October 30, 2009
October 26, 2009
Standing in Line
There is a universal rule when it comes to my retail shopping endeavors. That is, no matter what check-out line I select, the person in front of me will always, ALWAYS, have some sort of issue that lasts 20 minutes.
Take, for example, my family sojourn last weekend to that bastion of cost savings, Sam's Club. Say what you will about the perceived evils of all things Wal-Mart related; you just can't beat 500 diapers for $40. It's enough to make me entertain the thought of dropping the boxer shorts and just wearing diapers myself. It would probably be cheaper, and likely cleaner, in the long run.
Anyway, after loading up the cart with my weight in baby diapers and chicken nuggets, I stepped in line behind the check-out counter. In front of me was an impeccably dressed woman in her mid-40s, with an apparent dual obsession for eyebrow plucking and marinading in high-octane perfume.
I knew I was in trouble the second the woman handed the clerk some sort of tattered card that was obviously not her plastic Sam's Club card. She insisted it was some sort of additional discount card, but the clerk couldn't make sense of it, so of course the manager had to be called over.
It was at this point our baby started to cry. While I wanted to think he was airing his displeasure at the situation, common sense told me he probably needed his diaper changed. So, my wife and I held a whispered discussion about whether to change him in Sam's Club, or wait until we got home.
With the discount card discussion between the woman, clerk and manager entering its fifth minute, my wife decided to change the baby in the store. As my wife strode off to the bathroom to change the baby, the checkout drama entered its next phase.
Whether the woman received her additional discount, I don't know; what I do know is she proceeded to utter a sentence that you simply should not be able to utter anywhere within a stone's throw of any Sam's Club: "Would you take a check?"
It was Sam's Club, for crying out loud. They sell grapes by the barrel. They sell Diet Pepsi by the pallet. They sell VENDING MACHINES, of all things. The point being, paying via check at Sam's Club is like trying to barter at an ATM using chickens and goats. This woman had just spent eight minutes pleading her case with a tattered "discount" card, and now she was going to write a check?
Well, she wrote her check and proceeded to tear it from her checkbook, at which point she uttered the one word you never want to hear uttered when someone tears a check from a checkbook: "Whoops!"
She had basically torn the top left hand corner off her check, which of course meant the check would never make it successfully through the check scanner. But OF COURSE she went and insisted they try it anyway roughly 12 times before admitting defeat and writing a new check.
With CheckWriting 2.0 complete, the clerk ran the check successfully through the scanner and then asked for ID, to which the woman responded "Oh, I didn't bring my ID."
Ahem.
First off, if you're going anywhere that may require any sort of purchase whatsoever, common sense should dictate it's a good idea to grab your ID on your way out of the house. Second, if, for whatever reason, you don't have your ID, you should never write a check in the first place; this is in combination with the aforementioned rule about not writing checks at Sam's Club.
Well, now there was an impasse. The woman had no means other than paying by check, and Sam's Club wouldn't take a check without ID. The woman weighed several options, including driving an hour home to get her ID, which was dismissed due to the frozen goods she had selected.
So, the woman ended up asking the customer in the adjacent aisle whether she'd pay for her goods if she'd reimburse her with a check. I can't convey, exactly, how far my jaw dropped at this point, but I'm pretty sure I have some dirt on my chin from it scuffing the Sam's Club floor. I was thinking, not only was the woman a world-class scammer, she was also hiding testicles the size of two Volkwagons, which would be totally necessary to make a request like that.
As it turned out, the woman actually knew the customer in the adjacent aisle, which tempered my disbelief somewhat, but nevertheless required me to rot in line for several more minutes as the convoluted financial exchange took place.
When I finally got checked through and was headed out the door, my wife came in from outside, carrying our child. She'd been waiting by the car for 10 minutes. She asked what took so long.
"You wouldn't believe it if I told you."
October 21, 2009
Googlin' The Cougar
Ryan: I love that one hair color commercial where two of the same guy is sitting on a couch, one with super gray hair, the other with super dark hair, and there's a cougar therapist.
Ryan: That sentence almost looks like English.
Caroline: I was gonna say ... My favorite is "... and there's a cougar therapist."
Ryan: But you knew what I meant, so. . .
