Q & A Monday

It’s Q & A Monday again, but before I go any further, I need to preface what you are about to read by telling you that Lucy and Ethel are mere feet from me playing their Barbie keyboard and guitar in their ‘band’ while I type this. So, if what you are reading suddenly stops making sense, it’s because a grown man’s head just exploded. My head. Now, with that out of the way, I will gladly answer the questions that you, the reader, submitted to me, the writer, during this last week.

A few notes of interest before we begin: I don’t research my answers because that would take up too much time and energy, so it’s best that you don’t repeat them to anyone that you either want to impress, need a favor from, or who might hire you for reasons of employment. I also usually forget at least one submitter’s question. And, I like cheese –it gets mentioned from time to time.

Ok, with all the legal gumbo out of the way, this week’s first question hails from, Aislinge. I don’t know that questions can actually hail from somewhere, but I sure do enjoy how fancy it sounds. Aislinge had a few questions that, well, left me shaking (trust me, you’ll be tempted to laugh at that in a moment – or not). The questions are: ‘how many earthquakes have you been through? What was the strongest in terms of magnitude (if you know) and the strongest in terms of damage? And how does it feel?
I honestly can’t remember how many earthquakes I have experienced. There are two reasons for this: I’ve been through a lot of them and I am very prone to vertigo, which I have confused for an earthquake more than once. The oddest part of that is once you have experienced an earthquake, you might be tempted to yell something at me like ‘that felt nothing like an earthquake you uneducated, uninformed jack ass!’ I’m pretty sure the biggest magnitude was probably in the low 7s and the strongest in terms of damage was the Northridge quake, that I think was in 1994 or so. Our most recent one was a 5.4 and was about 5 miles from my office. I’m pretty sure I could have perfected surfing during that one, except for that whole get under your desk thing that our office safety leader made me do.

Next up is LisSass who asked ‘Michael, will you marry me?’
Uhhhhhh. Ummmmmm. Honestly, I think that is the first time that has been asked at this blog. Surely you have confused me with the writer of a blog who posts about his mountain bike treks or hiking expeditions or his billion dollar bank account and looks like George Clooney collided with Brad Pitt, minus all the blood and guts that are sure to be associated with such a collision. If you wanted to be on my blogroll that badly, all you had to do was ask. Ok, that was a joke. Besides, I already added you to my blogroll (insert nervous laughter here).

Eva is next with a question that referenced one of my posts from last week or so. She asked ‘what is up with making coffee in the office??? What happened to the Enormous Espresso 3000 or whatever it's called???'
Well, the answer is quite simple. The Saeco 300 requires a dollar for what is essentially a slightly obese version of a Dixie cup. Despite the cup’s weight gain, it is still very small and not worth a dollar. 50 cents I might do. Maybe even 75 cents if all the office-made coffee is gone and it’s about 3pm and the boss keeps walking by my office to see if I am trying to nap with my chair turned facing away from my cubicle entrance, but that’s as far as I’d go. So, we are still making coffee throughout the office, though next time I see someone getting one from the fancy Saeco vending machine, I’m tempted to tell them ‘wow, when did you get the big fancy raise Mr. Pay 1 Dollar For A Quarter’s Worth of Java?’ Or something like that. That was just off the top of my head. It’s not like I’ve been spending slow afternoons in the office jotting down things I can say to people who do buy the vending machine coffee on index cards or anything like that.

Patti asked ‘Since you live in or near the desert, is your yard full of cactuses? Or cacti?
I think the scientific term for multiple plants of cactus is ‘cactipotumuses,’ but I didn’t really look it up. It just sounds like something I have heard before. TECHNICALLY where I live COULD be considered a desert, but since the founding fathers of Southern California signed some sweet cherry water deal many, many years ago, we essentially legally steal all of our water from Northern California or Alaska or something like that and don’t have to worry about water supplies and can have lush green front and back lawns. Except of course for me because of the fact that gophers are attracted to sarcasm, or the smell of charcoal or the excrement of golden retrievers or whatever makes them target my lawn, and only my lawn. I hope that answered your question, Patti.

And lastly, this week we have Employee No. 3699 who submitted these gems: ‘The Beatles or The Monkies; what is your favorite vegetable; and live in a tent for one year or work seven days a week for one year?’
Yikes, why not just come out and ask who I am voting for. That first one is a toughie. I’d have to say the Beatles by just a little bit over the Monkees, though both are featured prominently on my Ipod. In all honesty, it’s the Beach Boys over both of them, but I very, very much like all 3. My favorite vegetable is grilled corn, followed ever so closely (and when in the hell did I start using phrases like ‘ever so’) by sun dried tomatoes. I would GLADLY live in a tent for one year instead of working seven days a week for one year, but something tells me you already knew that. I am obviously making assumptions about the condition of the tent (like the tent has full electricity and TiVo and some sort of cool-air circulation device) with my answer, but since I already answered, I shall stick with the tentage.

Alrighty folks, those are the q's and a’s for this Monday. Thank you to everyone and have a great week!

**By saying ‘have a great week,’ the writer of this blog is in no way insinuating that there will be nothing new to read here until next week. In fact, he will have a post for you to read again tomorrow and the next day and the day after that, and most likely the day after that, though the writer of this disclaimer is not keeping track of how many days he has already referenced.

Random Thoughts Friday

Well we made it through another week. We are now firmly ensconced in August, though I’m not sure I used ensconced correctly (but something about the word makes me crave a scone, even though I have never had one). That’s the problem with big words. Using them is like playing with fire, or more specifically, playing with a bottle of lighter fluid after you have already lit the charcoal. It might be flashy, but it’s not a ‘bright’ idea, if you catch my drift. Use the big word correctly and you look like a Mensa King. Use it incorrectly and you get burned. And if you think that’s a random thought, you’re wrong, it’s a segue. And speaking of segues, check these out…

* At the Angels game the other night, we sat in their semi-exclusive right field restaurant called The Knothole Club. While I consented to eat there despite the fact that the word ‘knothole’ makes me squirmy, I drew the line at ordering a ‘knothole dog.’

* I actually used the word ‘exactamundo’ the other day. I now go about my life daily knowing I was reduced to quoting the Fonz. It is very humbling to know that one could fall socially and culturally so far.

* Does it make me a slow learner when the vending machine eats my 75 cents, most likely meaning that it is out of Diet Dr. Pepper, and I put in 75 cents 2 more times in an attempt to get one? I’m not good at math, but I think I’m out like $8 now and still don’t have a Diet Dr. Pepper.

* When calling a friend at their work and you use an alias as a joke, it’s important to spell the name correctly when leaving a message with whoever answers the phone. You know, for credibility and stuff.

* When Ms. I Want To Go To Mime School mentioned getting a job application for the seedy bar next to our office, I told her she was better than that and she should just wait until I open my restaurant. Unfortunately she asked when that would be and I had to tell her that I need to fall and then sue somebody first. It’s gonna be a while.

* I question our advancements in medicine and medical treatment when I am seeing a doctor about a possible kidney infection and have to carry my urine sample from the 3rd floor, down the elevator and through the entire length of the clinic’s downstairs lobby to deliver it to the lab. Not only did people stare, but I received the dainty two finger hold as the nurse at the lab took the bag containing my sample from me. I just don’t think we see enough people carrying their own urine in public to have become desensitized to it yet. And now I can add that sentence to the growing list of things I never thought I’d get to write on my blog.

* Is a ‘Wet Paint’ sign as seductive to anyone else as it is to me? What makes one have to touch the surface of something that has a ‘Wet Paint’ sign on it? And the part that really sucks is that you are leaving your fingerprint there for all of eternity should someone want to discover who actually touched the wet paint. It’s a sticky situation.

* I learned that when our office is playing the 'name a title' song game and we are on songs that have ‘day’ in the title, anything from the catalogue of Doris Day is off limits. However, ‘Monday, Monday’ and ‘Rainy Days and Mondays’ are worth multiple points and Kenny Rogers’ ‘Daytime Friends and Nighttime Lovers’ works for both songs with ‘day’ and songs with ‘night.’ Now if it was only that easy to complete our assigned office tasks. Also, are you aware of how many Beatles songs have 'day' in the title? Their song list is like a veritable diarrhea of the word 'day.' You know, there was probably a much better way to convey that thought.

* If you ever really, really want to please your coworkers, get in before everyone else and then greet them all by telling them that you made the coffee and it should be ready. If you really, really want to upset your coworkers, do all of the above, except forget to press the start button after getting the coffee machine ready. Talk about awkward...

Have a great weekend and remember to send me your burning, or maybe even itching, rash-like questions for Q & A Monday.

I Wonder If It’s A Pyramid Scheme?

Pardon the repost, but I had nothing better to say today. Seriously, rhyming say and today was as good as it got. So, I offer you this...

Hot on the heels of me offering to write posts for money (which was a joke, really. Honestly. Come on you can believe me) comes today’s pointless holiday that I am choosing to celebrate. Today is called Laugh and Get Rich Day. Now of course I can’t find anything about it on the Wondernet, so I am left to ASSume what we are supposed to do in honor of today.

