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Below you will find my weblog, or just blog. The name may not strike you right away, but you'll get it after I ask you one question: How many letters are there in the alphabet?

I use these twenty−six letters to share moments I experience, thoughts I come upon or ideas I have that I don't feel like keeping to myself. Writing them gives me the ability to share with you.

Maybe you'll laugh, maybe you'll swallow hard, maybe you will learn something about me that you didn't previous know, or maybe you'll relate the words below to something in your own experiences. You may even know the subjects I allude to between the paragraph tags.

So much that I will often write without proofing. If I offend you, it is nothing personal, simply my opinion. I'll complain about things that bother me, things I find offensive and just random thoughts I hold onto long enought to transfer to my blog.

The only thing you need know is that I love to write.


Archive for the ‘Humor’ Category

Don’t Worry, Be Colon + (closed parenthesis)

Thursday, January 14th, 2010

Fortunately, I will never [ever] be the person to my three-o’clock.

Walking into the grocery store this evening, I was reminded just how lucky I am. I looked to my immediate right, (almost hurt my non-pierced ear). Plus, I realized an obvious difference…I was wearing shoes that required tying. Lucky, or awesome? I vote both. Jealousy ensued…VELCRO™ is easy as hell to pull apart, and it’s kind-a-awesome.

Tangent: over….back to the .

The glow from above and below McDonald’s newest venture lit up a scene I will never star in, (or stare into (first-person))…now, or ten years from now [hopefully], I won’t be the unfortunate and lonely soul, upon two soles, (in VELCRO™ shoes nonetheless), balancing a tub of Chunky Monkey on top of a frozen Totino’s pizza in front of a Redbox wondering what movie I want to watch tonight – by. my. self.

I’ll order in. And, I have Netflix.

Here’s to sustainability.

Sixty-two Point Five Percent

Thursday, January 7th, 2010

So, I’m currently in day three of a four-day training session for a new marketing tool we will be using and a colleague asked a question about the provider’s uptime (related to their servers). The woman leading the session responded with something similar to: “Ninety-nine dot, I don’t know…nine, nine”

I didn’t end her statement (above) with a . or ?, because I’m not sure if it was a . or a ?.

Our Web Developer piped up and said, “I believe the standard is five nines. Nine, nine, dot, nine, nine, nine.”

I had a momentary relapse to high school and ad-libbed a short scene from Inglourious Basterds.

Five out of eight people in the session laughed (o.l.).[1]

[1]: Not including the instructor (similar to high school). She must have left her sense of humor in her other khakis.

Seniõr Sprite

Saturday, November 14th, 2009

[Business-related] road trip! / :(

During our three-hour route to Brownwood, TX, my superior and I stopped at McDonald’s to have lunch. Under normal conditions, fast food is never a consideration; on the way to Brownwood, it’s the only consideration.

Tangent: Surprisingly, I enjoyed the burger. Not surprisingly, I didn’t eat many fries or touch the handle exiting the bathroom.

Leaving, I refilled my Sprite. My boss left with what remained in his.

INTERIOR: BOSS’ CAR EARLY AFTERNOON

ROSS places his lidded cup next to his manager’s open cup in the center console.

The danger doesn’t exist in having the two Sprites (not to be confused with small winged fairies) that close to each other. The danger exists because the seniõr driving is not a citizen of Mexico, but a citizen of the senior community.

He may have saved 50% on the price of his Sprite, but if he forgets (as seniors tend to do) that his container is lidless, then I get senior spit on 50% of my straw.

It happened the other day at lunch. He was was across from me and decided to drink from both glasses in front of him. One being my water glass. Yet, he still proclaims “I don’t need glasses” (the optical ones).

He now has two – obviously a false proclimation.

I really hope he keeps his eyes on the road and his mouth off my drink. To be continued…

Call Waiting Policy

Monday, November 2nd, 2009

You just received ten digits and her name, either on a piece of paper, your hand, a napkin, or the post-1999 method – directly into your phone.

The known: You are going to call. The unknown: Everything else.

How long dost thou wait to call? Two weeks? Three days? Four hours? Five minutes?

