Scott over at Honey, I Fed the Kids! earned my sympathy and a few minutes of my time today. It's just not fair that Scott has such a beautiful family, all with rich, full heads of hair while while he can only dream of what used to be. So, I fixed it. Enjoy...
Yes, it's been a slow day at work today.
Well, maybe not...but that was my first thought when I realized that my sister-in-law and brother-in-law officially started a blog. And unlike my blog which really serves no purpose they are setting out to do something extraordinary. Tom and Tif feel God leading them to grow their family of five to a family of seven. They are pursuing an adoption of two children from Ethiopia.
You can read about it yourself here...
NO LOOKING BACK!
If you're in the giving mood, I encourage you to donate to their cause. I think the total cost is around $36,000 and they're just a bit shy...around $36,000!!!!
These are good, God-fearing people who want to provide a great home for a couple of children. Of course, they also get the benefit of a really great uncle.
I'm a regular reader of my local newspaper's web site (www.indystar.com). I like being able to stay caught up on news throughout the day. Obviously, the newspaper has to make money by selling ads and I don't fault them for that. I'm pretty good about ignoring them, but the ads supplied by Adblade always get my attention. Their strategy, it seems to me, is to grab the reader's attention with bizarre pictures that seem to have little to nothing to do with the product being advertised. Let's take a look...
Since the ads are in a newspaper, they are designed to LOOK like news. That's an old trick. But take a look at those pictures and illustrations. Apparently, Jesus either has a low credit score or is the guy who can help me lower mine--or both. I'm sure Jesus could help me lower my credit score and so much more. Kudos to Adblade for being pro-Jesus!
And what's with the guy who failed to refinance?
It looks like he also FAILED to pick out his glasses and properly insert his false teeth uppers. Not only that, but I'd be willing to guess that a 747 could fly right into this man's nose hole without clipping a wing (provided his nasal passages are properly irrigated).
Since I have three chillins of my own, I have many opportunities to see the latest in tween and teen entertainment ala The Disney Channel, ABC Family (don't get me started on this network) and the many iterations of Nickelodeon. I've probably blogulated about this before, but I believe there is a consistent cycle of female child stars from these networks (and other sources of star generating potential) to get introduced to the world, get famous, get really famous and then basically whore themselves out in the name of artistic expression and "growing up." It's every dad's dream for his little girl to "grow up" by increasingly exposing herself via the popular media. Just think back to tween/teen sensations like Lindsay Lohan, Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, etc. They all went through the process and were often heralded for their courage and artistic expression.
The latest is the wildly popular Miley Cyrus (also known as "Hannah Montana" from her television show of the same name), daughter of Billy Ray "Achey Breaky" Cyrus. We've seen this sassy but sweet tween turn into a multimedia teenage mega-star over the past few years. Her TV show and movie have completely blown up all over the world and her concerts regularly sell out to thousands of devoted little girls and their mothers (or nannies).
Recently, she showed up at the Teen Choice Awards on Fox to accept the admiration of her fans and decided this would be the perfect time to break out of her little girl cocoon and into this...
She's making the transition from teen idol to teen stripper as she pole dances before a studio and television audience of impressionable teenage girls (and boys--but that's another subject). Seriously...look at the expressions on the little girls in the audience. What are they thinking?
"Wow! She's so courageous!"This stuff REALLY annoys me. Our society is becoming more and more narcissistic and it's all fueled by the lust of men. Men, stand up and do something about this. You don't even have to be a dad to take a stand.
"I can't wait until daddy lets me do this on tv...or at the local club just off the highway."
"She is empowered!"
"Where can I get that outfit? I want to be the first one to wear it at school."
Sometimes the legal system actually works. If you were following the recent "Balloon Boy" story, you know that a couple of media starved parents (particularly the dad, it seems) staged a hoax in which they claimed their son had climbed into a UFO-like weather balloon and drifted away. The press bit and suddenly the nation was following what could be a tragic story. Lo and behold, the boy (aka "balloon boy") was hiding the attic the whole time because he was scared that he father would be upset with him. It certainly seemed like a believable story until folks started digging a little. Then, to make matters worse for the parents, they appeared on Good Morning America where little balloon boy accidentally told the reporter that his dad told him to hide in the attic. D'ohh!
I fully expected a long, drawn out court sequence where the parents refused to admit any wrongdoing. But in this case, the prosecutors went right for the jugular. Balloon Boy's mother is from Japan. If she were to be found guilty, the United States would have her deported. D'ohh! A please bargain was reached and the parents are now awaiting sentencing. Why can't the legal system work like this more often?
This is my attempt to get the search engines to file this. It's totally work related and funny to just a few people in my office.
