It's The Simple Things

We will do righteous battle!

Our old buddy Lightyear came by the office last week, ready to pick a fight. He walked right up to OoRah's desk and announced, "I've been listening to your buddy Rush Limbaugh..."

OoRah chuckled and said, "I didn't know he was a personal friend...", but Lightyear was all wound up and didn't even notice.

"... and Rush says the situation is in Egypt is ALL Obama's fault! Now, how can it ALL be Obama's fault?!?"

Dork.

Also, Dork.

OoRah happily took the bait. "It IS all his fault. The previous 8 years, everything was Bush's fault so now it all has to be Obama's fault."

Lightyear paused, momentarily taken aback. "So, the sinking of the Titanic?..."

OoRah didn't even blink. "Yes. The president at the time, it was all his fault. Ever since 'The Buck Stops Here', that's how it works."

There was a brief moment of "You know, I really can't argue that" on Lightyear's face, and then he switched effortlessly into Presidential Trivia mode. "You know, I liked Truman. I also liked what Roosevelt said; 'Speak softly and carry a big stick'."

OoRah, former Marine, grinned big and nodded like a bobble-head. "I like that one, too!"

Now that they'd found common ground, Lightyear migrated all the way over to story-telling mode. "I liked Roosevelt. He kept things simple. Simple!, you know? It's just like when Rassui kidnapped Preticarus, and they asked [???] what he wanted, you know what he said?"

Suddenly, none of us had a clue what Lightyear was talking about. I honestly didn't even catch that third name he threw out there. Lightyear didn't notice the confusion from his audience, so he continued:

"He said, I want Preticarus alive, or I want Rassui dead. See? Simple."

E Z Bake

Uh. Yeah.

Lightyear said his goodbye's and left the office. I turned to OoRah. "I thought Rassui was an animated movie about a rat who cooks."

I have searched the mighty internets and I can't find anything about a "Rassui" or a "Preticarus". Does anybody out there know what Lightyear was talking about?

Becoming MJ

I've been wearing a wrist brace at work. When a fellow programmer sees it for the first time I simply say, "It's my mouse hand," and they understand. It's a repetitive stress injury, due to years of semi-bad posture at my desk job.

Non-programmers don't always understand right away. It can be a little embarrassing, too. "Repetitive Stress" sounds vaguely impressive, but when you get right down to it, it's just aggressive mousing. Nobody is much impressed when I confess to being injured by my mouse.

A few days ago, Lightyear saw me wearing the brace. Lightyear is an older fellow, and he has no volume control. He immediately pointed and shouted, "JEFF! What'd you do?!? Are you OK?!?"

I blushed. "Oh, I'm OK."

I started to explain, but Lightyear cut me off. "Hey, you're not uh... ", he started to snap the fingers on one hand, trying to think. "...you're not becoming... oh, what was that pop singer's name... MICHAEL JACKSON! Yeah, you're not becoming Michael Jackson, are you?"

I thought about Michael Jackson's path from 'black man' to 'white woman'. "I'm halfway there, *and* I've got a glove," I thought. I grinned. Out loud I said, "Not intentionally."

"Well," said Lightyear, "then there's hope for ya."

He never asked what actually happened to my wrist. I guess if I'm not changing race and gender, then it must not be too bad.

It did make me wonder, though... what *would* I look like, as Michael Jackson?... Hm...



Unbelievable. I'm not white enough. Who'd have thunk it?

Forgot My Cell Phone

I left my cell phone at work yesterday. I *never* forget my cell phone, but now all of a sudden I've done it twice in the past 6 weeks or so.

This level of emotional trauma can only be overcome with the love and support of my dear friends. I wonder what some of them would say...

P-Ziddy
He'd tell me I can't leave it "behind" if I stick it in a warm dark place first.

V
She'd tell me to staple it to myself so I *can't* forget.

Lightyear
...would commiserate with me, and find a way to blame it on a wife (probably his own).

Fyrebaugh
He'd suggest that I spend 6 times the value of the phone to get a custom-made leather carrying case with belt clip.

