Category Archives: Funny

Goofy, off-the-wall or silly things I might find or think.

i-wanna-be-green-in-UR-checkout-line

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So I saw a granola boy try to pick up on the checker at the granola store today as I was buying supplements for my wife.  Only he was a wannabe granola boy.  He was wannabe once he started to flap his jaw and reveal his ignorance of environmental things.  Here’s how the story played out (with my colored commentary because this is my blog):

Granola boy (GB): Hey, I like your hat!

Checker (C): Thanks.

GB: Did someone make it?

C: No, I got it at [some store with a name like ‘Twisters’, but I don’t recall exactly]

COMMENTARY: Someone had to make it.  The last time I heard mushroom caps were not being produced as headware.  It may have been an under-privileged child in a third world country – but someone made it.

C: Do you want paper or plastic?

GB: /leaning over counter/ Um, its going to be heavy, huh?

C: I guess.

GB: Plastic.  We need to figure out what we’re going to do with all of the plastic bags we already have.  When are we going to start caring?

COMMENTARY: Doh!  Stupidest dumb self-defeating thing GB could have said at the end is about his lack of caring to know that there are bag recycling programs at most major supermarkets – and they don’t care what stores names are on the bags.  Furthermore, two paper bags would have held what he had and he could also have recycled those.  Or put them in a worm compost pit.  The worms mix the paper with the soil and turn it into rich, good for your plants, soil.

C: Yeah.

GB:  God bless. /walks away/

I slid into my position in front of the register

GB: /comes back/ maybe we can find some worm or something that could eat the bags /walks away/

I figured that C was smart enough to know this guy was talking out of his bum so I didn’t continue on the discussion – she didn’t need me to tell her that the guy was dumber than the dirt he seemed to care about so much.  It is good to be living in Colorado and be able to see that the people are not as granola as the nation thinks.  Maybe we could find some worms to eat people like that?

Sleeping in the Bed She Didn’t Make

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Evie is getting big.  And by big I mean growing up, not fat.  You have to be careful how you talk about women because they can get sensitive about that kind of stuff.  Anyway, Evie is growing up and she’s outgrowing the crib/child’s bed that she’s been in since she was a newborn.  She’s two for goodness sake and I’d hate for her to go to college and tell other students, “My parents saved money by not buying me a new bed.”  So tonight Jessica and I went to the mattress store and ordered her a mattress.

She will be sleeping in a bed she won’t know how to make for a while, but its time she gets a bed that will last her for a while and one she can grow into.  I wanted to buy her an iBed, but Apple doesn’t make one.  I could buy her a Windows Imobile bed to help prevent sleep walking, but I’d hate to have it blue screen while she’s asleep and scare her.  There are open source alternatives, but since coding springs is hard and less fun than the foam the only project I could find had temporary code in place that simulated springs, but didn’t offer actual support.  Therefore I just bought a physical bed that serves the purpose and builds a foundation for her little body to grow in.

She’s getting so big, its kinda sad, but in a good, fatherly sort of way.  She’s also figured out that she can do things herself, the problem is that she hasn’t figured out which things those are so anything we try to do for her gets a fight because she wants to do it.  She’s a teenager about 11 years too soon.  But at least she doesn’t want us to do everything for her 🙂  Except make her bed, that is.

I’m Dumb Enough to Burn the House Down

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I was just telling my friend Dave about a problem I have.  I have a timing issue.  As was done by Johnny Carson:

Johnny: “Ask me what the most important part of comedy is.”

Guest: “What’s the most important part of com-”

Johnny interrupts, “Timing!”

My problem is that I always ask Jessica as we’re leaving the house, “Did you turn off your curling iron?”  But I don’t ask the right time.  I wait until I’ve locked the door that goes to the garage and she’s often buckled into the car.  That way her concern due to my asking a question that is good because it could lead to the house burning down is most costly.  She has to unbuckle, I have to unlock the door (she could but often I have the keys in the locks), and then she’ll run in to check.  I could do it, but for some reason she feels compelled to do so.

I’m so dumb about timing that I could surely learn a lesson or t – timing – two.

A [SIC] Letter to the Plubic

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I just wanted to let you know that I’m only checking my personal email once or twice a day now.  I used to check it like a crack fiend, but decided that my time was worth more than that.  I want to read your emails, and I will, but I just thought I better let you know that they’re being read at a different interval than before.