Why wont tj work on the iq 1080p integration?
Why wont tj work on the iq 1080p integration?
Why wont tj work on the iq 1080p integration?
Why wont tj work on the iq 1080p integration?
Now, for those of you who want a real laugh, go to www.google.com and type the following into the search box...
why wont
As of today the number one choice that automatically pops up in the box where you're typing is very odd. It means that some folks with a lot of spare time have been entering this odd entry into the search engine to make it the number one search suggestion--BRILLIANT!
I don't care what anyone says. There's nothing as cool as THIS PICTURE...
In my recent adventures in music I've been listening to and reading about Paul McCartney's music career after the break-up of The Beatles. I found this bit of information to be very interesting...
As the Beatles were breaking up in 1970, McCartney was working on his debut solo album, McCartney. Backing vocals were provided by his wife, Linda, whom he had married the previous year. McCartney had insisted from the beginning of their marriage that his wife should be involved in his musical projects, so that they did not have to be apart when he was on tour. (source: Wikipedia)Sadly, if you've followed the careers of The Beatles at all you'll easily stumble upon harsh criticism against Paul for his wife's involvement in his music, as well as for John Lennon with his wife Yoko. But regardless of what you think about some of the music that was affected by the wives of the musicians, there's something to be said for Paul's commitment to his late wife Linda. Husbands, what do we do in our everyday (i.e. non-ex Beatles) lives to protect and preserve the relationship we have with our wives?
...but I'm not sure why. For the most part, I've always set out to provide something mildly amusing on this blog...and I'm not sure why.
Lately, I've been much more serious about my life. I still have the same stupid sense of humor that I've always had, but I'm much more critical of how I use my time. Blogging is just not important enough to devote much time to it (at least, not as much as I used to). This is not a blanket judgment statement on those of you who continue to blog. I'd actually like to get back in the habit of reading some of your blogs again.
So, I'm not sure how often I'll post here or what I'll have to say and I'm sure that will devastate millions of people who show up to this blog every day. Of course I'm joking. However, there were actually a few days when I had hundreds of unique visits to my silly blog because of something I posted on Cake Wrecks.
For anyone that cares, here's what I'm serious about these days...
My wife.
My son. I have three kids and a wife who all need me, but by teenage boy needs me more than ever. If you're a dad and you're raising boys, let me recommend the book King Me by Steve Farrar.
My work. I have a great job that I love. In today's economy I know that's rare and I count it a huge blessing. I'm making the most of every minute and I'm really enjoying it.
Dryer Lint. I collect it and I'm planning to sell it on ebay. Not really--but it wouldn't be my blog without something incredibly stupid included in the post. Meow. Meow. Butterpants.
I'm still here--in case you were wondering. It seems like I go in spurts where I'll concentrate on this blog, Facebook or TrackForum (where I post as "Media Boy"--I'm a big IndyCar fan in case you didn't know).
Yesterday I was copying some of my old CDs to put on my iPOD and rediscovered the genius that is Jeff Lynne. Mr. Lynne started and was the brains behind Electric Light Orchestra. He's also produced a boat-load of major albums--all with his signature sound. I have a copy of Armchair Theatre that I haven't spun in years. This is great stuff. Oh, and as it turns out...this CD is out of print and sells for at least $25 on-line. Anybody want to buy mine?
So, it wasn't a stellar post, but it's something. Plus, I owe some visits to my blog friends. I promise to get around your way soon.
My friend got a fortune cookie with his take-out Chinese the other day during lunch. Tell me if it makes any sense to you...
Of course, that always reminds me of my favorite fortune cookie joke that I posted quite a while ago.
Well, hello there. I just haven't had anything interesting to say lately and the world still seems to be spinning on its axis.
My wife posted something great today. Here's my girl blogging about one of my girls. This little one is known as "snip" on my blog. She's a cutie.
Twenty years ago or more I remember seeing Jay Leno being interviewed about his ascent into big time show business. He told a story that still makes me laugh to this day and all I've been able to do is remember the sketchy details in the vast cavernous wasteland that is my brain. However, I decided to do a Google search for "jay leno on dinah shore" today and managed to find the actual story. As it turns out, he included this in his book Leading With My Chin. Enjoy...
Jay Leno once found himself booked on Dinah Shore's syndicated daytime talk show: "I went in and met with the talent coordinator, who said, 'Okay, what's your last joke, so the band knows when to play you off.' ... I said to the talent coordinator, 'Listen, do I have to give my last line?' 'Well, how's the bandleader going to know when you're done?' I said, 'Well, I like to hear the laugh. How about if I just say, "Thank you, thank you very much!" Twice, okay? And that'll be the cue.'