Powerama
He'd tell me to use my powers of magnatism to retrieve my phone from a distance (he really does think that I have superpowers).

iCanSpell
...would find some clever linguistic way to make a dirty joke, which she would then blame on P-Ziddy.

Oorah
...would find a subtle way to mock me. "I have a small daughter who never forgets her toys. Maybe she can give you some pointers."

Scruffy
He'd say, "Let me message my World Of Warcraft guild and see if any of them have any suggestions."

LadyPatsFan
She'd hide the dang thing so that she could giggle at me while I tried to find it.

Big Dawg
...would mock me mercilessly... *after* a quick check to make sure he hadn't forgotten his.


I probably won't post again before Christmas, so... Merry Christmas!

Stories With No Point To Them

Two quick stories with no point to them at all. :)

Lightyear's TV

Lightyear stopped by yesterday to chat. He told a most amusing story. He and his wife were sitting together when she turned to him and said, "We are getting a new TV."

Lightyear is a practical man. "There's nothing wrong with our TV," he pointed out. His wife was firm. "We are getting a new TV."

Lightyear became thoughtful. "I remember," he began, "30 years ago, there was this cute little brunette who looked at me and said, 'we will never make a major purchase without discussing it together first.'"

The ploy didn't work. "This *IS* our discussion," his wife commanded. "We. Are. Getting. A. New. TV."

Now, I don't know what (if anything) is wrong with Lightyear's current TV. But if there's a moral to this story at all, it's that you shouldn't cross Lightyear's wife.

Big Dawg's Nose

Big Dawg also stopped by yesterday. He likes to stand on the other side of my cubical wall and look over the top of it at me. He's just tall enough that his nose can rest on top of the cube wall, which makes him look like a cross between "Home Improvements" Mr. Wilson and a large-nosed airplane.

I couldn't resist. "What's the top of my cube wall smell like?"

Big Dawg inhaled deeply. After some thought he replied, "Smells like I've been here before."

At this point, the comedic possibilities actually caused a mental stack overflow error. My brain just simply stopped. Big Dawg grinned and smugly walked away... this was exactly the kind of result he was trying to achieve.

Bravo, Big Dawg. If there's a moral to this story, it's that you can pick your friends, and you can pick your nose, but you can't pick your nose with your friend's cubical wall. Either that, or that Big Dawg's nose has its own distinctive scent.

...ew...

Hungry Like The Wolf

Lightyear is an endless source of entertainment. He's just over 60, and he's a delivery driver at work. He stops by between routes at least once a day to chat with us.

Yesterday Lightyear stopped by my desk. "Now Jeff," he said, with one huge finger pointing like he's scolding me, "I'm gonna give you some wisdom, and listen close 'cause this is deep."

"There is an old Polish proverb that says, 'When the wolf is chasing your sleigh, throw him a raisin cookie, but don't stop to bake him a cake.'"

I shared this deep wisdom with icanspell. She brought up two interesting questions. First, What kind of cake do wolves like, anyway? And second, Would a wolf really be happy with a raisin cookie? Wouldn't he be happier with something bacon-ish?

From there, the next logical step was Bacon Cookies. Any fool can see that. And since the discussion happened early in the day, they quickly became Breakfast Bacon Cookies. Then, we talked about what it would take for somebody to actually *buy* such a product.

I dunno... what do you think? Would you buy this product? ;)

Scuz Bucket

Late last week, Lightyear stopped by with a welcome gift... he brought a Dark Chocolate candy bar for each of us.

"Thanks Lightyear," I said. "You're wonderful."

Without hesitation, he chastised me. "Don't even start those rumors," he scolded. "That's how I ended up married. Some woman said, 'You're wonderful', and *now* look at me."

It's hard to argue with that kind of logic. I decided to try a different approach. "Well, how about I call you Scuz Bucket, and you and I both know what I *really* mean?"

"Yeah, that's fine."

Some days its very difficult to keep a straight face.

New Hire!

