Just When You Thought You Had It All

This showed up in my email a while ago. I have no idea if these are real products, but they amuse me...

Hat

You all remember the event. Last Tuesday, when America was suddenly assaulted by "The Audacity Of Hat".



I wondered what others would look like in The Hat. For all of you "Sunday NFL Countdown" fans, here's Chris Berman.



Of course, I had to honor my alma mater. For the OSU fans in attendance, here's Pistol Pete.



And for the finale... well, you already knew how this had to end, didn't you?

Combo Move

At work a few days ago, a group of us were talking about some of the silly problems we'd been working on during the week and what we'd done to resolve them. Big Dawg mentioned three specific problems that he dealt with, which I jokingly referred to as a "tridefecta" (a word I shamelessly borrowed from Scott Adams).

People laughed. I was on a roll. I pushed further. "It's like in those 'fight' video games, where you can punch/jump/kick for a combo move." Then, I demonstrated by slow-mo punching at Oorah. The visual effect was quite good... after all, Oorah is a former marine, and I'm ... not.

As I retracted my fist of fury, I hit my elbow on Big Dawg's cubical wall. I hit it in that special "crazy bone" spot, which briefly made my arm go numb and caused me to squeak like a doggie chew toy. I tripped over my own feet and went down. I tried to push back up again and impaled myself on one of Big Dawg's fallen thumbtacks.

I was on a roll.

Oorah looked down at me with amusement. "Elbow, Fall, Tack... looks like a Triple Damage combo to me."

Yeah, it felt like one, too.

Ice, Ice, Baby

Remember snow?

I remember when I was a kid, there was a magical formula that my winters revolved around. Temperature less than or equal to 32 degrees plus precipitation equalled SNOW! It was so easy, even an 6-year old could follow along.

I wish it would snow. Instead, we got ice. Thankfully, nothing as bad as last winter (at least, so far). But it's still yicky and slippy and whatnot.

Here's the nighttime view from my driveway. Last night my wife and I heard tire noises and went out to investigate. On that street in front of us was an SUV trying to get up his driveway. The house just off-camera to the right had a rear-wheel drive truck that was trying to do the same thing. He wound up pirouetting the truck all the way around without ever leaving his driveway. It's a miracle he didn't hit anything.

And directly in front of our house, a truck with chains and no traction was trying to pull a minivan with no traction. He got happy with the accelerator once and nearly ripped off the mini's front axle.

For a solid 20 minutes, there were spinning tire noises coming from at least one direction, often two. At least three times I looked at my wife and said, "Well, there goes the mailbox." Somehow it never got hit, but it was a matter of inches.

Today, I will almost certainly work from home. Stupid ice.

Best Band Name Ever

From time to time, the joke "That would make a *great* rock n' roll band name!" gets re-used here. Recent examples include "Certificate Of Destruction" from this post (see the comments), and of course the Rock Band post, which was full of this kind of silliness.

As much as I hate to re-use jokes I gotta admit, this one has staying power.

Or maybe, it HAD staying power. I may have just found the best rock n' roll band name ever.

I've finished reading "The City Of Golden Shadow" by Tad Williams. Fantastic book, although it does end on a cliffhanger (nearly 800 pages, and you couldn't get to a "The End" moment?!? C'mon, man!). During the book, there's a brief mention of a rock band called:

"My Family and Other Horrible, Horrible Animals"

As band names go, that one rendered me speechless for many moments.

I don't think I can top that one, so instead I'll try to add to it. What's the imaginary name of your favorite "My Family and Other Horrible, Horrible Animals" song?

Here's mine: "Broken Furniture, Broken Dreams"

School Daze

Now I've heard everything.

Wisconsin cheerleader mom sent to mental health facility

This woman enrolled in High School under her daughter's name, and then tried out for the cheerleading squad.

No, I didn't just make that up.

You'd think that somebody would notice, right? 34 tends to not look very much like 15, after all. But no... they only discovered her trickery when she failed to show up for school the next day (she'd gotten herself arrested). She said she wanted to relive her "high school experience".