"He agreed to this and went to tell the guys in the band. During the show, I waited backstage for my introduction from Dinah Shore. Finally, I heard her say, 'Now we're going to bring out a very funny young man from Boston. He's got a unique brand of comedy. Please welcome, Mr. lay Leno! Come out here, Jay!' Because Dinah was such a warm presence, she tended to infect audiences with her own enthusiasm. And this audience took her lead and responded with a long, wonderful round of applause. It was almost unnatural. They even went, 'Wooooo! Wooooo!'
"I walked out, surprised and feeling like hot stuff. I started with: 'I'm from the United States! Are there any United States people here?' This got a huge ovation - much more so than such a lame joke deserved. So I said, 'Oh! Thank you! Thank you very much!' At which point, the bandleader looked up in a panic, threw down his magazine, stubbed out his cigarette - and started playing me off!
"'BAAAA DAAAAH! BAAAAAM PAHHHH! BAAA BAAAHH! DAAAAAH! DAHHHHHN TAAAAAA!' And I stood there, stunned.
"Meanwhile, Dinah, who had been reading through her notes, looked up, smiled broadly, and started applauding. Which started the audience applauding wildly! Now she was waving me over to her: 'Come on over here, Jay! Come on over here!' So I shrugged and walked over to her couch. Still beaming, she said, 'Sit right down! That's some of the freshest material I've heard in a long time!' Was anybody paying attention here? So I just sat down and said, 'Well, thank you very much! At this rate, I could do this show eighty, ninety times a year!'"
If you remember the band Pearl Jam (and they're still around today) you might recall that deciphering band leader Eddie Vedder's lyrics can be a bit of a challenge. However, thanks to THIS VIDEO, you can see the actual words for yourself. Enjoy...
Unsealed on a porch a letter sat.
Then you said, "I wanna leave it again."
Once I saw her on a beach of weathered sand.
And on the sand I wanna leave it again. Yeah.
On a weekend I wanna wish it all away, yeah.
And they called and I said that "I want what I said" and then I call out again.
And the reason oughta' leave her calm, I know.
I said "I know what I was the boxer or the bag."
Ah yeah, can you see them out on the porch? Yeah, but they don't wave.
I see them round the front way. Yeah.
And I know, and I know I don't want to stay.
Make me cry...
I see... Oh I don't know why there's something else.
I wanna drum it all away...
Oh, I said, "I don't, I don't know whether I was the boxer or the bag."
Ah yeah, can you see them out on the porch? Yeah, but they don't wave.
But I see them round the front way. Yeah.
And I know, and I know. I don't wanna stay at all.
I don't wanna stay. Yeah.
I don't wanna stay. [x2]
I don't... Don't wanna, oh... Yeah. Ooh... Ohh...
Let me start out this post by pointing out that the "Intense Old Dumb Guy at the Church Softball Game" mentioned in the title of this entry is ME. I'm not sure what came over me, but lately I've been playing a tick above average and decided to take it to the next level. God was looking out for me and gave me a good dose of humility.
Our league is a recreation (or "rec") league and it's not ultra competitive. We don't even have umpires and go on the honor system. As such, there are no close calls at home. If the catcher has the ball in his or her hand or mitt and is somewhere near the plate, you are out if you've committed to going home.
So, while I had just landed on third I noticed the pitcher turning his back on me and I decided I was going to get a run. About three steps into my journey to home the pitcher noticed me and nonchalantly lobbed the ball to the only girl on the team who happened to be playing catcher. I was out as soon as she caught the ball, but for some reason I decided I needed to slide into home. I started my slide a little too early and instead of moving parallel to the ground at a slight angle, my entire body kicked upwards and over. I landed on my face with dirt in my mouth and both of my knees scraped up. Did I already mention that I was out before I even decided to slide? To make matters worse, I was still a foot away from the plate when my body stopped moving and my pants nearly slid down off of my rear end (fortunately for everyone involved, everything kept covered). Overall, it was a nice dose of humility and shame.
Finally, we have the proof that we need. A recent study conducted by the Virginia Tech Transportation Institute just confirmed that texting while driving is even more dangerous than previous studies had determined.
Here's the actual link to the story.
Is Virginia Tech a public school? I sure hope so. I hope that my tax dollars contributed to this study. And thank goodness they had the sense to do more than one study on this. Folks probably didn't believe the first study that confirmed it was actually dangerous to type messages on a phone while driving. Hopefully, we will continue with these studies so that everyone can come to a rational conclusion.
I hope you're picking up my sarcasm.
P.S. I wrote this entire blog post while driving, eating an ear of corn and crocheting a hat.
