This Has Got To Go

Three's Company!

Web Ninja came by our office recently. He was talking to SpanFan and M16 about some of the projects we're all working on.

As I walked by their discussion I saw M16 pointing at something on the screen. "This has got to go," he was saying.

Clearly, they were talking about changes to our project. Most likely something minor, like changing the way that particular web page looks.

Even though I could easily tell what they were talking about, I decided to pretend otherwise. I walked past the group and said, "All I heard you guys say was, 'this has got to go.'" I pointed at Web Ninja. "I agree."

My vengeance will be prolonged, foul bringer of misery...

Web Ninja glared daggers at me. A soft growl rumbled up from the back of his throat.

Web Ninja usually has no problem coming up with snarky replies to my snarky nonsense. Either he was having a *really* bad day, or he just simply doesn't want to play anymore.

Ha! As if that will save him. :)

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Too Much Excitement

Target Acquired...

We had an eventful three days last week.

Most of houses around us have brick mailboxes. Cars smack into those things all the time. We woke up one morning last week to find bricks all over a neighbor's yard to the east. The homeowner is a crotchety old guy who spent most of that day slowly walking around in his yard and muttering. He kept swatting the bricks with the end of his cane and cursing.

Near midnight that night, we heard a car alarm a few houses south of us. It must have had a short or electrical malfunction, because nobody was messing with it.

The police eventually came out... two cars with four officers. I guess they weren't taking any chances, despite the lack of *actual* car thieves.

I wasn't speeding. I was flying at low altitude.

The best part was the speeder. Some moron came roaring down the (residential!) street going at least 45. He saw the cop cars and his rear tires nearly came off the ground as he stopped. Instantly he was surrounded by 4 jumpy cops who already had their hands on their pistols. My wife and I nearly cried from laughing so hard.

What can I say? We hate residential speeders. Plus, everything is funnier at midnight.

Redecorating!

The next evening I heard a crash outside. Our neighbor across the street had just run his car into his own mailbox. Bricks everywhere.

He told me that he stomped on the clutch instead of the brake. He's a large fellow, so aside from "Are you OK?", we didn't question him further.

The next night, nothing happened. We kept waking up anyway, looking out the windows at every little noise. By morning, *we* looked like the ones who had an accident. "Are you two OK?" "Fine... we just didn't sleep last night." "What happened?" "Nothing."

Guys kept nudging me with their elbows and winking. I never figured out why.

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Don't Laugh

Ever tell a joke on yourself, and people laugh harder than they should?

Just like a Michael Jackson glove...?

I mentioned a while ago that I've been wearing a wrist brace at work. It's just a simple repetitive stress injury... in fact it doesn't even hurt anymore, I'm just being over-cautious since I seem to break easily these days.

A gentleman I will not nickname was in our office last week, and he saw me with the wrist brace on. "Jeff!," he shouted. "What happened?!?"

There was genuine concern in his voice. I'd be a fool not to take advantage of that. I shrugged and said, "You should see the *other* guy."

Our office visitor literally roared with laughter. "YEAH RIGHT!!!"

I was stunned and honestly a little hurt. I forced a smile and completed the joke, ("The poor guy's *covered* in nerd blood!"), but inside I was thinking, "Man, you didn't have to laugh *quite* so hard at that one."

Wax on... Dork off...

Heck, even P-Ziddy usually isn't *that* harsh.

Is it really so hard to believe that I might have super-secret nerd-ninja skillz of doom?

Actually... maybe you'd better not answer that.

I'm going to have to think up a new story for the next time somebody asks.

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Dorking!

Apparently Charlie Sheen is more important than the Federal Budget, unrest in the Middle East and the collective bargaining rights of the NFL Players Union, combined. Crazy, huh?

I turned on a local talk radio station to get a weather report, and they were playing clips of recent Charlie Sheen interviews. It ended, naturally, when Charlie shouted "WINNING!" at an interviewer.

Isn't it obvious?

It got me thinking:

1) Charlie Sheen is an idiot.

2) If a proven idiot can artificially boost his confidence and self-worth with a one-word catch-phrase, why can't I? If it works for him, it should work at least double for me.

OK, OK... maybe it'll work 1.3 times as well for me. Let's not quibble over the details.

Anyway, I've picked my arbitrary one-word confidence-boosting catch phrase. Are you ready for it? You skipped over the title of this post, right?

I've got dorkblood!

It's: DORKING.

That's right, baby. Busted-up hinder? It's all good, I'm just DORKING! High gas prices? DORKING! Found another gray hair? DORKING!

You have no idea how awesome it is to be me. I'm DORKING, and you're not.

This is gonna be a good week.

DORKING!

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Kitty Commands It

Google Images: "Hello Kitty Car Seat Cover"... it's amazing how many results come up

But... I don't *like* Spam!

You never know what you'll see on the mean streets of downtown Tulsa.

I was standing at an intersection waiting to cross. A cute little hatchback car slowly cruised through. I could see inside the windows... every seat in the car had a huge Hello Kitty face on it.

"Aw, how cute," I thought. "It's a cute-mobile!"

The car drove on past. The bumper stick on the back said "Eat (stuff)."

The word started with "S". It wasn't "Sandwiches".

Hello Kitty told me to eat... stuff.

I wonder what I did to annoy the Kitty?

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Brown Chicken Brown Cow

I've not traditionally been a Trace Adkins fan, although that may need to change. This Muppet-packed video is hilarious in all kinds of distressing ways. The Muppets in it are awesome. Did I mention it's got Muppets?

By the way, this video may cause kids of a certain age to start asking Bird/Bee questions. Or, Chicken/Cow questions, as the case may be.

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Your Table Is Not Ready

My wife and I went out to dinner with some out-of-town friends. We showed up early at the restaurant and got our names on the list. The lady at the hostess stand gave me one of those buzzer thingies and said it would be 20 minutes or so.

You will be seated at a time and place of *our* choosing, you helpless little diphthong

We walked outside to wait and the buzzer went off. Confused, I went back in.

The hostess instantly tried to herd me to a table. It took a few minutes before they figured out they'd buzzed the wrong group.

I went back outside to wait.

5 minutes later, the buzzer went off again. Our friends still hadn't shown up, so I was prepared to tell them to skip us for a while. "Oh, you're table's not ready," the hostess explained. "I just hit your button by mistake. Sorry!"

I went back outside to wait. Again.

The buzzer went off. I pushed my way back inside. The hostess said, "Would you like to take a menu outside with you while you wait?" She was giggling.

I went back outside to wait. Again.

Dance! Dance for your table! Dance until your shoes fall off, my helpless little puppet!

The buzzer went off. I pushed through the crowd yet again. The hostess made no attempt to disguise her motive. "I'm deliberately messing with you," she explained. "I have a bet with the manager. He thinks you'll break down and cry after another 10 minutes or so." She winked. "I think it'll be quicker than that."

I went back outside to wait. Our friends showed up. The next time the buzzer went off, I let the big guy in the group lead us in.

The hostess' eyes flashed with terror. "Right this way!", she squeaked. We were seated.

She and her manager both lost the bet that day, because neither of them figured my reaction would be "resort to violence".

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