Well, doesn't that just sound nifty? Little miss insane perky cheer-mom inspired me to relive *my* high school experience.

I put some Transformers stickers on my old lunch pail and went to work. That day:

 - Big Dawg stole my lunch
 - LadyPatsFan copied off my test
 - P-Ziddy poured soda pop on my head during recess
 - Oorah pushed me down, laughed, then gave me a wedgie

Folks, seriously, why would I ever want to relive that kind of nonsense? I don't have to. To quote (might be a paraphrase) the great Scott Kurtz, "The internet means never having to forget what high school was like."

Doing Battle

Last week I had the honor of doing mighty battle with a Script Kiddie! A Script Kiddie is like a hacker, only far dumber.

This particular dork was trying to insert spam-ish links on our web site. Most of them were links to pictures of celebrities that probably hadn't been approved by their publicists. There were also several links to discount pharmaceuticals, and one link to Benihana's.

And no, amazingly enough, I didn't make that last part up. I looked at the list of failed attempts, pointed out that particular link and said to my boss, "I'm tempted to let that one through."

I sat down at the keyboard to do battle. I tried to trace his location, but he evaded me. I tried to block his attempts, but he came at me from more than one source. I tried to alert the authorities, but he sucker-punched me from behind and ran away giggling.

Clever hacker.

In the end, I figured out how to intercept his infectious web requests, remove the stinky bits, and then send him along his merry way as if nothing had happened. Now, unless he's paying close attention to his script, he'll never know how useless his attempts are. It's like trying to knock down the Great Wall Of China with a pillow.

Clever hacker? Ha! Clever Jeff says NO TO YOU, smelly hack-thing!

Fan Or No Fan

A few inaugural thoughts. Politics are such a touchy subject that I won't use nicknames on this one.

About 15 minutes or so before the big moment, a breathless co-worker ran by my desk. "They're streaming the inauguration in the training room!" she shouted. Then *whoosh* and she was gone. I've never seen her move so fast.

What do you think?

Fan?  Or No Fan?


I had work to do, but I wandered into the room anyway. I was immediately assaulted by Aretha Franklin's "Audacity Of Hat". Holy buckets! That thing must have done something to her short-term memory, because I swear I saw her glancing down several times during the song, as if she was consulting a lyric sheet.

Then, the string quartet. The oath of office was coming up next. A different co-worker looked down at his mug. "Huh," he mused, "I'm out of coffee." He left and didn't come back.

Depending on your love for the almighty bean, you *could* argue that he knew what was most important. In case, what do you think?

Fan?  Or No Fan?


OK, I admit, I used this post as an excuse to browse pictures of the Deal or No Deal girls. Was it that obvious?

I Went To A Fight And A Hockey Game Broke Out

Friday night we went to see the Tulsa Oilers play ice hockey against somebody. I'm sure the opponent had some kind of a name, but I'll just call them the "Winners" to save time.

The game was at the new BOK Center in downtown Tulsa.

We went with my wife's mom n' dad, plus her brother and his wife. Before the game, we all took a moment to share our hockey knowledge. 8 seconds later, it was established that we all knew the players have to stick the puck somewhere to score.

During the game we learned that there are three referees. These are apparently fans who paid extra because "ring-side" wasn't close enough to the action for them. Sometimes they'd blow a whistle and then throw the puck at a player's foot. They seemed to serve no other purpose. Miraculously, there were no broken toes.

I was far enough away from Sis-In-Law that I couldn't see what beverage she was consuming. I can make an assumption though, based on how much fun she seemed to be having at the end of the game. She embraced The Chicken Dance with much enthusiasm and started yelling "Fight! Fight!" even when they weren't fighting.

My mother-in-law leaned over to me and pointed out #17 on the other team. The back of his jersey said "Pszenyczny". "Can you pronounce that?" she asked. "I'd rather not," I replied. She cackled like sis-in-law after a nasty hit. I wonder if somebody spiked her Dippin' Dots.