As you might expect, I laugh…a lot. As you also might expect, I GET laughed AT a lot, too. The only problem is that all of my laughing has most certainly NOT made me rich and I’m pretty sure it hasn’t helped my coworkers (the biggest offenders of the laughing at me category) either. If they had gotten money for laughing at me, most if not all of them would no longer need to work and would be what people refer to as ‘financially independent.’ (When you read that last phrase, feel free to use air quotes. I did).

Maybe I haven’t made money laughing yet because I haven’t bought into the pyramid aspect of it. You’re familiar with the pyramid, right? No, not the one with all the clues on it and the snappy music and Dick Clark in really outdated blazers (though who doesn’t love that pyramid). I’m speaking of the symbolic pyramid where you get to watch me laugh for money and then start laughing yourself. Of course your initial laughing is not for pay because I get your money at first. But if you can get 3-5 people signed up to laugh at me, then you get a small percentage of my take and on and on. Eventually, I will be like the Darth Vader of laughing for money and you will all be my laughing storm troopers. Or maybe I would be the Emperor of laughing and you would be my Darth Vader and so on and so on. Hang with me; I know there’s a decent Star Wars analogy there. OK, how about this? I’d be the laughing Yoda and you’d all be my laughing Jedi. Yeah, that’s a pretty good one.

One thing is for sure though; if we work the pyramid correctly, I will one day be able to stand on the top of my pyramid (proverbially speaking, of course) and shout ‘I started a joke.’ I have always wanted to be able to yell that, because let’s face it, how often do we really get to reference Bee Gees song titles in our everyday comings and goings (it also gave me a semi-decent excuse to FINALLY use that cool drawing of the Bee Gees that I've kept on my hard drive for over 2 years now). And yes, I do realize that the rest of that lyric states ‘I started a joke that got the whole world crying, but I couldn’t see that the joke was on me.’ I am choosing to ignore that part though, because I am going to start a joke that gets 3-5 people to pay me, followed by another 3-5 people and then the 3-5 they’ll sign up after that. And I know what you are going to say to me when all the laughing money starts rolling in: ‘Michael, you are so rich now that you should be dancing.’ OH MY GOD, did you see that? I was just able to reference TWO Bee Gees songs in one post.

Am I going loopy? I mean I did have quite a fever last night. I guess you could call it a ‘night fever?’ Oh wow, that’s 3 titles now. Ok, I am going to stop before I lose all of my readership over the excessive use of Bee Gee song references. Yes, you could say it’s my way of Stayin’ Alive in blogsville. All right, I’m done now. I swear!

Well, I am off to try and make everyone I know laugh in the hopes of getting my pyramid ‘triangular thing that the Egyptians built with the help of aliens’ started. However, first I would like to give you some tips on what WON’T get people to laugh based on my real life learnin’s at work yesterday:

1. When your VERY pregnant coworker walks by holding 3 styrofoam cups of water (please don’t ask me why), don’t say something to the effect of ‘please don’t drop any of those cups because I’d hate to see your water break.’

2. Also when speaking with the same VERY pregnant coworker and you are discussing the delicate subject of her contractions, DO NOT refer to the contractions as ‘the baby knocking at her door.'

3. Lastly, don’t even bother telling a VERY pregnant coworker that when the baby doctor is checking to see how dilated she is, she should sing ‘How Deep Is Your Glove.’ YES, if you give me credit for slightly altering that one, I have referenced no less than FIVE BEE GEES SONGS IN ONE POST!!!

At least yesterday was her last day at work before maternity leave. I don’t think I could’ve kept stepping on eggshells when around her much longer. She really didn’t care much for all of my jive talkin’. HA, THAT’S SIX, BABY!!!!!!

Keep It Simple Stupid

Ok, I am not calling anyone that happens to read this stupid. It’s just a saying and since this post is about simplification, it was the only ‘simple’ related saying I could think of. Actually, in my house ‘stupid’ is a 4-letter word. Part of this has to do with the fact that Lucy and Ethel haven’t quite mastered spelling yet, but the other part is because they consider it a bad word, just like dumb, butt and celery. Well, it was me who taught them about the celery deal, but they aren’t arguing.

This week is Simplify Your Life Week. I don’t believe there is a colored ribbon to be worn that is associated with this week, but I’m still researching it. When you think about it though, the holiday is not made any simpler when we have to add a ribbon, so I probably won’t find one for it. I’m all into simplifying things because doing so eliminates useless steps and makes things easier. I realize that sounds a lot like being lazy, but I prefer to call it body or mental energy conservation.  The words are bigger.

I’ve always felt that there was no need to take 15 steps to do something that could be done in 5 steps. Unless of course you are walking, because let’s face it, if it takes 15 steps to get home and you only take 5, you just aren’t going to make it home. Simplification frees us up to do other things, it makes us more productive and is much more efficient. The only problem with this is when you introduce simplification into your work day and then find yourself with nothing to do and it’s only 2PM. This is usually the time when your boss senses that you are project stunted or project deficient or maybe even project challenged and gives you more to do. And that simply sucks.

Some people view simplifying their lives differently. For them it means less clutter. I tried this approach once, but literally sat in a spaced out stupor for 20 minutes deciding where to start. Do I dump the Ipod? No, because a Barry Manilow song is playing. Do I dump the portable GPS receiver? No, I’d get lost. Well, I'd get lost a little less than I already do without the receiver.  Do I ditch my cellphone? Actually yes, I’d like to very much. You might think that being able to be in constant communication with everyone you know is an asset, but I view it as a pain in the asset, unless I’m texting my friend to tell him that I am currently at Disneyland as I mentioned in a post a few weeks back. Sometimes it’s just nice to get away from it all and the cellphone makes that practically impossible. I was explaining to someone once how I wanted to throw my cellphone into the nearest ditch and as soon as the sentence left my mouth my phone rang and it was a work call. That’s either called irony or karma, though I call it crappy luck and more proof of why I detest my cellphone, with the notable exception of the That’s What She Said ringtone I created for it featuring the entire cast of The Office. And yes, I’d love to share it with you…

I have to admit that when I saw there was another bogus non-HR sanctioned holiday this week that I thought writing about it would be so simple. Well, I was wrong. It hasn’t been simple. It’s been like popping a pimple located inside of a dimple (and yes, that was probably graphic enough that I should have warned you beforehand, sorry). See, now I’ve been reduced to rhyming like Seuss. Today I didn’t wear a tie, so at least you could say I gave being simple a try. I don’t know why, but now I want to cry. I would not lie. Not to you. I would not lie in a zoo, I would not lie wearing one shoe. I would not lie if you were standing in poo. I would not lie from here to Kalamazoo. Now I’ve jumped the shark, so this post should be all through. So I shall say, goodbye to you.

Let’s Sleep On It (That’s What She Said)

As I was exercising my right to surf the wondernet last week (not at work of course, ahem, cough, etc., etc.), I came across a story whose title included the words ‘nap’ and ‘work.’ My neck has been in a brace since. That’s a whiplash joke, though I think having to explain it automatically precludes it from falling into the category of ‘joke.’ I read the article and even took notes, which I have since misplaced, most likely because I am in need of a nap.

The story talked about how workers in other companies and countries are given nap time and how employers are realizing that a nap does the productivity good. I am paraphrasing, but the bottom line was that naps in the workplace are becoming vogue, or in vogue or maybe vogueicious, but definitely some derivative of the word vogue. Or for those of you keeping score at home, fashionable.

Since reading about the in-vogueness of napping in the workplace, I have been dropping subtle hints at my office in the hopes of getting naptime approved. My first hurdle was cutting out the use of the word naptime because it sounds preschoolish, which I have been accused of acting like more than once…a day. After a long period of deliberation and internal monologue that usually became internal debate, I settled on a good alternative to naptime – ‘efficiency energization (ener-jize-a-tion).’ For short, it can be referred to as the Double E. Please permit me to use it in a sentence for you. ‘I regret to inform you that I cannot complete your project as requested until I take my Double E.’ Or, ‘My lack of a Double E prevented me from having the energy and mental alertness to get that done today.’ I hope those examples help.

I worry however that my subtle hints have not been successful. First I came into the office yawning all day in the hopes that my boss would notice how tired I was, and not being able to do without my workplace genius and leadership (that is certainly worth a raise, by the way), would try to find a solution that would allow me to both sleep and stay at work. Unfortunately, all this tactic did was make everyone else around me yawn until we all got so annoyed from yawning that we turned against each other. Having failed in day one, I regrouped and brought in my pillow. This led to me being called a baby and being asked impolite things like ‘where’s your blankie’ or ‘are you going to suck your thumb now and drink from your bottle or do you need your diaper changed?’ The sucky part of that is the fact that I had planned on bringing in a blanket as part of my day 3 tactics. Those fools! Don’t they know that naptime efficiency energization would benefit them too?