Way back when Farmer left this job, Lightyear started in on the Golfer to hire a woman to replace him. His exact words were something along the lines of, "This is your chance! You gotta find you a tall leggy blonde! It don't matter if she can work the keyboard or not!"

Well, we have new positions open now. Two are waiting to be hired, but two have been filled by He-Without-A-Nickname-Yet, and She-Without-A-Nickname-Yet. Yes, that's right... she's not a blonde, but she's a "she".

Lightyear nearly wept with joy. He walked in to say hi, and saw She-Without-A-Nickname-Yet sitting near my desk. Lightyear displayed his usual cool discretion. Eyes wide, he pointed a finger directly at She-Without-A-Nickname-Yet and shouted at the top of his lungs, "Golfer, you did it! You hired a woman! Good for you!"

She-Without-A-Nickname-Yet nearly fell out of her chair laughing.

The next day, Lightyear confided in me, "I do wish Golfer had gotten a blonde."

I guess you can't make everybody happy all the time. :)

Beach Music

Friday, Lightyear was talking to me about music. He has a great love of music from the 50's, especially "beach" music (The Beach Boys are an easy, obvious example). It's not exactly my bread and butter, but I have enjoyed that music on occasion, so we have a little common ground.

Later in the afternoon, I guess he decided to step it up a notch. He brought in some of his old LP's (that's "records", for you young pups) for me to see.

"Now Jeff," he drawled, "These are the *original* Compact Disks! You've never seen these big 'ole things, have you?"

"Actually yes," I replied. "I know what those are."

This stopped him for a moment. He blinked, trying to process the fact that I'm not *quite* as young as he thinks I am. Half a second later he decided to ignore that fact, and surged onward.

"See, the way these used to work, is you'd put them on a record player and they'd spin, and ..."

"I know how that works, yeah." I interrupted. "I even had a record player when I was kid."

I didn't intend to be a kill-joy, but I had just eliminated half or more of Lightyear's story. He looked shocked. Then, as always, he rallied.

"Well, have you ever heard of *this* group?" I hadn't. Suddenly, Lightyear was in his element again. "See, they're a lot like the Beach Boys..."

And on it went. :)

Percussive Sounds

I got to hear another gem from Lightyear yesterday. He says that sometimes when he wants to pick on his wife a bit, he'll take an empty diet coke bottle, and whack it against his hand. It makes a "THUNK! THUNK! THUNK!" noise.

In Lightyear's own (slightly paraphrased) words:

"I was sittin' in the livin' room, and I pulled out a Diet Coke bottle and started slappin' it on my hand, you know, THUNK! THUNK! THUNK! And my wife walked in, and she took that bottle away from me.

"I waited for her to leave the room, and then I pulled out another one. THUNK! THUNK! THUNK! She came back in the room and glared at me. She said, 'Don't make me hurt you.'"

As he was telling me the story, the grin on his face couldn't have been any bigger. He proceeded to tell me that "...anyone who tells you women aren't violent is lyin'!"

I'm not sure how or why his wife has let him live this long, but I hope she doesn't do anything drastic anytime soon. You just can't make this stuff up.

Fight!

I was pretty amused by this headline:

Fighting with spouse can be good for your health

For many couples, spats are a necessary evil, something to endure or avoid (for the sake of the kids!). But new research at the University of Michigan shows that hashing out marital disagreements is actually good for your health.

It made me think of Lightyear and the stories he likes to tell about his relationship with his wife. To hear him tell it, they've been fighting for years, usually over something he said. For example:

"My *next* wife will be submissive!"

I printed out the article and waited for Lightyear to stop by. When he did, I handed it to him and said, "You'll love this."

Lightyear took the page with some skepticism. He read the headline and instantly broke into a wide grin. "I've been sayin' this for years!", he drawled.

Consider those to be the words of a true SME (Subject Matter Expert).

Antagonizing My Wife

NOTE: I try not to get political on this blog, because that's a can of worms I just don't wanna open. However, for these jokes to work, you simply have to be aware of the Eliot Spitzer scandal. If you don't know what's going on there, just click the link and read the first three paragraphs.