Caroline: You know what I thought of this morning? Goodbye Horses.
Ryan: YES! Good Bi-Horses!
Caroline: I have no idea why. I thought about it and I giggled when I remembered you playing it during the edit meeting and someone thought it was bad hold music.
Ryan: Someday, that one former co-worker of ours will be the worst cougar in the world.
Caroline: Isn't the definition of cougar "a hot older woman"? I don't think she's going to be a cougar at all.
Ryan: I always thought it meant an older woman who trolled for younger males.
Caroline: Hmmmm. Let's GOOGLE THAT SHIT
Ryan: "An older woman who frequents clubs in order to score with a much younger man. The cougar can be anyone from an overly surgically altered wind tunnel victim, to an absolute sad and bloated old horn-meister, to a real hottie or milf. Cougars are gaining in popularity -- particularly the true hotties -- as young men find not only a sexual high, but many times a chick with her shit together."
Caroline: Hi, urban dictionary.
Ryan: I KNEW you were there, too.
caroline: I knew you knew. So I think it's a little bit of both of our own definitions. And 35+? That seems a bit young
Ryan: Just a bit young.
Caroline: I wonder if they make hallmark cards for that.
Ryan: "You may think of yourself as an aging booger, but some men see you as a raging couger."
Caroline: Hemingway?
Ryan: Pure Rhodes.
Caroline: I mix them up all the time.
Ryan: I read that IM in the voice of "Flo" from the Progressive Insurance commercials.
Caroline: That's what I was going for.
Ryan: Now she's a cougar.
Caroline: But she's young! What is happening in this world??!
Ryan: She's 39.
Caroline: You're such a shit googler.
Ryan: No. I just remembered her real name is "Stephanie Courtney" because of the rule: Never trust someone with two first names.
Ryan: The best part about Googling "cougars," was all the cougar pictures.
-Snort- Cougar Googlin'. "Dude, last night, I was totally googlin' this cougar."
Caroline: Googlin' Cougars sounds like the name of a country band made up of 35+ y/o women.
October 19, 2009
Much ado about poo
With just over a month now under my belt as a father, I've come to appreciate many of the precious nuances that come with having an infant human being in the house.
Most specifically, I've learned that newborn babies tend to poop a lot. And, by a lot, I mean they tend to poop pretty much all the time, basically nonstop.
To put it another way, while I don't personally know the exact ingredients that make up the wonder that is human breast milk, massive evidence obtained (and quickly discarded) over the past several weeks indicates about 75 percent of the chemical make-up of breast milk is, in fact, one of the most potent laxatives known to man.
To anyone who has known me over the years, or if you're that one person who reads this blog on occasion, it's no secret that I'm a huge fan of writing about poop, and making poop jokes whenever the chance presents itself, no matter how inappropriate. Having been such a devoted fan of poop humor, it's nevertheless a bit disconcerting to suddenly have to deal with so much poop, continually, over a 24-hour cycle. Dare I say it, poop is starting to lose some of its humorous allure to me.
My personal decline in poop humor allure has not diminished the baby's enthusiasm for dabbling in the medium in the least. Each day, it seems, he discovers new and horrifying ways to decorate his diapers--which, by the way, he goes through like a cartoon billionaire using dollar bills to light cigars.
The baby's gift for artistic fecal self-expression is not limited to diapers, either. Indeed, he takes every opportunity once he's free of a diaper to paint with reckless abandon any surface that may be in his little buttock crosshairs. Many changing table cloths have borne witness to the Picasso-esque expulsions I've been unable to capture on the diaper canvass of choice.
Oh, and here's a bit of trivia I wasn't aware of until recently: a crying baby is drastically more likely to also be a pooping baby. I discovered this fact completely by accident. You see, initially, I thought it was good practice to change the baby's diaper BEFORE he started to cry. I quickly realized, however, if the baby started crying whilst on the changing table, there's a 95 percent chance he'll start pooping. Apparently, the convulsive muscles utilized for infant crying are the same ones used to release an infant's bowels. I'm sure there's an evolutionary reason for this, but darned if I know what it is.
