1) I woke up in a daze today. I had this loud whirring sound in my ears that I couldn't get rid of and nothing was clear. It was like something was pounding against my head. I started to feel warm and wondered if I had some sort of fever. I opened my eyes, but the more I opened them, the harder it was to see. It was then that I realized I was in the shower.
2) More interesting is the fact that it wasn't my shower.
3) Can you really count a gas station water hose as a shower at all? But I digress.
4) I'm thinking about renting a motor home. I don't particularly need one, but I think it would be nice to be able to drive around randomly and just stop and sleep. I mean, I already do this plenty, so it might be nice to have an RV with me.
5) The battery on my phone went completely dead on Saturday. To punish it, I left it off the cradle all day on Sunday. Ha! It wasn't able to ring for crank calls, wrong numbers or for people who will be "in my neighborhood" and wanted to give me an estimate on aluminum siding. I think that it has learned it's lesson. We make a sacred pact with our phones: I will generate any number of chances for it to ring. It simply has to do the ringing. If you ask me, I'm the one doing all the work in this relationship.
6) My hand is killing me. The worst part is that I don't know how I did it. Is my hand sleepwalking, like in Evil Dead II? In any event, I'm now typing like a complete spaz. And yes, it's probably tough to tell the difference.
7) Supposedly they’re gonna have a new “Vampire Slayer” show. However, it's important that the name of the new slayer is a cool one. For years, it's been understood in pop culture that Vampires, are indeed slayed by Buffys. You go around with Agnes the Vampire Slayer, and you're asking for real trouble. Of course, Fred the Vampire Slayer is right out. The only possible choice is "Frank Stallone the Vampire Slayer".
8) In D.C., where I work, there is a "Friends of Friendship" park. That's pretty damn redundant if you ask me. Nobody did though. I wish they would.
9) The novels of Susan Sontag are self indulgent unadulterated crap.
10) "Planes, Trains and Automobiles" was on the Spanish network the other night. I couldn’t find the dang remote.. I now know how to say "Train don't run outta Witchita, lessen yer a hog or a cattle" in Spanish.
11) Why is it when you see a show about a lion in Africa, their name is always very African. Like today, I'm watching one, and the lion they follow is called "Matsumi". Does the lion know this? Does the Lion know it's in Africa? Just once, I'd like to see them follow around a Lion named Freddy.
12) I don't give a dang how beneficial they are to the environment...snakes should be wiped out. These guys who film nature shows should be required to carry machetes. Yeah. You see that bastard sneaking up on a bunch of prairie dog eggs? Cut his freaking head off. I know I'll get at least one "Amen" on that one.
13) Prairie dogs laying eggs? Forget it, he's rolling.
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Monday, April 4, 2011
Friday, April 1, 2011
Ideas 101
1) I used to be so much more creative. Like, when I was living in Indiana, my roommate and I calculated how much extra cash we could make if we turned our apartment into a kennel. It was about 1200 square feet, and we figured that with bunk beds, we could combine our living space into the master bathroom, leaving the entire rest of the place for boarding. We were both business majors so we anticipated some of the possible pitfalls: run-ins with the apartment office...possible zoning violations etc... But we countered that by asserting that we would aggressively market ourselves to people who wanted to board exotic animals. The theory being that if you had mountain lions, rattlesnakes and grizzly bears, rare is the neighbor, super, or process server that would have the balls to knock on your door.
2) Then this other time, we tried to figure out how far we would get if we strapped solid rocket boosters onto all four corners of our building and tried to become the first "luxury apartment complex for professionals" to orbit the earth. I mean, all the good "firsts" have been accomplished in the realm of the space program. I'd have given anything to be part of a project that allowed the common man to peer down at the earth from his balcony. And of course, the constant problem they had with people having open fires on the deck would be solved.
3) Another time, Mike and I were watching the weather channel and they were explaining how severe weather forms. You know the drill..two air masses collide...warm front and a cold front meet and boom. So we attempted to see if we could make it rain indoors. He turned the air conditioner in his bedroom up to "Freeze der hiney off" and I had about three space heaters going in the living room. It was about 100 degrees out, so I cracked the window to get the necessary moisture as well. I think we got the temperature differential in the living room and his bedroom to a delta of about 60 degrees and then opened the door. We had our blast goggles on, ala "Real Genius" but nothing happened except the smoke alarm went off for a really long time.
4) Anyone who knows me knows that my dad is my best friend. He's retired now, but he worked two jobs to put me through college so I could make my dreams come true. And well, damn it. They have! I'm basking here in the glory of middle management. I got my 3% raise, just like they always knew I would. Yes folks, I have attained my kingdom. But so much for my dream. What about my dad's dream? My dad came from a very poor town on the West coast of Ireland. Most of his young life, he didn't have enough to eat. At Christmas time, the big treat was getting meat at dinner, instead of potatoes and salt.
He was born an American citizen, as my grandparents were naturalized during the Taft administration, so he came to the USA and joined the Army. He met and married my mother and worked for 28 years (the last 17 with perfect attendance) at a major pharmaceutical plant.
My dad, my best friend. He's a modern day rags to riches success story. And now that I have my dream, I really want him to have his. And, for as long as I can remember, his dream has been to replace the tires on my mother's Cadillac sedan with 8ft quarry truck tires, just to see the expression on her face when she comes out to head to 8:15 mass on Sunday. He says, of course, that he would provide a step ladder.
5) As much as it may shock some of you, I have a younger sister. (Not that my parents wanted another child after seeing how I turned out, but they're Catholic and I guess they wanted to have sex a second time) She is an excellent athlete. In fact, my sister played 3 varsity sports in college, and as a point guard, set the all time conference record for career assists. The record still stands. She credits much of her success to hooping it up with my friends and I. We were bigger and older and she was 4 years younger. We'd pick up sides on the court, and when playing people who didn't know her, we'd leave picking my sister till last. Nobody was gonna chose *the girl*. Of course what they didn't know is that she could run the point at 13 years old better than almost any of the 17 year old guys out there. But the best thing about my sister? She was probably the dirtiest basketball player who ever put on sneakers. Driving to the hoop? Oops...sorry about that vicious elbow to the groin. Go ahead, take the ball out.
6) I just noticed that back in the summer, I raised the blinds next to my desk to let in the afternoon sun. That had to be back in May or so. Those blinds are still up, in the exact same position. I wonder if I left, would those blinds ever be lowered, or would an archaeological dig in 1000 years conclude that workers of the past were able to photosynthesize instead of getting up for lunch.