If you answered five minutes then you should get accustomed to disappointment.

I agree that life is too short to ponder ‘what-if?’, so if I let an hour pass by after you pass by without approaching, then I’m either too shy, or taken. That said, I also respect the call waiting policy and if she didn’t ask for your number, then it is your responsibility to interpret her CWP.

Ninety-nine percent of the time, if you disrespect her CWP and call too soon, you’ll end up auditing your phone’s contacts a year later, wondering, “Who the hell is Vanessa?”* – don’t let this happen to you.

*If adult drinks are involved, then it may help to include a note or nickname to differentiate her from everyone else in your phone. Here are some commonly utilized strategies:

  1. Save her ‘Last Name’ in your contacts as the establishment or location of the close encounter of the first time.
  2. Save her ‘Last Name’ in your contacts as an exceptional feature you immediately recognize and don’t plan to forget.
  3. Save her ‘Last Name’ in your contacts as an instruction, such as ‘Call Tuesday’. Obey that rule, or on Saturday, when she screens your premature call, she’ll set your ‘Last Name’ equal to ‘DNA’ (Do Not Answer).
  4. Reduce your intake of alcohol and get to know her. Then, record her ‘Last Name’ in your contacts as her actual last name.

Unfortunately, I can’t tell you the accepted amount of waiting your call policy requires.

In general, don’t rush it, but don’t wait too long.

Whistle While You Work

Tuesday, September 15th, 2009

But, please, keep it to yourself. I’m not a white cartooned female and you don’t have an adjective for a name, stand fewer than four feet tall, or carry a pick axe.

It’s bad office etiquette to implant (through whistling) late 80s songs into someone’s head without expressed written or verbal consent.

Earlier today, a co-worker came into my office and began whistling…um, nuh uh. If there’s an ‘a’ before the ‘m’ then the only thing your lips should be blowing is the steaming cup of coffee in your hands.

I pepped up the pipes and belted out a louder whistle. My tune, (a Coldplay song), acted as contraception for the incredibly catchy track from something very Monster Ballad-y. Not gonna get in my head.

I win.

Go blow air in another someone’s office.

Worst Acting Job Ever

Sunday, September 13th, 2009

I woke up this morning after a horrible dream…I was in someone’s wallet!

After a movie-filled weekend, I’ve seen a fair share of crap. I went in expecting them to be crap though. I mean, if I can honestly say that my favorite from the bunch is Knowing, then what does that tell you?

Friday: Bangkok Dangerous & the first twenty-three minutes of Knowing.

Saturday: Knowing (minus 23 minutes), Crank, and Crank 2: High Voltage.

Sunday: TBD, but hopefully better than the action junk I watched this weekend.

Watching Bangkok Dangerous made me want to buy a gun. That way, when it was over, I could shoot myself in the frontal lobe and never experience that movie again.

Knowing was based on an interesting premise. The world was coming to an end as predicted by a girl in grade school, fifty years earlier. It was up to short-haired Nick Cage (who I really don’t have any bee with) to try and prevent these disasters (fail) and ultimately let his son (spoiler alert) travel to space with another girl (the grand daughter of the grade-school prophet) and four aliens disguised as old men. I don’t know what was more inappropriate – Nick getting in bed with his son, or four presumably intelligent life forms leaving the repopulation of Earth up to a bunch of ten year-olds.

Crank was enjoyable because Jason Statham is a bad ass, but then they (producers, directors and key grips) had to go and make a sequel. During the second film, Jason had to keep his fake heart bearing by “charging” it with a variety of electric currents, ranging from car batteries, tasers and transformers (not like Optimus Prime) to friction…which couldn’t power a prosthetic heart for a fraction of the length of that awful and unconvincing scene in which they (now actors, too) try and convince us that it can.

Tomorrow, I have several on the lineup, but I also have chuuch (not a spelling error), a couple hours of work and football.

Back to my dream…for TV actors, the appeal associated with a role on a long running series would be the steady work, and in films, the paycheck and fame from scoring a major role in a summer blockbuster are the draw, but there’s one thing I haven’t figured out.