Just seconds ago the sales guy who sits behind me (who is a really good guy, by the way) went on a good old-fashioned Sales Cliche rampage. I've heard, "You're good-to-go" a few times, something about a "silver bullet," "there's more than one way to skin a cat," and then he uttered my new favorite...
While I've traveled quite a bit in the past, I haven't been to Indianapolis's new airport enough times to know the routines. Just the other day our entire family decided that we'd be on hand to greet my mother-in-law who was returning from a nearly two month visit to Germany. By the time I dropped off the wife and chillins and managed to drive all the way back to the parking garage and get out, they were all walking towards me. I had been out of the car for less than a minute and they were all ready to leave. That's two bucks down the tubes but I didn't mind since we all love my wife's parents quite a bit. I was right next to the pre-pay machine so I decided to pay for my ticket there and save some time getting out of the gate.
It's simple. You put your ticket in and then pay for your parking via cash or a credit card. They print out a receipt that shows when you came in, when you left and that you've paid your fare. So, as I was driving out, I pulled up to the Pre-Paid gate and realized that I needed my original parking ticket to get out. I never made the connection that I'd still need it and had left it at the the pre-pay machine inside the garage. No problem. I pulled up to a gate with a man inside a booth and showed him my receipt. Everything was on that little piece of paper. I figured it would only take me an extra minute for this guy to read the receipt and let me pass.
Obviously, that wasn't the case or I wouldn't be sitting here pecking away at the keyboard. First off, he told me that I needed to make sure I have my ticket the next time.
"Sorry about that," I said. I honestly didn't care because I had paid two dollars to park for two minutes. I wasn't mean about it.
He spent the next five minutes fumbling through papers, his cash register and some random files while writing things down on my receipt. I couldn't figure out what he was up to.
"I'm going to need to see your license," he said.
While I couldn't figure out why he would need it, I was prepared to hand it over. At this point I noticed that the gate was open...but I still handed it over. I figured another minute of my life wasted wasn't that big of a deal. He must have waited at least two minutes (still fumbling around doing who knows what) before taking the license and then I can only assume that he drew a perfect representation of it--including the way "Indiana" is written at the top and sketching my head shot. He walked out of the booth and gave me the license, but he was too close to the car for me to do anything.
"Do you need a blood sample?" I asked, knowing that I was being a smart@$$ but I couldn't resist at this point. I don't think he heard me or cared about what I said. He wandered to the back of the vehicle and told me he need to write down my license plate. While I didn't see him reach for any colored markers or pencils, I can only assume, once again, the he re-created my license plate on the back of the receipt. Maybe it's some kind of hobby. Finally he came back to the car and gurgled out some ineligible words. The Mrs. thought he said something about a vehicle inspection and I was looking for a good vein for him to draw blood.
By this time fifteen minutes had gone by and I was still sitting at the opened gate. He handed me some form that needed my signature and I quickly scribbled "Homer J. Simpson" at the bottom. Sometimes you just have to stick it to the man. That's how I roll.
Indianapolis may not be the cultural mecca of western civilization, but we have our share of big time events that draw prestigious advertisers to the roads and skies of our fair cities. Specifically, I'm speaking of the Indianapolis 500 and the Brickyard 400 races which usually draw the presence of the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile and the Goodyear Blimp.
I've had the privilege of seeing both of these machines up close and in person. I was reminded of that yesterday when I read a front-page news item from the Indianapolis Star about the Wienermobile coming to town (maybe it was a slow news day). I recall seeing it at a local grocery store a few years ago with the kids. You haven't lived until you've seen a giant hot dog on wheels up close. Seriously, when you're not expecting to see a gasoline powered frankfurter, it's a little surprising and exciting all at the same time.
Which reminds me of a close encounter I had with the Goodyear Blimp. Indianapolis is circled by an Interstate highway called I-465. It literally goes around the entire outer edge of the city and connects to many other highways and interstates. I'm sure your local large metropolitan area has a similar thoroughfare. One late afternoon I was returning home from the office on 465 while working my way through some peculiar patches of fog--something 
we don't see too often in the later part of the day. It was thick enough in one area that I slowed down to 30-35 miles an hour just to make sure I could react if anything were to happen in front of me. Suddenly, the fog cleared out just enough for me to see an enormous spacecraft hovering above me. There was no doubt in my mind that it was going to abduct me in order to perform bizarre experiments on my body and/or corpse. Of course, this was the initial thought that ran through my head as the Goodyear Blimp emerged from the low-hanging clouds. To this day I'm thankful that neither my bladder nor bowels were full and that I managed to keep the car on the road.