When we walked back to our cars afterword, sis-in-law was still chanting "Fight! Fight!" Thankfully, no one took her up on the offer.

Tricky Finger

I'm an idiot.

From time to time, I chew my fingernails. I know it's a bad habit, but it's one I've had since I was 3 and half weeks old. I don't do it as much anymore, but apparently it's still too much.

I developed a paronychia infection in my left middle finger. It was red, pussy, swollen, and painful. Good times.

Most of our Saturday was spent in a doctor's waiting room with a bunch of other people who also didn't plan ahead. My doctor looked like the bald lead singer for a punk rock band. He put down his guitar, gently pushed away his groupies, smashed a beer can on his forehead and then calmly told me he'd have to do some slicing on my finger to make it all better. I thought about protesting, but his stage manager looked mean.

He started by giving me injections to numb the pain. "This will be the worst part," he explained. "You'll have a strong burning sensation along with some really intense pressure." During the process, I had my other fist clenched, jaw grinding, eyes slammed shut, and my legs were twitching. Somehow I managed to grunt out the words, "DANGIT... you're an honest man..."

That earned me a brief respite from the pain as he paused to laugh.

It turns out, "the worst part" was a very relative term. He got to cuttin' on me with his little razor-wazzit, and I couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like without the numbing shots. I also wondered if I was going to need to change my shorts when it was over.

The final act involved a nurse putting a gauze corn dog on my finger. So much for any chance at subtly.

The moral of the story, obviously, is "don't be me". It's not worth it. :)

Goodies From The NFL

This weekend the NFL plays the last two games before the Super Bowl. I thought I'd share a couple of bizarre NFL goodies I've found recently.

A Unique Final Score

If you've watched any NFL games at all you've probably seen the stupid stats they show from time to time. "Alvin is the first running back named 'Simpson' since 1997 to catch more than 10 touchdown passes in November wearing a red jersey IN NFL HISTORY!"

They always throw in that phrase, "IN NFL HISTORY" so that you (the unwashed masses) will understand the incredible significance of the moment. Otherwise you might not realize the importance of little Joey being the first black Quarterback since 2005 under 5'8" to break both legs in the same game but still lead a scoring drive in overtime in the rain while being legally dead (IN NFL HISTORY!).

Last weekend I saw what could possibly be the king of all stupid stats. Near the end of the Eagles game, the awestruck announcers reverently informed us that this was the first game in NFL history to have a final score of 23-11.

Well, now I guess I've seen everything. I can die happy.

It wouldn't be so funny if the NFL announcers didn't take it so seriously. Clearly, they felt that they had experienced something otherworldly, even sacred. It wouldn't surprise me at all to find them hawking stuff on eBay to mark the occasion ("The underwear I had on during the famous 23-11 Eagles game... hasn't been washed... certificate of authenticity included!").

Best. Nickname. Ever.

Those of you with queasy stomachs may want to click away. I swear I am not making this up. There's a defensive player for the Arizona Cardinals whose nickname is "Fart Box."

I have a new hero.

Everybody who has a nickname on this blog better say "Thank you, Jeff".

When I showed that article to iCanSpell, she said "His mother must be so proud."

When I showed it to my wife she said, "That's *your* nickname!"

Clearly, this is the best nickname in NFL history.

I Am Like A Ghost

I walk quietly.

I never thought this was a problem. I can think of several reasons why I developed this habit... I remember being enthralled by the idea that ninjas could silently sneak up on their victims (for some reason, this was virtually the only aspect of "ninja-ing" that really interested me). I remember being told by a adult-shaped thing that I was being far too noisy as I ran from room to room. I remember creeping up behind my uncle to surprise him, only be be spooked myself as he turned around and said "You sneak like an elephant."

I remember in Marching Band, doing the heel-to-toe glide walk and thinking, "Hey! This is a really quiet way to walk!"

And so, after many years of mild interest and inadvertent training, I tend to walk quietly.

Every now and then I'll walk into a room at home, not intending any harm, and my wife will shriek. She'll tell me I snuck up on her.

