Marvtimus Prime

Big Dawg came over to my desk to show off his newest toy. It's a Marvin the Martian USB Flash Drive, and it is WONDERFUL.

We giggled like a couple of little girls for much longer than I would care to admit. I confess the phrase "He's so CUTE!" was squee'd, but I won't say who did it.

Now you may wonder... USB? How do you plug him in? Well, his head comes off. That's right, you decapitate Marvin, and then the USB stick is right there and you plug his torso in. Cute AND disturbing, all at the same time. Much like life itself.

Anyway, I noticed that Marvin's head was just about the right size for...



Looks like he's ready to deploy that Illudium Q-36 Explosive Space Modulator with extreme prejudice.

Where's the kaboom? I got your kaboom right here, pal.

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This Is Not A Real Post

It's just 4 random sillies. The last one is my favorite (you might need to click into it to read it). Enjoy!

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More Toys

On a perfectly normal unremarkable morning, I wandered over to my desk and found an offering waiting for me. This happens much more often than you might expect.



Although usually people don't leave petroleum products for me. That's a new one.

I unpacked the goodies inside and...



P-Ziddy loves me. Or he's trying to kill me and I just haven't figured out his method yet.

Transformers! And some Star Wars figurines! Even a Batman! Very nice... although one of the figures didn't survive the decade in a box as well as the others...



"That's OK," P-Ziddy explained. "They make a blue pill for that."

Rather than medicate the figurine, I've decided to just rename him "Droopy." It's simpler that way.

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Regrets... I've Had A Few

It was A.M. in the office, and everybody was avoiding their email. Of course, that only works for a few minutes before the morning's priorities come and find you. Usually I get hit with reality's blunt push before I even make it to my desk, but this time I got to be the messenger! It was a nice change-up.

I approached my victim. "K-too, Cowboy says he needs to talk to you today. He wants to get a start on Project Wossname."

K-too's eyes widened. Project Wossname is a big and tedious one. Plus, K-too misread me, thinking there was some kind of urgency behind my words. His mind instantly went to "worst case scenario". "What?!? He doesn't want that done today, does he?"

P-Ziddy put on his best poker face. "I think so, yeah."

As K-too started to panic noisily, I contradicted 'Zid. "No, he doesn't." K-too relaxed.

Then I realized what P-Ziddy had been playing at. "NUTS!"

P-Ziddy shook his head sadly at me. "You should have played along! We could have made him cry."

I put my head in my hands. "Gah... that would have been glorious."

Big Dawg grinned. "This is what a life of regret looks like."

Fast forward a bit.

The four of us went to lunch that day, wandering through the mean streets of Downtown. Between a couple of the tall buildings, the "wind tunnel" effect was so strong that we could see people being knocked nearly off their feet. "No thanks," said Big Dawg. He turned to cross at the intersection rather than go down that street.

"I'm not gonna fight that wind," he said.

"Well," I offered, "You could go that way, tie a string around my foot and fly me like a kite."

Big Dawg grinned ear to ear. "I kinda want to do that now."

"But you CAN'T!", I shouted. I even pointed at him dramatically, hamming it up as best I could. "We're already halfway across this intersection, so your chance is GONE, baby GONE!"

Big Dawg made a sad face. I grinned. "This is what a life of regret looks like."

I believe I could fly, if only Big Dawg was bold enough to reach for his dreams. And some string.

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Now I Need A Snack

P-Ziddy saw this during his lunch break one day (Downtown Tulsa).



Scooby-Doo, where are you?

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Thwack!

We were digging through some old stuff, and found a smallish whiteboard that was my wife's back before we got married.

"I remember this thing," she said. "I had it in school, but it's pretty useless now."

"Let me take it to work," I said. "It might be helpful to have, and if it's not I'll throw it away from there." All were in agreement.

I showed up at work with the old whiteboard under my arm. LadyPatsFan and P-Ziddy were the first to see. "What's that?"

"It's just something to slap P-Ziddy with," I said. LadyPatsFan's eyes nearly bugged out of her head. "Really?!? Can I use it?!?"

Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed the whiteboard from me and took a swing. P-Ziddy just barely got his shoulder up to deflect the blow. THWACK!

Big Dawg popped around the corner in an instant. "I just heard P-Ziddy get hit with something. I want a turn."

THWACK!

K-Too jumped up. "Are we hitting P-Ziddy with things? Sweet!" THWACK!

