So I’m casually perusing the contents of one of the vending machines at work, now not only do they have the laughable “Healthy Choices” signs, they have added a sticker that says “BURN IT OFF! Don’t forget to EXERCISE today.” Can I please enjoy my snack first?
Besides, What the hell do they think I HAVE been doing? I walked like 30 yards to GET to the vending machine, and then I had to go back for change! It’s like those “problem gambling helpline” signs at the casino. Too little, too late.
We visited a local mexican-style eatery Saturday afternoon – asked for a large glass of beer, they brought me something in a huge chalice of some sort, fit for a Spanish Emporer and holding about a gallon of beer. I had to drink it with both hands. Did she seriously think that I was going to drink that?
The taco salad was like they got a can of Kirkland signature chicken and dumped it in the bottom, juice and all, and threw salad fixings on top.
The worst part, the place smelled strongly of Mr. Clean, with a hint of Chihuahua urine. You had to wonder what went on there the night before. It sort of put me off my feed. I am sticking to Azteca for my multicultural cuisine from now on.
I took a picture of this… thing at the Goodwill yesterday. I figure that later, it might help my therapist pin down exactly when and why the nightmares began.
I was late picking my daughter up from her boyfriend’s house, because we were looking for a kitten that was meowing like it needed help. Then it would quiet down for a few minutes, and start up again.
Turns out that at some point, I must have been playing with that Zedge ringtone app and set it for calls from my daughter to be a mewling kitten ( I call her kitten sometimes when I feel like being Robert Young from Father Knows Best.) She was trying to call me. That sure is a realistic ringtone.
I had a bit of a hard time sleeping last night… Had the radio on classical music to try to soothe the mental torment, but something about that violin concerto wasn’t quite right. It took probably 20 minutes of careful listening, occasionally holding my breath, being very still, to determine that the discordant note was caused by the wife, she had one of those “nose whistle” things going on. I think I was chiming in with a wheezing in C flat.
Speaking of orifices that whistle, That Restless Mouse is one of the few places you can get the classic Whistling Tailpipe Gag. I am tempted to use it on my neighbor’s diesel truck, because the devil finds accessories for idle trucks.
What is the word? Grease? Or is The Bird the word?
This has been a point of contention between the wife and I for going on thirty years. We met in 1978, she seems to think that Grease gets points for being a touchstone in our relationship. I can see both sides of the argument, but I lean toward The Bird being the word, just because it has been with me since I got my first radio.
We got into this at my warehouse job last night. Since our warehouse supplies parts for airplanes, maybe The Bird should be the word. But then again, could we build those birds without grease?
Here is where we are at so far;
The Bird: PROS – Predates Grease – Everybody has heard about the bird – Becomes the word by sheer repetition; “The bird, bird, bird, the bird is the word” – Having The Bird as the word supports the aerospace industry.
CONS – Technically “The Bird” is a phrase
Grease: – It’s got groove, it’s got feeling. – Cannot build birds without grease – Has a Broadway Musical, A hit movie, hit songs, and Didi Conn associated with it.
Someone at work suggested that they could both be “the word”. No, they cannot. One must prevail. Please comment below to weigh in on this controversial hot button of a topic.
On rare and wonderful occasions, I hop out of bed with an exciting new invention running through my head. Most of those cannot survive the cold light of day, or my wife’s eye-rolling.
Today, it is “Mirthotics”. Shoe inserts that tickle your feet and keep you in a good mood all day. It will probably go in the scrap heap with “Roca-Cola” (Coke flavored with Almond Roca) and GPS-equipped suspenders. It was fun while it lasted.
In my defense, someone managed to produce these foot-shaped CD/DVD holders in various colors.
Getting messages in 1980 was pretty important, since no one had cellphones. That’s why folks were willing to shell out $99.99, A lot of money in 1980. In fact, I bought an entire car for $100 in 1980.
Thirty years later, I’m still not happy. The cellphones I get just don’t ring as loud or as long as the one from ma Bell. And while I’m complaining about phones- They are not nearly as satisfying when you hang up on a telemarketer. Is there an app for that?
I tried again to revive the (apparently dead) Furby that I am giving away on Listia. He is completely without power. I am thinking he might have a loose wire inside? A bad connection? He seems to be catatonic (Furbytonic?)
If he is dead, I don’t know what he died of. It’s not like I found him in the trunk of a car at the airport. There are no obvious signs of trauma. He doesn’t have any particular odor, or make any noise at all. I would operate on him, but he doesn’t seem to have any insurance.
Posted: 12 Jan 2011 03:15 AM PST