Some Kind Of Friday

Last week my wife posted on her Facebook wall:

"Thankful Thursday: What are you thankful for today?"

I was really thankful to have a day off work that Friday. Since "Thankful Thursday" started with two T's, I figured I could inject some humor if I used two F's.

"So, ..." I pondered, "What is a good F-word I can use to describe Friday?"

*cough*

Oops. So yeah, once I thought "F-word" in my mind, it was really hard to think of something other than *that* word. It took nearly 10 minutes to come up with, "I'm thankful tomorrow is Fa-la-la Friday."

It wound up being such a lame joke that I'm inspired to try again today.


Today, I may or may not be thankful that it is Fallaciousness Friday.

I'm so glad that today is Fat Friday!

Everybody celebrate Festering Friday!

You WILL enjoy Forceful Friday.

Bask in the glory that is F. Scott Fitzgerald Friday.

I pity the Foolish Friday.

Quick! It's Frenzy Friday!

Typical. Another Fruity Friday.

I loves me some Flip-ity-doo-dah Friday!

Hide the women and children! It's False Foxglove Friday!


What about you? What kind of Friday is it for you?

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Claymore Mines

P-Ziddy has a Marine buddy, and of course I've got OoRah. 'Zid and I wound up being a proxy for the two of them to discuss T-Shirt ideas.

It started with this little bit of genius from CafePress. I didn't understand the joke, but OoRah was kind enough to outline it for me.

"The original Claymore Mine had nothing printed on it. After some accidents with troopers pointing the concave part of the mine towards the enemy (instead of the convex part), they printed "front towards enemy" on the front of the mine."

"Later on, they discovered that in the dark, Claymores could be mistaken for ration cans, which led to some other accidents and damaged mines. So they printed Do not eat. The lettering is "carved" - it has some depth, so if anyone picks one up in the dark, the letters can be felt."

This led to OoRah's magnificent T-Shirt idea... "Front Toward Enemy", as in the picture above. The back would say, "Do not eat: Contents toxic."

This is where P-Ziddy's Marine buddy comes into the discussion. He suggested "Backblast area all secure" for the back of the shirt.

Stellar.

Turns out, "Backblast area all secure" is the warning one gives before firing a bazooka or LAW rocket. I'm told it's also a warning that a Marine shouts just before he passes gas.

I would like to take this moment to thank the US Marine Corps for providing me blog content for today. Gentlemen, a tiny nerd salutes you.

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Punch-Drunk

Punch-Drunk: When you're so tired, *anything* is funny.

I'm fine... really...

We had a major project launch at work last week. The Powers That Be wanted us in the office at 4:30 AM to get everything in place before the morning rush. There were a *lot* of punch-drunk people in the office that morning.

What follows are a couple of stories from that day, which probably aren't terribly funny unless you imagine the participants as confused stumbling yawning sleep-deprived semi-coherent code jockeys.

In other words, everybody was acting like I normally do. It was freaky.

===========

We were having a ... well, let's call it a "complaint session", regarding some folks in another department. Communications are occasionally difficult between our two groups. They want this, we want that, requirements misunderstood, that sort of thing.

Maarek lamented, "I wish we had some way of communicating our disgust with them in a way that would really get the message across."

Your attention please...

"Stay simple," I recommended. "A wood club with a nail in it. You could just plunk it down hard on a random desk, you'd have everybody's attention."

Maarek's face lit up with joy. "Oh! And then you announce, 'Negotiations... have failed.'"

I like it. Simple. Elegant. We were so tired we laughed at this until we cried.

===========

There was a gathering at Big Dawg's desk. As the crowd shuffled around, SpanFan came into view. Big Dawg blinked rapidly and leaned back. He looked like somebody was shining a flashlight in his face. "So bright!"

He was staring at SpanFan's shirt. "It's just pink," she said. "I know, but it's BRIGHT!"

You will succumb to our evil! Ha!

A delirium-inspired idea struck me. "For the first time ever, I'm tempted to get a pink shirt. SpanFan and I can come around your cubical from opposite sides, then JUMP out on either side of you!"

Without even the slightest pause Big Dawg said, "I'd call it the Care Bear Stare."

===========

Halfway through a phone conversation with Cowboy I forgot who I was talking to.

Awkward.

===========

There was a moment where somebody inside our group did a thing the wrong way, and he should have known better. I sent out a "policy" email warning, "Somebody goofed up, so everybody, don't do this, do that instead."

My shirt may be ugly, but so are you, and *I* can change!

I was a bit blunt in the message, so I sent out a separate email to a few individuals saying, "Just FYI: It wasn't you."

Web Ninja replied to the email. "*Now* you tell me. I freaking soaked my shirt in tears."

I replied to him, "That was by design. I hate that shirt."

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Perfectly Timed Photos

From the email archive:

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Armed And Dangerous

I was provoked...

Turns out there was a stabbing last week in Downtown Tulsa. It was 11:30 AM, and it was just a few blocks from where I work.

Naturally, I heard from my wife as soon as the news broke.

"Yes, I'm fine... No, I'm pretty sure I wasn't the one who got stabbed... what? Is that a real question? *sigh*... No, *I* didn't stab anybody..."

The conversation got playful and concluded with her warning me, "Be aware of who is around you today!"

"Don't worry," I replied. "I'm pretty sure SpanFan isn't armed."

"Yeah, but what about OoRah?"

I considered this. "OK, I'll be careful."

Naturally, I had to share. I went over to SpanFan and told her the story up to the line, "I'm pretty sure SpanFan isn't armed."

OoRah's pocketknife

She laughed. "I'm not," she confirmed. "But I think OoRah is."

OoRah looked hurt. "What? All I have *here* is a pocketknife."

Hm. Pocketknife. Stabbing. Eek.

Somebody save me.

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Fun Phrase

alone in my misery

Maarek and I were talking last week. It was Friday, and it was his turn to have a bad day.

See, all last week, if I was having a good day, he was having a bad one. If he had a good day, I didn't. It was weird.

In any case, I asked him how a particular project was going. He replied, "Today, this project has been filled with horse feces."

That is probably the best executive summary I've ever heard.

We briefly discussed how we traded bad days all week. "I wish we could pass that along to somebody else every now and then," Maarek lamented.

"I nominate OoRah."

OoRah turned at the mention of his name. "Sure," he happily said. "I'll take one for the team."

OoRah's a swell guy.

Maarek got a little giddy. "That's perfect!," he said. "All we need is for you to be our metaphysical karma magnet."

Ready? Here it comes!

Everybody laughed. Then, Maarek's mind started to go to strange places. "Hey," he pondered. "A metaphysical karma magnet would be a great thing to have. You could put it on your refrigerator. It'd be like a mood ring... it would change color... rub it for good luck..."

Maarek's a swell guy, too. Especially when he's all giddy and manic.

Of course, we all learned an important life lesson. Specifically: "Horse feces" is a hilarious phrase to say out loud.

Try it!

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Half-What?

We got a door hanger earlier in the week from this "Clean Cut" place. I loved their motto:

"We Do Nothing Half Grassed"

So, if they don't take *half* the grass, does that mean they do take *all* of it? And since there's no grass left, do they pave what's left?

Hm. I might be interested.

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