Eventually I wandered over to my desk, empty-handed. The thwacking noises continued for some time. When they finally died down, LadyPatsFan showed up at my desk with a dinner-plate sized shard of whiteboard. "That was awesome! Are you sure you don't want a turn?"

"No, that's OK. I have to drive later."

"Your loss."

I visited P-Ziddy's crumpled form. "Sorry about that," I said. "I had no idea it would get out of hand."

P-Ziddy mumbled angrily at me. "I will... burn you... forever..."

I'll need to find some flame-retardant underwear before he's able to walk again.

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But I Got A Good Haircut

I got my hair cut last week. At the place I use, they always have me sign in. When they are done, the lady who cut my hair initials it. I never knew why until this most recent visit.

The phone rang. I heard bits of the conversation. "She did what? Well, I'm sorry ma'am. Who was it that cut your hair?" There was a long-ish pause and the lady made a confused face. "Really? Uh... OK. I'll check."

She hung up and announced to the room at large, "That customer says the lady who cut her hair was old and heavy-set."

Here I should mention an important detail. Every person cutting hair was a lady. None were older than 30. None were even the slightest bit overweight.

"Did you get her name?" The ladies descended on the list. They found where the offended customer had signed in. "Who cut her hair?" "It was Stacy!"

Across from me, the shortest, youngest, and thinnest of the hair-cutters looked up in horror. She was so small I could fold her up and put her in my pocket. "What?!?"

"Hey Stacy, apparently you're old and fat!" "No! I'm only 21!" "Are those dog years?" "No!" "Those jeans must be REALLY slimming!"

Stacy made mock slapping gestures at all of them. All of us guys getting haircuts exchanged glances. This was dangerous territory. The ladies were having fun, but if a male were to make a joke here it could end very badly. Silently, we all nodded to each other. Mutual ignorance and shared deafness were our only chance.

As I paid my bill, the lady made a comment about Stacy. "She's the most petite of all of us, isn't she?"

Desperation hit like a hammer. I pointed randomly. "Look! A thing!"

I ran for it while she was distracted.

My hair looks awesome this week, and as an added bonus, I got out alive.

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So, This Thing Happened...

It's time for a quick break from the complete silliness you've come expect from me.

I got hit with an incredibly nasty flu-like stomach virus called Gastroenteritis. For the record, it's not any fun. I'm recovering nicely, though.

One very cool thing, though... while I was at the hospital, I got visited by both my managers from work. Those visits were both really awesome.

Today I'm grateful that I feel better and that I work at a good place. A very good place. :)

There will be a more traditionally silly blog post for you this Thursday. In the meantime, have a great week!

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Cow Stick

You all have seen my Optimus Prime potato-head, right?



Right. Thought so.

Also, remember the collection of old toys from my dad's toy chest?



Excellent. Nothing gets by you!

Anyway, I brought a couple of dad's old toys up to work with me and added them to the diorama.

P-Ziddy marveled at the ambiguous farm animal with a rear-axle stuck to his rear. Then, struck by wild inspiration...



Prime is now holding a Cow Stick. "Watch out!", shouted P-Ziddy, "Or I will beat you with my Cow Stick!"

"I dunno," I said. "He looks too jolly for bludgeoning. He looks like he's holding a party favor."

P-Ziddy flashed an evil grin. "Well, one week a year in Vegas a 'Cow Stick' could be considered a party favor."

There was a very long pause. I didn't dare look P-Ziddy in the eyes. "You can't prove that I get that joke," I finally managed.

"Right."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." "Sure."

"He doesn't look anywhere near *that* jolly." "Of course."

I blame P-Ziddy.

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What I've Got For You

Lunchtime! I walked out of the office to a nearby Subway. Good times.

The guy on the right. Two of him. Work with me!

I was headed back to the office with my to-go bag when I passed Large and In Charge. The two of them were skipping across the street like half of Laurel and Hardy twice.

I said hello. Large eye'd my bag and grinned. "What have you got for me?"

"Love," I replied. "And respect."

"You've never had either of those," said In Charge, poking Large in the ribs. His finger sank in to the second joint.

Large slapped him away without looking. To me he said, "I will gladly pay you Tuesday for..."

"No deal," I cut him off. I was tempted, but Large's mustache is too small to pull off that impression.

"Hey, he's not as dumb as you look," said In Charge, giggling.

They wandered off, bickering. It's a pretty normal state of affairs for those two.

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Chim-Chimney

At work, our health insurance is changing. Thus, we all got health screenings.