The baby is also gifted when it comes to techniques of distraction. For example, it's not uncommon to remove a diaper and almost immediately have to deal with a sudden, and unexpectedly forceful, stream of pee. The baby often uses the few seconds of urinary distraction to expel whatever remaining contents may be lurking in his bowels which, more often than not, is a surprising amount.
I've taken part in diaper-changing sessions where the baby went through three diapers, several wipes AND a changing table cloth. This baby doesn't just create poop; I suspect he may actually BE poop. It's the only way to explain the poop quantities I've had to deal with.
To dispose of all this infant artwork, we have on hand what's called a Diaper Genie, which is good, as far as it goes, but this child needs something along the lines of a Diaper Dumbledore--SOMETHING that packs a little more magic.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe I have to go change a diaper.
October 18, 2009
Even more baby pics!
You can suggest your own caption, but this seemed about right.
His content look seems to indicate he dialed a 1-900 number, but I'll probably never know for certain.
October 09, 2009
The Geode Twin Nobel Prize/Moon Nuking Liveblog
9:43 a.m. - (Ryan) Couldn't figure out why Bob and Tom referred to our president as a Peace Prize winner while driving to work this morning. Now I know. The Peace Prize is now the equivalent of the prize in a Cracker Jack box.
9:46 a.m.- (Caroline) It should be noted the Geode Twins were also nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize for excellence in ridiculousness. Missed it by that much.
9:51 a.m. - (Ryan) Personally, I think we should bomb the moon at least once a week. It would be a great way to cap off a Friday at 5 p.m. You see the lunar nuclear flash, and you know it's Miller time.
10 a.m. - (Caroline) Breaking news: Obama didn’t win the Nobel Peace Prize. Turns out he just “won” a lifelong membership to Barnes and Nobel. Awkward--but common--mistake.
10:10 a.m. - (Ryan) Next year, the Nobel Peace Prize should go to the person who approved the bombing of the moon.
10:11 a.m. - (Caroline) NASA nukes the moon and Obama wins the Nobel Peace Prize on the same day. America: FUCK YEAH.
10:22 a.m. - (Ryan) MSNBC.com: "No big flash from NASA’s moon crash" This is probably the first headline in history that mixes flashing with mooning. It's impressive actually. Also, I'm amused by the concept of the moon "hanging brain."
10:27 a.m. - (Caroline) From this day forward, any historic events that occur in pairs on the same day should be known as “Moonin’ the Nobel.”
10:31 a.m. - Just read on Twitter: "Slow year for #peace." I had to leave the office so I could LOL.
10:36 a.m. - (Caroline) Obama winning the Peace Prize even though the deadline for nominations fell two weeks after his inauguration is like Ryan winning the Father of the Year award … now. What? Too soon?
10:44 a.m. - (Ryan) HEY! I'm not saying that was uncalled for, but I feel obligated to feel at least somewhat outraged.
10:46 a.m. - (Caroline) Yikes, things get ugly early on the Geode liveblog. If I call a truce to this War of the Geodes, will I get a Nobel Peace Prize?
10:47 a.m. - (Ryan) If Barack Obama played for the Twins, they'd for sure beat the Yankees.
10:52 a.m. - (Caroline) A mother of six in Texas gave birth to two sets of twins, 10 months apart. Let’s go ahead and give her “Moonin’ the Nobel” props. The thought of six kids makes me want to take a nap, never mind two sets of twins 10 months apart.
10:58 a.m. - (Ryan) You'd think for $79 million we would have seen some sort of lunar damage. Then again, it cost over $1 trillion in stimulus and bailout money to damage the economy, so what do I know.
11?08 a.m. - (Ryan) I hereby award myself the Pulitzer Prize for that column I wrote about poop and farts. No, not that poop and fart column, the OTHER poop and fart column. No, the OTHER OTHER poop and fart column. Just give me the fucking Pulitzer already.
11:10 a.m.- (Caroline) Anyone else wonder if someone nominated Obama as a joke? You know, like in high school when the jocks would nominate the fat nerdy girl for prom queen. Looks like your plan backfired, huh? I’m looking at you, Sarah Palin.
11:20 a.m. - (Ryan) BREAKING NEWS: Nobel Peace Prize to be renamed "Current-U.S.-Presidents-Who-Aren't-George-W.-Bush-Prize." Obama projected to win for at least the next three years.