Having had the blanket option so rudely taken from me, I got in early and posted the story I read about naptime being adopted in the workplace all over the office. I put them in front of the water cooler, over the fax machine, over the copy machine and taped one to my boss’ keyboard. Hoping that everyone had seen the story I posted, I waited all day for there to be an open dialogue about the benefits of naptime in the workplace. It never happened. This really puzzled me until I was passing the copy machine and saw them crumpled and waded up in the round file. Obviously I am going to have to adopt much more direct measures.

I’ve been tempted to just crawl under my desk and take a nap in the middle of the day, but with our earthquake last week, I fear that everyone would just assume I was prematurely ducking and covering again. And that does nothing but lessen my credibility around the office. Though it may be hard to believe, certain people in the office look up to me for guidance and feedback. Yes, it is only the new people in the office (the term ‘new’ meaning individuals employed in our office for less than 2 weeks), but it still validates my statement that certain people in the office look up to me.

It’s frustrating knowing that other workers in other offices are sound asleep with their management’s approval as I find myself sleepily listing to one side while sitting at my office computer trying in vain to stay awake. Perhaps I have been too bold and too obvious. I think I shall try a more subtle approach. Hmmmm, maybe stretching and yawning loudly while I exclaim ‘oh, I could be so much more productive if only I had been allowed to take a 30 minute nap this afternoon like they do in other more productive offices in our country and Japan, whose workers are better than us’ would do the trick. I just hope it’s not so subtle that no one notices.

Q & A Monday

Wow, did that last week fly by. I’d chalk that up to the prescribed painkillers I was on all week, but I asked around and was told that yes, the week did seem to go by quickly, as did the month of July. Why it seems like just yesterday I was in the pool, grilling and watching fireworks. Wait, actually, I was. Ok, let’s try it this way: it seems like just yesterday that we were celebrating the birth of our nation and it’s already been a month. I guess as we get older we end up paying for all those times as kids that we sat around saying that something was taking forever and that we were bored. Granted, I still lament that daily from my cubicle, but that’s beside the point because I have the maturation of a fine piece of sharp cheddar: 1 ½ years. And speaking of cubicles and segues, I have been playing with the idea of putting on a play in my office. I was thinking we’d do ‘The Crucible From A Cubicle.’ It’s just in the planning stages and I’ll probably be assigned to some project or deadline that will derail me, but I like the title.

OK, now to the answers to your questions. The rules are the same: I make things up instead of research them because it’s quicker so you should probably not repeat what you are about to read to anyone and I will probably but accidentally overlook someone’s question. Oh, and I like cheese. Now here we go…

Patti is first up this week with this gem: ‘ Would 'I hate when that happens' qualify as a TWSS statement?’
Yes Patti, it most certainly would, though most men would cringe having to tell someone that that’s actually what she said. But if you used it with a TWSS, then you can excitedly add yourself to the growing list of people I am getting to say TWSS through my sheer willpower of annoyance!

Ralph asked: 'On top of a French Onion Soup, is a Gruyère or a Swiss cheese better for melting into the tasty, gooey, stringy, molten melted mess top of the crock? Cheeseheads need to know! '
I would go with Swiss, though I haven't had Gruyere in a very long time. I am also currently renewing my love affair with Mizithra, but that has no place on French Onion Soup. And here's a tip you may (or most likely may not) wish to use. I scoop up all the molten cheesy goodness, put it aside and eat it last, just as I do with the crispy skin of fried chicken.

Employee No. 3699 asked ‘Who will win the next American Idol? Also, what would be your ideal ice cream truck song?’
I haven’t watched Idol since Carrie Underwood and Kelly Pickler, so I’m not too current on the show, but I am guessing a leggy blonde with marginal singing talent. Or possibly a guy who fits the same description. Although short athletes with a better center of gravity seem to do pretty well. Wait, that might be Dancing With The Stars. As for my favorite ice cream truck song I’d have to say I like the idea of either ‘Convoy’ or ‘Bohemian Rhapsody.’ Seriously, probably a Beach Boys’ song. That seems to fit the summery mood. Although, Johnny Cash’s ‘Folsom Prison Bluse’ is kinda catchy…

Amy asked a very intriguing question this week: ‘Does your wife laugh in hysterics by your comments daily? Does she think you are funny?’
Well Amy, remember a few sentences ago when I said that I was able to get people to say That’s What She Said through the sheer willpower of annoyance? That kind of sums up the way I am at home. I wouldn’t say that she laughs in hysterics daily, but then in her defense, we’ve been married 11 ½ years. She does think I’m funny and we have lots of fun together, but we’ve become convinced that my personality should be treated like chemotherapy. It can be good for you, but in very small doses.

Mel asked ‘what's your favorite board game and why? You could also tell me your favorite bored game, which for some reason I think might involve singing and the copy machine or getting under your desk with a block of cheese.’
My favorite board game has always been Monopoly. I like the idea of making money and putting up properties and trying to make deals with my family and friends when I have overspent and am essentially broke and then land on Boardwalk. I don’t know a lot of people that enjoy playing it, so we usually don’t get it out very often. You were very close about my favorite bored game. I also like to go around annoying coworkers when I am bored at work. They don’t seem to enjoy it, but it sure brightens up my day. Over time, you begin to learn what specifically annoys each coworker and then you become able to personalize your annoyances, which does reward one with an extra special sense of achievement and accomplishment. We all need goals.

And finally this week, we have 3 questions from Aislinge. She asked ‘1. Will the partial eclipse be visible to the Northern New Jersey part of the US and what time? 2. What is the craziest celebrity baby name you have heard of? Your thoughts on the parents' naming their offspring this way? 3. Would you go to the Moon on Nasa's next manned space flight if they came to you and offered you this opportunity?'
I believe the partial eclipse will be visible in Northern New Jersey, unless you are on the turnpike because the pikes will obscure the view, at least while you are turning. I think the best time to view was between 8pm and 8:03pm. And you are right, I have never been to New Jersey. Was it that obvious? I was trying to be subtle. The craziest celebrity name I have ever heard of is probably Frank Sinatra Jr. Seriously people, these ARE the jokes…Honestly, it’s probably Moon Unit Zappa or whatever his name is. Although Dweezil ain’t too sweet either. Then there is George Foreman naming all of his kids George. I don’t know why parents feel they should give their children horrible names. It’s not the parent that has to go around having that name for the rest of their lives. No child should have a name that invites derision and mockery. I should know, because I’m a Christmas baby, my real name is not Michael – it’s Noel. Yes, I’m kidding. Though if I had been a girl, that would have been my name. I would definitely go to the moon if asked by NASA. I’d probably get in trouble though for being too touristy. I’d have my picture taken with my foot inside Neil Armstrong’s footprints and I’d salute the flag that the Apollo 11 crew left just they way that they did and I’d most likely spend a lot of time on the moon trying to do Michael Jackson’s moonwalk. I’d also have mission control very angry with me because I’d be way too tempted to end every other sentence with ‘Houston, we have a problem’ and that would just make me giggle incessantly like a 12-year-old school girl.

Ok, that does it for this week’s Q & A. A big thank you to everyone who sent in questions this week. I’ll gladly answer more next Monday. Here’s hoping everyone has a great week and that the blog ideas flow forth like the new leak in my kitchen faucet or the slurred words from the mouth of Farrah Fawcett.

Weekly News Roundup

Here are a bunch of posts I started based on things I read throughout the week that never got finished. The beauty is that if I group them together, it’s long enough (that’s what she said) to make a post. And if I give it a name like ‘weekly news roundup,’ it almost sounds important…


I Testify (In Shorts That Are Deemed To Be Too Short For The Social Good)!
I saw a news headline on Friday that caught my attention. Apparently humanity’s friend Richard Simmons testified before congress defending Physical Ed in schools. I still cannot verify whether or not he was in his trademarked workout outfit. Although if he was, you can let your school children know right now that Congress has officially decided to pull PE out of schools across the nation. I wonder how congress got him to sit still at the testification table. Did he provide his answers by yelling and singing and clapping? I bet the shock of seeing Richard Simmons in a suit would be comparable to seeing Pamela Anderson wearing a bra.

What Did You Say Your Name Was?
Imagine being 9 years old and having the name ‘Talulah Does The Hula From Hawaii.’ Seriously. Talulah is pretty cool and is probably how she was referred to, but does that mean her middle name is Does The Hula From Hawaii? When she gets in trouble, do her parents yell at her using the entire first and middle names? I bet she hates those days when there is s substitute in her classroom that doesn’t know her and reads her entire name off the role sheet. I’m sure she yells ‘HERE’ as soon as the sub calls out Talulah in the hopes of stopping her from saying the rest of it. Not only is the name too long, it’s entirely too unnecessarily descriptive. One can only imagine what her parents were doing when they decided to begin rhyming on their daughter’s birth certificate.