They brought in some "Traveling Nurses Association Of Mobile Nurses Traveling" group to handle the particulars. It was just a bunch of ladies with smocks and bags of cotton balls. Seriously, that stuff was flying around like confetti. It was a little wild, but at least the atmosphere was festive. They even had clowns.

The last step involved sitting down with a nurse to talk over my results. She was wearing a vest with vertical red and white stripes. "Step right up!", she happily squealed.

She went over my numbers. "This is good, this is good," over and over. Apparently I have very good numbers. Then it got weird.

"If you were a lady," she said, "I'd compare you to Mary Poppins! Perfect in every way!"

There was a brief awkward pause while I searched for a silver lining. My falsetto just improved... Spoons as blunt force objects... that trick with the umbrella would really cut down on the morning commute...

The nurse continued. "I guess since you're a guy I'll just compare you to Bert the Chimney-Sweep."

I blinked and grinned. "Did you just compare me to Dick Van Dyke?" "Yes." "I'll allow it."

I got up to leave. The nurse looked me hopefully. "Can I guess your weight?"

"Sure, go for it." She looked me over. "16 pounds?"

She's good.

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Freight Elevator KABOOM

There's a Freight Elevator behind my desk at work. Well established fact. Nothing but a 5-foot fabric-covered wall between me and it, sort of thing. It can get noisy, but most of the time the noises are pretty easy to ignore.



Last week, there was an exception. There was a crash so loud that the floor shook. "Did part of the building just fall off?", P-Ziddy asked.

After a few silent moments, we heard a voice from inside the elevator. He was calling the front desk to report that he was stuck.

Before long, the party started.



Building Maintenance and Security both descended on our floor. "You OK in there?", they shouted to the trapped guy. "Yeah." "Not feeling claustrophobic or anything?" "No."

One of the Maintenance guys chuckled. "Need us to get a doctor for you?" "Sure!", the trapped guy responded. "Make sure he's got a pretty nurse."

Back in the peanut gallery, Big Dawg turned to the rest of us and grinned. "Yeah... He's fine."

P-Ziddy waved his arms in comic desperation. "I'm trapped in an elevator! Send beer!"

After a few attempts with a crowbar, they realized that the elevator door was simply not going to open from the outside. They sent somebody up to the next floor.

Ho. Ho. Ho.

"He's gonna go in through the top of the elevator," Maintenance explained. "We'll get the trapped guy out that way, and then we'll send John McClain... uh... I mean, we'll send *somebody* inside with some tools."

K-Too sniffled and wiped a fake tear from his eye. "This reminds me of Baby Jessica."

Eventually they got the door open a few inches. A Security guy stuck his nose close to the gap and sniffed. "What's that smell? Is that a motor burning?"

M16's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "Don't let them burn the building down!"

"OK everybody," I explained. "The good news here is that all those existential questions about the meaning of life aren't gonna bother you any more."

They eventually got the mess cleaned up and mostly sorted out. It was a bit like a Die Hard movie, but with less shooting.

Hey, it's never dull. :)

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Memory Lane

Last weekend, I got to play trucks with my nephews!

Even better? They were *my* old trucks!



What can I say? I was a fan of really big wheels. Don't judge.

As a kid I had these awesome metal Tonka Truck toys. They had a spectacular layer of filth on them, so we had a little Clorox party first.



I remember most of these toys. It was incredibly fun to see my nephews playing with them.

After we emptied out my old toy box, my dad brought out another one that I didn't recognize. It was one of *his* old toy boxes. It had wood blocks, Tinker Toys, dominoes, plastic "Cowboy and Indian" figures, and an arm-less freakish baby doll that would give Chuckie nightmares (Dad had sisters).



The U-Shaped bandy-legged guys had me in hysterics. But look deeper... there's so much more to enjoy. The horse in the upper right has no tail (my oldest nephew called him "No-Tail Charlie"). The ambiguous farm animal in the middle had an unfortunate run-in with an unspecified vehicle (Mom called him the "Axle-Pig"). And the little seated Army guy in the lower right has an expression of sincere concentration on his face...



I call him "Constipation Dan".

There was also this wonderful little plastic ukulele / guitar thing. One of the pegs is broken, but you're supposed to stretch rubber bands across it like so...



If you like the ukulele lady, the ukulele lady like-a you!

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Paunch

At work, most of the folks in my department are involved in the same project. One of our managers is keeping a list of things that remain to be done. He's also started keeping a list of things that will need to be done after the deadline.

