The Blowout

This is why I won't try Tai food.



Can you imagine the size of that hole with fuel behind it? Lordy.

These pants actually survived more than a decade before the blowout. Such sturdy pants can only be made of one thing: Barbed wire, crocodile tears and tar.

This apparently happened on the same day that I ate lunch with Scruffy last week. Next time, less jalapeños.

My pants cannot contain me!

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Happy Memorial Day, 2011

You shouldn't be reading a blog like this on a day like today. Go enjoy the summer-ish-ness. Live a little. Throw a hotdog at somebody.



That is all.

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Nothing, Really

It's Friday, and I've got pretty much nuthin'.

So, we'll start with this cell phone notice over on the right. It made me giggle. You can probably read most of it as is, but if you wanna you can click into it for a bigger version.

I especially like the line about not looking anyone in the eyes. Words to live by.

Next, a random observation... Facebook gave me an alert last week that my wedding anniversary was approaching. The hilarious bit was that the alert linked to my wife's page and said, "Send her a message." Uh... I live with her? I don't think a Facebook message would be an acceptable anniversary remembrance.

It made me laugh, and in retrospect I really wish I had take a screenshot of it. :)

Finally, here's the Swedish Chef from the old Muppet Show. This short video starts out as cake decorating. It winds up with a demonstration of the "cäkenschmööscher."



Happy Friday!

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Stories From My Past: The Elf

Yahtzee just got weird

Back in college, there were a lot of folks who enjoyed Dungeons and Dragons. For those who might not know, it's a Role Playing Game (RPG)... participants pretend to be wizards or warriors or whatever, and sit around a table rolling dice and talking their way through a grand adventure. It's a bunch of people all reading the same fantasy novel out loud, except they are also writing the story.

I tried it a couple of times, but got bored and quit. On the other hand, I had a couple of friends who decided that imagination and dice were not enough. They started to LARP.

LARP is "Live Action Role Playing"... basically, the same concept as an RPG, except that the participants dress in costume and act out the roles.

In other words, it's the point where RPG's start to earn a certain reputation.

1791 was the year it happened...

There were three "buddies" of mine who thought it would be fun to act out their chosen characters all the time, not just while LARP'ing. They went to class in costume. One guy (I'll generously re-name him "Joe") wore his vampire cape and novelty-store pointy teeth everywhere.

Me: "Hi, Joe."
Joe: "Do not call me 'Joe'! I am 'Lestat'!"
Me: "No, you're an idiot."

There was one guy who decided that he was an elf. Not that he would play the part of an elf... No, he decided that he literally was an elf. He studied magic. He held his hands so that it looked like he had three fingers each instead of four. He practiced writing in an elvish script.

Loosely translates to: 'You have a boogey in your nose'

He was, simply put, messed up.

He claimed one day that he had "discovered" his name. He used some funky method to generate his character's name from elvish words, but to him this was his true name. He showed off the elvish characters and told everybody that it was a two syllable name, pronounced "Chi-Tos". ("Chi", like the first part of "kite", and "Tos", like the end of "tomatoes")

Then he made the mistake of showing the English spelling. It was "Chee-Tos". His LARP group nearly died laughing.

Every girl's crazy 'bout a sharp dressed elf

"Your name is 'Cheetos'?!?"
"What? No! It's pronounced 'Chi-Tos'!"
"Is your elf orange-skinned?"
"No! Do I *look* orange-skinned?"
"Do you come from a clan named 'Free-toe-lay'?"
"Shut up!"

For weeks after that, he'd find Cheetos bags taped to his dorm room door.

He never relented on what his true name was, but I think he did eventually modify the spelling.

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Bad Cartoonist

I was wandering through a local library when I saw this book on display, just *begging* to be loved by a Jeff.



Cartoon Cool... This looks promising. When I opened it up, one of the first sketches I saw was of a guy with a coffee mug. "This is mine," I happily purred.

Of course, skill is not born overnight. I figured my pathetic scratchings were amusing enough to share. (Book drawings on the left, my sketches on the right)

The title of this drawing in the book was "Sultry Female", or somesuch. Mine didn't turn out "Sultry".



Mine looks like a lizard-fish-alien hybrid. She's coming for your soul!

And this... Oh my. This happy little lady was admiring a dress, but I had to stop sketching when the giggles took over.



"Pardon me, ma'am. Is that a headband, or are you actually being stapled to a cardboard box right now?"

I had to add a cape to this happy fellow, because my wife couldn't tell what he was doing.



Also of note, my wife asked, "What is that ball-thing in his hand?" "That *is* his hand," I explained. I'm bad at hands. So I practiced.



I'm still bad at hands.

There was one drawing I did that turned out more or less OK, however.



I call him, "Dr. Sbaitso." :)

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Left-Handed?

I'm sorry, I've just never been able to do this. I just can't write with a blue pen.

I've always been exclusively right-handed. I've also always been a creature of habit. I never expected one to mess with the other quite like this.

Every morning I have coffee. Every morning when the coffee has been consumed, I stand over the sink and clean out the coffee pot. I always start by pulling out the used coffee grounds with my left hand.

I've been doing this for years, and never noticed that I was grabbing the coffee grounds left-handed. It shouldn't matter, but apparently it does.

The hour of your doom approaches

One recent morning, I was looking somewhere else when I tried to clean out the coffee pot. I reached for the grounds with my right hand.

It felt WEIRD. Like when you pick up a pen with your non-writing hand, and suddenly you have no idea what to do with it. I thought, "What an odd thing to be left-handed at... it's just a pinch/grab/lift, ..."

And then I dropped it. There was a small crashing sound and a wet "sploot" of damp coffee grounds attempting to splash.

From across the house my wife shouted, "What was that? Are you OK?"

Performing Funeral Dirge for a Tiny Nerd, in e-minor

"I'm fine," I replied. Then I stepped on the coffee-ground goo pile. One foot slipped and I did the splits. My hamstrings twanged like Steve Vai's E-string and my head crashed hard into the oven door.

"What was *that*?!?", my wife shouted. She sounded concerned. "Are you sure you're OK?"

"mmm fine", I mumbled. I think it was verbal, anyway. I put a hand up on the counter to pull myself up. My poor dumb groping hand landed on the hot-plate for the coffee pot. It was, naturally, still hot.

Owie. Stingie.

There was brief sizzling noise, followed by a scream. "What was that?", came the expected shout. "Are you OK?"

"You don't want to know," I shouted back in reply.

"You don't want to know" is a phrase that gets shouted a lot at my house.

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Jeff The Interviewer

I got to sit in on an interview! I make a great interviewer.

Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?

First I let the other interviewers speak for a minute. When it was my turn, the *real* questions started.

"What's your astrological sign?"

Everybody looked at me funny. "Do not doubt my methods!", I shouted.

I turned my attention back to the candidate.

"What are some of *my* favorite toys?" The candidate stammered for a moment. "You really should research these things before coming into an interview," I warned him.

I continued. "What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?" The candidate blinked rapidly. "Uh... African or European?"

How frequently do you bring donuts for your beloved co-workers?

I smiled. Very good. He's getting the hang of this.

"If the office was on fire, would you save the web servers or the office furniture?"

"Uh... I'd make sure you are OK first."

"Excellent answer."

I wound up recommending him for the position. He's a quick learner.

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