Fortunately, a judge in New Zealand is changing her name because no child should have a name that could be the title of a Chubby Checker song or Dr. Seuss book (Talulah Does The Hula From Hawaii.’ It Could be Maui or Kauai, but she always is very cry-y. It’s not the Mambo on a bongo or the twist with her wrist or the stroll on a pole…). Granted, I am being a hypocrite here because I named one of my daughters after a racetrack. But don’t worry; it’s not Daytona because that sounded too much like an adulty stage name, if you catch my drift…

Jumping The Shark
The next bit of news deserves some biting commentary. American Idol host Ryan Seacrest had a scary encounter recently and had to blab talk about it on his radio show. It seems he was bitten by a shark. Oh the humanity! He lived to tell about it though, perhaps because Ryan was wearing a sea vest? Get it Seacrest, sea vest? Hey, I just jumped the shark and didn’t have to get my pseudo-pompadour or leather jacket wet to do so! That’s all I really had to share about this story. Basically, the only reason I included it was to be able to make my Ryan Sea Vest joke.

Things You Never Expected To See But Did
Except for the fact that I had to tell almost everyone I know about these next two items, I really wouldn’t consider them to be news. I was out jogging the other day (ok, it wasn’t jogging, just really brisk walking, but that doesn’t sound as athletic) when I could have sworn I heard ‘Silent Night’ playing. At first I just chalked it up to the usual dizziness, shortness of breath and general confusion that happens when I tend to exercise. But then I thought I heard ‘O Christmas Tree.’ Since two makes a pattern (I’ll give you an example: I had twin children, therefore, I have a pattern of children), I figured this was really happening and not just a reaction to my lack of oxygen. Christmas songs outside in the middle of July? How is this happening, I thought. And more importantly, why didn’t I know about it? I wasn’t sure if it was someone’s music box or those outside decorations people put up during the holidays that play music, but the noise was definitely getting louder. And then I saw it. It was coming from an ICE CREAM TRUCK. I couldn’t get over it. An ice cream truck playing Christmas music in the middle of the summer! The part that really got me was the song selection. Are ‘Silent Night’ and ‘O Christmas Tree’ really the first holiday songs that come to mind when outfitting an ice cream truck? It struck me as blogwothy, and I’m not just saying that because everyone else I told responded with ‘so?’

And then there was what I saw while driving home from work the other night. I have to pass a funeral home every night, so I’m accustomed to seeing mourners dressed in dark clothing outside either waiting for the funeral service to start or just leaving the service. The other night was quite different though. The first thing that caught my attention were the yellow and blue balloons tied to the hearse and the doors of the mortuary. Obviously my first thought was that a clown had died. This thought changed slightly though when I saw the Mariachi band outside singing and playing their instruments. Ok, I figured, maybe it was a clown of Hispanic heritage. And then I saw the people drinking from small plastic cups with cocktail napkins in their hands. This really threw me. Maybe, just maybe it was a Hispanic clown who had very good taste and an appreciation for the finer things. You know, the finer things that require cocktail napkins. I realized that was stretching it. Then I figured out that it was probably something like an open house. I’d never thought of shopping around for funeral homes before, but now I can tell my family that I want my final arrangements handled by the place that had the cool balloons and really good cookies. Knowing that will happen is sure to make me rest in peace, unless of course I decide upon cremation. Then I’ll rest in lots of pieces…


Have a great weekend everybody and remember to send me the questions that keep you up at night so I can make something up research it for you and answer them for Q&A Monday.

Going To The Suggestion Box

At the end of last week, one of the newer readers here gave me a great suggestion. E told me to get topic suggestions and file them away for those days where my mind is infertile as an 88-year-old woman or barren desert or better yet, an 88-year-old woman in a barren desert, take your pick. Not only was E’s suggestion a good idea, she actually got the topic suggestion box going with a few submissions of her own. I will attempt to tackle E’s suggested topics today, though after I’m done, my suggestion box will be empty again. I guess it’s feast or famine. I also forgot to take my camera to work again today today and alas cannot post my Wednesday Window of the Week pic. I used ‘alas’ to make it seem more dramatic. It’s not normally part of my daily vocab.

E’s first topic suggestion concerns mullets and perms, but not just any mullets and perms, mullets and perms circa 1990. Since I don’t know what circa means, I’m not sure how to approach this. I’m kidding. Of course I know that circa is the scientific name for killer whales, like Shamu, though I have no idea how that relates to the year 1990. Perhaps that is when ‘Free Willy’ came out?

Perms may not be as in style as they were back in the days of the Brady Bunch and The Carol Burnett show, but I know people still get them. I can’t remember anyone in my class or age group having perms around 1990. I do however remember my mom having one. I also remember how badly the perm stuff smelled. I’m not quite sure why that smell could not have been masked my a better scent like coconut or grape snow cone, but not doing so was a real case of nasal neglect. The whole house would smell of perm, often driving my father, brother and I to go out to McDonalds or something. Well, I guess that’s not all bad, except for the part where we would return and the house would still reek of perm. Needless to say, I am not a fan of the essence of perm.

Then there’s the mullet. I can’t say a whole lot about the mullet, but fortunately it was not dependent on the scent of perm. Being in So Cal in the early 90s, I don’t recall ever seeing a mullet. Well, when the K-mart in the middle of town was open I may have spied one or two, but back then, it was a rare sight. I do remember seeing lots of fades and the girls who made their bangs as tall as a small office building. I swear they would pull their bangs, press it against a flat board and use enough hair spray to create a floating toxic cloud the size of Manhattan, which I have seen from the air and can tell you is quite large. I’m speaking of the size of Manhattan, not the toxic cloud. I merely used the size of Manhattan for illustrative purposes. I highly doubt the hair spray cloud is that big, but now it’s irrelevant because I had to explain it. At any rate, fades and big hair are the dos (as in dues, like hairdos, not the Spanish word for the #2) I remember.

Nowadays, mullets and perms can go quite well together, if you are in country music. It’s like Dolly meets Travis Tritt. I think Reba was also a causality of the big hair days. I’d mention Billy Ray here, but E has brought him up in a later topic suggestion. Yes, the mullet may be the embodiment of efficiency with its business in the front/party in the back, but the perm takes it one-step further. The perm is always ready to go. Constant curls equals constant action. Heck, even William Shatner sported the perm in TJ Hooker.

Next, E asks if Britney Spears can make a comeback. My answer depends on whether the comeback is mentally and parentally or musically. Actually, no it doesn’t it. I gotta go with ‘no’ on all fronts. I’d give it about 5 years and then she’ll be doing the celebrity reality circuit, stuck in a house with Pat Sajack, Miley, at least one cast member a piece from ‘Dancing With The Stars’ and ‘High School Musical.’ She won’t win. I also see Oprah in her future, followed by either Kabala or The Church of Scientology. And lots of plastic surgery. And sadly, a few more failed marriages. But don’t call it a comeback! Sorry, that lyric has been in my head since first typing the word ‘comeback’ up there a few sentences ago.

Another topic in the suggestion box is ‘Who’s on your laminated card?’ Uh, I’m supposed to have a laminated card with someone on it? Will a card stock frequent diner card from the BBQ place down the street from my office do? Or how about my Golden Spoon frozen yogurt card? I only need two more stamps on it before I get a free one. Actually, I think my driver’s license is laminated. If that counts, then I am on it. I also have the card I made that shows which excuse to use for getting to work late. I’ve found you can be much more credible when you have a credit card sized chart to help you keep track of the excuses you are using.

It just occurred to me that maybe laminated card is another way of saying emergency card or emergency contact. If that’s the case, then my cell phone and other contact info is on it. That way, if something happens to me, the authorities can call my cell phone and leave a message about my emergency situation so when my wife and children retrieve it from the hospital or coroner’s office, they can check my voicemail and hear the message informing them that I have been injured or in some other type of emergency. Wait a minute, there might be an easier way to inform my relatives. Let me think about this for a little while.

Lastly, E suggested I tackle the great ongoing public debate right now regarding who to back this year. That’s right; she wanted my take on who's smarter - Billy Ray Cyrus or Pam Anderson? As you might imagine, this is a real toughie. Both have undergone major transformations during the last several years. Billy Ray has gone from mullet (told you that would come up) to long hair and from country heartthrob (not my words) to TV personality. I guess we could refer to him as an actor.

On the other hand, Pamela Anderson has increased the size of her jumbas and then decreased them and then increased them again. She has also married a rocker and then divorced a rocker. However, she doesn’t have 3 names and isn’t riding her child’s coattails to relaunch her career. Plus, she never recorded one of my favorite country songs, ‘Words By Heart,’ so I gotta go with Billy Ray. And yes, saying that publicly does ache and break my heart. I know. I know. You saw that coming…

Who Knew A Machine Could Bring Us All Together?

Technology is amazing. I guess when you figure out that we were able to land a man on the moon (if you choose to believe in that sort of stuff); the newest machine in our office should come as no surprise. It will revolutionize the way we go about our day. Heck it might even make us better workers. Strike that. It might even make me a better worker. In fact, I’m not sure why this thing wasn’t installed earlier. I suppose I should just be grateful that my employer has finally seen fit to put one in our office.