He brought out the second list at a recent meeting. "That's OK," he said (talking about an item that wasn't critical), "We can add that to the paunch... p-pp... POST-launch list."

He shook his head sadly. There's just no way to walk back a verbal snafu like that.

"The Paunch List!", we all shouted. "That's what it's going to be called forever."

"OK, OK," said the manager, admitting defeat. "It's the Paunch list."

Big Dawg grinned. "Everything that doesn't fit in the belt!"

Thank goodness, not all meetings are dull. :)

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Party On

P-Ziddy had a birthday party for his little kiddo. Here are few samples of the fun that was had...

No sleep 'till Brooklyn

There was a slumber party the night before. P-Ziddy blearily confirmed that Kiddo was the ringleader in the "No sleep tonight!" attempt. Her gramma thought this was hilarious.

When Kiddo came to Gramma for a hug, Gramma was ready. "I heard you stayed up very late last night," Gramma said. Kiddo nodded guiltily. "I was tryin' to go to sleep," she fibbed.

Gramma nearly fell out of her chair laughing at the audacity of that one.

A cryin' shame

One itty bitty boy started crying. Up past his naptime, most likely. "I'll cheer him up!", his grandpa optimistically claimed. He picked up the boy. "WAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

A little old lady came up to the pair. She coo'd at the screaming boy. "Let me get a picture of you crying with Grampa, OK?"

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Surprise me

Metacow was there with his clan. His oldest daughter jumped on him out of nowhere. "SURPRISE HUG!", she shouted. She nearly knocked him over.

"Aw," I said as she skipped away. "That was a lot sweeter than this one is going to be."

Metacow looked very confused for a second. Then, he was outright horrified as I shouted "SURPRISE HUG!" and lept at him.

I'm not sure which one of us was more injured in the melee that followed. It was totally worth it, though. Metacow's a passionate hugger.

Basket Case

One little boy strapped a pink pointy party hat to his wrist.

"Well," I commented, "If he puts on 2 or 3 more of those and paints them black, he could pass as an Oakland Raiders fan."

The boy was chasing some other kids around the yard. He put his hand to his head so the pointy top of the hat was facing forward. He shouted, "I'm a unicorn!!!"

Metacow was impressed. "Wow. I wish I was a mythical creature."

"You're not?", I countered.

In the meantime, the boy had already found a new use for his wrist-hat. He pointed it at the kids he was chasing. "It's a rainbow gun! Pew! Pew!"

I'm not exactly sure what a Rainbow Gun is, but I think I want one. It sounds mighty.

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Paintball 2: Electric Boogaloo

You may recall, last year my nephew had a Paintball birthday party. Naturally, the experience went bad for me.

This year, he wanted to do it again. With panic-y eyes and trembling knees, I once again put on the mask and limped timidly toward my doom.

I had a huge advantage this time, though. I knew in advance that I'd be playing, so I didn't wear orange. :) I actually did OK. Two bruises, both from shots I took after declaring, "I'm out!". Surrender is frowned upon, it seems.

Still, it could be worse. Much, much worse. 4 seconds into the first match, my dad got shot in the tenders. He didn't participate much after that. At the pizza place afterwords, my sister asked him what happened. Dad told her, "Dirty Dingus McGee took a shot to the head."

The look on my sister's face as she parsed out that statement was magnificent.

My 6-year-old nephew was also allowed to play. He got a flack jacket that went to his knees and a wrap-around helmet. His dad followed him around to make sure he was OK. After one of the matches I saw him with a grin so big that it looked like his head might split. "How'd you do?", I asked.

"I shot a guy in the FACE!", little nephew gleefully squeaked.

"Well," I said, "Today you're a man."

"YAY!"

I'll probably end up out there again next year. I figure as long as I never surrender and always wear a cup, I should do OK.

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The Happy Couple

At the office, M16 and K2 have been working on a project that involves, among other things, user accounts on our company's web site. It's not a very exciting back-story, but you need to know.

One day as I walked through the office, they blind-sided me with near non-verbal shouts of joy. Both had "Ah... what a relief!" grins on their faces. They were basking in the glory of shared achievement. If they hadn't been half-collapsed in their chairs from exhaustion, they might have hugged.

Let's name him "Bruiser" so
nobody can make fun.

A bro-fist, at a minimum, seemed pretty likely.

I gave them a curious look. Both were still grinning deliriously. M16 pointed over at K2 and happily chirped, "We made a user!"