And, if I were an actor, this is one part I could never take.

Being the smiling face for a photograph in a prop wallet shot – for either TV or a movie.

Maybe even worse than being a corpse in a Steven Segal flick, because you would get less screen time, and not even (really) be in the movie.

Keep Your [Mom's] Mouth Shut

Wednesday, March 25th, 2009

My college …

...because I say so.
Courtesy of someecards.com

… roommate would rebut your-mom jokes with, “my mom is in the hospital.”

And, I’m cynical because I had fun watching the once self-aggrandized faces immediately hide the smile and inquire with a strong apology as to why his, (my roommate’s), mom, who moments earlier was, “so fat when she jumped up she got stuck,” is in the hospital. To which, he would reply, “because she works there.”

Another good time to keep your mouth shut is while you’re brushing your teeth.

I opened mine this morning to get the outside of my front row (and tongue) and got white speckles of toothpaste paint all over one of my favorite shirts (plus, the mirror, faucet and coutner).

So, I now proclaim today as less-casual Wednesday, becuase I put the tie in my to-be-dry-cleaned pile, turned off the A/C and left for work.

Sometimes you, (and your mom), just have to know when to keep your, (and her), mouth shut.

Driving With The Wheel And Petals

Monday, March 23rd, 2009

I received a text message on Valentine’s Day as I was making my way to Houston for the weekend, and initially thought it was from a girl I went to high school with. I humored her and continued the conversation…turns out it wasn’t the Sarah/Kaitlin I knew.

It was funny enough for me to save it, (and eventually share it), and I felt it appropriate to title this text message exchange by quoting Sarah.

In the transcript below, please note the spelling and grammatical errors indicating that this girl had around a fourth-grade reading level. (No offense to the real Kaitlin, if she’s reading this.) I only point it out because those were the cues that started to indicate that I did not know who this was.

(In a low, raspy voice) The following takes place between ten a.m. and eleven a.m.

(913) ###-#### (2/14):
Hola this is SKITTLES:) (on kaitlins phone)

Me (2/14):
Skittles?

(913) ###-#### (2/14):
Sarah ****** (duh)

Me (2/14):
Oh, of course…how could I forget? What’s up?

(I was completely kidding…I didn’t remember the name, but it sounded familiar.)

(913) ###-#### (2/14):
Nothing how bout you

Me (2/14):
On my way to houston

(913) ###-#### (2/14):
Texas?

Me (2/14):
si

(913) ###-#### (2/14):
Why

Me (2/14):
Visiting friends

(913) ###-#### (2/14):
Cool

Me (2/14):
Tell Kaitlin hi

Me (2/14):
(please)

(913) ###-#### (2/14):
Kaitlin says hi too

(913) ###-#### (2/14):
Wat?

Me (2/14):
I was saying (please) tell kaitlin hi… ;o)

(913) ###-#### (2/14):
Ok I did

Me (2/14):
You’re not doing anything for v-day?

(913) ###-#### (2/14):
Nope just recovering from skating with kaitlin last night:-D

Me (2/14):
Ice skating?

(913) ###-#### (2/14):
No inline

Me (2/14):
Haha. nice

(This did not sound far off from something the Kaitlin I know would do.)

(913) ###-#### (2/14):
Totally

Me (2/14):
So, did my name just pop into your head?

(913) ###-#### (2/14):
Sorta we were texting people to say happy v day and then nobody texted back expect you

Me (2/14):
Bc i’m polite.

(913) ###-#### (2/14):
Wat is bc???

Me (2/14):
because

(913) ###-#### (2/14):
Gotcha

Me (2/14):
You still haven’t said it…

(913) ###-#### (2/14):
What was I suppposed to say

Me (2/14):
Happy Valentine’s Day

(913) ###-#### (2/14):
Ok then Happy Valentines Day8-)

Me (2/14):
ditto

(913) ###-#### (2/14):
Ok are you flying or driving to houston

Me (2/14):
driving

(913) ###-#### (2/14):
Were are you right know (state)

Me (2/14):
tx

(913) ###-#### (2/14):
Cool

(913) ###-#### (2/14):
R you bored

Me (2/14):
So-so. It’s not that long of a drive

(913) ###-#### (2/14):
K who is all with you

Me (2/14):
Just me

(913) ###-#### (2/14):
Then who is driving

Me (2/14):
My left hand and right foot.