In fact, not even a 5.8 magnitude earthquake literally less than 5 miles from our coffice (sorry, I honestly actually wrote coffice there, you’ll see why in a minute. Obviously I meant ‘office’ though) could curb our excitement and appreciation for our newest office toy tool. What? I have yet to share what it is with you (well except for the big photo there on the left of course)? Well, let me do that now. It’s the Saeco Rubino 200 coffee vending machine. Sure my office may not have cool perks like bocce ball courts, gyms, a cafeteria or pens with blue ink, but we now have a special coffee machine. It is fancy, like in faaaaaan-ceeeee. It serves coffee, which is so 2003, espresso, moccacino, hot chocolate, latte, mochafrapa, crapacinno and a few other combinations I may or may not be making up because I can’t remember them all and am not very hip. It grinds the fresh coffee beans and even lets you select your own sugar setting, which may let me finally say ‘come on gimmie some sugar’ in the office without having to go to HR.

Heck, mine was even dispensed with the wooden stick already inside of it, which is odd because no one else’s did, which is even weirder because when I got another cup (hmmm, Michael never gets a second cup from our old coffee maker) it again came with a stick stirrer when no one else’s did. Remember all that stuff I said before about how this new machine will make our office a better place and make us me a better worker? Well, I was a little to quick to call that one. Beverages from the machine were free today (we’ll have to pay a dollar for them tomorrow) so there was a non-stop trek of coworkers walking back and forth from the break room seeking or already enjoying caffeinated pleasure. It made working a little difficult since CERTAIN coworkers like trying to make witty comments to everyone who passes by. At last count, I the unnamed coworker had made 26 straight questionably witty remarks.

But that’s all beside the point. What is important here is the new coffee machine in our office. Its presence among us means we no longer have to leave our office to go to Starbucks or the donut shop or the other Starbucks or the Starbucks inside Target or even the Starbucks two blocks down from the Starbucks that is 3 blocks down from the original Starbucks I mentioned, which if I remember correctly is only minutes from the It’s A Grind, which of course is a few blocks east of the Coffee Bean, which is right before you turn at the 7-11, who of course also serves coffee, just as the AM/PM gas station center across the street from the 7-11 does. Why do I feel so exhausted right now?

I was counting how many coffee runs some of my coworkers made throughout the day and some of them got up to 4 or 5, which is just unbelievable. The coffee was free for the first day and I was able to fit in 8 trips, not counting the first one when the vending machine owner guy pressed all the buttons for me, which irritated me to no end. So yes, I went a little overboard and tried all of the combinations. Some of them twice.

I believe it was sometime after having the espresso that I yelled to duck and cover under the desks because I was feeling another earthquake aftershock. As no one else ducked, I got out from under my desk realizing it had just been the jolt of the caffeine. I don’t think anyone saw me. Well, they may have seen me but were just not choosing to acknowledge it. It’s easier for me to go with the fact that no one else saw me duck and cover for an aftershock that never happened, so that’s what I am going with. I will tell you this though, something was definitely shaking. I just wish I could be sure whether it was me or the ground.

The more time I reflect on it, I think the days of our office ‘water-cooler’ talk are over. I’m just not sure if we’ll refer to the coffee maker as the Saeco machine, the coffee machine or the dark blue altar to the goodness of Saint Juan Valdez? I tried them all out in the following sentence: ‘the scuttlebutt around the (insert name or description for coffee machine here) had me really excited…’ but none of them seemed to click.

There is one problem though. We have to start paying a dollar per cup tomorrow and there is no way I’m paying a dollar for that coffee machine’s tiny cup when I can close my eyes, point and end up at any of 7 local coffee joints around my office. Ok, yes I will. It’s got really cool buttons on it. It’s like a new arcade game with frothy prizes…at work!

Imagineer That

I know, I know, that was the cheesiest title of all time. It kept popping through my head on a visit to Disneyland recently though. I couldn’t help but think that being a Disney Imagineer must be the coolest job ever. And yes, I mean even cooler than cheese taster, ice cream mixologist and Official Purveyor of How To Appropriately Spend Retirement.

You may better know that last job I mentioned by its unofficial title of Retirement Liason or Retirement Consultant. Basically, it’s someone who is paid by retirees to advise them on how to spend retirement. Not how to spend for retirement in the financial sense, but how to enjoy ones retirement. There is a lot of hard work and research that goes into that job because the only way to tell people how to enjoy retirement is by doing and experiencing those things first hand. Some jobs are just inhumanely tough, but our economy and basic operation of society are dependent on people who do the jobs that no one else wants to.

As far as Imagineering goes, could there be a more enjoyable job than getting to create rides, décor and attractions for The Happiest Place on Earth With The Notable Exceptions Of The Tillamook Cheese Factory And My Newly Redone Backyard? I think not. As I sat in the Tiki Room contemplating how it could be recreated under my new patio, I realized just how creative the original Imagineers were. Singing tiki gods? Robotic bird hosts? Yep, this is the stuff of pure genius, or a byproduct of the hippy counter culture. Let’s just stick with the genius thing though.

My mind drifts off to imagine what it must have been like to hang around with these types of people. I say this because really, how often does the phrase ‘let’s create a bunch of drunken pyromaniac pirates who like to sing about pillaging and extortion’ come up in a staff meeting? Personally, I can only think of one time that has happened in my office, but then I was asked to repeat a new fiscal policy while I had been daydreaming, so I’m not even sure that instance counts.

What do these people come up with for their homes for Halloween or Christmas? Are they allowed to do things like that for personal use and then charge their neighbors for admission? Is that a conflict of interest with regard to profiting personally from their employment? Do they care? Do they just want to leave all that Imagineering stuff at the office when they leave work each day because to them it’s just a job? How many questions did I ask in that last sentence? Are there any questions I didn’t think of? Do you really care?

I used to know a family friend who owned an animatronic company. What a great playground that was! Well, except for that time I went to see the bigger than human singing rodents he was building for a certain kiddy pizza parlor that hosts birthdays and stuff. Seeing dozens of these figures in various states of undress and completion was enough to give me nightmares of armies of singing birthday party pizza hosts coming after me because I refused to buy tokens for ski ball and air hockey. To this day, I still tremble when I pick up a slice of pizza, or when I hear ‘Happy Birthday To You.’

Oh, the many office birthday cake days I have ruined as I cowered and shrieked like a little baby under my desk as the rest of my coworkers sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to the office birthday boy or girl. Is using boy or girl in an office setting not appropriate? Fine, birthday PERSONS. I could only explain away my conduct by saying I was antisocial or that I have a grudge against people celebrating their birthdays because mine falls on Christmas Eve and I have been shafted each of my 34 birthdays for so long. I guess I really didn’t need to say ‘for so long’ there given the fact that I just said it was 34 birthdays. I must just like being redundant. I must just like be redundant.

I guess the thing that sets Imagineers apart from us regular dreamers is that they are smart. Smart enough to build things. Let me be more specific about that: they build things that work. Oh, and they work for Disneyland. That part is pretty important. If you build things that work for someone other than Disneyland and you call yourself an Imagineer, chances are you’re asking for legal trouble.

Imagineers are able to come up with an idea and then make it reality and better yet, make it something that people want to pay to come see. Don’t get me wrong, I have ideas. Plenty of them in fact. The only problem is that all I can do with my ideas is blog about them or put them down on paper in stick figure form with descriptive arrows that say things like ‘this part moves’ or ‘I’m not sure how to make this part do the happy dance, so I’ll leave that up to you.’ Unfortunately, no matter how descriptive the arrows my be, I’m pretty sure an idea expressed through stick figure form does not qualify as a technical drawing, just as a lego building does not constitute a ‘model.’ You probably also have to be good at math. If being an Imagineer just required someone to have ideas, we’d all be Imagineers, or more specifically, people with great ideas who are unemployed, at least by Disney.

I’ve mentioned a lot of things in this post, so let’s review. It would be cool to be an Imagineer for Disney. Oh, and I like cheese.

Q & A Monday – Installment 3

Things will be pretty brief this week. Two people submitted questions. While this would normally make someone question the need for a Q & A Day, it just makes me grateful. Grateful that ANYONE asked questions, which brings me to the part where I need to apologize to not getting around to all of your blogs as often as I should be lately. I really only have two excuses: 1) That whole pesky ‘don’t blog again at work or you’ll be in trouble’ thing and 2) The steroidal kiddy pool currently housed in my backyard. Believe me, the combination is an online time killer! For that, I do apologize but am oh so grateful to still have people that want to visit here.