My brain completely locked up. On the one hand, there's a near-endless supply of "I didn't think that was biologically possible" jokes. On the other hand, I like being employed. I froze up so hard that pigeons could have nested in my gaping mouth.

Big Dawg broke the awkward silence perfectly. "Shouldn't we get cigars now?"

I'm still waiting on my shower invitation.

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Stories From My Past: It's Not A Date!

Back in college, there was a friend of mine at church was a little socially awkward. Good guy, friendly, just tended to be a little dorky and shy and not have many close friends. A lot like me, in other words.

I feel bad for telling a story on him, because I honestly don't even remember his name. I guess that gives him deniability if he ever reads this. :)

At any rate, it was around the time that the band Avalon was touring in support of their album, A Maze Of Grace. Their hit song was...



Yeah, not exactly my kind of music. I liked the lyrics quite a bit, but I'm too much of a metal-head to get excited about anything where a programmable synthesizer is the primary instrument. :)

Anyway, my doppelgänger approached me one day. "Wanna go to a concert?"

In the long history of awkward "uh" 's, this one may have been the longest. "Uuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhh.... ... ... maybe? What?"

"I have two tickets to the Avalon concert," he explained. I had no idea they were even on tour. "It was going to be a date, but the girl I asked backed out on me."

"Oh." I was a little relieved. "Who was the girl?" Doppelgänger's eyes dropped. "Never mind."

Red flag! Red flag! "Wow, ... uh ... well, I'm sorry it's not going to be a date for you." Doppelgänger looked like he might cry. "Me too... " He tugged nervously on his thumbs. "So... wanna go?"

He asked me!
He asked me!

There was another long awkward silence. "It's not a date," he insisted.

Avalon wasn't a band I was excited about, but my social calendar wasn't exactly full. "I guess so. How much are the tickets?"

"Oh, I already bought them. Don't worry about it."

Red flag! Red flag! "Dude," I protested. "This just became a date."

"It's not a date!" "Then let me buy my ticket." "No, I honestly already bought them. It's fine."

You can't
resist...

I gave up. The siren call of "free ticket", even to a band I didn't care about, was too strong for me to resist. "OK, fine. When is the concert?"

"This weekend at 8. I'll pick you up."

"Dude, this just became..." "It's not a date!"

At least he wasn't wearing a boutineer when he picked me up.

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The Paint Party

My wife and I decided to do something about our bathroom this past weekend. The walls were yellow. I didn't like the idea that my walls could so easily mask a critical bathroom incident.



The first coat went on with minimal brush-slapping, which was nice. The walls and I both had a nice semi-transparent blue layer. My wife was spotless. "How did you do that?", I asked. Her reply was, "Clean living."



Eventually, I stepped in the paint tray. "This is all just part of the process," I explained while wiping my sock on the walls.

Later: "We're nearly done!", my wife shouted. "I think it's turning out nice," I said. "But... it's not too late to go back to the yellow."



She gave me a confused look. "Really?" "No." She hit me. "Dork."

After I got cleaned up, my wife hung me on the back porch with the brushes to dry. She was still spotless.

Naturally.


(note: this will be my only blog post this week. sorry)

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Never Stop

It's a slow blog week. :) I've got no story for you today, so enjoy this jazzy little tune instead.



It's different, but I'm a big fan. I especially love the huge crash that comes at around the 2:50 mark. I still haven't figured out quite how they made that noise... I think they may have thrown half a drum kit into an open piano. You just need to hear it. It's jarring and wonderful.

Happy Thursday!

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It's Hard To Think Up A High-Brow Title For A Low-Brow Topic

Two Christmas's ago, I got a toilet mug as one of my gifts.



I've actually used that mug, too. Unfortunately, it's really easy to bonk myself in the eye with the toilet tank. I did enjoy all the times that folks would suggest that I drink lemonade from it, though. I'd always grin and suggest "lemonade... with Tootsie Roll floaters."

The "Tootsie Roll Floaters" was always a great way to one-up the wise guy. It would also be a great name for a rock n' roll band... but I digress.

P-Ziddy combined my toilet mug with his over-sized Optimus Prime, and the result was glorious.



I can't even begin to tell you how happy this makes me. Optimus Prime on the Thunder-Bucket!



We're office nerds. It's just doesn't get any better than this.

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Optimus Prime Hand-Holding

I re-arranged my potato-head diorama at work to make room for my new "Elvis" figure.



There he is, groovin' in the front, while off to the side... uh...



I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this. I think I liked it better when they were fighting.

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