Olive Garden

We went to the Olive Garden recently. One table over from us was a group of young idiots.

The waitress came over. One of the ladies sitting at the table recognized her and had an enthusiasm babble-burst.

"WOW!!!", she shrieked. "Oh, this is GREAT!!!" She looked to be in her early 30's but she was gushing like a teeny-bopper meeting Edward Cullen. "*YOU* get to serve us today!"

Waitress clearly did not share her enthusiasm. In a frowning deadpan monotone she replied, "Yeah, I'm excited about it too."

Later in the meal, I wandered off to the bathroom. As I approached my stall I could see little kiddo-shoes in the next stall over. A little fellow was sitting and swinging his feet.

I stood and prepared to do my thing. The little kiddo noticed my shoes under the stall.

"Daddy! Is that Mommy!"

I nearly fell into my porcelain receptacle laughing. I could hear his daddy saying, "No, that's not Mommy."

"Are you sure?!?" "Yes, I sure that's not Mommy."

I've never been mistaken for anybody's Mommy before.

The Bad Mind-Reader

From the comedic genius of ... The Genius ... comes this fantastic idea.

He happily suggested that *anybody* could be a mind-reader, as long as you offer up the disclaimer that you're bad at it.

Then he put on hand up on his forehead and pointed at me. "Is your name... Jim?" "You are correct!", I shouted. "Because 'Jim' is, in fact, a name! And I have one of those!"

"See," he explained. "Jeff gets it."

His hand went back up to his forehead. "I see that you know somebody who has died... in the past 20 years... OK, maybe a friend of yours knows someone... ah, you just lost a pet... you hate pets?..."

I think the "Bad Mind-Reader" gag is a winner. It gives me the freedom to walk up to anybody, anytime, and tell them "You should be ashamed!... do you think about your mother with that mind?"

Fantasy Football

For those of us in Fantasy Football leagues, playoff time is fast approaching. I wound up in three leagues this year. I had a bit of a rough start in a couple of the leagues, but I had been doing pretty well for a while there. In fact, I was ranked number 1 in two of those leagues, briefly.

Then came the dark times. For the past three weeks I've lost in at least two of my leagues. Once I lost in all three.

In each case, the loss could have been prevented if I'd played one or more of the guys on my bench. My wife has noticed this trend, and she's unhappy with me.

Late Sunday, I brought up my teams for her to see.

"Here's the 'Tiny Nerds' league. I'm going to lose by 20. Here's the guys on my bench I should have played."

"Here's the 'Village Idiot' league. I'm going to lose by 20. Here's the guys on my bench I should have played."

"Here's the 'Total Biscuit' league. I'm going to lose by 20. Here's the guys on my bench I should have played."

My wife gave me an unapproving look.

"Next year," she said, "When you join a Fantasy Football league, I want to join too. I think I can beat you."

I think she may be right.

Gift Ideas

My parents have been asking for a Christmas list. It's always hard to come up with gift ideas for myself. Last year, in desperation, I told them I wanted a new "topper" for my Christmas Tree. The silent unblinking stares went on for quite a bit longer than was comfortable.

"Gee. Way to challenge us."

When pressed for any further ideas, I gave up and said, "I dunno. Something tasteful." My dad has a mean sense of humor. I wound up getting a sequined thong that said "Amelie" on it.

This year, the fun begins again. I thought about asking for a Wii, but I doubt I'd actually use it. Power tools crossed my mind, but I like my fingers. I even considered asking for Chicago, but if it's not good enough for Oprah, then it's not good enough for me.

Instead, I've decided to ask for another sequined thong that says "Amelie" on it. I may as well have a set.

Thanksgiving Stories

Bad Hair Day

I have an elderly Uncle who is a bit eccentric. He really outdid himself this year, though.

My parents walked into my grandparent's house and there was Uncle, with his twiggy white hair sticking up in all different directions. He was sitting at the table, looking down, mumbling to himself. He did not acknowledge my parents in any way.

After a couple of "Hi, how are you?" lines of conversation, he interrupted everyone by shouting, "WHO'S TAKING ME TO WALMART?!?"

Grandpa volunteered. The two left. Grandma smiled and told my parents, "Never mind him... he's having a bad hair day."

A half-hour later the pair returned. Uncle had a new can of hair cream, and his brittle locks were smoothed down into his normal "look". He sat down at the table and sighed. "That's better." He finally looked up and recognized my parents. "Good to see you!"

...So I Can Pet The Puppy

I was sitting next to Dad after the Thanksgiving meal. My youngest nephew (3 years old) ran by, chasing one of my Grandpa's dogs.

"Pa-pa!", he shouted, seeing my Dad. "Kin you pick up da puppy so I kin pet him?"

Dad smiled. He picked up my Grandpa's little dog and set it down on his lap.

Little Nephew grinned his crazy-happy little grin. Then, without touching the dog, he turned and walked away.

Grandpa's dog looked at us both as if to say, "Can I go now?"

Poor puppy.

Food Poisoning Pie

My mom got a phone call from my Grandpa. "Did you buy or make any pies for Thanksgiving this year?"

Mom was a bit confused. "No. You talked to me about this already. You said not to bother, don't buy any pies, don't make any pies. I haven't even thought about pies. Why?"

"Oh." Grandpa was typically blunt. "I forgot what I told you about that, and when I was coming home today I bought 4 pies. Grandma had already bought 4 pies herself, so I guess we're gonna have 8 pies this year."

The best part is that this conversation took place early LAST WEEK. This year for Thanksgiving we are going to have 8 ten-day-old pies.

If you don't hear from me on Monday you'll know that they weren't frozen. I will try to avoid eating from the sugar-encrusted petri dishes, but I've never been all that smart.

Wish me luck! Happy Thanksgiving, all!

A Chill In The Air

I have learned that a sense of humor is not a helpful thing to have when dealing with Building Maintenance.

Last week the A/C started blowing and never stopped. As you can imagine, A/C in late fall tends to annoy. After almost a full day of this, I sent a message to my boss that said;

"The A/C is on over here. It seems pretty enthusiastic, too. I must say, it's blowing cool air quite appropriately for a unit of its type in July."

My boss passed the message along to Maintenance. Next thing I know, a jumpsuited man appeared next to my desk. "Did it stop makin' noises?"

"What?"

"Oh, it must be intermittent. Rampin' up, spewing dust, that sort of thing?"

"No. It's just on. I'd like it not to be."

"OK, I'll see if I can find the noise for you, get that calmed down."

Within a minute we had maintenance guys up in the ceiling tiles, clanging and banging. One guy shouted, "The fan's still blowin'!" Then there was the most spectacular metallic farting noise I've ever heard... and I sit next to a freight elevator, so I know what I'm talking about.

A few minutes later, the Building Manager came over to my desk. I shall forever refer to him as "Pronoun Man" because of the way the conversation started.

"Is it still doin' it?"

Eventually, our language issues were sorted out. They assured me that the problem was, in fact, real. And that they would try to maybe do something about it soon. Ish.

The A/C blew for almost 2 solid days before the problem was sorted out.

P-Ziddy's insight was most appropriate. "Building Maintenance does have a sense of humor. How else to you explain the fact that you have to go outside to warm up?"