7) Gas prices are apparently going to go up this summer. Don't I look like the smart one indeed for having put a sizable down payment on a hot air balloon.
2) Then this other time, we tried to figure out how far we would get if we strapped solid rocket boosters onto all four corners of our building and tried to become the first "luxury apartment complex for professionals" to orbit the earth. I mean, all the good "firsts" have been accomplished in the realm of the space program. I'd have given anything to be part of a project that allowed the common man to peer down at the earth from his balcony. And of course, the constant problem they had with people having open fires on the deck would be solved.
3) Another time, Mike and I were watching the weather channel and they were explaining how severe weather forms. You know the drill..two air masses collide...warm front and a cold front meet and boom. So we attempted to see if we could make it rain indoors. He turned the air conditioner in his bedroom up to "Freeze der hiney off" and I had about three space heaters going in the living room. It was about 100 degrees out, so I cracked the window to get the necessary moisture as well. I think we got the temperature differential in the living room and his bedroom to a delta of about 60 degrees and then opened the door. We had our blast goggles on, ala "Real Genius" but nothing happened except the smoke alarm went off for a really long time.
4) Anyone who knows me knows that my dad is my best friend. He's retired now, but he worked two jobs to put me through college so I could make my dreams come true. And well, damn it. They have! I'm basking here in the glory of middle management. I got my 3% raise, just like they always knew I would. Yes folks, I have attained my kingdom. But so much for my dream. What about my dad's dream? My dad came from a very poor town on the West coast of Ireland. Most of his young life, he didn't have enough to eat. At Christmas time, the big treat was getting meat at dinner, instead of potatoes and salt.
He was born an American citizen, as my grandparents were naturalized during the Taft administration, so he came to the USA and joined the Army. He met and married my mother and worked for 28 years (the last 17 with perfect attendance) at a major pharmaceutical plant.
My dad, my best friend. He's a modern day rags to riches success story. And now that I have my dream, I really want him to have his. And, for as long as I can remember, his dream has been to replace the tires on my mother's Cadillac sedan with 8ft quarry truck tires, just to see the expression on her face when she comes out to head to 8:15 mass on Sunday. He says, of course, that he would provide a step ladder.
5) As much as it may shock some of you, I have a younger sister. (Not that my parents wanted another child after seeing how I turned out, but they're Catholic and I guess they wanted to have sex a second time) She is an excellent athlete. In fact, my sister played 3 varsity sports in college, and as a point guard, set the all time conference record for career assists. The record still stands. She credits much of her success to hooping it up with my friends and I. We were bigger and older and she was 4 years younger. We'd pick up sides on the court, and when playing people who didn't know her, we'd leave picking my sister till last. Nobody was gonna chose *the girl*. Of course what they didn't know is that she could run the point at 13 years old better than almost any of the 17 year old guys out there. But the best thing about my sister? She was probably the dirtiest basketball player who ever put on sneakers. Driving to the hoop? Oops...sorry about that vicious elbow to the groin. Go ahead, take the ball out.
6) I just noticed that back in the summer, I raised the blinds next to my desk to let in the afternoon sun. That had to be back in May or so. Those blinds are still up, in the exact same position. I wonder if I left, would those blinds ever be lowered, or would an archaeological dig in 1000 years conclude that workers of the past were able to photosynthesize instead of getting up for lunch.
7) Gas prices are apparently going to go up this summer. Don't I look like the smart one indeed for having put a sizable down payment on a hot air balloon.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Car Rental 101
I used to travel quite a bit so I have every express rental car membership there is. You know...you give them all your info beforehand and get your Wizard, Fastbreak or whatever card from them. Then, when you rent a car, you just show up, grab the keys and go.
Great idea. Except it never works that way. Like...ever. They always want to see your credit card, driver's license and a urine sample. What's that all about? And then..they want a "local" phone number where I'll be staying??
This makes no sense. I can see the airlines needing to call me to tell me the flight's been cancelled or whatever. But if I bring the car back, then the rental company has no reason to be calling me. And if I don't bring the car back? Well, there are only a few reason's for that:
A) I've stolen it. - At this point, calling me isn't going to do too much. I'll probably just hang up.
B) I'm lost and can't find my way back to the airport. - Tough to find me at the local number if I'm working my way through Flatbush trying to find La Guardia
C) I'm dead - Self explanatory
In any case, they don't need to reach me unless they plan on telling me that Jennifer Garner is going to be on Letterman with Ashley Judd hosting.
Next item? Seinfeld was so right when he said they're good about taking the reservation, they're just not good at HOLDING the reservation. I rent a mid-size car almost every time. Yet, when I arrive, only the Chicago Bears team bus is left in the garage. This sort of upgrade used to constitute an adventure when I was young and stupid. (Ok, when I was young anway). Now, with gas prices at 1 million dollars a gallon, it's not so cool. Plus, chicks do not dig the Buick Century. I've checked.
Lastly...as I'm returning the car, there's a sign that reminds me to check for items I may have left in the car. You know, illegal narcotics. Small children. My glock. Whatever. The kicker is that this sign is illustrated for those who can't read English. (This is a good thing for just about everyone in some of the departments where I work.) So you see pictures of keys, glasses, wallets etc. Then I notice something. It shows an area where illustrated is a picture of a cassette tape, then a compact disc..then..wait for it...a VINYL LP!!
Now, I know my memory isn't flawless, but how did I miss those cars that had a TURNTABLE installed in them? I can just see driving down the road, trying to drop the needle on the Beatles "White Album" or "Convoy" by C.W. McCall. Potholes would be a bitch.
If Avis is having a lot of trouble with people leaving their 12" records in rental cars, I would like to pull up a stool and hear the story behind that.
Great idea. Except it never works that way. Like...ever. They always want to see your credit card, driver's license and a urine sample. What's that all about? And then..they want a "local" phone number where I'll be staying??
This makes no sense. I can see the airlines needing to call me to tell me the flight's been cancelled or whatever. But if I bring the car back, then the rental company has no reason to be calling me. And if I don't bring the car back? Well, there are only a few reason's for that:
A) I've stolen it. - At this point, calling me isn't going to do too much. I'll probably just hang up.
B) I'm lost and can't find my way back to the airport. - Tough to find me at the local number if I'm working my way through Flatbush trying to find La Guardia
C) I'm dead - Self explanatory
In any case, they don't need to reach me unless they plan on telling me that Jennifer Garner is going to be on Letterman with Ashley Judd hosting.