More recently, I'll walk up to LadyPatsFan's desk and ask her a work-related question. My question is always answered by a frightened *GASP* and the "click!" of her chair as she crashes back down to earth. This happens even when I'm 10-15 feet away and start clearing my throat loudly on approach.

*Most* recently, I nearly killed somebody just last week. I walked into the break room and said, "Hello". The young lady who was filling up her tea mug nearly poured boiling hot water down herself. Her face looked like she'd just seen an ax murderer. I'm sure that she had to change her pants.

I have become harmful to others. I'm trying to decide if I'm proud of this accomplishment.

Maybe I should tie a bell around my neck.

Wear Your Coat And Ride The Bus

My mother-in-law is funny sometimes. She's one of those who has a hard time not being "mother", even though her younglings are all grown up. She was talking to my wife last week during the cold weather and took time to admonish her, "Tell Jeff he needs to wear his coat and ride the bus."

I told my wife she should have replied, "Jeff rides his bike to work. He says he doesn't need long pants because he always works up a sweat." My wife declined, because she's not insane. :)

I decided to go ahead and obey my mother-in-law's whims, just to see what would happen.

First, I got out my heavy coat. The temperature that day was nearly 70. Prolly should have checked a weather report. The coat itself wouldn't have been too bad, but the scarf, gloves, and long underwear were definitely overkill. The boots did come in handy though, since I had to stomp down a crazed vagabond near the new BOK Center.

I parked in the lot at work, then got on the shuttle bus. I hadn't ridden the bus in several weeks. The friendly bus driver looked at me with great interest and then question/shouted, "Where's Big Dawg?!? He don't ride 'da bus no more?!?"

On that bus, I *always* play second fiddle to Big Dawg. I have no idea why. Big Dawg hasn't ridden that bus in more than 3 months.

In any case, the bus took off. We swerved around some potholes, dodged an inconsiderate driver who was stubbornly going in a straight line and obeying the speed limit, and then jumped the railroad tracks just in time to avoid crunchy death by automated rail-car. We ran a few stoplights, and then came to a sudden and complete stop as a hot dog vendor slowly pushed his cart of meat tubes across the intersection in front of us. I snuck off the bus at that point.

Once I got to the entrance at work, I realized that my security badge was under my coat. In fact, it was under many layers of clothing. Practically nude, I was finally allowed in. I fell over trying to pick up my scarf and broke my nose.

Bruised, bloodied, and partially clothed, I finally arrived at work. The top story at a (*cough*) nearby local news organization was about a local vagabond who had been brutally stomped just moments earlier.

It was a good day.

Fixie Drippie

Saturday, I had my first EVER successful plumbing project. Allow me a moment to make it more dramatic than it really was.

Our kitchen faucet had developed a drip. No problem! After all, Dad gave me a "How your house works" book for Christmas. There was a whole page of overview on how to fix my exact problem (the plumbing problem, that is).

So, I dismantled the thing. No worries, right up to the piece that wouldn't come out. I found a very detailed "how to" online, which helpfully said, "I removed the next piece. I don't know if there's a name for this piece of plastic."

Whoa! Information overload. Go easy on me there, buddy.

Eventually I pried it out with a screwdriver (which was a *little* less violent than it sounds). Finally, I had all the rubber bits that needed replacing, so it was time to wipe off the black grease, pick up the pieces, put them down, wipe off the black grease, pick up the pieces, say bad words, put down the pieces, wipe off black grease, put the pieces in a zip-lock, wipe off more black grease, and then go to Lowes.

At Lowes I had the immeasurable joy of pressing the "Assistance Needed" button. Seriously, if you have any excuse at all, press one of those buttons. I was suddenly in charge of the magic voice. "Special Assistance needed at Plumbing Repair." Every time the message repeated, it was louder and more urgent. "Code 107 at Plumbing Repair." If the guy hadn't gotten to me when he did, the voice probably would have started threatening. "I see you in the break room, buddy! Get your hinder over to Plumbing Repair, NOW!"

