Regret

I met this 90 year old woman the other day. She was the sweetest lady; sweet like a bowl of sugar free candies. Before she left, she shook my hand. But let me tell you, she had the firmest handshake I've ever had the pleasure of feeling. It felt like she gave my hand a Swedish massage. Most men I know can't shake a hand as well as she did. It's not like she had man hands either. If that were the case I would have anticipated her senior death grip. But no, she had really delicate looking hands; magician hands, ninja hands...magician ninja hands. They were so soft, like she was no stranger to a daily moisturizer. Unfortunately I can't think quickly on my toes; especially when my hand is being crushed. That's where the word "regret" comes to mind. I regret not challenging the old bag to a hand duel or a hand off if you will. Have you ever made a 90 year old woman cry? Yeah, neither have I. But, there's a first time for everything. And that could have been my first. Not that I would want to make the 90 year old woman cry. But, I mean she's the one who brought the pain first. I should have brought it right back to her until one us gave up.

Then we could have transitioned into a thumb war. I probably would have won because I'm assuming she has arthritis in her hands. However, if she has arthritis then she would probably beat me in a shadow puppet battle and possibly a gang sign battle. 

What about that hand slap game? If she slaps as hard as she squeezes then she would have a severe advantage. Then again I'm probably quicker. Or I would hope so anyway. What about a slap bet battle? Well, she's been through the Great Depression, a bunch of war time eras, some other serious shit and she birthed like eight babies. It's safe to say that life has slapped her around a few times. So, she could probably take more slaps to the face than I could.

What about rock, paper, scissors? I can't be certain but I think that she had a glass eye in her left eye socket, which leads me to believe that I could rely on my quickness to pull a fast one on her. I could shoot my signs to her left side so she couldn't see, then switch it up right quick if I had to. Or I could just make shit up. She would be like, "I win. Scissors beats paper." Then  I'd be like, "No. I don't think so. This isn't paper. Haven't you ever seen Edward Scissor Hands? My whole hand is covered with scissors right now. Use your imagination. If anything it should be a tie. Or I should win because my scissors would totally shred your dinky scissors. Or maybe my hand could just be a hand again and I could slap the crap out of you right now. How do you feel about that? It's your move Betty White."

Oh well. It would have been a great battle of battles. Who knows, maybe we'll meet again. And if...I mean when that time comes...I'll be ready.

- Ryan

A Mutual Understanding

Let’s face it kiddies, there are unwritten mutual agreements in every facet of life. Some of these agreements are universal, such as pigeons chilling in the middle of the street while some are on a personal level. As Jerry Seinfeld so eloquently put (about the human and pigeons agreement), “Of course we have a deal: They get out of the way of our cars; we look the other way on the statue defecations.” So when driving down the road with pigeons on it…I will slow down and allow them the proper amount of time to honor the agreement. If they choose to ignore the pact, then anything goes. But I’m not here to tell you that I justify massacring pigeons on the idea that there is some agreement with them. What I am here to tell you about is the epic time I had with my printer last week.

Every Monday I am responsible for submitting my company’s payroll. This task requires my printer and me to be on the best of terms because I have to print out dozens upon dozens of expense reports. We have this “mutual agreement” that the printer DOES NOT jam on Mondays. I allow the printer to act up any other day of the week without (visual or verbal) frustration; however Mondays are off limits. And my printer knows this. Last Monday morning it jammed 4 times in a row. Am I, the owner of said delinquent machine, to be blamed? Probably. I proceeded to ask myself, could I have been a better owner? Definitely.

Keep in mind, my printer is definitely seeing the light and is close to going to mechanical heaven. It has dawned on me that I have had so much lost time with my expiring (mechanical) friend, Sammy. I now have the opportunity to make her last days her best days. So since payroll didn’t getting done because my printer was refusing to cooperate (sorry fellow employees), I had plenty of time to plan out a fun-filled week with my printer. She never came out and said it but I know she never had the pleasure of an ocean breeze on a September morning. Feet in the sand. Corona at hand (very poetic, I know). Sammy had so many things she wanted to do, I feel obligated to fulfill some of those dreams....

We've talked about going to the half-pipe some day. Unfortunately, we don't have time anymore :/ Doesn't mean we can't enjoy some street skateboardin'.

We've had so many conversations in the office about football. She always wanted to play the role of Randy Moss (and I was playing as Daunte Culpepper circa 2004). 

That's good for six points.

Everyday at work I would play Stand by Me by The Beatles. Sammy was always air-guitaring during the song. I figured I would take the time to teach her how to play her favorite song.

So I took Sammy back to work this morning...She didn't even power on. At least we had a great last week.