Next item? Seinfeld was so right when he said they're good about taking the reservation, they're just not good at HOLDING the reservation. I rent a mid-size car almost every time. Yet, when I arrive, only the Chicago Bears team bus is left in the garage. This sort of upgrade used to constitute an adventure when I was young and stupid. (Ok, when I was young anway). Now, with gas prices at 1 million dollars a gallon, it's not so cool. Plus, chicks do not dig the Buick Century. I've checked.
Lastly...as I'm returning the car, there's a sign that reminds me to check for items I may have left in the car. You know, illegal narcotics. Small children. My glock. Whatever. The kicker is that this sign is illustrated for those who can't read English. (This is a good thing for just about everyone in some of the departments where I work.) So you see pictures of keys, glasses, wallets etc. Then I notice something. It shows an area where illustrated is a picture of a cassette tape, then a compact disc..then..wait for it...a VINYL LP!!
Now, I know my memory isn't flawless, but how did I miss those cars that had a TURNTABLE installed in them? I can just see driving down the road, trying to drop the needle on the Beatles "White Album" or "Convoy" by C.W. McCall. Potholes would be a bitch.
If Avis is having a lot of trouble with people leaving their 12" records in rental cars, I would like to pull up a stool and hear the story behind that.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Unfrozen Caveman Blog Entry
1) I miss Phil Hartman. I swear, there are close personal friends of mine whom I've lost touch with that I do not miss as much as Phil Hartman. "My name is John Johnson, but everyone here calls me Vicky."
2) I may need psycho analysis if I cannot have a more arm's length relationship with my Saturday Night Live friends.
3) No...it should not be one word above. Psychoanalysis implies therapy so you can get better. I need Psycho Analysis...to see if I am a Psycho.
4) I have a confession to make. I don't give a hoot about the new Wonder Woman coming out. I'm not really a comic book kind of guy. And to be honest, if anyone is going to tie someone up and make them tell the truth, it should be me. Then I could finally get to the bottom of who keeps feeding bath oil to the betta fish.
5) Actually, I know who did it. It's you Tara. Ha! But you're two and you can't read. So you will wander around the house, smiling, thinking you got away with the deed. That is, until approximately 2016 when you'll be old enough for Google. Or Bloogle or whatever Ooogle we're using by then. And you'll read this. And you'll know. I was too smart for you. I win.
6) I have A&W Root Beer in my fridge and you don't.
7) I wonder how A&W was formed? I bet at one time, back in the golden age of roots and beers, you could get a root beer for every letter in the alphabet and even some dipthongs. Perhaps in Dodge City a young chap strapped with a pearl handled Colt 45 sidled up to the bar and ordered an ice cold Q Root Beer.
But then times got tough. In the depression, a lot of the letters just went under. A merger of LMNOP was attempted for the brand loyalty alone among children learning to sing the alphabet, but alas, it could not compete with "A" root beer.
Of course it couldn't. How could any mortal root beer compete with "A" root beer. I mean, people inevitably walked into a store and said "give me a root beer". "A" had the built in advantage that any product craves. That's why the Automobile Association of America isn't called Triple Z.
So why W? How did W outlast the other 24 beers of the root and force what I can only imagine was a difficult merger. Perhaps a proxy fight at a 1920s depression era board meeting. Who can tell? But today I, for one, salute you "W" root beer. Like David standing in front of goliath, you took your delicious bark of sassafras and brought Big Root Beer to its knees
8) Before anyone gets any ideas I am enforcing a no-fly zone over my mini-fridge with one of those remote controlled helicopters you get at the hobby shop.
9) My daughter went to the emergency department to have a raisin professionally extracted from her sinuses and that was only the third most stressful thing that happened yesterday. I might have to switch off of root beer to the hard stuff if this keeps up.
10) The local announcement channel...(you know the one that tells you when the lodge meeting is happening or that the Class of '81 is having their 30th reunion)...it's still adorned with Christmas background. I wonder if somebody got shot over there and nobody is looking in on him. But then again, the announcements keep getting updated...so I guess everything is ok...
11) Is there any way I could learn to play the guitar without actually being taught or spending any effort at all? Like maybe hypnosis? I really want to learn...but I also don't want to do anything about it. Come on now...it's the new millenium. Weren't we supposed to have flying cars by now? Where's my player guitar?
12) I wonder if there was a player guitar, would there then follow playa hata guitars? (That's for you, Cassie)
13) I swear someone installed a Wheel of Fortune channel on my TV. It's on ALL the time. Seriously, if this is some kind of prank, you got me. I give. Enough of Pat and Vanna already
14) I wonder if when they were figuring out the prime numbers, they found that no numbers were actually prime. Then some really smart young mathematician stood up and said "If we don't count division by 1, we'll have a whole bunch of primes!" So they decided that even though a number could be divided by 1, it was still prime. Then another guy said..."Dude, that's unreal." - and voila! We get non-real numbers. I bet it happened something like that. Or there was heavy drinking involved.
15) If I were to invent a brand new font, I would name it "Smug"
2) I may need psycho analysis if I cannot have a more arm's length relationship with my Saturday Night Live friends.
3) No...it should not be one word above. Psychoanalysis implies therapy so you can get better. I need Psycho Analysis...to see if I am a Psycho.
4) I have a confession to make. I don't give a hoot about the new Wonder Woman coming out. I'm not really a comic book kind of guy. And to be honest, if anyone is going to tie someone up and make them tell the truth, it should be me. Then I could finally get to the bottom of who keeps feeding bath oil to the betta fish.
5) Actually, I know who did it. It's you Tara. Ha! But you're two and you can't read. So you will wander around the house, smiling, thinking you got away with the deed. That is, until approximately 2016 when you'll be old enough for Google. Or Bloogle or whatever Ooogle we're using by then. And you'll read this. And you'll know. I was too smart for you. I win.
6) I have A&W Root Beer in my fridge and you don't.
7) I wonder how A&W was formed? I bet at one time, back in the golden age of roots and beers, you could get a root beer for every letter in the alphabet and even some dipthongs. Perhaps in Dodge City a young chap strapped with a pearl handled Colt 45 sidled up to the bar and ordered an ice cold Q Root Beer.
But then times got tough. In the depression, a lot of the letters just went under. A merger of LMNOP was attempted for the brand loyalty alone among children learning to sing the alphabet, but alas, it could not compete with "A" root beer.
Of course it couldn't. How could any mortal root beer compete with "A" root beer. I mean, people inevitably walked into a store and said "give me a root beer". "A" had the built in advantage that any product craves. That's why the Automobile Association of America isn't called Triple Z.