OK, ready? Here we go...

Lightyear stopped by our office to chat last Friday. He pointed a finger at me and announced, "Jeff, I have a job for you this weekend."

I had a feeling I knew where this was going. "You're going to tell me to antagonize my wife again, aren't you?"

Lightyear had a huge grin on his face as he continued. "You look her in the eyes and say, 'Babe, I got bad news for you. I'm Client Number 10.' "

I looked up at him. "Lightyear, there's no way I'm gonna do that."

"Why not? Are you too afraid of your wife to pick on her a little bit?"

"First of all," I replied, "yes, I am. Secondly, if I'm gonna make up a story like that, I'm sure not gonna go for number 10. I'd be Client Number 1!"

Lightyear laughed. Then he proceeded to tell me all the horrible things his wife would do to him if he were to pull such a prank. I'd bet anything he tried it anyway.

For the record, the *real* reason I wouldn't pull this prank on my wife is that I love her. And because I hate using somebody else's joke. ;)

(Hopefully) Last Thoughts On The Storm

You got a reprieve from storm-related stories yesterday, 'cause I had that story already written and I needed time to collect my thoughts. I think I'm still collecting them, honestly. It's been a long couple of weeks. In no particular order:

 - My wife's sister-in-law lost her dad to a heart attack
 - A precious friend suffered a miscarriage
 - My wife's dad had (non-emergency) knee replacement surgery
 - An Uncle of mine has inoperable brain cancer
 - A family friend of my wife's has inoperable brain cancer
 - The ice storm snapped a tree in my Aunt's in-laws' yard, which landed on their car; Aunt's family and Aunt's in-laws are still without electricity
 - A former co-worker of mine died of heart-related problems, age 39

I'm not even sure I remembered everything in that list.

I know I am blessed. I know that more today than I did two weeks ago... sometimes it's a hard lesson, though.

*sigh* I know you didn't come here for somber, so I'll leave you on a lighter note. I usually don't shave over the weekends, and was without power Monday and Tuesday. I never had exclusive access to a lit bathroom mirror, so I didn't worry about it. I came into work Tuesday looking a bit like Grizzly Adams.

Lightyear stopped by the office and poked fun at my scruff. "Jeff!", he shouted, "One mornin' your wife is gonna wake up and look at you and say, 'That boy has changed!'".

That evening, over at Scruffy's house, my wife chased everyone out of the bathroom. Then she pushed me into it, and handed me my razor. "You have work to do," she proclaimed. She guarded the door until I was me again.

Lightyear is right more often than I care to admit. :)

New Hire

About a month ago, the Farmer left us for (ready for it?) greener pastures (woka woka!). I hear that he's pretty happy at his new job, although I'm sure he misses my excellent sense of humor.

Obviously, at that point the search for new talent kicks in. This has been a pretty normal process, except for the occasional outbursts of encouragement from Lightyear. He kept telling the Golfer (at significant volume), "This is your chance! You gotta find you a tall leggy blonde! It don't matter if she can work the keyboard or not!"

Well, today our new hire will take his (yes, *his*) place in the office. Lightyear happened to drop by a day or two ago, and the Golfer broke the news to him.

"Lightyear, just wanted to let you know we hired somebody."
"Really?!? Tell me you picked up a tall leggy blonde! That's what ya really need!"
"No, actually, he's a quiet middle-aged Asian male."

At this news, you could visibly see Lightyear's heart break. There was a rare moment of silence as he gaped open-mouthed at the Golfer. Trust me on this, it's *rare* to have silence in the same room with Lightyear.

Slowly, with a shocked and dazed look on his face, he turned toward Big Dawg and me. "Guys," he said, with great sadness, "... you see the path he's leadin' you down..."

Even now, I have no response for that.

BTW, welcome aboard, leggy blonde wanna-be! I'll think up a nickname for you eventually...