It just goes to show you that never expect to see the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile or the Goodyear Blimp...and no one expects the Spanish Inquisition.
Ok, this is going to be a bit of a personal rant, but it's my blog so I can do whatever I want. Don't forget that I coined the phrase, "Meow Meow Butterpants" right here. America, you can thank me later.
So, here's that rant. I hate it when television and radio personalities interview people (e.g. at the conclusion of a sporting event) and proceed to ask questions without actually asking questions--and then they put the microphone in front of the guy/girl's face. I suppose it's just a pet peeve on my part because everyone gets what it is that's happening, but here's an example from Indycar.com that is inexcusable because it's in writing (click on it for a full view)...
It's one thing to not ask a question with a microphone and then put a microphone in front of someone's face, but I'm quite certain that the "Q" stands for "question" in this case.
Rant is over. I need to take some medication or find other things to get worked up over. Sorry. Now go take on your day.
I'm Ron Burgundy?
If you're a smoker, be prepared for much higher prices. Josh Muszynski got quite a surprise when a pack of cigarettes cost him over 23 quadrillion dollars.
NH man charged 23 quadrillion dollars for smokesDoes this have anything to do with the Federal Government getting involved with the tobacco industry? It seems like we could deal with the deficit (and then some) with the sale of a single pack of Marlboros.
Posted 7/16/2009 10:32 AM ETMANCHESTER, N.H. (AP) — A New Hampshire man says he swiped his debit card at a gas station to buy a pack of cigarettes and was charged over 23 quadrillion dollars.Josh Muszynski (Moo-SIN'-ski) checked his account online a few hours later and saw the 17-digit number -- a stunning $23,148,855,308,184,500 (twenty-three quadrillion, one hundred forty-eight trillion, eight hundred fifty-five billion, three hundred eight million, one hundred eighty-four thousand, five hundred dollars).
Muszynski says he spent two hours on the phone with Bank of America trying to sort out the string of numbers and the $15 overdraft fee.
The bank corrected the error the next day.
Bank of America tells WMUR-TV only the card issuer, Visa, could answer questions. Visa, in turn, referred questions to the bank.
___
Information from: WMUR-TV, http://wmur.com
Copyright 2009 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.
LINK
I got a great Engrish piece of junk mail at work today and decided I'd share it with the rest of you. The author decided to take a creative angle and personified the camera and dvr he or she is trying to sell me. Apparently they are both slaves and will be assigned a "next Master." However, in a modern-day twist on the slave trade, they have resumes. I don't remember seeing any resumes in Alex Haley's Roots mini-series.
You'll need to click on the image below to read the text. It's worth it. Enjoy...
When you work in an office you have to understand that there's some sharing involved--no big deal. However, the chair you sit in, the desk you sit at, the phone you use, etc. are yours for as long as you're working with the company, right? This isn't some kind of new rule that I made up, as far as I know.
While I hate to pick on the same guy here all the time (hint: he's one of the croc-wearing offenders), it's unavoidable. He's a rather rotund individual and yesterday his sheer mass managed to break his chair. It's not the first time this has happened. He'll be sitting in it while watching something on Hulu (don't get me started) and you hear this big cracking noise from his area. A few minutes later he's up and pushing the chair around the office in search of a new one to break. Since my friend and co-worker is sometimes out of town to do off-site trainings, he's the favorite victim of the person that we will refer to as Grimace.
The nice thing about working in my particular line is that we have over 70 surveillance cameras up and running all the time...
I've been finishing up baseball season with my son's team that I coach along with the husband of Toni in the Midst. We had one heck of a year. When we got our team together at the beginning of the season, I saw what the other clubs had and figured we were about the second or third best team in the league.
We played our first game back in May and things were looking good--which was nice since the team I coached last year had a rough season. I remember being just a couple of innings into that first game where we were hitting the ball really well and winning. My son looked up at me and said, "Dad, this year we've got a TEAM." I have to admit that I was feeling the same way. Then we had to switch pitchers because I guess it's wrong to ruin a kid's arm just so you can win a few baseball games--go figure!. The bottom dropped out as I didn't seem to have anyone else that could throw strikes outside of practice. We gave up 9 or 10 runs in one inning. Ouch. I will not bore you all with the details, but suffice it to say we managed to eek out one win all year in the regular season.
We started the double elimination tournament with a loss which meant our backs were against the wall--win or go home. Finally, the team came together and we ended the seasons of two other clubs before finally getting knocked out and ending up in...third place.
Normally, I'd have something funny or witty to say, but that's all I've got. Maybe now I'll have more time for the important things in life like blogging, facebook and watching tv. Wish me luck.
