Weekend Guest (Almost)

This past weekend my fantasy football team played against Big Dawg. We decided to celebrate the event by having Big Dawg come over to our house to watch my team lose to his in person.

lonely... like our hearts after the cancellation...

We bought soda, chips and dip. We put the game on, and cleared out lots of "sit and shout at the TV" space in the living room. We even plugged in a few Christmas decorations so he'd have more reasons to poke fun at me.

Big Dawg was ill and had to cancel.

My wife and sat down on the couch. We looked at the coffee table full of goodies and did what anyone else in our position would have done.

We missed you. More or less.

Later, I sent Big Dawg a message. "We ate like kings! Could you skip out on us again next week?"

I'm sure he'll have something to say about that once his fever dies down.

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The Perfect Cup

I have one coffee mug I love above all others. Not because it's personalized, but because it's *slightly* over-sized.

Yes, that's a toy catalog in the background. Don't act surprised.

It's 10 ounces instead of 8, or somesuch. I always grin when my groggy-blind groping hand finds this one, because I know that I'm less likely to spill it.

So yeah, I spilled it.

I was stumbling around the living room and tripped. When I looked up, I saw coffee dripping off the coffee table, end table, couch, exercise bike, fan and wall. Well done, tiny nerd. Well done.

When I finished licking the furniture (don't judge me!) I got a rag and cleaned up the mess. Later, my wife was sitting on the couch and wrinkled her nose.

"Does this cushion smell like your holiday peppermint coffee?"

"It's your imagination," I assured her.

She'll never know. :)

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Not My Fault

My wife and I were standing in line at Lowe's. The family in front of us included a guy who was dancing and wiggling back n' forth to the music in his head.

I'm a lumberjack and that's OK!

Plus, he was carrying long strips of plastic (baseboard?) on his shoulder. They bounced and swayed back n' forth while he did his crazy humming little wee-wee dance. He looked like a slapstick comedy routine about to happen, and my wife and I were in the slappin' zone.

As we stepped back, he glanced over and noticed my wife. "If I hit you," he politely said, "it's not my fault."

My wife glared at him. "Right," she said. "And if I kick you hard in the tenders, it's OK because I wasn't here at the time."

He stopped moving and glanced at me. I discretely placed my hands over my area and nodded. "She'll do it," my body language said.

He glanced at his wife for support. She glared daggers at him. "I'll let her do it," her body language said.

Eep!

He gulped and stood perfectly still.

Later I asked my wife, "You *were* bluffing, right?"

"Maybe."

I think she was bluffing. I hope she was bluffing.

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Mid-Term Jeff?

P-Ziddy was having a slow day at the office, so he made this for me. I'm running for Governor!



The sock monkey cap is outstanding. The scarf is sweet. But when I saw the text in the upper right... "A Monkey In Every Pot"... oh man. I would totally vote for any politician who I thought could deliver on that promise.

Hey, look! I can see Russia from this hat!

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Noon

The phone rang. It was noon. I knew who was calling even before I looked down at the caller ID.

I picked up and didn't even bother saying hello. "This is the third day in a row that you've called me at noon."

Called? At noon? I was nappin'...

Web Ninja sputtered. "Really?"

"On the dot, yes."

"But... how?..."

"Two days ago I wasn't at my desk but you left a message. Yesterday I was here but eating lunch so I ignored your call. Today you got lucky."

Web Ninja wasn't expecting to be viciously attacked with uncomfortable truth. Faced with his own failings, he responded with admirable eloquence.

"Oh."

"I just thought I'd point out your oddities to you," I continued. "Noon is when most people eat lunch. Mid-day and whatnot."

It. Will. Be. EPIC.

"I don't each lunch," Web Ninja countered. "I'm a robot."

"Right."

If he is actually mechanized, then he should settle into a new pattern now that I've disrupted his old one. I wonder what it'll be? Daily mid-afternoon smoke signals? Hand-written haiku's on pink Hello Kitty notepaper slid under my cubical wall in the wee hours of each morning? Regular bathing?

It should be interesting.

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I Want Candy

This happened last week, before Halloween.

My wife and I were watching Iron Man 2. We were sitting next to a big bowl of Halloween candy.

One of the packages of Smarties must have been open, because every once in a while I'd catch a whiff of pure sugary goodness. I didn't think anything of it.

Halfway through the movie my wife sniffed the air a bit. "Do you smell something?", she asked.

I had already forgotten the candy scent. "No," I replied.

A few minutes later her nose wrinkled again. "Did you light a candle?", she asked.

"You would have noticed," I pointed out. "I've been sitting here the whole time."

A few more minutes passed. "Is that...?", she ventured, "... is that you?"

By now I was smelling the candy scent again. "Honey, 'pure sugar' is not one of the many odors my body can produce."

We had to pause the movie so she could recover.

I'm now required to carry a stick of deodorant with me at all times so that she'll have something to cram down my mouth if I get snarky again.

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Everybody Loves A Parade

This happened last week, before the elections.

Vote early! Vote often!

My wife got home from running a few errands. "You'll never believe what happened to me!", she said unhappily. "I left the store to come home and wound up in a dang parade!"

Turns out there was some local Tea Party gathering near us. They had a "parade" of about 6 cars, all slowly cruising and honking and waving "Please Vote!" signs. My wife got stuck behind them, effectively becoming the last float.

"Aw, how cute!", I said. "You're my pretty little Tea Party activist."

"Well, I did feel like taking some kind of action," she growled menacingly.

If I'm not a witch... and you're not a rabbit... what are we?

"If you're a Tea Party lady," I asked seriously, "Does that mean you're a witch?"

The glare I got was certainly cold enough to be supernatural. If she had the ability to turn me into a toad, I'd be catchin' flies right now.

I'm glad I'm not in politics. It's a dirty sport.

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