So now I have a reasonably dramatic adventure of a minor plumbing miracle that I can share with my grandchildren one day. "See this thumb? Grandpa's thumb is *still* slippery from all that dang grease."

Of course, I'll have to say I walked uphill both ways to get to Lowes, 'cause that's what's Grandpa's do. :)

Monkey Squeezle

Friday of last week, Big Dawg came into work with a package for me.

It seems that P-Ziddy found little Squeezles here several weeks ago. According to the 'Zid, the little plastic purple monkey ball practically screamed "I'm for Jeff!" and jumped off the shelf. See, he's a monkey, and he's a stress ball, but those weren't what made P-Ziddy's eyes fill with tears of pure joy.

Little Squeezles has a hinder.

Honestly, if you don't think "monkey butt" when you think of me, you're just not paying attention.

The gift sack was amusing all by itself. It was adorned with the memory of ribbon. P-Ziddy's cat had been snackin' on the bows. He intended to give it to me just like that, saying, "The kitty vandalism just makes it funnier." Big Dawg cut off all the mutilated ribbons, saying, "No, it doesn't."

I owe much to Big Dawg, Comedy Policeman (and Novelty Courier).

Once the package was delivered, Big Dawg sent a text message to P-Ziddy that said, "Jeff haz monkey butt."

Obviously, the appropriate response for such a statement is, "Yes, but did you give him the Squeezle?"

Random News Items

I decided to cut "Time-Waster Week" short when I saw these news stories.

First up, we have a seller enticing potential home buyers with a new Lexus. His million-dollar-home isn't selling, so he tossed in a car to sweeten the deal.

That reminds me of the time I bought a new refrigerator and got a free duck call as part of the deal. Admittedly, it doesn't help much in the kitchen, but our feather pillows are never low anymore.

Then there's the dog owner who had to fight off a hungry hawk. The poor bird was malnourished, so he went for an easy target. Somehow the owner managed to save the puppy *and* the hawk.

Now I'm no hawk, but I have to wonder... how hungry do you need to be for a gamey little wiener dog to look good? If I were ever in that situation I'd probably resort to the vegetarian menu.

Finally, I heard an ad for this company on the radio yesterday: American Document Shredding. The company itself isn't what grabbed my attention... it's the fact that they are proud members of the "National Association for Information Destruction (NAID)".

There's a national association for information destruction? Holy buckets. I know I missed *my* calling in life. Wow. The company destroys your incriminating records and then gives you a "Certificate of Destruction". I don't know exactly what all that means, but I know that "Certificate of Destruction" would make an awesome rock band name.

Literature Map

Have you seen this? Literature Map... this thing is pretty cool.



You type in an author's name, and a spiffy flash whoop-tee-do comes up with names of other authors floating nearby.

I typed in one of my favorites, Terry Pratchett. Floating relatively nearby in the ether was "Tad Williams". The name amused me... some of my older relatives used "tad" as an adjective meaning "a little bit". So this guy is just a "tad" bit Williams. For some reason, this amuses me.

Based on this vague feeling of amusement and little else, I have checked out his book "City Of Golden Shadow" from the library. They say to never judge a book by its cover... well, now I've judged a book based on childish wordplay of the author's name. I hope it turns out OK.

Lego Videos

Two of the very best Lego videos I've ever seen. These are worth your time. :)



The Creators from Jesus Diaz on Vimeo.



Weltraffer from Jesus Diaz on Vimeo.

Yeti Sports

If you havn't seen these games before, you really should. Just not when you have a deadline you care about. :)

Penguin Toss (poorly named, more of a baseball type game)

Orca Slap (darts!)

Albatros Overload (this is the one that should have been named "toss")

Flaminco Drive (golf!)

Build Your Own

It's time-waster week! This is my way of sorta-kinda taking a week off on the blog posts. :) Today, it's "Build your own" stuff.


Build your own muppet!


Make your own Lego person!


Create your own Southpark character!


Make your own superhero!