So why W? How did W outlast the other 24 beers of the root and force what I can only imagine was a difficult merger. Perhaps a proxy fight at a 1920s depression era board meeting. Who can tell? But today I, for one, salute you "W" root beer. Like David standing in front of goliath, you took your delicious bark of sassafras and brought Big Root Beer to its knees
8) Before anyone gets any ideas I am enforcing a no-fly zone over my mini-fridge with one of those remote controlled helicopters you get at the hobby shop.
9) My daughter went to the emergency department to have a raisin professionally extracted from her sinuses and that was only the third most stressful thing that happened yesterday. I might have to switch off of root beer to the hard stuff if this keeps up.
10) The local announcement channel...(you know the one that tells you when the lodge meeting is happening or that the Class of '81 is having their 30th reunion)...it's still adorned with Christmas background. I wonder if somebody got shot over there and nobody is looking in on him. But then again, the announcements keep getting updated...so I guess everything is ok...
11) Is there any way I could learn to play the guitar without actually being taught or spending any effort at all? Like maybe hypnosis? I really want to learn...but I also don't want to do anything about it. Come on now...it's the new millenium. Weren't we supposed to have flying cars by now? Where's my player guitar?
12) I wonder if there was a player guitar, would there then follow playa hata guitars? (That's for you, Cassie)
13) I swear someone installed a Wheel of Fortune channel on my TV. It's on ALL the time. Seriously, if this is some kind of prank, you got me. I give. Enough of Pat and Vanna already
14) I wonder if when they were figuring out the prime numbers, they found that no numbers were actually prime. Then some really smart young mathematician stood up and said "If we don't count division by 1, we'll have a whole bunch of primes!" So they decided that even though a number could be divided by 1, it was still prime. Then another guy said..."Dude, that's unreal." - and voila! We get non-real numbers. I bet it happened something like that. Or there was heavy drinking involved.
15) If I were to invent a brand new font, I would name it "Smug"
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Commuting 101
I like to begin blog entries with the word "so". So I was taking a bath... So I was going to the mailbox to mail "Sinbad in Vegas" back to Netflix... So I was dangling off of the side of Nakatomi Plaza like John McLane...
Not today however.
So I'm on my way to work (there it is!) and my brain is doing its own thing. I have the radio on, but it could be Korean folks singers crooning about...well...Korean folks stuff I guess...because I have no recollection. My drive is a steady stream of thoughts that entertain, confuse and annoy me. Naturally I thought I should share them with you.
1) Why do some tombstones tilt over while some don't? I know the standard explanation is that the ground settles and moves over the years. But my parent's patio has been there forever and the picnic table isn't at a 45 degree angle. Some of these people want out and you're not gonna tell me differently
2) I come up to a bridge and a very helpful sign (this will become a theme) tells me that the right shoulder is closed. I should hope so because the right shoulder is filled with 10-15 port a johns. If it wasn't closed that would be one exciting drive for me (and quite a shock for anyone using them I suppose). Also, it's not enough to have the sign and block the right shoulder with portable personal relief devices, but 20 yards of police tape stretch across in front to further encourage me not to drive on the shoulder. If someone sees the road sign AND the Olympic Port A John Village and still has a wild hair to barrel down the right shoulder, I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that a few feet of "Police Line: Do Not Cross" isn't about to deter them.
3) Dolley Madison Avenue has a gigantic sign saying "NO RIGHT TURN ON RED FROM LEFT LANE". Is this really a problem? If you're gonna cut across 4 lanes of traffic on a red light, are you the type of person to see the sign and say "Oh. Damn. Didn't know that wasn't kosher."
4) The road is spelled Dolley Madison. Is that right? My whole life I've spelled her name Dolly, not Dolley. I should have a bit more historical awareness of the woman who risked life and limb to sneak back into the White House during the War of 1812 to save all of the historical documents and the recipe to fudge ripple ice cream.
5) More fun with signs: "Slow down, gate is closed". I'm gonna say you should do a bit more than that if the gate is closed. Are they just wanting you to smash through it at a reasonable speed? Further, that's a permanent sign. Does that mean the gate never goes up? Not much of a gate then in my mind. More of a blockade then, isn't it?
6) I live in the National Capital Area (TM), at least as far as you know, and people go on and on about the cherry blossoms. Yeah, yeah, They are great. They're great every year just like they have been since I moved here in 1995. I'll let you in on a secret, the Cherry Blossoms are like that hot celebrity you've never met or a beauty pageant contestant. Everybody talks about them and they're universally thought to be fabulous but up close they're taping their breasts together and putting Vaseline on their teeth.
7) The Methodist Church a quarter mile from the CIA has a sign up that says "Mission Sunday". Hmmm...
8) More fun with signs: "No STANDING, STOPPING, PARKING". Isn't parking a bit much considering the first two restrictions? If you can figure out a way to park your car without stopping, I'd like to hear it. On second thought, I'd rather see the YouTube video.
9) I worked construction for an ENTIRE summer while going to college in order to avoid manual labor of any kind. As such, I feel empowered to give you my opinion that a "Ditch Witch" while very manly, does not sport a manly name. I may, in fact, call my venture capitalist friends even tonight to suggest that we invent the "Ditch Warlock". I predict 100 percent market share.
"Hey Bob. What have you got there, ditch witch?"
"Helll no! Ditch Warlock."
"What?"
"Yep. It's the the WARLOCK model. You need to get one too. That one you're sitting on might as well be pink with a wicker basket in the front."
Honestly...every big tool should just be called "SmasherXJ17 Rodeo Testosterone Explosion". All of them. This is why I have a marketing degree.
10) Apparently they people using the ditch witch work for "Rock Hard Construction". Yes. That's the name of the outfit. I tried to take a picture of their HUGE yellow sign but my 6 beep rule prevented me. If you're not familiar with that rule...I'll stop in the middle of the road with no warning, no signal and office no concept of what I'm trying to do, but upon the sixth beep of the person behind me, I'll get moving again. It used to be a seven beep rule until that unfortunate incident where I got my ass kicked.
11) I be the Rock Hard construction guys would really enjoy a Ditch Warlock.
12) There's a sign about 1/2 mile before the bridge into DC that says "Bridge work ahead". I appreciate the warning especially when the line for the bridge is 3 miles long. After I've waited 45 minutes to move two miles, knowing why I've been waiting is critical. If Dolley Madison had to use this bridge when fleeing the British, we wouldn't know the taste of Rocky Road today.
telework, fool."?