Geezer Power

Check out this headline (and the story, if you are so inclined):

"Geezer Power: Older Men + Younger Women = Longer Lifespan"

As soon as I saw this headline, I knew I had a winner. I printed out the article and put it on my desk, in anticipation of Lightyear's next visit.

Regular readers will remember Lightyear. He's 60, he's loud, he's opinionated, and he's got a special kind of combative relationship with his wife that he always loves to talk about.

Late last week, Lightyear came by to chat. We handed him the printout and said, "You can tell your wife that if she was young and beautiful, you'd live longer."

There was no doubt that he would take us up on this.

Fast forward to yesterday (Monday). Lightyear stopped by to chat again. "Jeff," he exclaimed at great volume, "I just want you to know I showed that 'Geezer Power' article to my wife. I told her, 'You're killin' me! If I had a young beautiful wife, I'd live longer!' And do you know what she said to me?"

I was barely able to speak from laughing so hard. "What did she say to you?"

Lightyear mimicked his wife's scowl and hissed: "You've lived long enough."

I'm sure glad my wife doesn't have that opinion of *my* lifespan.

Two Sillies From Yesterday

Just A Good Ole' Boy

Yesterday morning I walked into my boss's office and said:

"I feel like Rosco P. Coltrane walkin' into Boss Hogg's office. Good Neeeeews! Good Neeeeews! kitch kitch kitch!"

Then I proceeded to tell him about a milestone we'd just reached on one of my projects. He didn't even object to being compared to Boss Hogg. I love my boss.

Plus, I got to dust off my bad Rosco P. Coltrane impersonation. Bonus!

Homewrecker!

Yesterday afternoon Lightyear came by with random candy. We all said yay and thank you and whatnot.

Lightyear said something about the rest of his bag being for the "... other ladies in my department... that is to say, you 4 are the only *guys* who get any of this, the rest are very attractive young ladies."

After he left, I quipped, "I've never been told I was the other woman before."

We lost Big Dawg for a few minutes after that one. He had a mouth-full of chocolate that very nearly became a gooky fist-full of chocolate. :)

Curiosity, Confrontation

Pardon me. It's getting late as I write this, so it may not all quite make sense.

Confrontation

I've mentioned Lightyear once before. He stops by our office every now and then to say hi. He's a fun fellow who likes to tell stories.

In the middle of last week he found out I have a blog. He wrote down the address so that he and his wife could take a look.

Yesterday morning (Monday), he stopped by. He didn't say hello, like normal. Instead, he walked right up to me and said, "My wife and I want to know what you have against Arby's."

Well, they did make me violently ill once. But really, I don't have anything against Arby's. I just needed a scapegoat. :)

Curiosity

My Google Analytics report from yesterday had a fun thingy in it. Apparently, somebody from Belgium (yes, Belgium, I'm not making this up) typed "Metacow" into a search engine and found my site. Specifically, they found this moment of greatness from Metacow.

I'm at a loss as to why this could happen. Maybe Metacow knows somebody in Belgium. Or maybe "Metacow" is a Belgium word that means "Light of the world". Now that would be irony.

The Final Insult

As my wife was proof-reading this post, she saw the first line and said, "Aw... I'll help you make it sense."

It took a second for me to catch her subtle joke. Then I nearly cried laughing.

Thanks, Honey. :)

Short Story

There's a guy from another department who often comes by our office to say hi. He's an older fellow who I'm going to call "Lightyear".

Lightyear came by a few days ago to say hi. During his brief conversation he referred to Big Dawg as "The New Guy."

After Lightyear had left, I asked, "Does he know you have a name?" "I don't think so," Big Dawg replied with a grin.

Farmer chimed in. "Maybe we should call you by a different name every time he comes in, just to confuse him."

This thought amused me, so I carried it a little further. "Hey Lightyear, have you met Barry? He's new. Hey Lightyear, have you met Roger? He's new." Then I went for the punchline. "Hey Lightyear, have you met Melinda?"

It's advisable not to picture Big Dawg as a "Melinda". Your mind's eye might go blind.