?? - 9.12.11 Samsung 

Well, good thing we got that warranty!

-Steve

Roads

I love the names of roads. Names like Breakneck Road and Good Intent Road make me smile. They're kind of one in the same though. "Hey. How do I get to this particular place?" "Oh you're going to have to take Breakneck Road. But be careful." It's like the road tells you to beware anyway. Intentions were good when this road was named. However, it wouldn't be fair to name a road Smooth Cruising Road and then put speed bumps halfway down the road. Then it would have to be called Smooth Cruising Until You Reach The Speed Bumps Halfway Down The Road Road. But that's just not practical. Plus by the time you finish reading the sign, you'd probably be hitting the first speed bump, doing like 65 mph. What about Good Intent Road though?

EXT. SCENE OF AN ACCIDENT - DAY

There is a huge pothole with orange cones and barriers around it. A reporter is on the scene.

REPORTER

I'm standing here hole-side with Officer Ballanskey. This pothole is so massive you could fit like seven elephants in it. Don't ask me why I know that. So officer Ballanskey, if you could, give us a run down of what happened exactly.

OFFICER BLANKSKEY

Well, I was patrolling the area. It's part of my standard routine. It was raining pretty hard. So, I decided to park right over there in that lot.

REPORTER

Conveniently right next to a Dunkin Donuts. Since we're on the subject of holes, do you like donut holes or do you prefer the whole donut?

OFFICER BLANKSKEY

Umm...I'm more of a croissant guy. Dunkin Donuts has great croissants.

REPORTER (SURPRISED)

Really? Wow. How about that.

The reporter turns to the camera.

REPORTER

You're welcome, Dunkin Donuts.

OFFICER BLANKSKEY

Anyway, so I was sitting there and out of the sky falls a parachuter. And he landed in this crater right over here.

REPORTER

Holy crap. Is he okay?

OFFICER BLANKSKEY

I'm not sure. He's still down there.

GUY IN THE MASSIVE POTHOLE (YELLING)

I'm okay. Can you throw down a rope or something? And I'm kind of hungry. For some reason I can really go for a croissant. Throw me down a croissant.

REPORTER (TALKING TO THE CAMERA)

Well there you have it folks. Intentions were good on Good Intent Road. Orange cones and barriers were set up to block this really big pothole. But in the end no one took into account parachuters falling from the sky. They should name this road Good Intent Road...But Not Good Enough. I'm Stu Donaldson. Stay safe and watch out for holes.

- Ryan

No Room for Resting

I never understood why we call restrooms "restrooms". I mean, it's not like I'm out for a jog and say to myself, "Man I'm tired. Where's the closest public restroom? I need to rest. Now!" When I think of rest I think of the word lounge and I can't see myself lounging in a restroom. I sure as hell don't want to lounge in a place that smells of shit and is hot and steamy for some God awful reason. Gross.

With that said, I do have to thank restrooms for having everything sensored and for making me lazier than I already am. Thanks. Sure it is a convenience and I'm sure it prevents people from touching things thus making it more sanitory. But, there is still a lazy factor in there somewhere. Next thing we know, there will be mechanical arms coming out of the walls trying to wipe our asses. "Umm, excuse me Mr. restaurant proprietor. I just got fondled by your restroom. Yeah, your restroom walls to be specific. The lights dimmed for some reason and I got fondled. Then I felt a yodel in my ding-dong and I went "yoo hoo!" and now here I stand hunched over. Restrooms? Restrooms my ass. Like literally. My ass won't be resting at all tonight."

Soon we'll see this in Presidential campaigns. They'll be handing out free rolls of toilet paper with the candidates faces on them. Example: Bob Whataliar says, "The people are drowning in a poor economy. We can't clean that up right away. But we can atleast wipe their asses. They deserve that much." Then there would be some kind of scandel. "This just in. Bob Whataliar was caught in a shit storm after not being able to hold up his end of the bargain." Headline says, "Bob Whataliar drops huge deuce on America: Who's going to wipe his ass?"

Sometimes I forget that not all restrooms have sensored sinks. So, I'll be drying my hands and realize that I left the tap running. I wonder what would happen if I left one running and didn't remember to shut it off. "This just in. A Cheese E. Cheese was found floating up shits creek this morning. Apparently, last night some idiot left the sink running on full blast which then flooded the entire facility. However, it is said to be a blessing in disguise because it brought some horrifying ball pit artifects to the surface. These artifects include multiple syringes, a crack pipe, and worst of all a stuffed animal of a cat wearing a Discovery Zone t-shirt. Take that Chuck. And thank you, idiot that left the sink running."