I've been fortunate to have a job and to also have a job where I can dress casually--very casually. In fact, my current employer is probably the most casual workplace I've ever experienced.
Are T-shirts and jeans your thing? They are welcome in our office.
Feel like wearing shorts to work? No problem.
Sandals? You bet.
However, when you give some people an inch, they take a mile...and they take that mile one giant awkward step at a time wearing their unsightly crocs--to work. Eeeeew.
That's an actual image from my place of employment. I work in the security industry, so having cameras recording our every move has become normal and sometimes convenient in cases like this.
One of my daughters owns a pair of crocs (and she's probably reading this--I love you, Bird). But I'll publicly go on record to declare how much I dislike them. However, I support your right as a freedom loving man or woman to wear them--but not at work.
The wife and I are big fans of Dr. Pepper. However, our 15-year-old son would rather drink Gatorade or Red Bull (no, we don't keep them on hand for him) and has never cared much for soft drinks other than any type of Mountain Dew. By the way, it seems like they come out with a new flavor of Mt. Dew nearly every week and then immediately discontinue it.
Anyway, he hates Dr. Pepper so much that the other day he shared with me his own interpretation of the origins of the soft drink that currently brags of having 23 flavors...
And there you have it. If you're interested in more stories from my teenage boy, try these links from back when he was just 13:It was, like, one day some people threw together 23 random flavors and there was one guy who tasted it and said, "Hey, this tastes...ok," so they made it a drink, but everyone else totally hated it.
Last night we watched a movie adaptation of Hans Christian Andersen's Thumbelina. It's a fairy tale about a tiny little girl who feels out of place in...Wait, did I mention that this was the Barbie Presents Thumbalina version of the tale.
I think we have all of the Barbie movies now since I have a ten year old girly girl in the house. Most of the movies are ok and even mildly entertaining. We take this kind of computer generated animation for granted today. Remember when Pixar's Toy Story came out and we were all mezmerized?
So, where was I? Oh, I was talking about the message off Barbie Presents Thumbelina. I may have missed some of the key scenes as I was plugging away at the computer while the DVD was playing in the living room, but I'm quite certain that one of the themes was that FACTORIES ARE BAD! I tried to explain to my daughter the irony of situation since we were watching the movie on a television that was made in a factory. I think it went right over her head, but she thought the dresses were pretty.
If you're a fan of engrish.com (which is usually pretty safe, but watch out from time to time), then you'll love this. One of my co-workers ordered this razor online and the box is quite entertaining.
Click on the pictures below for more detail. If you have extra time on your hands, this is the razor for you!
Since there are still a few of you left from the Cake Wrecks link onslaught, I thought I'd gather your opinions on a few miscellaneous items (and kudos to me for guessing the correct spelling of "miscellaneous" the very first time when it's much easier to spell "randumb").
If you wish to participate, just leave a comment with the number or numbers to the questions you're responding to (or whatever). I may get fancy and create some sort of a follow-up post in the near future with a pie chart...or maybe just a big piece of pie. Pie sounds good. I've forgotten what it was that I was writing about. Something about homemade raspberry pie, I think.
So, here are the questions:
1. How many times do you need to tell a 15-year-old boy NOT to leave food/candy wrappers sitting all over the house (even when he's only officially allowed to eat in one room of the house)?
Most of you know how it is at work when you pop into the restroom and see someone else in there. It's no big deal because science has proven that 92% of all people actually use the bathroom at least once a day (Go ahead and look it up. I think I found it on Wikipedia). When you run into the restroom and see the same person in there again, it might become something to snicker at--especially if you're on speaking terms with the person.
"Looks like we're on the same bathroom schedule, eh Bob?"When it happens the third time, the mood might change from mildly amusing to puzzling.
Mild snickering ensues.
"Wow, Bob. This is really weird."If it happens the forth time, you've coincidentally entered a new phase in your relationship with Bob. You've gone from "friendly work acquaintance" to "freaky bathroom stalker."
Complete silence...or maybe the sound of crickets in the background.
"Uhhhh...Bob? I'm not sure...er....I have no idea what....ah...."And you may or may not get invited to the office Christmas party.
"HELP!!!! HELP!!!! SOMEONE CALL SECURITY. FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME!!!
Calamity and/or a ruckus follows. If you're a female and this situation takes place in the ladies room you end up with a nose full of pepper spray and fall to the floor in a confused state of shock and shame.
Sadly I checked into the blog today to see if there was any activity and it looks like all of the new readers are now new former readers. Such is life in the fast-paced world of Internet weblogging. I'll have to go back to bugging my wife to read the blog and paying out 25 cents a week to Uvulapie--enough clams for him to get into his time machine and travel back to 1997 to watch new episodes of Touched By An Angel and purchase a can of corn at Aldis.