13) Crossing the bridge, I see a flock of seagulls. This confuses me because we are MILES from the nearest Burger King.
14) In the National Graffiti Tournament, the number one overall seed would have to be railroad bridges.
15) Rural mailboxes would be the 11th seed and Jay Bilas would complain that the mailbox should never have gotten into the tourney before the suburban 7-11 bathroom.
16) "Left turns prohibited Tues, Wed and alternate Fri between 6am and 10am" Are you serious? No way in hell I will ever take a road that needs to be modified by a subordinate clause. The sign might as well have an arrow and the words "Head on collision, THIS WAY"
17) Just got an email from my Flex Benefits Coordinator reminding me that March 31st is the last day to file for reimbursement or I'll lose all my money. That happened one year and boy did it hurt. To avoid that ever happening again, I make sure my wife attacks me with a claw hammer every year between Christmas and New Years, just to be sure.
Not today however.
So I'm on my way to work (there it is!) and my brain is doing its own thing. I have the radio on, but it could be Korean folks singers crooning about...well...Korean folks stuff I guess...because I have no recollection. My drive is a steady stream of thoughts that entertain, confuse and annoy me. Naturally I thought I should share them with you.
1) Why do some tombstones tilt over while some don't? I know the standard explanation is that the ground settles and moves over the years. But my parent's patio has been there forever and the picnic table isn't at a 45 degree angle. Some of these people want out and you're not gonna tell me differently
2) I come up to a bridge and a very helpful sign (this will become a theme) tells me that the right shoulder is closed. I should hope so because the right shoulder is filled with 10-15 port a johns. If it wasn't closed that would be one exciting drive for me (and quite a shock for anyone using them I suppose). Also, it's not enough to have the sign and block the right shoulder with portable personal relief devices, but 20 yards of police tape stretch across in front to further encourage me not to drive on the shoulder. If someone sees the road sign AND the Olympic Port A John Village and still has a wild hair to barrel down the right shoulder, I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that a few feet of "Police Line: Do Not Cross" isn't about to deter them.
3) Dolley Madison Avenue has a gigantic sign saying "NO RIGHT TURN ON RED FROM LEFT LANE". Is this really a problem? If you're gonna cut across 4 lanes of traffic on a red light, are you the type of person to see the sign and say "Oh. Damn. Didn't know that wasn't kosher."
4) The road is spelled Dolley Madison. Is that right? My whole life I've spelled her name Dolly, not Dolley. I should have a bit more historical awareness of the woman who risked life and limb to sneak back into the White House during the War of 1812 to save all of the historical documents and the recipe to fudge ripple ice cream.
5) More fun with signs: "Slow down, gate is closed". I'm gonna say you should do a bit more than that if the gate is closed. Are they just wanting you to smash through it at a reasonable speed? Further, that's a permanent sign. Does that mean the gate never goes up? Not much of a gate then in my mind. More of a blockade then, isn't it?
6) I live in the National Capital Area (TM), at least as far as you know, and people go on and on about the cherry blossoms. Yeah, yeah, They are great. They're great every year just like they have been since I moved here in 1995. I'll let you in on a secret, the Cherry Blossoms are like that hot celebrity you've never met or a beauty pageant contestant. Everybody talks about them and they're universally thought to be fabulous but up close they're taping their breasts together and putting Vaseline on their teeth.
7) The Methodist Church a quarter mile from the CIA has a sign up that says "Mission Sunday". Hmmm...
8) More fun with signs: "No STANDING, STOPPING, PARKING". Isn't parking a bit much considering the first two restrictions? If you can figure out a way to park your car without stopping, I'd like to hear it. On second thought, I'd rather see the YouTube video.
9) I worked construction for an ENTIRE summer while going to college in order to avoid manual labor of any kind. As such, I feel empowered to give you my opinion that a "Ditch Witch" while very manly, does not sport a manly name. I may, in fact, call my venture capitalist friends even tonight to suggest that we invent the "Ditch Warlock". I predict 100 percent market share.
"Hey Bob. What have you got there, ditch witch?"
"Helll no! Ditch Warlock."
"What?"
"Yep. It's the the WARLOCK model. You need to get one too. That one you're sitting on might as well be pink with a wicker basket in the front."
Honestly...every big tool should just be called "SmasherXJ17 Rodeo Testosterone Explosion". All of them. This is why I have a marketing degree.
10) Apparently they people using the ditch witch work for "Rock Hard Construction". Yes. That's the name of the outfit. I tried to take a picture of their HUGE yellow sign but my 6 beep rule prevented me. If you're not familiar with that rule...I'll stop in the middle of the road with no warning, no signal and office no concept of what I'm trying to do, but upon the sixth beep of the person behind me, I'll get moving again. It used to be a seven beep rule until that unfortunate incident where I got my ass kicked.
11) I be the Rock Hard construction guys would really enjoy a Ditch Warlock.
12) There's a sign about 1/2 mile before the bridge into DC that says "Bridge work ahead". I appreciate the warning especially when the line for the bridge is 3 miles long. After I've waited 45 minutes to move two miles, knowing why I've been waiting is critical. If Dolley Madison had to use this bridge when fleeing the British, we wouldn't know the taste of Rocky Road today.
telework, fool."?
13) Crossing the bridge, I see a flock of seagulls. This confuses me because we are MILES from the nearest Burger King.
14) In the National Graffiti Tournament, the number one overall seed would have to be railroad bridges.
15) Rural mailboxes would be the 11th seed and Jay Bilas would complain that the mailbox should never have gotten into the tourney before the suburban 7-11 bathroom.
16) "Left turns prohibited Tues, Wed and alternate Fri between 6am and 10am" Are you serious? No way in hell I will ever take a road that needs to be modified by a subordinate clause. The sign might as well have an arrow and the words "Head on collision, THIS WAY"
17) Just got an email from my Flex Benefits Coordinator reminding me that March 31st is the last day to file for reimbursement or I'll lose all my money. That happened one year and boy did it hurt. To avoid that ever happening again, I make sure my wife attacks me with a claw hammer every year between Christmas and New Years, just to be sure.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Man vs Chimney: A Love Story
I hate doing the laundry as much as a married man can. I know my wife hates laundry as well. I'm not trying to corner the market on laundry hatred or anything. Just trying to assert how much I detest doing it.
Perhaps it's because despite all of mom's instructions on how wearing clothes doesn't necessarily mean they need washing, I just can't wear something that's been worn before..no matter how short a period of time it's been worn for.