I'm telling you, this is how the world will end. Not by natural disasters, not by nuclear warfare, not by distructive meteorites, but by the hands of defiant robots that we've engineered. And it'll all start in the restroom. Probably at an IHOP.

- Ryan

Eavesdropping

INT. OFFICE - DAY

DON is leaning back in his chair. RICH walks up and they start shooting the shit. MARY is sitting a few feet away from DON. She's on the phone with a customer.

MARY (TALKING TO A CUSTOMER)

Let me double check that. I'll be right back.

Mary places her phone on her desk and exits the room.

DON

You know what I hate?

RICH

What do you hate?

DON

I hate customers who call and ask questions, but aren't prepared for the answers. I'll be like, "Yes sir, I can give you that web address. It's..." Then they interrupt me with, "Oh hold on one second. I just have to find something to write with and something to write on." A couple minutes pass; which feels like eternity, especially when it's completely silent. The only noise you hear is the sound of them searching through their junk drawer for a pen and paper. Then they finally find something to write with, but they still can't find anything to write on.

RICH

Umm hello. It sounds like there are plenty of things to write on in that junk drawer. Or just write it on yourself silly.

DON

I know right.

RICH

Which reminds me. Some chick wrote her number on me the other night. Can you check to see if it's still there.

DON

Isn't that something you can handle yourself?

RICH

She wrote it on my ass.

DON

I don't even want to know. But I would hope that the number wouldn't still be there. Anyway, where was I?

RICH

My ass. Just kidding. Junk drawer.

DON

Same difference. So this guy finally finds something to write on. I start giving him the web address, "usland..." and he tells me, "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down." So I speak slower and read off the web address, "uslandrecords". I finish the uslandrecords part, pausing every few seconds mind you. Then I say, ".com" and he says, "Whoa, whoa, whoa. What was that again?" And I'm thinking to myself, "It's dot com you dipwod. You know, the most common ending to a web address?"

RICH

Yeah. You should have been like, "U" as in you are an idiot. "S" for stupid. "L" for loser.

DON (sarcastic)

Haha. Yeah. That totally would've been worth getting fired over.

Mary comes back to her desk, picks up the phone, and proceeds to talk to the customer. But, Don notices that she didn't have the customer on hold.

DON

Um Rich. Mary didn't have that customer on hold.

RICH

So that customer heard everything we just said?

They both pause for a moment.

CUT TO:

EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY

Don and Rich are standing by their cars with boxes full of their belongings.

DON

Definitely not worth it.

RICH

No.

FADE OUT:

-Ryan

Crazy Loves Company

So, my fellow co-workers and I were listening to the radio. Bruce Springsteen's "10th Avenue Freeze Out" was playing. For some reason they thought that he was saying, "Tent Devil in the Freezer." Now, I'm not entirely sure what 10th Avenue Freeze Out means. But, I know damn well that it means more than "tent devil in the freezer." When would that ever make sense? Never. Maybe if you were tripping. And they very well might have been. But check it, here's the kicker. I googled "tent devil in the freezer" and before I had a chance to type "in the freezer", it popped up. So that means there are other crazy people out there that heard "tent devil in the freezer". Well, you definitely do learn something new everyday. Plus, it looks like I found a new band name: The Tent Devils. Title of first album: In the Freezer.

- Ryan

Today's random thoughts & such

If...

- If I had to be a transvestite stripper...Look, I know what you're thinking, "Why would you ever have to be a transvestite stripper?" It's a hypothetical scenario. So, just imagine, okay?. If I had to be a transvestite stripper, my name would be Scarlett Johandsome. But I think I would spell it Skarlett Jo Handsome. It's a bit racier; a bit trashier.

- If I could take two musicians/artists and mold them into one super duper star, I would choose Notorious BIG and David Bowie. His name would be Biggy Stardust.

- Why do people say, "When pigs fly"? Why would you even suggest such a thing. You know there's some scientist out there that just got canned from his job, his wife just left him for his sister, and he just found out he was adopted. It's only a matter of time before he snaps. One late night, he'd be on the internet chatting it up with other washed up scientists. Next thing you know one of them responds with, "Yeah, when pigs fly." Then a light bulb goes off and the scientist would say, "Oh they'll fly. They'll fly alright. Every last one of them!" So, he went from scientist to retired scientist. Then retired scientist to retired mad scientist. Well, he wasn't mad initially, and he's still a scientist. So he'd be a mad scientist that's self employed. Anyway, next thing you know you're sun bathing on the beach and you get shit on by a flying pig. And your buddy asks, "What the hell was that?" And you'd respond, "God damn flying pigs...Yeah, they exist. Thanks a lot mad scientist."

- Ryan