11:28 a.m. - (Ryan) MSNBC.com: "Taliban touts ‘Nobel violence prize’ for Obama" The Taliban sucks, but they have a sense of humor.
11:30 a.m. - (Caroline) Coverage of moon nukin’ on msnbc.com: “Scientists analyze readings sent back from impact for signs of water ice.” Water ice? That sounds super scientific.
11:46 a.m. - (Ryan) Re: The Obama Nobel, it's as if millions of voices cried out in WTF? When even Fark commenters can't understand why he won, there's a problem.
11:50 a.m. - (Caroline) Winning the Nobel Prize:
12:06 p.m. - (Ryan) I like to think we bombed the moon just to prove to the moon that the moon is our bitch.
12:18 p.m. - (Caroline) I know the Peace-Prize nomination deadline was five months before the Beer Summit, but I’d like think that played a part in Obama’s win.
12:24 p.m. - (Ryan) I'm just happy to know, in today's politically charged world, people can still stand up and mock the decision to give Obama a Nobel Prize. Way to go, Nobel committee, you've brought the Nobel Peace prize down to the level of winning a "Razzie Award."
12:37 p.m. - (Caroline) A theory why Obama won: The Norwegian Nobel Institute wanted to prove to Kanye West it does, in fact, care about black people. Buried at the end of the press release announcing Obama’s win was a statement claiming Beyonce did have one of the best music videos of all time. One of the best music videos of all time.
12:48 p.m. - (Ryan) We should all recognize that the concept of nuking the moon isn't new. Man, I remember reading that when it was first authored, for crying out loud. I'm old school.
1:18 p.m. - (Ryan) MSNBC.com "GOP chief scoffs at Obama's Nobel" Nobel Scoffing is going to be another character in the book I'm probably not going to write some day.
1:42 p.m. - (Caroline) Will Obama throw a party to celebrate his NPP win? I really hope so, if only to give Aretha Franklin another reason to wear a cah-raaaazy hat.
2:10 p.m. - (Ryan, but also Caroline)
Caroline: We should write a movie called Good Gib Cutting and then go on to win Oscars for writing said movie. Also: RObin Williams.
Ryan: "Good Gib Cutting," the story of a boy prodigy, Nobel Scoffing, who is corrupted by the evil Ponzi Schemer. . .
Caroline: Please tell me Lord Wangley is in this story.
Ryan: Cockington? He's the psychiatrist who guides Scoffing through his troubled past.
Man, we have fun.
Caroline: We do indeed.
Ryan: Lord Cockington Wangley. . . Sounds like a pornstar who appears in an upscale version of Ghetto Booty.
Caroline: The premiere version of Ghetto Booty.
Ryan: He wears a monocle.
Caroline: A shaded monocle.
Ryan: No, no! A monocle with a flip-up shade!
Caroline: Dwayne Wayne style!!
Ryan: I was going to mention Dwayne Wayne, but I wasn't sure if you'd get the reference.
Caroline: How could I not?!
Ryan: One of the great ironies of television history was the transformation of Dwayne Wayne from geek into sex symbol.
Caroline: Family Matters took it to the next level with Steve Urkel and Stefan
Ryan: OMG. I forgot about that. Urkel created a machine that made him hunky, right?
Caroline: Absolutely.
Ryan: Because that's totally believable.
Caroline: Now THAT deserves a Peace Prize.
2:20 p.m. - (Caroline) Obama gives his NPP winnings to charity, claiming “1.4 million dollars isn’t even enough to nuke the moon.” **scoff, scoff**
2:23 p.m. (Ryan) Compared to the over $1 trillion in taxpayer money Obama's basically given to charity over the past year, $1.4 million is a mere driplet.
2:53 p.m. - (Caroline) This has nothing to do with Moonin’ the Nobel, but it’s so awesome it needs to be included. A man in South Carolina was arrested for driving his lawn mower to order food at a restaurant drive-through window. Naturally, he was drunk. Officers found him a few blocks away from the restaurant yelling, “Anyone want their mow lawned?”
2:59 p.m. - Anyone want their moon bombed?