Thus, the same treatment is given a t-shirt I put on on my way over to the pool as would be given to a t-shirt I wore while chimney sweeping.
OK, I don't really chimney sweep, but I wanted a really good example of a dirty shirt and that's as good a one as I could think of. As an aside, I met a chimney sweep once. I was home from college on summer vacation and for some reason wasn't going to work. I mean, I was going to work that summer, but not that day. I'm not that much of a deadbeat.
My parents scheduled this dude to come over and sweep the chimney. "All you have to do is let him in."
Yeah. Famous last words.
This guy shows up a top hat and tails - straight out of Mary Poppins. I let him in in the manner of a 21 year old guy at 8am....I grunt and tell him "fireplace is downstairs...call me if you need anything". Oh no. He accuses me of not taking my chimney safety seriously and threatens to leave unless I come down and have a dialog with him about the chimney. Now at this point, I'm ready to tell this guy to stuff his broom up his rear end, but I fear my dad way too much, so I accompany him downstairs. He pulls out his mirror and looks up the chimney...alternately smiling and shaking his head. He turned with a Law and Order courtroom twirl and pounced: "Has this chimney ever been swept before?"
I wake up from my grog. "Er...I don't think so."
"Well how OLD is this fireplace???"
"I don't know. About 10 years I guess."
"TEN YEARS???"
Well, at this point, I think he's going to call the other sweeps in the area and give my dad and I a good ass kicking. He practically demands that I get one of my parents on the phone so he can verbally ream them.
"This should be done every six months! You could start a fire from all this buildup." Of course, I'm wondering what the heck is the danger of a fire in a fireplace, but he continues on about masonry fires and soot and all kinds of horrors. After about 30 minutes, he finally throws me a softball...
"When you burn a fire, do you burn it hot and big?"
"Yes SIR we CERTAINLY do!" And we did. I myself always made sure to ramrod enough wood in there to warm the stuff we had in the freezer. I didn't want to haul my cookies to the hearth every half hour much less the woodpile.
"Well, at least that's something." He gruffed. He seemed to calm down a bit. Huh. Good for me.
So then he starts in {still in his top hat, even though we're indoors} trying to sell me these fire extinguishing flares in case we get a chimney fire. My brain is still half asleep, but using the sheer willpower and genuine indifference, I convince him that I am not in charge. I mean, come on dude, I'm in joe boxer pj bottoms and a "Don't F with Mr. Zero" t-shirt." I have a near fatal case of bedhead. Do I look like I'm the decision maker of this house?
"Can't you just sweep the chimney?" I give him my best look of desperation. (I'm sure many of my dates have seen this look in subsequent years.)
He shakes his head in disgust, but goes to work. I can identify. This dude is in sales. I had to do that once. He didn't increase his margin at all with any add-ons. That's a bummer. I'm sure he figured a half-a-sleep rube like myself would probably order a "chimney massage" and a "lefthanded smoke shifter". No luck dude.
Of course, as he starts cleaning, I have to remain awake and he continues to narrate everything he's doing for the entire 45 minutes or so. It's like a bad episode of "A Personal Story" and you've lost the damn remote. When he's done, I have to sign off on a 25 point checklist that basically says he cleaned the chimney and I also have to admit that I'm stupid and that I'm sorry I haven't had my chimney swept in 10 years etc.. etc...
Now that I'm a grown up, I've solved this problem by having a gas fireplace that doesn't need sweeping. At least, I don't think it does. Does it? Does anyone know?
Perhaps it's because despite all of mom's instructions on how wearing clothes doesn't necessarily mean they need washing, I just can't wear something that's been worn before..no matter how short a period of time it's been worn for.
Thus, the same treatment is given a t-shirt I put on on my way over to the pool as would be given to a t-shirt I wore while chimney sweeping.
OK, I don't really chimney sweep, but I wanted a really good example of a dirty shirt and that's as good a one as I could think of. As an aside, I met a chimney sweep once. I was home from college on summer vacation and for some reason wasn't going to work. I mean, I was going to work that summer, but not that day. I'm not that much of a deadbeat.
My parents scheduled this dude to come over and sweep the chimney. "All you have to do is let him in."
Yeah. Famous last words.
This guy shows up a top hat and tails - straight out of Mary Poppins. I let him in in the manner of a 21 year old guy at 8am....I grunt and tell him "fireplace is downstairs...call me if you need anything". Oh no. He accuses me of not taking my chimney safety seriously and threatens to leave unless I come down and have a dialog with him about the chimney. Now at this point, I'm ready to tell this guy to stuff his broom up his rear end, but I fear my dad way too much, so I accompany him downstairs. He pulls out his mirror and looks up the chimney...alternately smiling and shaking his head. He turned with a Law and Order courtroom twirl and pounced: "Has this chimney ever been swept before?"
I wake up from my grog. "Er...I don't think so."
"Well how OLD is this fireplace???"
"I don't know. About 10 years I guess."
"TEN YEARS???"
Well, at this point, I think he's going to call the other sweeps in the area and give my dad and I a good ass kicking. He practically demands that I get one of my parents on the phone so he can verbally ream them.
"This should be done every six months! You could start a fire from all this buildup." Of course, I'm wondering what the heck is the danger of a fire in a fireplace, but he continues on about masonry fires and soot and all kinds of horrors. After about 30 minutes, he finally throws me a softball...
"When you burn a fire, do you burn it hot and big?"
"Yes SIR we CERTAINLY do!" And we did. I myself always made sure to ramrod enough wood in there to warm the stuff we had in the freezer. I didn't want to haul my cookies to the hearth every half hour much less the woodpile.
"Well, at least that's something." He gruffed. He seemed to calm down a bit. Huh. Good for me.
So then he starts in {still in his top hat, even though we're indoors} trying to sell me these fire extinguishing flares in case we get a chimney fire. My brain is still half asleep, but using the sheer willpower and genuine indifference, I convince him that I am not in charge. I mean, come on dude, I'm in joe boxer pj bottoms and a "Don't F with Mr. Zero" t-shirt." I have a near fatal case of bedhead. Do I look like I'm the decision maker of this house?
"Can't you just sweep the chimney?" I give him my best look of desperation. (I'm sure many of my dates have seen this look in subsequent years.)
He shakes his head in disgust, but goes to work. I can identify. This dude is in sales. I had to do that once. He didn't increase his margin at all with any add-ons. That's a bummer. I'm sure he figured a half-a-sleep rube like myself would probably order a "chimney massage" and a "lefthanded smoke shifter". No luck dude.
