The Snow Won't Be Gone Long

For those of you in the upper Midwest...Only 8 months left until the snow comes back!
Do your best to withstand the upcoming months of snowless days and nights. Soon you'll be back on the slopes, and back shoveling the walk.

Here’s what it looked like about a month ago and what it will soon return to:

Chocolate Eclair Walleye?

The following photo did not come from another web site, or from an email forward from my grandma, I was going through the drive-through at Culver’s the other day and snapped a photo of their sign advertising Today’s Flavor:

CHOCOLATE ECLAIR
WALLEYE IS BACK

I’m almost positive they are advertising two distinct items, but the way it looks, it does make you think…Is Chocolate Éclair Walleye back? Is it possible they put together these two yummy foods into one mouth-watering taste explosion?..then took it away, then brought it back?...all without me knowing about it?

Tech Support Took My Balls

There's a program at work I need to log into maybe once a week. Last week it forced me to change my password...and this week I forgot what it was. With no luck finding it written down somewhere, I wrote an email to Mat, one of those weaselly tech support guys who thinks he's better than anybody who owns just one computer.

Unfortunately, my balls decided to leave me before writing the email, and out spewed the following, spineless, self-deprecating email:

Mat,

When I changed my password last week, I had little foresight and did not save it in my browser, and stupidly did not write it down anywhere. Since I have so many passwords, my tiny brain couldn’t keep this one contained. I know, I’m a moron, and shouldn’t be allowed near a computer. I know you are very important, very busy, and have 10 computers going at once, but if you can spare a minute of your hectic day, could you send me my password? I am so sorry for causing this inconvenience.

OK, so it didn’t have those exact words, but it was close. If I still had my balls, I would’ve simply said this:

Mat ,
Could you please send me my password?
Thanks.

Or:

Mat – I need my password ASAP.

Or even:

Mat…drank too much this weekend…forgot my password.
Thanks bro!

Or:

Mat,
Wild weekend…lost my wallet at a donkey show in Mexico. My password was in there.

Mr. Rooney Goes to the Bathroom

Here is a never-before-seen Andy Rooney report on public bathrooms.

Ever been in one of these public bathrooms? It’s a big tiled room with sinks, urinals and stalls. Sometimes the urinals have nothing separating them, sometimes there’s a small partition in between. That partition never seems to be high enough. Most of the time you’re able to look over the partition and right down at the guy next to you, so why have the partition there at all? Most of these bathrooms have at least 2 stalls with doors where you can sit and do your business, but I’ve seen some stalls that don’t have doors at all. Why would a stall not have a door? Are they still called "stalls" if it doesn't have a door?

When I'm sitting in a stall, and someone's at the urinal, I try to guess the size of their penis by the sound their stream makes. I wonder if there is a connection between penis size and the heaviness of the stream. It makes sense to me that the bigger the penis, the bigger the hole, and the bigger the stream, but I can’t be sure.

And what about these automatic sinks? I put my hands under the faucet and nothing comes out, then I take them away and the water starts, but by the time I put my hands back under the faucet, the water stops. I just can’t time it right.

In my day, we didn’t worry about all these germs. I never heard of someone dying of urine germ infection. We just wiped our hands on our pants and went on with the day.

Groomzilla

I’m pretty sure my balls are hanging out at the bridal shop. My controlling ways have gotten me in trouble again. Somehow, I’ve ended up being way more involved in planning our wedding than most men care to be, and the other day I ended up yelling at my fiancee, “Do you even want to get married?”

The details are not important. What is important is that I hop on my pink Hannah Montana-branded bicycle, ride over to the bridal shop, and pick up my balls! I’m off...

Good Morning

This morning in line at the gas station, a woman in front of me searched her purse for a free coffee coupon, as I waited patiently behind her. The other employee peered through binoculars at a license plate. The woman finally found the coupon, handed it to the cashier, and then ordered a pack of smokes. When asked for her ID, she stated she only had a paper one, because her dog ate her actual license, to which the cashier said it’s usually her cat that does that sort of thing in her house.
So...yeah.

This Time I Mean It

In the last couple of years, I have located my balls on occasion, even keeping them for months at a time. I've become so attached to them, I proposed to my lady on New Year's Day, and we're getting married this August.

One may ask, "Are you worried about losing your balls once you get married?" And I would tell one that I'm well aware of the stereotype that men lose their balls after marriage, but I am proud to say I lost my balls years before meeting my future wife...and found them...lost them...and found them again. I now know that keeping track of my balls will be a lifelong battle, whether I'm married or not. I'm not too naive to think that getting married again won’t have an impact on my balls, but I'm going to fight through it like I always have and keep reattaching those things. After all, the alternative is giving up, and letting my balls escape forever into the wild, and I'm positive they would not survived on their own.

