Optimus Fight Club

So, I took my Vintage Optimus Prime to work and put him on my toy shelf alongside all my Potato Heads.

A fight broke out.



Optimus vs. Optimus! A grudge match for the ages!

I love how the other Potato Heads are lined up to watch... in my head, I can just hear them shouting "Fight! Fight! Fight!"



The real one is about to punch the fake one... in the eye. That's harsh, man.

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The Confused "Italian" Waitress

*cough* *ahem*

My wife and I went out to eat with Metacow and his family. We met up at a nice Italian place. At least, it was supposed to be a nice Italian place.

When we were first looking at the menus, Metacow's wife asked the waitress to describe one of the entrees. "It's got noodles and tomatoes and..." She leaned in close to look at the picture. "I guess it's got some kind of white cheese on it."

Metacow's wife stopped blinking. "You mean, Mozzarella, right?" The waitress looked confused. "Mozzarella?"

Waiter, there are 162 flies in my "soup".

Our Italian waitress didn't know what Mozzarella is. Not a good sign.

Later when the waitress brought out the bread, she also poured some of the (olive oil?) into a couple of shallow bowls for dipping. One of Metacow's kids asked, "What's that called?" The waitress shrugged. "I don't know."

When she took my order, I decided to try something that I didn't quite know how to pronounce. I pointed at "Chicken Milanese" on the menu and made an attempt to say it. "Did I pronounce that right?", I asked. She shrugged. "I have no idea."

Would you like sliced mushrooms and "mozzarella" with this?

Somebody asked if they could substitute a baked potato for one of the sides. "I'm sorry," she replied. "We don't have baked potatoes here. Even if we did, we don't have any of the fixin's." She got a nostalgic grin on her face, and a slight southern accent started to come out. "We don't have any sour cream, bacon bits, or baked beans."

"I think she's working at the wrong restaurant," I said after she left.

After dinner, Metacow's wife said she'd be happy to leave the tip. She wrote down on a scrap of paper, "You should apply for a job at Outback."

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Scrawny Hulk

Anytime a random cartoon-y toy shows up on my desk, I instantly know who was responsible. Sometimes, I even know who was responsible before I know what the thing is.

"Hey, P-Ziddy," I shouted. "Thanks for the... uh... what is this thing?"

Then, I tried it on.



It's a Hulk Hat!

I gleefully showed it off to a random co-worker.

"You wouldn't like me when I'm angry!" "Whoever said I like you when you're not?"

Harsh. But he can't smother my joy. I'm a Hulk!

I showed it to the rest of the office. "When I wear it facing forward," I explained, "I'm the world's scrawniest Hulk. But, when I turn it around, I look like I'm in an exercise video."



I did some squats and lunges. I was rewarded with a chorus of groans and choked laughter. Perfect!

"Do you feel that?," I asked, mimicking an exercise instructor. I squatted again while stroking my thighs. "Do you feel the burn in there?"

"My eyes are burning," said Monty. "Does that count?"

Yes. :)

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Captain Jeff

I was chatting with my buddy Queen Spoo the other day. I updated her on all my pathetic injuries, including the latest news on my tricky foot. Basically, if the latest round of ointments and exercises don't knock out the pain, my podiatrist is going to put me in a boot.

"That sounds extreme."

"Extreme is when foot pain lingers for years at a time," I replied. "I'm willing to try a boot and crutches if that's what it takes. I'm even willing to lose the foot and switch to a peg leg."

Queen Spoo liked that idea. "Then we'd start calling you Capt'n Jeff."

"And that... would be *awesome*."

My mind was full of possibilities. "Instead of all the 'Hey Jeff!' that I get at work, people would have to say, 'Ahoy, Capt'n!'. That would be such a welcome change. Also, I could get a stuffed parrot for my shoulder."

"Absolutely," said Queen Spoo. "Go for the whole nine yards."

"Next time my dental crown falls out," (oh yeah... my crown fell out. Neat, huh?), "I'll replace it with a gold tooth."

"Excellent. I'll send you an eye-patch."

"You're a true friend!"

When I filled in Big Dawg and P-Ziddy about the possibility of Jeff in a cast, Big Dawg was giddy. "If that happens," he insisted, "then I DEMAND a Photoshop Jeff!"

Well, we'll see. If I do wind up in a cast, I'll be sure to post a pic and let P-Ziddy run wild with it, if nothing else. In the meantime, if any of you want to re-use any of my previous photos and go with a pirate theme, I wouldn't call that a waste of time. :)

By the way, this will be my only post this week. Unless I get some pirate-Jeff pics, anyway. (jeff dot w dot mcclung at gmail dot com).

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Half A Sentence At A Time

Last week I ate at a Chinese restaurant. I don't do that very often, but every 6-12 months or so I get a little crazy in the head and go sniff the sweet n' sour sauce.

The two ladies behind the counter looked like a mother-daughter combo. They both smiled. One said, "For [garbled] to go?"

Her accent was too thick for me. The other stepped forward to give it a try. "[garbled] here or [garbled]?"

Both of them had such thick accents that I could only understand about half of what they said. But, if I combined the comprehensible bits... "For..." "...here or..." "...to go?". "For here or to go?". My eyes lit up. "Oh! For here, please."

"What [garbled] you?"
"[garbled] can get for [garbled]?"
"Sweet n' Sour Chicken, please."

"You [garbled] with that?"
"[garbled] want egg roll [garbled]?"
"No thanks."

Then, one of them hit me with a sentence that I understood fully and yet not at all. "Why you so happy?"

"Well, I guess I don't really have any reason to be unhappy."

"Yesterday, had [garbled] long faces, [garbled] causing [garbled]."
"[garbled] construction workers [garbled], mad [garbled] trouble."

It took a while to piece the whole story together, but the day before I came in they had a group of grumpy construction workers angry-talking and tracking in a bunch of mud. The fact that my shoes were clean and I wasn't frowning was a welcome surprise.

So, I got lunch and I made two new friends, I think. As I was leaving they both said "[garbled] you!". I'm choosing to believe that first word was "Thank."

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Scooby?

I went to the Oklahoma State football game last weekend. That's the one that ended with an 84 to 0 victory. Yes, I know, calling it a "game" is a bit of a stretch.

The best part was who I got to go with... my dad, my oldest nephew (12) and my niece (10)!

On our walk to the stadium, a man came up behind us. "Hey, Scooby-Guy," he said to me. "Where are all the bars?"

I was not prepared to be mistaken for a cartoon character and asked to give directions to a bar with my niece and nephew watching attentively. I played dumb. "I'm not from here."

He shouted, "No problem!" and attached himself to another nearby group. "Hey! Where are the bars?"

I half-expected to hear him add on a very inflammatory question from Blazing Saddles (see the video clip below :) ).

In the meantime, Nephew was looking at me with mischief in his eyes. "Did he just call you Scooby?" I nodded. "Scooby-Guy, to be exact."

Niece and Nephew couldn't be happier. "Uncle Scooby!" I was a hero. From that moment on, during the game and all evening, I was "Uncle Scooby".

It was crazy-hot up in the stands. The lady in front of us knocked over her bottle, and I suddenly had a puddle of nice cool water right in front of me. I kicked off my sandals and stuck a foot in before the water had a chance to boil.

Nephew saw it. "Uncle Scooby's got a wet paw!" I grinned. "Uncle Scooby has a nice, cool wet paw."

Nephew considered this a minute. "Can I stick my foot in there, too?" "Nope. Get your own accidental spill."

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Happy Labor Day 2012!

Happy Labor Day!



That's all for now. :)

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