Oil Baron

I get weird stuff in the mail at work sometimes.

This "HelpSTAR" company provides technical training services. I think. Honestly, I skimmed their mailer twice and it was hard to tell. Pro tip: if your customers can't really tell what you're selling, then you're not likely to have many customers.

They sent me a CD along with the mailer.



"You don't have to be an oil baron." Good to know!

Of course, my mind instantly went to the old joke, "You don't have to be crazy to work here..."



'Cause really, if not for the complete lack of experience or knowledge or interest, I'd *totally* be an oil baron. I'd move my corporate headquarters to Dubai, sell all my stock to Dick Cheney and buy Hawaii. You could come visit anytime, as long as you're willing to serve me drinks and not make eye contact.

The next thing that struck me was how much the guy on that CD looks like Boss Hog from the old Dukes of Hazard TV show.



Do you have any idea how hard it is to change the color a suit to white? I hope you appreciate all the hard work that goes into this blog.

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Coupon, Bumper Stickers

My wife found herself in line at Target behind a crazy old lady. She was chatting up the girl at the register, and asking if she could use a coupon.

"I have a 15% off coupon," the lady insisted. Checkout Girl was dubious. "15% off what?" "Everything," said the old lady.

Checkout Girl wasn't convinced. "Can I see the coupon?" "Oh, I don't have it with me," the old lady said. "I live in Claremore and I left it there at home. Can I use it anyway?"

Checkout Girl's eyes said, "You didn't even bother to bring your fictional coupon with you? This is the lamest fraud ever!". Her mouth said, "I think we need to have the coupon here at the time of purchase."

They bickered for a few more minutes before the old lady finally gave up. My wife finally made it to the front of the line with her purchases.

"So," my wife said, "I've got a 12-and-a-half percent coupon at home, can you hook me up?"

It worked. My wife is the best shopper EVER.

---

I think this idea sounded better in my head that it turned out. We'll see.

I was driving behind a car with a bumper sticker that read, "And on the eighth day, God created the Sooners!" It occurred to me that this was the most marketable kind of joke in the world. Simply put another team's name there and sell to a whole different fan base.

"Heck," I thought. "You could put pretty much any noun there."

I decided to see if I was right. Would you buy any of these bumper stickers?

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Chim-Chim, Cha-Roo

I have vertigo. I also have a ladder and a chimney that's got a leak up near the top, so I *knew* I was going to have a bad day.

Climbing the ladder wasn't too bad, although all the squeaky noises from the gutter got me good and terrified well in advance of my roof-walk. Once I was up high enough, I placed one foot on the roof and put a little weight on it.

My foot slid. An excellent way to begin the adventure.

I finally wound myself around into a more-or-less seated position on the roof, staring down at my wife. "You did it!", she shouted. "...mommy...", I whimpered.

I reverse-crab-scooted over to the chimney, which was fun since I kept sliding downward. I couldn't get traction up there for anything.

When I finally got over to the chimney, things got easier. I was able to brace myself and put a tarp up. Now it no longer rains inside the house. Plus, our chimney looks like its wearing a shower cap, which is fun.

The final quandary was how to get down off the roof. I kept sticking a foot out toward the ladder and sliding. My wife asked what she could do to help and I jokingly said, "Stand under me with your arms out."

God bless her, she did it. I had to tell her to back up. "But what if you fall?" "Then let me fall! Help me *after* impact!"

I took a few deep breaths to gather up my courage. Then, our Roof Dove got annoyed and pushed me off.

It was probably his write streaks on the shingles that made things so slippery on me anyway. Dang bird.

Editorial Note: We've got a roof / chimney guy who will come out in the next week or so to fix the leak, so the shower cap isn't permanent. :) We're gonna give him a nice tip if he's able to relocate the dove for us.

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Birthday

Last Saturday my wife and I went to a birthday party for a one-year-old. Everybody all together now, "AWWWWwwwwww....."

We showed up over at P-Ziddy's house and told him our sad tale. We were going to visit my side of the family, but those plans got disrupted. We were going to visit a college friend of my wife (with new baby!), but they went out of town. "You're the only one who really wants us," I told him.

P-Ziddy laughed. "You know Jeff, honestly, it's just sympathy."

"I've always known," I admitted.

Metacow was there, too. He criticized my change to posting on Mon/Wed/Fri, because now my blog has the same schedule as xkcd. "It's stick figure overload."

I guess I can't complain too loudly at being compared to xkcd, even if it *is* just because of body type.

At one point during the party, I overheard one of P-Ziddy's guests loudly announce, "I have teenage girls... my house is full of attitude and paper products!" The statement horrified me so much that I just *had* to include it here.

Of course, there at the center of all the attention was P-Ziddy's little angel. They put her in a high chair and gave her an itty bitty birthday cake to destroy. She mauled it, flung it, slapped it, and then spread icing all over one eye. She started to cry.

It shouldn't have been funny, but then wise-guy Jeff had to speak up. "It looks like she's a pirate with an icing eye-patch."

Metacow jumped in. "Yar! She be a pastry pirate!"

I'm so glad there were people there with actual compassion, otherwise little angel would still have one sugar'ed eye.