Ok, before I question the answers, or something like that, let’s review the rules. First and perhaps most importantly, do not repeat these answers in a public forum as your sanity and credibility may will be questioned. Second, I do not research my answers so they very well may not be true, I believe this is mainly because it’s often easier to make things up than it is to study or verify them. Lastly, I usually ACCIDENTALLY forget at least one submitted question every week, though I really have no excuse for doing so this time around…

First off this week, and I’m going to warn you that once you have read the answer to this question, we will be half way done, is Eva. She asks: ‘Have you dropped your quest to have "Now if you'll excuse me I have to go x-ray my chicken" become a part of society's vernacular?
No I have not. I may have gotten away from using it for a while, but that was because I overused it at work and was accused by our HR department of using the word ‘chicken’ as a substitute or ‘slang alternative’ for a sinister, possibly even adult meaning. Obviously, this was untrue as the phrase really did come about from a dinner discussion I had with friends who had a sick chicken. Really. We were eating at an Italian restaurant at the time, if you need further proof. Oh, and I made that HR part up, in case they are reading this.

Last up this week, we have a fellow cubicle dweller, Employee No. 3699, who asked: ‘What is your favorite letter of the alphabet and why? Who is your favorite cartoon character? Butter or margarine?’
Well, my instinct is to go with the letter ‘A’ because it’s the first one and I get it over with quicker. However, ‘x’ is pretty cool. It’s very versatile, especially for people who prefer what rude people like to call a ‘lazy’ lifestyle, although I prefer to call it a ‘lifestyle of activity efficiency.’ ‘X’ can be used as a substitute for larger words like x-ray, Christmas, and most likely another handful that I can’t recall without looking them up. So, I’ll go with ‘h.’ My favorite cartoon character is Paris Hilton. What will she do next? Ok, seriously it’s a tie between Homer Simpson and Johnny Bravo. As far as butter and margarine go, I can’t recall ever having margarine. I normally have stuff like ‘I can’t believe it didn’t congeal like butter’ or ‘What a crock of country,’ but whenever I get the real deal butter, it’s a very special day indeed.

Ok, that’s all I’ve got for this week. Feel free to send me your questions for next Monday, but I feel I should warn you: question slots are going fast. Yep, about as fast as a raised 4-door two-ton pickup off a used car lot in Los Angeles. That’s a gas joke. Well, a petroleum based joke, not the pull my finger kind.

The Long Weekend Repost: Post Game Report

Ok, this one was written last August after being released from the hospital where I was 'staying' to be monitored while starting the first several doses of my scary new 'better pay attention to the label' heart medication. As it is a pretty long post, I'm putting it up over the weekend, so feel free to read it in sections, or skip it entirely. Better yet, why don't I just tell you how it ends. I wake up and discover it was all a dream....

My little three day visit turned into five days for a few medical reasons and with only 7 channels on the 1970s TV fixed to the ceiling with a black pipe used for plumbing or blunt bludgeoning, I was a little strung out.

I was going in to be monitored as I started a very potent, almost experimental heart drug. I should have guessed what was in store for me when my first nurse had no clue why I was there and actually assumed I was in the hospital to have my implanted heart shocking/rhythm maintaining device checked. Uh, here’s the thing Nurse Dixie, I don’t have one. When I told her it was for the meds, she disagreed with me and then confessed to having never heard of Dofetilide, the med I was about to be given. It’s a good thing she had that nice grandmotherly thing working because she would be doing something to me or writing something down and then say things like ‘oh wait, that’s not right’ or ‘it’s a good thing I caught myself, you shouldn’t have this.’ Instead of worrying, I just laughed, knowing I would probably die in her care. Fortunately, not long after I arrived, there was a shift change.

My first roommate was something one could only dream up, except I’m telling the truth. He was an older Southern Gentleman, a real dandy. Listening to his voice, I felt like the Confederates were just moments away from stealing my plantation and drinking all my sweet tea…I mean that what the Civil War was like, right? I should probably begin podcasting, because written word will never, ever do justice to my impersonation of him calling his mother’s caretaker. As he was watching an I Love Lucy rerun (as opposed to the new episodes I guess. Did I really need to say it was a rerun), he called his mom’s care taker and this is what I heard (now picture a very, very dignified Southern voice saying this ‘tell mutha, that Vitameatavegimin is on. You can watch your stories lata, Vitameatavegimin is on.’ I was laughing so hard I almost popped my IV out. Moments later his phone rang and in the same dignified voice, I heard ‘I will have to call you back in 90 minutes. Vitiameatavegimin is on and then I need to watch my Judge Hatchett.’ All I could do every time his mouth opened was picture Forrest Gump’s Mama’s house.

Now I believe it is well documented that I can do very little without messing it up. Unfortunately, hospitals stays are apparently no different. Since I was hooked up to a heart monitor that transmitted wirelessly (they can figure that out but not how to get a WiFi connection), I was free to take little walks. Part of what I like about walking in the hospital is that I always bring a pair of shorts and a t-shirt to wear, so I let my gown hang open from the rear. It cracks me up watching people turn around as I pass thinking my arse is hanging out (are you looking at my bum). If they are patients, they usually ask me how I got away with shorts and a t-shirt and I just tell them no one stopped me. It’s a fun game to play and I highly suggest you try it next time you’re hospitalized!

For me, walking was actually encouraged so they could see how my ticker was holding up. I walked as often as I could. My mistake on my first walk was that I went all Energizer Bunny on everybody and just kept going. I saw a window and was drawn to it like a moth to a flame, or for you younger readers, like Lindsey to a half opened bottle of liquor. Of course the window was practically on the other side of the floor I was on. About 25 minutes later I realized I might have strayed a little too far so I headed back. It was about half way back, as I approached the elevators, that I thought I heard the faint sounds of my nurse calling my name. So, like any kid in trouble, I stopped to look for a place to hide and could not find one. As my flight or fight reflex took over, I started running towards my ward. I slowed down right before I got to the nurse’s station. She asked if I had been running. Forgetting that she could see every beat I take (with sincere apologies to The Police for butchering that line, but admit it, you'll be singing 'every breath you take' to yourself for the rest of the day. Especially after I do this: 'every breath you take,' 'every breath you take', 'every breath you take.'), I told her no. She then proceeded to tell me that I had gone too far and that she would tell me not to do it again, but since my heartbeat accelerated so rapidly during my ‘little walk,’ I should not walk again until I was shocked back into rhythm. It was at this point that I admitted I had run because I thought I was in trouble. Everyone that heard this just shook their heads. Yep, the trust was gone…no sucker for me.

I learned a few hospital stays back that if you know a visitor is coming, give them directions to the hospital that will take them past all the local eateries and say something to them like ‘I will tell the nurses not to let you in if you don’t bring me a burger and fries.’ This devious method of getting decent food has not failed me yet. But it did lead me to my second straight run-in with the nursing staff. My new nurse walked in as I was polishing off my Whopper (that’s what she said…sorry, that was SO easy) from lunch and gave me the lecture that I was not allowed to have outside food. I shoved the rest in my mouth and apologized for the misunderstanding. What I neglected to tell her was that my parents were on their way with tacos for dinner. Fearing the return of Nazi Nurse, I have never eaten tacos that fast in my life. Little tip here: don’t quickly gobble down spicy tacos. It is not gastronomically worth it.

Finally, after my shock back into normal rhythm and with plenty of my new medicine in my system, it was time to come home. That was until I tried to fill the prescription they gave me for my new med. The pharmacy told me they didn’t have anymore and had no idea how they were going to get any. I wanted to commend them for their excellent customer service skills, but figured it wasn’t worth it. My nurse stepped in to help and was able to get the pharmacy to give me a 14-day supply. When the pharmacist said that’s all they had, I made a joke about cleaning them out of Dofetilide. She said not to worry and that she was assuming I was the ONE person in the hospital who they had been supplying it to for the last 5 days.

Now there’s a comforting thought…One of the biggest hospitals in LA and I was the ONLY person on this drug? Who the heck am I supposed to call if I get sweats, diarrhea, chronic fatigue, chills, blurred vision, liver failure, I start receiving AM radio signals in my head or get anything that lasts more than 4 hours? OK, I’ll admit, I probably would not call the same person for that last concern as I would for the rest of them, but you get the point…

Have a great weekend (and remember to send your questions for Q & A Monday)!!

Blank Is The Page

I try to write every day, whether it gets posted or not. Today however, I opened up Microsoft Word (shoot, I mentioned Microsoft and now owe them royalties because I used their name. Double shoot, I just mentioned their name parenthetically, which I think is a half-royalty) and prepared to let the daily musings spew forth as would the vomitious up-comings of a person who reheated the previous morning’s airport cafe scrambled eggs, but nothing came out. I left MS Word open for 35 minutes and came up with nothing, though I did notice eventually around the 14 minute mark that I had begun blinking in tandem with MS Word’s cursor, which actually led me to believe that there was no cursor there, which kinda started freaking me out, especially since I was suffering a blinding migraine at the time.

Now I am left still pondering what to write as I have a goal of writing daily, even when nothing spews forth as described in detail in the paragraph above. I’ve been thinking about grouping all my posts by category (yep, all 3 of them – cheese, work despisement and Lucy and Ethel) and self publishing a book. As an added gimmick, I thought about writing a book, but writing a second book at the same time about writing the first book. Wait, I confused myself there so I shall try to explain that in a simpler way. I’ll write a book about writing a book. It’s my hope that the gimmick factor alone will catch some publisher’s attention. All of that however is still a little way off as I can’t think if what to write about today.