3:27 p.m. – (Caroline) It’s time for me to sign off for the day. I’m hoping a Nobel laureate finds this liveblog and nominates us for the 2010 NPP. Keep it real.
October 07, 2009
Policing the News
With all the recent focus I've been bestowing upon being a new father, I've been remiss in my duties to you, my most cherished four readers, when it comes to bringing you the news and events that have been largely lost amidst all the headlines about such useless things as healthcare reform, swine flu and our President's favorite color.
For example, while most of the major media outlets have been endlessly analyzing whether the U.S. military should remain in Afghanistan, or whether Jon or Kate should have full custody of the Plus Eight, you likely were left unaware that a woman in Nebraska was accused of throwing a dog at a police officer; which, let's be honest, is pretty compelling news.
According to an Oct. 6, Associated Press news report out of Lincoln, Neb., "Police said a woman will not face charges for throwing a dog at an officer during a domestic violence investigation. Police said the woman was holding a small dog when officers arrived, and at some point, she threw the dog, named Flash, at an officer."
You can almost imagine the officer in question filling out his incident report. "It happened so quick; all I saw was a Flash, and then it was over."
Moving on from one terrible joke to something that's hopefully far more amusing, we turn to Boston, where fall is in the air, leaves are on the ground, and bullets are fired at neighbors for the egregious sin of leaf transgression.
According to an Oct. 5, Associated Press report out of Boston, "A man pleaded not guilty to armed assault with intent to murder after police said he shot his neighbor over a leaf-dumping dispute."
You have to wonder how a leaf-dumping dispute can escalate to the point shots are fired.
NEIGHBOR #1 (with Boston accent): Hey! What ah yah doin'?! Yah cahn't dump yah leaves in mah yaahd!
NEIGHBOR #2: Ah'll dump mah leaves whe'ah Ah want to dump mah leaves!
NEIGHBOR #1: Ah cahn't undahstand what yah're sayin'!
NEIGHBOR #2: Ah cahn't undahstand what YAH'RE sayin'!
NEIGHBOR #1: Oh yah?! Undahstand THIS! Bahm! Bahm! Bahm!
Yes, even the bullets have Boston accents. It's a tough city.
Also in the world of overreactions to everyday annoyances, a Massachusettes couple beat up a man because they were displeased with the slowness of their Kentucky Fried Chicken service.
According to an Oct. 2, Associated Press report out of Norwell, Mass., "Authorities say a couple, upset over the slowness of their Kentucky Fried Chicken order, assaulted a man who asked them to stop yelling profanities for the sake of children in line."
To be fair, KFC service can often be a bit slow, and their macaroni and cheese is usually served at temperatures so cold it could stop time, but this couple clearly needed to focus its ire on KFC rather than a fellow patron who had tired of their repeated "effenheimer" utterances. Frankly, public profanity has become so commonplace, I'm getting %$#&*$# tired of it.
So, there you have it; another installment of news you probably missed. Join me next time when I'll be back to discussing the joys of fatherhood. Specifically, I'll be delving into the diverse world of newborn diaper changing, a rich comedy area I'm sure no one has ever explored before.
More From the World of WTF Advertising
I don't know what's more disconcerting here: the fact colon cleansers are so hip right now they warrant their own advertising, or that the truth about them is so shocking it can leave a woman aghast, momentarily disabled by cock-sucker's cramp, in front of her monitor.
October 06, 2009
The Era of WTF Advertising
One of the hugely unfortunate aspects of the ever-expanding world of the Internet has been the proliferation of largely nonsensical advertisements. Companies eager to have their ads get some kind of attention, ANY KIND of attention are resorting to all sorts of animated tiles that seemily have nothing whatsoever to do with the product or service being advertised. A prime example:
I mean, seriously. WTF?
October 04, 2009
Like Sands Through the Hour Glass
I should note, for the sake of future reference, that I was given a fourth stripe for my blue belt Friday night (10/2/09). Perhaps 2010 will be the year I test for a purple belt in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. New parenthood responsibilities could impact my training, although I'm thinking of possible ways to bring the boy to class, provided I can keep enough chloroform on hand to ensure he sleeps through the two hour sessions.
