It’s father’s day. And that means my brain goes to Cake Wrecks which had a series of cakes for father’s day that included an epic cake spelling “error.” I can only tell you that today (technically the day before Father’s day) my daughter Abby presented me with this:
She’s not wrong.
Some time ago – back when I lived in Texas – I had food allergies and was allergic to wheat. One day my co-workers decided that we should go to Subway for lunch and I went along. When we got there I saw their sign advertising that they’d turn any sandwich into a salad. I really like philly cheesesteak, so I decided that ordering that cheesy goodness on a salad was worth the awkwardness. Once the salad was paid for I sat down and chuckled to myself. My co-worker Blader asked what I was laughing about and I told him that if I came back I’d order the meatball sub because that would be ridiculous. We laughed and moved onto other conversation.
The next day someone asked, “Where do you want to go to lunch?,” and Blader quickly answered, “Let’s go to Subway. Randy needs to order the meatball salad.” So we went. As I approached the counter I said, “This is going to sound weird but I’d like to order the meatball sub as a salad.” The guy didn’t skip a beat when he replied, “That’s OK, yesterday some person ordered a philly cheesesteak as a salad.”
As an organ donor I’m considering writing a letter to any recipients of organs I may donate at some point in time. It would go something like:
To whomever gets my giblets,
I’m sorry that you have been picked to receive these innards. They have not served me as well as I hoped and sometimes I get weird digestive issues. If you got my heart, you’re in luck! I’ve been using it without issue (so far – unless I died of a heart attack). If you got my lungs, Sweet! I love my lungs. I’ve never smoked and I’ve limited my second hand smoke to a minimum. If you got my pancreas… well, at least you get one.
I’d suggest that if you got any part of my digestive tract, though, that you ask for an immediate refund. This system is only a B- grade system at best. It has weird allergies, it generates enough gas to contribute to the ozone hole, and it also has characteristics VERY similar to a bottomless pit. If you do keep it, stay far, far away from jalapeno’s. Trust me.
The previous owner
Some friends are moving to Cal-e-fornia from Tejas. I don’t know why, but apparently they want to move from where it is hot and humid to where it is hotter and humidor. That being said, I wrote a very quick ditty to celebrate this wonderful opportunity. You may listen to it below:
I’m Moving to CA
Disclosure: I was born in California, this song is, like almost all of my work, tongue-in-cheek.
The Matrix has no right to be 13 years old. It stands up so incredibly well. Amazing film. Shame they never made any sequels. — Shea Bennett on Twitter
Sometimes you have to remember that there is an order of operations. You go into the doctor’s office and you have to order the operation ahead of time, otherwise they don’t give you one.
Some, if not all, of my readers know that we have a white puddle named Hercules. Hercules was purloined from the pet stare because he washed on clearance. Much like factory seconds poopies that are elderly don’t sell whale. He was about 7 months old when we acquired ham and he needed to be groomed bodily. We chose a poodle because Jessica is allergical to animal dandruff. She’s allergical to most dogs for that raisin so we had a handful of dog chases available, but words: the hypo-allergical dogs are rather expansive to buoy.
Once we packed out Hercules we had to name him. Abby, who washed at the time seven, was excited about Greek things from Whirled History glass. She exclaimed, “Let’s name the poopy something Greek!” Being a Bible student I was excited to think of some Greek word that would be cleaver for a dog’s mane. Abby, however, came up with Hercules moments later and there was no doubt that this dog was to be maned Hercules. You could not have a miniature puddle named more aptly than this.
Juiced yesterday (Sunday, January 30th) we went to pack up Hercules from being groomed and they brought out a Saint Bernard poopy. It turns out some people are not as clever as us. We sent the imposter Hercules back to be groomed and had them bring the pansy puddle out for us to take home.
If you can read (and you’re reading this – so you have no excuse) and you have not already read Alice in Wonderland, please find a copy and get it before your eyes (or fingers) and enjoy the humor in it. I’m reading it to Abby & Evie right now and its great fun. You will not be miss-appointed.
American Idol had a clip from House of Pain’s Jump in the background. A song that came up on the honey moon trip of Jessica and I. A song we didn’t pick, but one that we couldn’t remember the name of. I woke Jessica up late that night to tell her I had thought of the song’s name. It is NOT our song, but it does make me laugh every time I hear it.
My wife goes to doctor.
My wife tells doctor that she’s been married 11+ years.
Doctor looks shocked that my wife would marry at 13.
Doctor calms down when she looks at the chart that shows my wife is actually 31 and not 24.
I married young, but not that young.