Argue all you want about politicians with hidden agendas, but MY state Reps are looking out for people...
I had no idea that it was inappropriate for adult males to spray tan nude minors. Sheesh. I submitted this to the folks at FAILblog a while back but it didn't get enough votes to make it to their main page. Who needs 'em! It's a genuine screen shot from the Indianapolis Star a few months ago.
On another note, here's what happens when your rarely viewed blog gets a nice link from Cake Wrecks...
Finally, since there may be people sticking around to see what this site is all about (mostly nothing), you might want to check out this old post: Manly Blogging Award.
I'm a regular reader of the Cake Wrecks blog. I know that I've mentioned it quite a few times here and perhaps I've convinced some of you to join me in checking it out each and every day for cakes gone wrong. In fact, I was just reminding my wife two nights ago that when my next birthday rolls around (the big 4-0) I want my cake to say, "Happy 40th Birthday! Fireworks Explosion" in honor of this cake from Cake Wrecks:
(Here's the link behind it if you care to read the story.)
Last month I nearly died laughing at the "Happy Falker Satherhood" Cake Wrecks entry and decided to add to the lore of this holiday in my blog. I had no idea that it would get tagged by the Cake Wrecks blog and bring so many new people to my obscure blog home (welcome, by the way...just don't touch anything). I went from 9 stalkers to 24 stalkers in the course of a day. Now I feel compelled to contribute something to society.
Here it is...
I call it, "Fun with plastic water bottle caps and permanent markers."
Feel free to check my last entry for the appropriate way to pronounce the name, La-Sha. One of you had obviously heard it before.
And so it continues. One of my Sales Managers informed me today that his pop-up display was destroyed by an airline and that they'd be calling me to settle up. Sure enough, a few minutes later I got a call from a Customer Service Representative with the last name, "Gouge." I was telling her how much the display cost. It was quite expensive and I wanted to show her the actual invoice for verification. I told her I would do that so that she didn't think I was trying to "gouge" her. No joke. Well, it sounded like a joke and I surely didn't mean it that way. Believe it or not, she thought it was pretty funny when I said it...and her company did an outstanding job of taking care of things. I won't tell you what airline she works for but their headquarters are in the southwest part of our country.
I've encountered some interesting names in my lifetime. I went to school with girls named Dusty Knuckles and Crystal Waters. There was a guy with the last name Horney and another girl whose last name was "Loser" (pronounced LOW-zhur). A few years ago I worked with a guy named Bob Albaugh and whenever he said his name it sounded like Ba-Ba-Baa.
But yesterday at work we received a call from a customer whose name was spelled this way...
La-Sha.
She spelled out her name over the phone and then proceeded to tell us how it was pronounced. Any guess on how to correctly say it? I will reveal the correct answer in a few days.
If you've read this blog more than once then it will be no surprise to you that I love the following commercial:
(Click here to watch it on YouTube--I couldn't embed it on my blog.)
Many of you have probably seen it, but I don't want to give it away to you just in case. However, I've decided to comment on it below...
Actually, I think it deserves to be written out so it can be fully enjoyed.
PASSENGER: I don't even know why I bother. (pause)Where do I begin? This one hits on so many levels. You instantly assume that the man is talking to a woman and then what could be funnier than a driving pooch chasing after ducks in his truck.
PASSENGER: Do you wanna go home?
DRIVER: (muffled growl)
PASSENGER: You don't pay attention to what I say. You're not even listening now, are you?
Quacking ducks heard in the background.
DRIVER: Woof!
PASSENGER: No! What are you doing? No! No ducks! Oh you are in SO much trouble! BAD DOG! Nooooooooo! Mother of....pearl!
I've written extensively (ad nauseum) about my long work commute. The best way to get to and from my office is to stay on the interstate highways, set the cruise control and mindlessly prod along until I reach my destination. It saves time and money over the long run and that's fine by me. However, sometimes I just cannot stand to go the same way so I veer off the familiar paths to some of the lesser traveled roads and streets across Indianapolis.
I shall be telling this with a sighSuch was my journey to work today and I'm not sure if it "made all the difference" but it did produce a great picture and blog post fodder thanks to my handy Motorola Razr mobile phone...
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
(from The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost)
Boogity! Boogity! Boogity!