Sadly, there are no fake, semi-legitimate or greeting company created holidays today. No odd news tidbit caught my attention and Lucy and Ethel were too busy watching (and singing and dancing along to) High School Musical 2 to provide me with some blogworthy interaction with them. I can tell you though that between their repeated viewings of HSM Classic and HSM 2 (I reduced High School musical to letters there because I think that’s what all the cool kids are doing and it’s obviously much easier than typing it out) and Hairspray that I’m pretty much over Zac Efron. Ok, that’s not so much as saying that I was into him at any given point, it’s just that I am sick of hearing him sing. I really have to be careful saying stuff like that. It’s that type of careless wordsmithing that starts rumors.

I could make up some news story to share, but that might affect my credibility. I could wax poetic about all the different selections of Tillamook cheese I discovered at WinCO last night, but I don’t want to make anyone jealous. Though I would be happy to purchase, sell and ship you any requested selections for the amazing price of just $23.00 a block. I realize it’s a bit steep, but just try to think of the quality of fromage you will be receiving. Well, that and the fact that if this blog doesn’t start generating me some income soon I’ll have to resort to ads on my blog or blogfomercials where guest posts are written by other companies about their products and services. It’s a new niche.

Then there’s my concern about how much I seem to be using word the ‘squirrelly’ lately. I use it for things I don’t understand and for things that appear to be somewhat questionable. This was brought to my attention by a coworker who pointed out how often I use it. Now I’m self-conscious about it, but since my only comeback was ‘excuse me, but I have to go x-ray my chicken,’ which prompted their response of ‘that’s what she said,’ I realized what a slippery slope I was walking, or should I say talking. It all got pretty squirrelly pretty fast. I was also heard exclaiming ‘let’s turn this mutha out’ on our way to lunch. Another coworker pointed out how uncool I sounded saying that and then I was reminded of how a very dear friend told me that my use of ‘mutha’ made them giggle. I guess all that’s left to complete my hipster doofus trifecta is me saying that I saw someone macking on someone else, however I am going to resist the temptation to do so no matter how strong the urge gets. And believe me, the urge is strong (that’s what she said).

Lastly, I could share how I had Lionel Richie’s ‘Do It To Me One More Time’ come on my Ipod today while some of my coworkers were congregating in my cube discussing important work topics like lunch and the current offerings of our vending machine. Once one of them called me out on the song, it allowed the rest of them to comment, by which I mean mock - incessantly. Yep, there’s really no way to recover from that. I don’t want to sound too much like Bogart in Casablanca here, but of all the songs in all the world, why did that one have to appear on my Ipod at that moment. Over 2400 songs and one that is probably more appropriate during, oh I don’t know, mating or a ‘marital conference,’ comes on. With lyrics like 'you're my Motown lover' it's just asking for trouble. Seriously, why couldn’t ‘Convoy,’ Sinatra’s version of ‘Mrs. Robinson’ or Sammy Davis Jr’s rendition of ‘Shaft’ have come on? I mean Sammy’s ‘Shaft’ is one mean mutha----shut your mouth!

Is It Hot Enough For Ya?

I honestly hate when people ask me that, but I’ll get to that in a minute. First, I want to draw attention to my inaugural (doesn’t that make it sound all official and prestigious) Window of the Week, or Wednesday Window of the Week. It comes from a long time visitor here, ChefMom. If I remember correctly, this was taken in Florida and it has caused me to play Jimmy Buffett since putting it up on my cube’s walls. Seriously, look at that ode to a tropical/nautical/palm treed oasis and then try listening to The Carpenters, Bee Gees or even Barry Manilow. It just doesn’t work. In fact, it’s like putting chocolate syrup on your perfectly grilled t-bone. I can tell you though that the window idea is proving popular with my coworkers. They all stopped in to look at my window and smiled when I told them why a random picture is hanging in my office. They seem to think it’s a very good idea and are most likely smiling at me to mask their jealousy that they don’t have a window and that they didn’t think of it before I did. Of course, as soon as they walk out they all congregate near the fax machine and laugh. They may be mocking me, but they don’t have windows like I do. Those fools! They’ll be asking me for my windows soon. They’ll come begging. You’ll see.

Now, as for the heat statement. On the unofficial, non-workplace endorsed list of 2008 holidays (Hi Kat), Wednesday is ‘Is It Hot Enough For Ya Day.’ I guess it happens every July 23rd. The ironic part about it this year is that in my part of So Cal, it has been unusually cool. I guess cool isn’t the correct word, but I will say that I woke up in the middle of the night Monday and had to turn off the fans because I was so cold, but then I am on blood thinners and react to cooler weather the same way a medication-laden octogenarian does. We’ll just say a paper cut causes me to bleed like an artery was severed. There have also been clouds and a cool breeze. Basically, not quite the weather that would make me say ‘is it hot enough for ya?’ I have said, ‘wow, what nice weather we’re having,’ recently though. Gheesh, can I possibly get any more boring here? Don’t answer that.

After typing those last few sentences, I feel like I should be ending my weather related phrases with ‘sonny.’ I’ve always felt that talking about the weather was something you start doing when a) you have nothing else to talk about, b) you are retired or c) you have reached the age where you get grumpy if you are not eating dinner at the local diner by 4PM. Whenever we used to decide to go out to eat, we’d try to get there early to beat the crowd, thus leaving our friends to ridicule us for being old. So what if we prefer shuffleboard to volleyball. Though it is interesting to sit in a restaurant with two five year olds while everyone else around us is gumming their food or requesting that their pot roast be strained and mashed to the consistency of baby food. I’M KIDDING!! Hold back on the hate e-mail, I’m just kidding.

It does strike me as odd that summer, the hottest time of the year, is considered BBQ weather. That might hold true for the guests at the BBQ, but certainly does not for the person assigned the grilling duties. Think about it: it’s 100 degrees out and you are sweating over a 375+ degree fire in the grill. I’m not good at math, but doesn’t that create a combined ambient temperature of 475 degrees? Right? I used the word ambient to give my equation more validity; that’s not normally how I speak. And then comes winter when it’s freezing outside and you can warm yourself over the same hot grill, but everyone else is huddled warmly inside or didn’t even bother to come over because no moron invites people to a Hawaiian themed BBQ in the dead cold frozen abyss of winter. And trust me because I may or may not be speaking from experience, depending on what that would do to your opinion of me.

So in conclusion, to celebrate Wednesday’s holiday, I sincerely ask you ‘is it hot enough for ya…sonny Jim?’

A Sport For Kings…And Rooks…And Bishops…And, Boxers?

I recently read (in more than one place, which means it’s really important) about a new sport. Or possibly it’s a sport that’s been around for a while but no one knows about it. I know I certainly didn’t. Are you ready? It’s called Chess Boxing. When I first heard about it, I just assumed that boxers dressed up like certain chess pieces and could only move around the boxing ring in the manner that was allowed for the particular chess piece they were portraying, but then some have accused me of having an overactive imagination.

It turns out that chess boxing is exactly what it says. It’s a round of boxing followed by a round of chess. That’s right, the competitors physically box and then beat the rook to pawn 4 out of each other and then sit down to play another round of chess, then take a quick break and start boxing again. While it seems like the perfect Hanz N Franz SNL skit (‘don’t be such a girly pawn’), it’s a real deal sporting event. You could say it’s pugilistic pawning. Or not. Actually, don’t say it; people might look at you funny.

When you stop to think about it, it’s the perfect sport for the intellectual who wants to flex a little muscle. Kind of a Clark Kent sport. However, since I suck the big straw of suckyness at both of those events, the sport is not for me. I just wonder as the boxing rounds add up how well the punch-drunk boxers are able to execute their chess moves. Even though I am not good at it, I have played chess before and I have to say that it’s not really the type of game that makes me want to sock it to someone. And having just quoted Laugh-In, I am now going to find a hole and crawl inside it for a few months. It’ll give me time to ponder all the other great sporting combinations that have yet to be exploited invented.

Now if the game played in between rounds of boxing was Monopoly, then I could get into the hitting mood. Have you ever played Monopoly with that really annoying person (and no, it’s not me) who gloats every time you land on their property that has a hotel? Yes friends, that’s the type of person I’d like to go a few rounds with. Or how about Yahtzee? You know what I mean; you get to the point where you have to start scratching off score combinations you know you won’t be able to roll while your opponent is rolling everything they need. Again, that’s when it’s time to lace up the leather. I don’t know if ‘lacing up the leather’ is really the cool way to say ‘put on your boxing gloves,’ but I’m hoping for a few coolness points, especially after quoting Laugh-In. And I like using ‘quotation marks’ as ‘often as I can.’ ‘You know what I mean?’ Ok, it’s out of my system.