Email is a great tool, and I make a living, in part, because of email – but I’m reading it about twice a day now: morning and evening.  If you don’t get a response soon enough give me a call.  The phone is still an instant interrupter 🙂

Anonymous Children Did This

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Mother: What were you doing before your sister hit you over the head with her toy?
Child:   I was singing and I didn’t know what I was doing.
Mother: And then what happened?
Child: And then I went like this [mimes taking hand and pushing on younger sisters face particularly mashing fingers into eyeballs]

I don’t know what I was doing while that happened – but the mother and I were laughing as we recalled the attempt to make face mashing sound like innocence.

Hicks

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My grandparents have a pond on ther farm in Northern California.  A mere thirty miles from the rocky cliffs of Mendocino.  I think that Mendocino is a Spanish word for hippies and liberals, but since I only took two first year courses in Spanish you should probably look that up.  Yes, I took the first year course twice.  Es muy bueno.  El queso es viejo y tiene molde.  Anyway, my grandparents pond supplies the water that comes out of their faucets.  The water tastes like fish swim in it.  The fish do swim in that water, so I feel good about it tasting like pond water.

The problem is that I’m on a business trip down to Grapevine, TX.  The water here tastes like fish swim in it.  After being filtered by a multi-dollar filtration system that I’m sure the city paid good money to have put in incorrectly.  The water has probably been filtered with a fish net and a pair of used pantyhose.  I know that sounds cruel, but you’ll find that they have signs that indicate that the water is ‘Superior’ by some random test that is performed by drunk people who have had their tongues cut out.  The drunk tongueless people find the water superior to the toilets that they were reversing into the last time they stepped past drunk and into vomiting mode.

The upside is that our friends the Mason’s gave us several bottles of contraband.  I believe we have several bottles of bottled water that has been filtered to the point of tasting like nothing.  Nothing is exactly what water should taste like.  It shouldn’t taste like fish, kool-aide, teriyaki or Coors.  Oh , or perier.   But God has grace so that when we defile the water with labels like ‘Coors’ or Naive ‘Evian’ the water doesn’t just turn into air through an instant evaporation process so that we’re smitten for suggesting that God’s creation wasn’t good enough.

I just wanted to let you know that I like water… I just like it to taste like water and not sushimi gone awry.

Oh, and I’m thankful for the Mason’s giving us water that you can drink and be proud of.

One Half Hour

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This last Saturday morning on the way home from Indiana we stopped at the Cracker Barrel in Effingham, IL.  Shortly after we were seated an older couple sat down diagonally from us.  We didn’t think anything of it as the girls were chatty and wiggling.  Shortly after that a group of gals was about to be seated next to us and one of them said, “Ma’am, can we please be seated somewhere else in the restaurant?  We’re going to cuss and we don’t want to do it next to the children.”  They were seated elsewhere.

Our food came, we prayed and began to eat.  Suddenly I felt an arm around my shoulder and I looked up to see the man who had been seated with his wife diagonally from us looking down at me and he said, “I’m glad to see you praying in public.  It does my old heart good.”  I thanked him and he departed with a smile.

About 10 minutes later one of the gals who was going to be seated next to us but asked to be moved came by and said, “We didn’t mean any disrespect when we asked to be moved but we have been drinking and smoking marijuana all night long and we were going to be cussing while we ate.”  Huh?!  Why would you tell people this?  Why would you tell a total stranger that you were doing those things?

It is funny to me that in that short stretch of time two polarized events could take place like that.  We got on the road shortly after that hoping to avoid the drinking, smoking gals with their potty mouths.  Unfortunately there was a college game going on between Mizzou and Kansas University later on so we had to put up with crazy college drivers and birds being flipped all over the place as the drivers cursed each other for driving worse than the last crazy driver.

We made it past Kansas City and survived the day with great success arriving home at 11:05 PM.  Safe, sound, and really tired.

Old Man

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I am an old man.  Ancient.  I recall Ataris.  I recall Nintendo Entertainment Systems (NES) and I spent way too many hours playing Super Mario Brothers 1-3 in my youth.  Abby just came in with Evie on her tail singing the praises of the Wii because it had this new game with this one guy who went into outer space.  She knew to tell me that it was available at Target (a store she knows I like).  I asked her if she meant Super Mario Galaxy.  Excitedly she let me know that Mario was the guy.

Old.  I’m just old.