For the past few years I've grown cilantro in my garden. This weekend I realized that I have an abundance of this leafy herb and I decided to cut some up and give it to two of my neighbors. I was shocked when I gave it to them only to hear them ask me, "What is it?" But then I recalled purchasing it at the store on several occasions when the check-out person didn't even know what it was. What is wrong with you people? Cilantro is used in Mexican food, Indian food, Thai food, Vietnamese food, etc. It smells wonderful and you could put it on just about anything to add flavor. If you like cilantro, add it to your salsa recipe.
My co-worker friend and I were hitting a local KFC/A&W drive-thru recently and couldn't help but laugh at two signs affixed to the window.
1. According to this sign, the KFC/A&W might have a CCTV surveillance system in place. But then again...they might not. Who knows. I've always thought a good deterrent sign would be something like, "NOTICE: EMPLOYEES ARE TO STUPID TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO OPEN SAFE."
2. What? The hot dogs contain "MILK"? Really? So, is this real milk or imitation...no, wait...WHY do the hot dogs contain milk? Do they contain meat?
Yesterday my son and I were driving through the neighborhood and saw a middle aged woman taking a walk with her dog along the sidewalk. This would be completely normal except for the fact that the lady was carrying the dog! Something has gone terribly wrong in this world.
If you've read this blog for any number of years you're probably chained to a computer without knowledge of how to search for other sites more worthy of your time. Also, you may remember that I blatantly ripped off a post from Uvulapie on the name Googins...
Thanks to the handy Internet Anagram Service (also known as I Rearrangement Servant) I was able to determine that my complete name (not "Big Doofus") makes some pretty cool anagrams. My personal favorite is...
Four years ago I used to work for a manufacturing company with a large office (250 + people) located in the Northwest side of Indianapolis. It was a fine job and I enjoyed my time there. However, I left for an opportunity too good to pass up. As is almost always the case with me and employers, I left on good terms. There's no good reason to burn bridges when it comes to providing for a family--especially in today's economy.
While I didn't leave on bad terms, I did leave them with something bad. It seems that just the other day quite a few employees were complaining about a horrible smell coming from the upstairs snack room. There's a refrigerator located there to keep lunches and snacks cool. At the time, I had a cheap little red lunch bag that I lugged to work most days. Today I got a call from my former boss and some co-workers (they put me on speaker phone) about the source of the smell. It seems that my little red lunch bag had something in it when I left--something for everyone. An odor so bad that it had to be removed. Of course, I had my name on the bag just in case it ever turned up missing. Now my name and my lunch bag are part of their corporate culture.
I'm going to vent just a bit. I find myself in Staples way too often picking up certificates, labels, presentation folders, special mailing envelopes, etc. One thing I've noticed over the past year or so is that they've devoted more and more space for big fancy CLEARANCE sections throughout the entire store. Nothing attracts bargain savvy customers like a CLEARANCE section.
The universally accepted idea of a CLEARANCE section (and I'm not sure why I'm still spelling it with all capital letters, but why change it now?) is that you put items there that you want to get rid of...and you drop the price so as to facilitate the process. You all get that, right? In fact, some of you have probably worked in retail and you understand that this is how it works.
But Staples either doesn't get the concept or they're hoping that people are retarded enough to buy a 2009 desk calendar in the middle of May marked down to just $18.99 when you can buy similar calendars (or even better ones) for the same price or less in the non CLEARANCE areas. It doesn't matter what item you find in the Staples CLEARANCE section, IT WILL NOT BE A BARGAIN. For instance, leather and leatherette laptop cases are in the front of the store on a CLEARANCE table starting at just...$79.99! Discontinued markers are ON CLEARANCE for just $5.99. Who pays $5.99 for a marker?
The Staples definition of CLEARANCE is...
"Let's see how much we can get someone to pay for this if we put it in a CLEARANCE section."So, I challenge you all. The next time you're out, stop into a Staples and tell me what you see.
I've been pricing invisible fences used to keep dogs in your own yard. Online it looks like you can pay anywhere from $150 - $300 for these systems depending on how big of a yard you have and what area you wish to protect. However, I came up with an alternative to these invisible fence systems that's incredibly cost efficient:
It's Invisible Dog! There are so many benefits to Invisible Dog (besides the fact that I saved hundreds of dollars on an invisible fence):
While watching the Reds game (i.e. Reds fiasco--they lost 15 - 3 to the Brewers) with my 15-year-old son, the announcers started talking about baseball legend Bob Ueker. Ueker is better known for his sense of humor and acting skills than for his baseball skills. They mentioned that he used to be on a very popular 1980's sitcom called Mr. Belvedere.
"Oh, yeah," I said to anyone listening in the room. "I forgot that Bob Ueker was on Mr. Belvedere."
My son, who was watching from the kitchen chimed in, "Who's Mr. Velvet Ears?"
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