P-Ziddy, thanks for inviting us to your little one's birthday party. She's precious. :)

And let this be a lesson to the rest of you... if you get injured near me in a humorous way, you're on your own. Sorry.

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Bad Librarian, OKC LEGO, Perfectionists

My wife was at the library. The library lady there was trying help some poor fool find a book. "I need something I can read to my 2-year-old," the dummy explained.

They wandered the aisles a bit. Library-Lady picked out a couple of little books of the "See Spot Run" variety. The lady she was helping flipped some pages. She was not impressed.

"This book has too many words for a two-year-old," she complained.

Library Lady was puzzled. "The two-year-old isn't actually doing the reading, though. You're reading *to* him, right?"

The dummy-lady glared angrily at her, daring her to continue. The question, "Just who exactly is this too many words for?" lingered unspoken in the air.

Library-Lady took a deep breath. "Let's see what else we can find," she offered.

Of course, *I* would have asked the question. :) I guess I'd make a bad librarian.

---

This is from a while ago... Oklahoma City, made entirely of LEGO.

Very cool! I just wish there were more pictures.

If you have a couple of minutes to spare, click into that story and then watch the video. The dorky kid at the beginning cracks me up.

---

This is from the book, "Manage Your Time To Reduce Your Stress", by Rita Emmett. It's a list titled, "Nineteen Ways To Stress Out A Perfectionist To The Point Of Madness". I've whittled it down to 10, because *I'm* a perfectionist and humor lists like this should always have 10 items. :)

10) Put empty cartons and bottles back into the fridge.
9) If someone is telling a joke and you've heard it before, wait until they're nearly finished and then shout out the punch line.
8) Take every opportunity to give the perfectionist advice.
7) Squeeze the toothpaste tube from the middle. Never replace the cap.
6) Always be late.
5) Go to the movies with your perfectionist and just keep chatting.
4) Recognize your limitations. Then ignore them.
3) Recognize your perfectionist's limitations. Then tell him or her what they are.
2) Turn on and turn up all the appliances in any room you are in. Leave them on.
1) Never return anything you borrow.

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Defeating The Flu Bug

In a multi-story office building, there are obviously many bathrooms. Several weeks ago I found myself in one that I rarely use.

I hadn't been in there more than 10 seconds when the door opened again. A *very* stinky dirty guy walked in.

He had a dingy stained jacket with holes all over it. His jeans looked like they would stand up on their own if he vacated them. He shuffled, rather than walking. His stocking cap looked like it might explode at any moment. He stank of cigarette smoke. His skin color was indeterminate because of all the grime.

He looked like a textbook "creepy homeless guy" off a movie set. If I had asked for an informant to anything, I feel certain he would have spoken up. "I wonder who took the last bagel?..." "*cough*, well, see, I know a guy..."

I tried to do my thing while breathing as little as possible. As bizarre as it sounds, normal bathroom aromas would have been an improvement over this guy.

I also tried to be quick, but he beat me to the sink. He stood there a long time, making me wait. At first I couldn't figure out what was taking so long, but then I noticed that his head was turned a bit sideways. I followed his gaze to the old poster on the wall.

"This flu season, beat the flu bug! Wash your hands with soap for at least 20 seconds! Don't touch your eyes or your mouth! Sneeze into your elbow!"

This crazy-filthy smelly scary little man was staring at the poster. He never blinked. His lips moved as he read the text. And he meticulously washed his hands for 20 seconds, with soap.

When he finished, he got a paper towel and used it to grab the door handle. He looked like he lived in a trash dumpster, smelled worse than a skunk, and sneezing into his elbow could only improve its condition. But his hands were clean, by golly, and no recently-wiped down bathroom door handle was going to pollute them!

Crazy.

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My Purpose

During departmental lunch gatherings, I serve two purposes. I receive mockery and provide Weird Al Yankovic quotes.



It started at a Mexican restaurant with a conversation between OoRah and LadyPatsFan about odd vacation spots. LadyPatsFan said, "... and there was something about a big ball of twine... I can't remember where..."



I spoke up. "You're talking about 'The Biggest Ball Of Twine In Minnesota'."



"Yeah! That's it! Weird Al!"



My purpose momentarily filled, I fell silent.



Later, movies were being discussed. Somebody mentioned "My Cousin Vinny". "I've never seen that one," I confessed.



I may as well have announced that I whizzed in the salsa. I got near-angry stares of disbelief.



"That movie is a classic!"

"I can't tear myself away from that movie!"

"It's hilarious! How have you not seen it?"



There was a brief pause, followed by OoRah's ominous voice. "It's not quite un-American to have not seen that movie, ... but it's close."



I only got out alive because I promised to put the movie in my Netflix queue.



Of course, I can also dish out the mockery when the moment demands it. LadyPatsFan got a taco salad for her lunch, and managed to break the tortilla bowl. Salad innards spilled everywhere.



"Aw," she complained. "I broke my bull."



I blinked. "Bull?" "No!", LadyPatsFan protested. "I said bowl!"



Next to me, a coworker I'll call QuietVoice backed me up. "I heard bull. It sounded like you said bull."



"I didn't say bull! My accent isn't that bad!"



"I had no idea you had cattle over there," I said.



I got a dirty look. It was totally worth it.

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