(I’m slightly suspicious that this girl may think I’m someone else.)

(913) ###-#### (2/14):
What?? So ur driving

Me (2/14):
yep

(913) ###-#### (2/14):
But your like not they age what are u driving

Me (2/14):
Huh? My car

(913) ###-#### (2/14):
Like are actually driving with the wheel and petals

Me (2/14):
Yep. Who do you think this is?

(913) ###-#### (2/14):
Who is this

Me (2/14):
Ross

(913) ###-#### (2/14):
Ross who

Me (2/14):
Clurman

(913) ###-#### (2/14):
Ummm then I think I have the wrong number unless caleb is around

Me (2/14):
Haha. No caleb here…and i’ve had this # for eight years…later Skittles.

This conversation lasted for about thirty minutes. Had it been a phone call, rather than text messages, I would have discovered the fact that Sarah and Kaitlin had no clue who I was (and vice versa) in a matter of seconds.

[Raise Your] Hand And Deliver

Wednesday, February 4th, 2009

Why do men put one hand above their head when urinating?

Early this morning I caught myself doing exactly that – thankfully, because if I hadn’t, then I would have lost balance and Midas would have touched my shower.

The classic one-hand-above-my-head-planted-against-the-wall pee. In my case, I put my raised hand against the cabinets on the wall behind my porcelain target.

I have a few theories as to why this happens…

Theory 1 – The Additional Bladder
The muscles hold water. Men often try to increase the size of their muscles, most notably, their arms. Bigger arms hold more water and by raising your non-dominant hand (usually the larger arm), you’re allowing this additional water to exit.

Theory 2 – Hi-five Practice
Hey! Alright! Awesome! Sweet! – all great preemptive strikes to the popular, pre-fist-bump, hi-five. Plus, if it’s above your head and on the wall, you’re keeping it clean. Just think how many other guys’ hands you can touch now… Kick ass!

Theory 3 – Hold Talking Until After
If someone raises their hand, palm out facing a crowd, it’s highly unlikely that they are asking each of you to “show them some love”. They probably want you to shut up so they can read off the winning raffle ticket at this week’s PTA meeting – STOP TALKING. Same thing goes for a man that has his hand on the wall during number a bathroom break. It plainly says: “Do not talk to me [glance at, snicker at, or otherwise interact with me] while I’m peeing.”

Theory 4 – Balance
Early AMs that follow any PM, but especially late PMs, are awkward. You’re missing a sock, your TV is still on and why did you sleep in fetal position on the floor of your shower? All good questions. Even more of a good question: How did you manage to shove your sock under the couch, leave season five, disc one of Family Guy on repeat, bring a pillow and bedding to the shower and do it all without dreaming about any reference to running water?

If you can answer that, you’re a better man than I. The real issue is how are you going to get rid of all of those toxins if you can’t even stand up straight? And, that, ladies and gentlemen, brings us full circle to what I like to call my point.

They are all applicable in certain situations and definitely necessary when the time is right.

Kohler should take note and come up with a nice hand massager or heated handle. Screw power tools[?], now that’s a great gift idea for a guy.

See Below

Thursday, August 21st, 2008

Each and every one of you desk-jobbers know exactly what I’m talking about…the overused term, which somehow is an email manifestation of what a client services representative refers to as “people skills” on his or her resumé.

Sweet translation. Seriously, if that’s the only input you have regarding the explanation your technical people provided you with for my question, (which you probably forwarded to them and appended the words “see below” to), then why can’t the technical people just email me directly? Wait…then you’d be out of a job, you email-forwarder.

Fool me. Copy-and-paste yourself through one day, just one, without using the nine characters of customer service, (ten, if you use a period), and I will consider not wearing your office’s alma mater on my shirt to our next meeting.

my next witty humor tee

Continue and I’ll wear it backwards. Pucker up.