turns out she was pretending to be a queasy bear and she was vomiting at the base of the tree.
And I did what any human father would do. I said:
"I hope you feel better in the morning...I'm going back to my tent. Be careful."
Fast forward 6 hours or so:
I get up and head to the campground restroom to check on my hair and I notice two chipmunks messing around with my daughter's vomit that is still pooled at the base of the tree.
I quickly name one of the chipmunks 'Dale'. I can't think of what to name the second one.
POINT OF THE STORY:
When camping, you experience the Circle of Life (or Cheerios, or whatever it is she ate that made her sick) first hand.
Or of course, something.
Camping, as in near a lake. In a tent.
In fact, a whole bunch of us went. Near a lake. In some tents.
So anyhow around two in the morning I wake up and need to go to the campground restroom to check how my hair looks (or something)
The restroom is up a hill in the middle of the woods (but close by)
2:00 am hair looks pretty good and I start back to my tent when all of a sudden I spot a bear!
There is a bear standing next to a tree about 20 feet from me.
I remember my bear training from The Hoag and I stand motionless (except for my hair which is blowing nicely in the wind)
And then I hear the bear roar!
"DAD! It's me!"
Holy crap! I'm the father of a bear!!! I'm the father of a talking bear!!"
"Dad, it's me...I'm over here!"
And then it dawned on me....that was my human daughter standing by the tree. At 2:00 am.
I was still wary of bear and remembered my teenage girl training I received from The Hoag...always approach with caution.
So what was human daughter doing at 2:00 am, in the woods, pretending she was a bear?
Turns out she was pretending to be a queasy bear and she was vomiting at the base of the tree.
And I did what any human father would do. I said:
"I hope you feel better in the morning...I'm going back to my tent. Be careful."
Fast forward 6 hours or so:
I get up and head to the campground restroom to check on my hair and I notice two chipmunks messing around with my daughter's vomit that is still pooled at the base of the tree.
I quickly name one of the chipmunks 'Dale'. I can't think of what to name the second one.
POINT OF THE STORY:
When camping, you experience the Circle of Life (or Cheerios, or whatever it is she ate that made her sick) first hand.
Or of course, something.
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