Who's Been Good?

So far this year, my parents have only wrapped one gift to put under the tree. It's for my wife. :)

My 6-year-old nephew was hanging out at my parent's place. He was thrilled at all the Christmas decorations until he noticed that one critical detail.

"Gramma," he fearfully asked. "How come Auntie is the only one with a present under the tree?"

Mom shrugged. "I guess she's the only one who's been good."

Nephew panic'd. The statement seemed feasible, and he was scared. "Maybe the other presents are hid! I'll go look!"

He searched the house. There were no other presents.

Nephew was still in a concerned state of mind when my sister came to pick him up. My mom told him, "Be really good this weekend, and maybe a couple more presents will show up under there."

"I'll be good," nephew desperately promised. He turned to my sister. "Mom? Make me be good."

When I told this story to my wife, she nodded sagely at the line, "I guess she's the only one who's been good."

"That sounds feasible," my wife said.

I gotta agree.

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Speedy Kiddo

We went to my 2-year-old nephew's birthday party last weekend.

Have you ever tried to take kiddo pictures on a cell phone with no flash, on a day where the kids are all sugar'd up and squealing? This was one of the few pictures where he stayed in the frame.



I have one pic of him in the "Snagglepuss" pose, looking like he's about to race off in some direction. He's so blurry it hurts to look at for very long, but it's pretty hysterical.

I kid you not, even when standing upright he was wiggling side to side so much that he blurred when I took a pic of him reading a book.

He never stopped running, except to pose for other people's pictures (*sigh*). I did wind up with a few nice pics of the back of his head, though.

Unrelated, but fun. I found a mustache Christmas ornament at Hobby Lobby this year.



I didn't buy it... but I nearly did. :)

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Iontophoresis

I've recently started trying (again) to get my tricky foot fixed. As is the norm with me, when the injury is a pathetic "sucks to be a frail nerd!" sort of thing, the solution involves taking the hurty place and torturing it so that it can get better.

This time around, the lady took out a patch that looks like an over-sized electrified band-aid with a big plastic nubby thingy (technical term) in the middle.

She stuck it to my foot and pushed a button. The nubby thingy went "beep".

"OK," she said. "This is gonna sting a little for about 3 minutes."

"It's going to sting?!?" I was concerned. "I wish you had told me that before yyyyeeaanaAAAGHHhhh...."

Doc lady grinned. "Ah, there it is."

If I'm going to be attacked, I'd at least like to know the name of the foe who would vanquish me. "What is this ... thing... called?"

"Iontophoresis."

"Sounds like a Spiderman villain."

She cackled happily. "See you in three minutes."

I think I'm just about ready to give up and try a peg leg.

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Free Coffee

I love the coffee vending machine at my office. The coffee it spews is an acceptable brew, and the smaller cups are free. Free makes me happy. Generally, if I'm having an "I need coffee" afternoon, I'm not going to have much luck finding quarters without getting my hand stuck in something.

To no one's surprise, I was having an "I need coffee" afternoon. I stepped out into the hallway outside our office and went directly to auto-pilot.

The next thing I knew, I was in the bathroom, looking for the coffee vending machine. "Wait a minute," I thought as the synapses started to slowly fire. "This is where it ends up, but where's the machine?"

Sidebar: Fun fact... this is not the first time I've more or less woken up in a bathroom. Once in high school I woke up sitting on the toilet. No memory whatsoever of the alarm clock ringing, the walk to the bathroom, or anything else. It was an odd morning.

Anyway, I eventually found the coffee vending machine and made my way back to the office. Naturally, I shared the story with P-Ziddy and Big Dawg. P-Ziddy in particular laughed so hard that he nearly needed to go looking for coffee himself.

Later in the day, Big Dawg was chatting with P-Ziddy. "Excuse me," he said as he stepped toward the hallway. "I need to go get free coffee."

And again, P-Ziddy's abdominal wall was tested.

"Free coffee" has become a code phrase for "Pardon me, but I need to go visit a small tiled room where there is no coffee machine."

I love my office.

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Giganto-Pup

I won't lie. I was tempted:



A nine-foot tall inflatable Christmas Puppy. Whoo-hoo! I would put him in the front yard with a devastated model city under him. Godzilla-Pup, SMASH!

Heh.

What if Godzilla and the mutant pup teamed up for some city-stomping? Hm...



I think I'm gonna need an inflatable Godzilla.

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You Can Call Me Al

OK, first of all, if you are not familiar with the classic Paul Simon song "You can call me Al", then you need to stop everything and educate yourself.



OK, now we can continue.

We had a big department meeting a while back, and Cowboy tried to give M16 an affectionate nickname. He just basically took the first syllable of M16's last name and said "The" in front of it. It would be like calling me "The Mac".

It went over like a Snickers bar in a swimming pool.

Later, M16 was talking to Big Dawg about the nickname fiasco. I didn't hear most of what was discussed, but I figured I could butt in and provide some expertise anyway.

"Just ask him to call you M16", Big Dawg was suggesting. I walked by and pointed. "I can call you Betty," I offered, while M16 gaped at me in shock. "And Betty, when you call me you can call me Al."

By the end of that phrase I was joined by a chorus of my co-workers all shouting, "... you can CALL!... ME!... AL!" It was great.

And M16 was mystified. "What are you all talking about?"

P-Ziddy tried to help him out. "Paul Simon. Call me Al?"

"I've never heard of that one."

It was my turn for shock. "How young are you, anyway? Have you hit double digits yet? Has your voice changed? C'mon, boy!"

We pushed M16 into a chair and made him watch the video. "It's even got Chevy Chase in it, back when he was cool."

"Chevy Chase was cool?"

*sigh*

Kids these days.

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The Headphones Project

It sounds innocent and logical in my head, I swear it does. The only problem is that P-Ziddy knows me too well. Dang him.

I've got an old pair of headphones where the vinyl covering on the earpieces has fallen apart. When I wear those headphones I get little flaky black bits in my ears.

I've also got an old bean-bag wrist cushion that sprung a leak.

I've also got some rubber bands, and a pair of scissors. A plan started to form. Once the idea hit, I couldn't just let it go.

And yeah, I know that new headphones are cheap. But this bird is already in the hand, you know? Repairing this set of headphones wouldn't just be cheap... it would be FREE.

I had to do it.

I started by chopping into the fabric of the old wrist cushion.



And yes, those are Transformers band-aids. Because P-Ziddy can smell something crazy happening a mile away, and showed up to chaperon. And since scissors were involved, he was afraid for my safety. He knows me too well. Dang him.

Anyway, once I'd cut out some round-ish shapes from the fabric, the rest was pretty easy. Looks as good as new, right?



Please tell me that it looks as good as new. Please?

*ahem* OK, I'm better now.

At this point, the only thing left was the modeling session. P-Ziddy didn't even ask, he just pointed his phone's camera at me. He knew I'd do it. He knows me too well. Dang him.



Maybe I should spring for some new headphones.

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