By the way, that reminds me to share a little nugget of daily wisdom with you. Try to avoid singing the ‘sock it to me’ part of Aretha’s ‘Respect’ when around children, no matter how fun it is singing that part. I did so while driving with Lucy and Ethel and it literally took me 30 of the 45 minutes of our drive time to explain what that phrase meant. Although I have to admit that it was fun getting little children to sing ‘sock it to me’ over and over again. I swear if you give kids enough candy, you can get them to say anything.

Chess Boxing reminds me of writing a post a few years ago about Eel tossing competitions in Britain. I also know there is a cell phone tossing competition and an official Rocks, Paper Scissors league. As the world prepares for the XVBR^%$#@ Olympiad (I couldn’t remember the real number and probably over did it there, sorry) in Beijing, maybe it’s time an alternate Olympics is held with all of the sports that are too odd to be included in the traditional Olympics, like pole vaulting. Since Curling (one of my favorite sports to watch) is already in the Winter Olympics, we could add Bocce Ball to the Alternative Summer Olympics. I don’t want to brag, but I could really throw it down in my younger days. Or should I say ‘I could Bocce like a mutha?’ The fact that my friends and I spent so many weekends in college and high school playing Bocce Ball, as opposed to say, I don’t know, dating, is entirely beside the point here. I would relish representing my country in the Alternative Olympics as a Bocceist, especially marching into the main stadium in some ‘alternative’ city like Needles, California while some ‘alternative’ performer like Weird Al or Englebert Humperdink sings our national anthem.

Ok, clearly I have gotten ‘carried away’ here and should have cut this short paragraphs ago. I need to remember that I do not get ‘paid per word.’ Now I wish I’d come up with an ‘alternative’ post for today. ‘Bocce Ball rules!!!’

Q & A Monday

It’s almost Monday again and what better way to get back into the swing of the workweek, by which I mean forgetting the great summer weekend I am leaving behind and strapping myself into my office chair for another unpredictable ride of phone calls to return, coworkers to annoy and deadlines to meet, than answering questions and pretending I have wisdom beyond my years or between my ears.

Since I have been tested and discovered as having neither, I will give you my usual disclaimers. The answers I offer are neither researched or fact checked. Therefore, you’d be best not to repeat them to anyone or to attempt using them as answers in Trivial Pursuit or in a court of law. Also, I usually tend to ACCIDENTALLY leave out someone’s question every week, but please cut me some slack because I did say it was accidental. So, with that out of the way, on to the first question for the week.

The first question is from Eva who asks: ‘How is your new patio cover working out?’
Well, it’s working out up to 5 days a week now and I can really see how much more toned its 4 support columns are getting. Though I am hoping it starts paying the abs some attention.

Next up is a fellow cubicle dweller, Employee No. 3699. She asked ‘Deep Dish or Thin Crust? Chocolate or Vanilla? I Dream of Jeanie or Bewitched?’
Probably deep dish. I like the crust flaky, though truth be told, I usually don’t eat the crust. The less crust I eat=the more pizza slices I can consume. Does this actually make more sense? No, but it reduces my guilt and I am fine with that. Vanilla over chocolate or any flavor, unless that flavor is coconut or artificial grape, better known as flavor color GP584. And I’d take Bewitched over Jeannie. On what other show can you have two different men with dirty names playing the husband and supposedly no one else notices, not even the snoopy neighbor that spends most of her retirement looking through the windows. You’d think at least she would’ve noticed the hubby switch.

She also submitted these gems: ‘Would you rather your toenails grew at a rate of 1" per hour...or...live without cheese? Would you rather have a window in your cubicle or work 15 minutes less per day? Would you rather title your book "I'm An Idiot And No One Contests That Fact" or "How To Survive Global Warming And A Nuclear Holocaust (By Buying This Book)?"...nothing like throwing your question right back at ya!!’
Obviously I cannot live without cheese any more than I can do without my spleen, gall bladder or appendix, and since Howard Hughes got all freaky and paranoid and lived the last several years of his life without trimming his toenails or fingernails, I’m pretty comfortable choosing continuing my love affair with cheese while my cuticles grow to alarming proportions. You didn’t think you were going to learn anything here today, did you? I would rather have the windows. Yes, 15 minutes a day less would be nice, but since I normally get in 30 mins after everyone else, it wouldn’t be fair of me to take off 15 minutes before everybody. And besides, I really, really want a window and already try to leave 15 minutes before the rest of the staff. That full 8 hours is a real bee-otch. As for the book title, I really preferred the 2nd one, but everyone else seemed to favor the title where I admit I’m an idiot. You know, if I spent a little more time thinking about that fact, I might be hurt and offended.

The next volley of Qs comes from my Best Bud’s Wife. She asked: ‘Why would anyone eat haggis? Where do they get the meat for mince meat pies? Won't you be my neighbor? Have you ever done anything evil....I mean eeevil. Like, the froo-its of the devill...eeevil? Who's Ralph?’
I will go ahead and answer these questions here, even though I should have just answered them in person when I saw you Saturday night. But since your homemade tortilla chips were so amazing and I basically consumed the bowl in its entirety and by myself, I will answer them here. I am not sure why anyone would eat haggis. It might be because it’s a form of torture that someone was enduring or they may be inebriated past the stage where they soil themselves and are aware of what they were eating. I saw it being prepared on ‘Bizarre Foods’ once and it frightened me. Although, if I was allowed to grill it, I might be willing to try. Grilling makes everything better, except for celery.

Also, it’s funny that you ask about the mince meat pies because before heading to your house Saturday, I watched a pie competition on The Food Network and one of the guys made mince meat pie. Apparently it has fruits and stuff and pork lard, which I assume gives it the meaty flavor from which its name is derived. And no, I do not know why I am pulling out all the big boy words today. My grandfather likes mince meat pies. One day I will ask him why. Perhaps it gives your taste buds the same sensations and .pork chops and applesauce.’ After all, it is pork and spiced fruits. Now I want to go watch the Brady Bunch. As soon as my aunt wants to sell us her house across the street from you, I would love to be your neighbor. But, I’m really trying to get away from shoes that lace up and I don’t like wearing sweaters. I actually have never done anything as evil as the fru-its of the dev-ill. I’m too boring. I am not sure who Ralph is. There is a valued frequent commenter here named Ralph, but I don’t think that’s the Ralph you are referring to. I have also heard ‘Ralph’ substituted as the pronunciation of a comic-book burp. Perhaps Ralph is the guy that caused me to miss the holidays in that scary, scary dream I told you about…

The last question this week comes from Aislinge who asked: ‘If I fire people, does that make me a heartless, unfeeling wretch or just good at a bad part of the job?
Well, I am very uncomfortable calling people names, so I can’t tell you that firing people makes you a heartless, unfeeling wretch. Let’s go with you are good at a bad part of your job, which is to be commended. See, I am bad at the good part of my job, which causes me lots of issues. However to balance that out and in my defense, I am very, very good at the part of my job that requires me to take breaks, lunches and leave at the end of the day. I’m pretty sure this makes you a much better worked than I am.

Ok, those are all of the questions to be answered today. Thank you for submitting questions and we’ll do it again next Monday. Also, thanks to everyone who sent me window pictures. I’m putting the first one up on my cube in the next few days and will unveil it on Window Wednesday. Now, if I could just think up blog names for Tuesday, Thursday and Friday…

Random Stuff And Such Friday

* How do you not laugh when your children are given stuffed toy monkeys and ask you the follow morning when you wake up if you will ‘play with their monkey?’ Come on, it’s not just me, right?

* Why is it that driving on company time is such a pleasant experience? I’ve also noticed I drive much slower when I am driving on company time and am returning to the office afterwards.

* It’s time to watch what you say when your daughter gets into the pool and yells, “It’s so freakin’ cold!” Bonus points for her using it correctly and nailing the enunciation though.

* There isn’t much you can say to your boss in defense of him finding you taking a picture of your cubicle wall in the middle of the day. And I HIGHLY recommend against telling him that it’s part of a project for your blog.

* Does anyone else ever hear songs they recognize when the fax machine is auto-dialing? Moreover, does anyone else ever find themselves humming or singing the song they thought they heard while the fax machine was auto-dialing?

* I wish Facebook would make Flair for my office. Then maybe I wouldn’t be so desperate for windows. I would however become far less productive. Well, far less productive than my current level, which is sort of like comparing a negative number to another negative number.

* Ms. I Want To Go To Mime School came into my office the other day and declared that her ‘stress ball’ was missing. She turned right around and left when I started giggling like a 12-year-old schoolgirl. I think it was her use of the word ‘ball’ or her saying, ‘I checked my drawers’ that got to me. I’ve been waiting for HR to call ever since.

* Not that I am going to self-publish my writings into a book, but if I did, what would be the better title: ‘I’m An Idiot And No One Contests That Fact (Which Makes Me Feel Like Even More Of One)’ or ‘How To Survive Global Warming And A Nuclear Holocaust (By Buying This Book)’?

***This is the part where I wish you all a great weekend AND beg plead remind you to send in your questions for Q&A Monday. Have a great weekend!!