Here's a photo of Art Garfunkel.
He's been married twice and has expressed regret in not marrying a third woman.

Our Neighbors Part 1: The Cancer Neighbor

My lady and I live in a townhouse in the suburbs. Older folks who seem to hate us for our relative youth surround us. They scowl at us when they see us getting the mail. They frown at us when we start our grill. They ignore our courteous waves and half-assed smiles as our cars meet in our shared driveway. We make an effort and they seem set on not liking us.

THE CANCER NEIGHBOR

After starting the grill on our deck one afternoon, the neighbor that lives behind us walked over and said hi. I was excited as I peered down from my deck to this gray-haired beauty below. I was about to meet one of my neighbors, and I was positive she would like me. I could hardly handle my giddiness as she said, “Hi there, my name’s Marie. I’m your neighbor from behind you. I wish we didn’t have to meet like this, but…” And at this point, my giddiness turned to despair, as I am wise enough to know that the preface “I wish we didn’t have to meet like this,” meant bad news. She finished her sentence, “…your TV is really loud. My husband is dying of cancer. Can you please try to keep it down?”

I was of course friendly about it, acting as though I cared about her and her dying husband. “Oh, sure,” I said. “I didn’t realize it was so loud. We’ll keep it to a reasonable volume.” The fact that she tried to play the “dying of cancer” card, made me a little angry at the time, but I hid it well. Why would we care about her husband’s grave condition? What does that have to do with our loud TV? If you have a problem with our TV, just come and tell us to turn it down. I was pretty sour on her relating the two, especially when she spends 80% of the day out on her deck puffing on a heater and talking on her cordless landline telephone about how nifty it is that she can talk on the phone outside her house. When my mom was dying of cancer, at a much younger age than these folks are mind you, I could not have imagined using the “my mom is dying of cancer” card, although I am going to use the ”my mom died of cancer” card later in this story.

So after Marie told me to keep it down and that we, along with our loud TV and cancer were conspiring to kill her husband, I then asked her what time of day she notices the volume too loud. At night, afternoon, always? Her reaction was a bit puzzling, as she just stammered, “Um, eh, it’s just too loud.”

I reassured her we would keep it down, and told her my name and my lady’s name, after she asked, as if she cared what our names were. I certainly do not remember her name. Marie is just a name I made up for this little story.

A couple of weeks later, my lady and I were sitting on the couch watching TV and we could hear loud noises coming from our lovely neighbors. At which point I turned to my lady and said mockingly, “Turn your cancer down, it’s too loud!”

Now, before anybody gets angry, this is where I’m going to use the “my mom died of cancer” card. That and the fact that the Marie used her husband’s condition when telling us to be quieter, makes me feel good about my little joke. I’m ok with it. I felt bad at first, because we had our deck door open, and our deck backs up to their deck…so it is possible they could’ve heard me say it, but I’m going with the assumption they did not. Was it mean and childish? Sure, but Marie rubbed me the wrong way when she galloped over and said our TV was too loud for her cancer riddled husband. Just something about that…

So ends the story of our neighbor who is dying of cancer. Soon I will tell you about the other old woman who lives across the shared driveway. I’m pretty sure she’s running a homeless teen shelter, or an underage brothel. With her heart condition, I’m not sure how she can handle it.

When it's slow at work, we play with dolls...

Enjoy

Troy & Gabriella

I still can't believe Troy decided attend California to play basketball AND major in drama, just so he could be close to Gabriella! He is so romantic. I'm sure he could've played ball and been in drama at UA, but Cal. might just be a much needed change of scenery for Troy.

HD TV Rules

I've fallen in love with HDTV.
Last winter, we bought a plasma TV, and I continue to be amazed at how great the HD picture. So now we watch more TV than we should, but I've always been a "do things more than I should" sort of guy, so I'm not too surprised.

Here's an example of a baseball game in HD. Notice the extra wide screen and clear picture.

Now here's the same game in standard definition...

Staff Meeting Chatter

We had a staff meeting today, and as a female coworker of mine sat down next to me, the following conversation took place...I'm sure she thinks different of me now.

Me: Hi, how's it going?

Her: Good, how are you?

Me: Good, thanks. Wow, only 3 guys in here, and...ten women.

Her: Yeah...you're right. Why are you worried about that?

Me: I just like to know the count just in case something happens.