Of course, as he starts cleaning, I have to remain awake and he continues to narrate everything he's doing for the entire 45 minutes or so. It's like a bad episode of "A Personal Story" and you've lost the damn remote. When he's done, I have to sign off on a 25 point checklist that basically says he cleaned the chimney and I also have to admit that I'm stupid and that I'm sorry I haven't had my chimney swept in 10 years etc.. etc...
Now that I'm a grown up, I've solved this problem by having a gas fireplace that doesn't need sweeping. At least, I don't think it does. Does it? Does anyone know?
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
The more you know....
1)When you start a family, people come out of the woodwork to give you advice. They want to tell you how it will be and what skills you will need to cope. They tell you their mistakes and caution you to avoid them. They suggest books, videos and personal one man shows by Richard Simmons that will help you become a better father, husband, lover, friend and joint bank account trustee.
What they don't tell you:
*You'll never have a relaxing shower again in your life. When you have babies, you have to be listening. Listening ALL the time. Because the baby might be crying. That's if you're daring enough to shower when your spouse isn't home. "So what's the big deal dummy", you might say. (Pretty tough words coming from you, my dear anonymous internet reader). "Shower when your spouse is home" you say. You can't relax then either because you have to listen for your spouse crying because the baby will SIMPLY not stop crying. And if the baby is sleeping, it's an exciting thing. So freaking exciting that your spouse will want to tell you all about it...while you're in the shower.
When you're a rookie daddy this seems fabulous. You'll open the door and try to twirl your John Thomas around in a circle saying "woo woo!". This will almost certainly entice your wife to ignore the fact that she has diaper cream on her eyebrows and jump naked into the shower with you. But that won't happen. And the conversation about the sleeping baby will devolve into grocery lists, how you could save 10 dollars a month if you drove an extra 2 miles to buy diapers at a store that will double manufacturers coupons up to $.99 and a confirmation that your parents are, in fact, visiting on the 25 and not the weekend of the 18th because you originally said the 25th but your mother said something about two weeks from now and that would actually be a Wednesday so could you please call your parents and ask which weekend is actually is?
And now you're out of hot water. At least in the shower.
But Mark! Certainly this gets better as the kids get older? Honestly, how would I know? I left those people years ago to get a decent shower. But for the sake of argument, let's say I had stayed around and the kids are now older. Maybe preschool age. They can all understand the shower and they don't need constant observation.
No. You're still not getting a relaxing shower. No. Not even if you have a bedroom master suite with a private shower with a triple locked door.
You: (Enjoying a shower.)
Child: Daadadd. Wlkjar is theeres doo ockkkkkk?
You: I can't hear you. I'm in the shower. (Or, when did you learn Norweigian?)
Child: Daadadd. Wlkjar is theeres doo ockkkkkk!!!!!
You: IM IN THE SHOWER!!!!
Child: THEERES DOO OCKKKKKKK!!!!
You: (Turning the water off) WHAT??
Child: Daddy, why is the door locked?
You: I'm in the shower.
Child: Are you getting clean?
You: Yes. Go find mommy.
Child: Do you have a pickle?
You: Yes. Go FIND MOMMY!
Child: I don't have a pickle because I'm a girl.
You: Yes. I know.
Child: This is a white door.
You: WIFES NAAAAAAAME!!!!!
Child: Mommy's in the basement.
You: Go find mommy, please baby girl ok. Daddy needs to wash his hair.
Child: Are you using shampoo?
You: Yes.
Child: Do you have toys?
You: (Now freezing) No. No toys. Ok honey. Daddy's gonna turn the shower on again.
Child: Ok Daddy. (Water on.)
Child: Daaddyyyy. Doeooaoss gramkkkka taasslkdj assstiiii?
You: I'm in the shower honey. I can't hear you.
Child: Wurstlin epock fruit bat Kenobi hit by hurrify with me???
It is at this point that you will shut the water off and go hose yourself off in the yard to have more privacy.
For the record I did epock that fruit bat Kenobi with her, because that's what you have to do if you're going to be a good daddy.
2)My childhood home was just added to the National Register of Historic places. Won't my parents be surprised?
3) Hurricane Gilma checks in as the 7th most powerful Pacific Hurricane on record. As you all know, Hurricane's start as tropical depressions. I'd be depressed too if my name was Gilma.
4) Get out of my room. Yes, you. Get behind the velvet rope and observe my bed, writing desk and vast array of pennants pinned to the ceiling. Where the hell is that Park Ranger anyway?
5) You never hear about any Hurricanes being named after dogs. Or dinosaurs. Or Sean Penn. Why is that?
6) You know the banking industry is in trouble when American Express is touting it's Plum card. Is this what we have become? It's a card with a made up color and they're practically begging people to sign up. That's not the American Express *I* know.
I'll know we're on the right track again when I see a little green card with a sexually ambiguous, yet menacing Spartan on the front. You won't be able to apply for the card unless you hear about it from a friend who heard it from a friend. In fact, REO Speedwagon will be put directly in charge of new members. And in the very unlikely event that you qualify for the card, you won't be able to use it anywhere.
If you do defy the odds and use the card, you'll have to pay the money back within 6.2 hours or the hefty late fees will pile up.
Plum card? Please. American Express has historically done business like a Long Island bookie or a ruthless Chicagoland loan shark. I'm trying to "win the future" here and I can tell you one thing, the future ain't plum.
7) "Excuse me? Do you accept Diner's Club?"
8) Once I accidentally clicked "random article" on the Wikipedia homepage. Why does anyone do that? The only time I'm even on Wikipedia is to settle a bet, prove my wife incorrect, or edit a page to win a bet or an argument with my wife.
9) Metzler Orgelbau is a firm of organ builders based in Dietikon, near Zurich, Switzerland. It is one of the most important makers of the European classical organ revival and has built many important and respected instruments throughout Europe. I happened to know all of that off the top of my head.
10) I will bet any of you that Walt Disney was only 4'8".
11) Speaking of Wikipedia. The Donate to Wikipedia button always intrigues me. What kind of scam is that? We input the data. We update the articles. Now you want me to pay? Fine. I'll throw you a few bucks, but could you wait at least 24 hours before correcting my edit that I was the inspiration for "Blood Diamond"?
12) I've had a lot of complaints about the time to load this page as well as the length of time between updates. You'll be glad to know I've finally done a major hardware upgrade. I ditched my Amiga and am now working on a spiffy Commodore 64.
13) That last one was geek humor. I'm not REALLY wasn't really working on an Amiga and i'm not REALLY working on a Commodore 64. In fact, no matter what computer I use, I'm not really working anyway.
