Bozo

There was a rambling office conversation. I wasn't a part of it, but I'm told that it started with some expressions of frustration. Somehow, Big Dawg's vintage Bozo the Clown doll was invoked, probably for use as a stress-reliever.

"We should get an inflatable Bozo the Clown punching dummy," somebody suggested.

"Yeah, we could put it right here in the middle of the office!"

There was gleeful discussion of inflatable punching objects flying around the office. Visions of rampaging rage-fueled Hulked-out programmers danced in everyone's heads.

But M16 was skeptical. He looked at all the fragile objects in harm's way and said, "We'd have a big problem the first time Jeff punches it."

LadyPatsFan grinned wickedly. "Yeah, it'd hurt him."

Reality is a harsh mistress. With four simple little words, I went from "explosive fury of wrathful vengeance" to "cracked toothpick".

They all laughed more than I care to think about, but I'm told in particular that Big Dawg had trouble breathing for a while. That's hurtful, man.

I wouldn't even have known about the conversation except that LadyPatsFan couldn't stand the thought of picking on me without getting to see me suffer. She was still grinning wickedly as she told me the whole thing. She spared nothing.

"It hurts because it's true," I admitted.

I think she's *still* grinning wickedly at me.


(FYI: There's no blog post this Friday. See you next week!)

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Vintage Optimus Prime

If you're not jealous, you're not paying attention.



PRIME, BABY! WHOO-HOO!



Some of his stickers are peeling. Most of his joints don't *quite* work like they should. But I love him.



"Is that a gun in your pocket or are... oh. It's totally a gun. Got it. Right."

Plus, he's got an elevated grabby thingy.



I bet *you* don't have an elevated grabby thingy.

Actually, now that I think of it... did that thing actually have a name?



Prime says, "You'd love me even if my name was Bubba!"

And he's RIGHT.

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Stories From My Past: In All Things

"In everything give thanks; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus."
    1 Thessalonians 5:18

I used to work Technical Support. I was the poor dork you'd call when your computer upgrade didn't work out right.

I've heard it all. There were a few folks who were genuinely polite and thankful for the assistance. There were plenty willing to dish out a "by association" guilt trip, where the customer knows I'm not at fault but is going to yell anyway. There was plenty of furious screaming, as if I personally was responsible for the customer's bad experience.

And once, there was quite possibly the only guy who actually read that "give thanks in all things" Bible verse and put it into practice.

Right from the beginning, it wasn't a normal support call. "I bought this sound card," he explained. "I hooked it up, [techie details], and praise God it's not working."

I could hear him smile as he said "praise God". He continued, "We're gonnna be using this for [plans], but praise God we're stuck right now."

There was no sarcasm in his voice at all. It continued throughout the call. "Advanced Settings... yeah, praise God that's showing an error." Every time, I could tell he was smiling as he said it. He actually meant it.

I heard his wife in the background. "Have you got it fixed yet?" "Not yet," he replied. "We're gonna have a big long distance bill, praise God."

During reboots, he'd tell me stories. "I got cut on some rusty metal about 3 months back, so praise God my tetanus shots are up to date. I'm still a little sore, but... Oh! Praise God, a General Protection Fault!"

We eventually got his computer working, which earned a predictable response.

I think about that call every now and then. I'm pretty sure I should have learned a lesson from it, but praise God I'm not sure I did.

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Peanut Butter And Never Mind

We were at a restaurant, just relaxing. I couldn't help but overhear the waiter as he served food to a nearby table.

"Here's your [whatever], and here's your [whatever], and here's your Peanut Butter and Jelly minus the jelly."

It was so unexpected, and it hit my funny bone just right. I laughed so hard I snorked.

"It's not a 'P.B. and J.'," I cackled. "It's just a P.B.!"

My wife rolled her eyes.

Meanwhile, the kid who got the semi-truncated sammich was glaring at me. I struggled to get my laughter under control.

[Poink!]

I looked up. Offended Kiddo was slingin' ice cubes at me. While I watched, she made the two-fingered "I'm watching you" gesture. Then she spit on another ice cube and flung it at me.

"Honey," her mom said. "What are you doing?"

"Mommy, that's the bad man who laughed at me."

Her mommy glared at me and patted the side of her purse meaningfully. Then she handed Offended Kiddo another ice cube.

I looked at my wife. "We should probably go before this turns violent."

A waiter leaned in and whispered to me, "Just so you know, I've been offered a sizable tip if I spill a tray of drinks on you."

I slipped him a twenty. "Check please."

You can't take me anywhere.

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Full-Contact Sudoku

My oldest nephew (12 years old) had a very important question for me. "Do you Sudoku?"

"Occasionally," I said.

"Ha! Can you finish Expert mode puzzles in less than 3 minutes?"

He whipped out his iPad and pulled up the high scores to show me. "See?", he bragged. At the top of the list was his name, and a very impressive "82,325" high score.

"Wait a minute," said my mom. She peered at the screen. "Something's wrong here. Your highest score was 83 thousand, wasn't it? Oh, wait..." Mom grinned wickedly. "I remember now. That was *my* high score, not yours."

Nephew turned bright red. "I'll beat that right now." He started tapping at his screen.

Dad chuckled. "You and your Grandma could be a team, you two could beat anybody."

Nephew tapped in a few more numbers, but then got his elbow caught in the back of his chair.

The Elbow-Snatcher!

"Ow!"

"Uh-oh," Dad said. "Looks like we've got a sports injury here."

My mom jumped in. "It's like tennis elbow, right?"

Nephew was turning even brighter red from embarrassment. Dad and Mom didn't let up.

"You'll have to put a brace on it and play hurt."

"Good thing I'm the one with the high score, since I'll have to carry the team."

I chimed in, mimicking a sportscaster. "Team Nephew is playing today with a 25-second handicap due to an elbow injury."

Nephew's face was completely hidden by now. He was looking down at the iPad in his lap, trying to ignore us.

I leaned in close. "It's OK man," I told him. "Chicks dig scars."

I don't think I'm his favorite uncle anymore. :)

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Starfury: Andy's Triumphant Return!

You remember Andy, right? He's the dime-sized pilot of my Starfury model, which is currently mostly painted!


Yeah, I know. It's a blurry pic. That's OK though, because it's a bad paint job.

I know it's been nearly a month, but I have an excuse. You see, I had to start painting outside due to the *lovely* paint / paint thinner fumes. And then, Oklahoma Summer happened. Every time I'd step outside and open up the jar of thinner, the fumes would catch on fire.


So, there it is, in all its glory. Now I can probably work on it inside, since any last painting will be little details here and there.

Up next... cockpit glass, a few last paint details, and then DECALS.

I'm terrified.

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Say My Name

I know several people who work in the same Downtown area that I do. I rarely see them of course, because we're in different office buildings. It is a rare joy to occasionally see a friendly face.

Recognize me?

I was out wandering one day and saw my next-door neighbor. Recognition lit up on both our faces.

"Hi!", I said, smiling.

He smiled too. "How's it goin', Gary?"

Aaaaaannnnd... I deflated. Gary? What?

"Hey there, *you*." I deliberately left out his name. "I'm fine."

We chatted for a bit, and then parted. The very next day I saw him again, but this time we were in our front yards.

"How's it goin', Jeff?"

"Oh, *today* you know my name."

I guess I've been called worse things than "Gary". But not by much.

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