14) Yeah, yeah. I'm on a break, ok?
15) Since I'm on a break, I considered sitting down and entertaining my fellow co-workers with a little sonata by Beethoven or maybe "Eye of the Tiger". Who can tell? It depends on my mood. However, the organ was some knock off piece of crap and I refuse to play on anything other than an authentic Metzler Orglebau.
What they don't tell you:
*You'll never have a relaxing shower again in your life. When you have babies, you have to be listening. Listening ALL the time. Because the baby might be crying. That's if you're daring enough to shower when your spouse isn't home. "So what's the big deal dummy", you might say. (Pretty tough words coming from you, my dear anonymous internet reader). "Shower when your spouse is home" you say. You can't relax then either because you have to listen for your spouse crying because the baby will SIMPLY not stop crying. And if the baby is sleeping, it's an exciting thing. So freaking exciting that your spouse will want to tell you all about it...while you're in the shower.
When you're a rookie daddy this seems fabulous. You'll open the door and try to twirl your John Thomas around in a circle saying "woo woo!". This will almost certainly entice your wife to ignore the fact that she has diaper cream on her eyebrows and jump naked into the shower with you. But that won't happen. And the conversation about the sleeping baby will devolve into grocery lists, how you could save 10 dollars a month if you drove an extra 2 miles to buy diapers at a store that will double manufacturers coupons up to $.99 and a confirmation that your parents are, in fact, visiting on the 25 and not the weekend of the 18th because you originally said the 25th but your mother said something about two weeks from now and that would actually be a Wednesday so could you please call your parents and ask which weekend is actually is?
And now you're out of hot water. At least in the shower.
But Mark! Certainly this gets better as the kids get older? Honestly, how would I know? I left those people years ago to get a decent shower. But for the sake of argument, let's say I had stayed around and the kids are now older. Maybe preschool age. They can all understand the shower and they don't need constant observation.
No. You're still not getting a relaxing shower. No. Not even if you have a bedroom master suite with a private shower with a triple locked door.
You: (Enjoying a shower.)
Child: Daadadd. Wlkjar is theeres doo ockkkkkk?
You: I can't hear you. I'm in the shower. (Or, when did you learn Norweigian?)
Child: Daadadd. Wlkjar is theeres doo ockkkkkk!!!!!
You: IM IN THE SHOWER!!!!
Child: THEERES DOO OCKKKKKKK!!!!
You: (Turning the water off) WHAT??
Child: Daddy, why is the door locked?
You: I'm in the shower.
Child: Are you getting clean?
You: Yes. Go find mommy.
Child: Do you have a pickle?
You: Yes. Go FIND MOMMY!
Child: I don't have a pickle because I'm a girl.
You: Yes. I know.
Child: This is a white door.
You: WIFES NAAAAAAAME!!!!!
Child: Mommy's in the basement.
You: Go find mommy, please baby girl ok. Daddy needs to wash his hair.
Child: Are you using shampoo?
You: Yes.
Child: Do you have toys?
You: (Now freezing) No. No toys. Ok honey. Daddy's gonna turn the shower on again.
Child: Ok Daddy. (Water on.)
Child: Daaddyyyy. Doeooaoss gramkkkka taasslkdj assstiiii?
You: I'm in the shower honey. I can't hear you.
Child: Wurstlin epock fruit bat Kenobi hit by hurrify with me???
It is at this point that you will shut the water off and go hose yourself off in the yard to have more privacy.
For the record I did epock that fruit bat Kenobi with her, because that's what you have to do if you're going to be a good daddy.
2)My childhood home was just added to the National Register of Historic places. Won't my parents be surprised?
3) Hurricane Gilma checks in as the 7th most powerful Pacific Hurricane on record. As you all know, Hurricane's start as tropical depressions. I'd be depressed too if my name was Gilma.
4) Get out of my room. Yes, you. Get behind the velvet rope and observe my bed, writing desk and vast array of pennants pinned to the ceiling. Where the hell is that Park Ranger anyway?
5) You never hear about any Hurricanes being named after dogs. Or dinosaurs. Or Sean Penn. Why is that?
6) You know the banking industry is in trouble when American Express is touting it's Plum card. Is this what we have become? It's a card with a made up color and they're practically begging people to sign up. That's not the American Express *I* know.
I'll know we're on the right track again when I see a little green card with a sexually ambiguous, yet menacing Spartan on the front. You won't be able to apply for the card unless you hear about it from a friend who heard it from a friend. In fact, REO Speedwagon will be put directly in charge of new members. And in the very unlikely event that you qualify for the card, you won't be able to use it anywhere.
If you do defy the odds and use the card, you'll have to pay the money back within 6.2 hours or the hefty late fees will pile up.
Plum card? Please. American Express has historically done business like a Long Island bookie or a ruthless Chicagoland loan shark. I'm trying to "win the future" here and I can tell you one thing, the future ain't plum.
7) "Excuse me? Do you accept Diner's Club?"
8) Once I accidentally clicked "random article" on the Wikipedia homepage. Why does anyone do that? The only time I'm even on Wikipedia is to settle a bet, prove my wife incorrect, or edit a page to win a bet or an argument with my wife.
9) Metzler Orgelbau is a firm of organ builders based in Dietikon, near Zurich, Switzerland. It is one of the most important makers of the European classical organ revival and has built many important and respected instruments throughout Europe. I happened to know all of that off the top of my head.
10) I will bet any of you that Walt Disney was only 4'8".
11) Speaking of Wikipedia. The Donate to Wikipedia button always intrigues me. What kind of scam is that? We input the data. We update the articles. Now you want me to pay? Fine. I'll throw you a few bucks, but could you wait at least 24 hours before correcting my edit that I was the inspiration for "Blood Diamond"?
12) I've had a lot of complaints about the time to load this page as well as the length of time between updates. You'll be glad to know I've finally done a major hardware upgrade. I ditched my Amiga and am now working on a spiffy Commodore 64.
13) That last one was geek humor. I'm not REALLY wasn't really working on an Amiga and i'm not REALLY working on a Commodore 64. In fact, no matter what computer I use, I'm not really working anyway.
14) Yeah, yeah. I'm on a break, ok?
15) Since I'm on a break, I considered sitting down and entertaining my fellow co-workers with a little sonata by Beethoven or maybe "Eye of the Tiger". Who can tell? It depends on my mood. However, the organ was some knock off piece of crap and I refuse to play on anything other than an authentic Metzler Orglebau.
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