Growing Up

I can't wear a jacket with my suit because my jacket crushes my suit. My boss asks me every day, "no jacket?" and I say, "sir, my jacket crushes my suit."

College Prep

If I was going to teach a college prep course, on the first day I would call one student to the front of the class, hold up a giant hoop, and have him jump through. When he got to the other side I would ask him to jump back, repeating this request over and over until he became out of breath. I would then give my congratulations and ask if he would like to attend grad school -- a flaming hoop hanging over a tank of piranhas.

Trip Report: Iced Gingerbread Clif Bar

Dosage: 1 Bar | 64 grams | Eaten over 5 minutes

I have to admit that even before I started writing this report I have eaten about half the bar already. So the results may be a little skewed.

Come and join me on a flavor-expedition!

+0:00:00 Being a hypochondriac, I have to ensure that my Clif Bar is opened in a way that creates a little "Clif Cradle." This allows me to place breakfast down on my workspace without having it touch the highly lysol'ed surface which is no doubt seething with germs left by the cleaners.

+0:00:15 This "health" bar has a frosting droozled* all over it! Yunk!

+0:00:30 Every Clif Bar has a foundation flavor that seats any of the various hues of taste such as the much abhorred "Chocolate Mint" to the mellifluous "Toffee Nut Crunch." With the first bite I experience an underwhelming taste of gingerbread and more of the standard oatey, sugary Clif Bar base.

+0:00:36 After chewing a bit more the taste of gingerbread seeps in and covers my tongue with a warming glow of familiarity. Despite the frosting, this Clif Bar has a mild taste to it.

+0:01:30 I feel a little sick now. Should anyone be tasting gingerbread this early in the morning? I don't think so. Not unless they're waking up at 4am on Christmas Eve to snap off a piece of gingerbread house.

+0:02:21 Well... that was a tepid affair. It was basically your standard Clif experience. I am satisfied.

+0:03:07 My thigh itches.

+0:05:44 I am hungry again.

*1 Droozle = A variant of "drizzle" except used in instances of extreme sloppiness and over abundance. E.g. "Damn! Why do they always droozle so much cream cheese on my bagel bites! I almost yunked* in the toilet!"

*2 Yunk = Vomit, except while crying. E.g. "I yunked when that skunk sprayed my little sister and then she gave me a hug."

I perfectly understand the pun of "Heel The Love" yet taken outside its canine context, the phrase seems a bit awkward. The verb "heel" has manifold usage but commonly means to follow or chase closely, or to have under subjugation. It can also mean to put the heels on something, as in a shoe, or even to arm a fighting cock with spurs! I do not think the movie's producers were aware of the astounding depth of the word "heel" when pinning it to their film about a Christmas pup that pisses in Ownen Wilson's hamper or whatever.

Now, whenever I see the tag line "Heel The Love" I will think it means either of 4 things:

1. "Chase after love like a silly puppy with a ribbon tied around your neck!"
2. "Control the love! It's an unruly bitch who needs to be properly beaten every night and left outside! DOWN GIRL! DOWN! HEEL!"
3. "Love is getting a little worn out and needs new heels. Are you a cobbler?"
4. "You want me to attach this metal spur to the tip of my "love" and then fight another similarly clad man in a pit while lecherous old men bet on our lives? On Christmas day? Wait... with my Papa!?"

I believe the movie industry needs to have an English Major check all of their movie posters, trailers, and other promotional media for connotation errata. Otherwise, we might just have a little cockfighting problem.

Family Vacation

Mother: Guess what today is my little coconut?
Daughter: (Groggy) Wha… what?
Mother: Comon’ sleepy head, today’s the day of our carnival cruise! Just you and me! (The mother holds up two tickets)
Daughter: (Jumping out of bed instantly) YEAAAA!

Screen Wipe Effect: A twinkle from the girl's eye explodes over the screen, transitioning the scene.

Docks. We see the mother and daughter walking away from a car. Both are wearing brightly colored dresses and holding suitcases. The mother wears a large hat with a gaudy assortment of flowers on it. The daughter is all smiles. They prance across a busy dock with many other travelers coming and going.

Daughter: Oh mama! I’m so excited! To finally leave the island and see something new!
Mother: Yes, your time has come. (Her smile is gone now.)
Daughter: What?

Two menacing sailors appear from behind a crate and grab the daughter, dragging her onto a smaller ship that looks very rusty and dangerous.

Daughter: MAMA? MAMA! WHATS HAPPENING? MAMA?
Mother: Goodbye my tiny coconut shell. I will see you again somday.
Daughter: (Tears in her eyes. She is shaking) MOOMMAAAA!!!

iCapitalization

Capitalization has been smacked around like Brett Hart being pounded in the head with a folding chair by The Undertaker. (Note: And no! I will not excuse myself for referencing the golden age of WWF! Just as Keats wrote an ode to his Grecian Urn, thus shall I sing the song of greased up men engaged in feigned fisticuffs whilst wrapped tightly in spandex pants of dazzling colours and adorned with various trinkets like a live snake or boot tassels. God bless you Tatonka.)

But I digress.

Capitalization has been kicked in the shins by a single, lower-case, little dipshit -- the "i". Everything in the last 5 years has been presupposed by the impetuous, importuning, piquant, pebble-sized "i". No longer are great names like Spartacus, or titles such as The Illiad valid because no one will pay attention unless its iCeasar or iZeus. Titles aren't even bolstered by numbers anymore, such as 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea, 2001: A Space Odyssey, or even 101 Dalmatians.

Geez... 101 Dalmatians sounds more imposing than an ipod nano frosted mini-wheats or whatever.

It used to be that putting something in Capitol Letters would infuse it with the power of Yahweh himself! NOW YOU CAN WRITE IN ALL CAPS AND NO ONE WILL CARE TO READ THEM EVEN AS THE WORDS SURGE INTO THE SKY ABOVE LIKE THE TOWER OF BABEL!

so just whip out your iBook and read Harry Potter and The Mystery of the Shrunken Cat...

i’s and e’s are the future of our language and there is absolutely no stopping any obtuse mind from pinning their statements with those kitschy trinkets.

Tom Brady

Everyone,

I notice that we are constantly referring to Tom Brady (or THE PATRIOT MISSILE, as I prefer to call him) in such a mocking (and sometimes romantic) manner that we forget the utilitarian aspect of dropping his name around the office. I doubt any of us have any sincere feelings for Mr. Brady (or Old' Gimpy, as I will now call him) but we can certainly use our obtained knowledge of this athlete to boost our professional standing with fellow office workers, and especially the management.

Here are some examples:

Boss: Tony, will you please update this and do that and spend the next 3 hours performing skull-scrapingly-dull busy work for me?

Me: Sure thing Boss! I'd love to! Did you see the reports I've already prepared on the new project scheduled to begin next month?

Boss: Are you still talking to me? I think I left my BT on.

See? In this scenario I failed to mention Touch Down Brady Balls, and thus immediately lost the attention and respect of my Boss. Let's try that again...

Boss: Tony, will you please highlight and then unhighlight every name in my address book just to make sure that doing that doesn't actually do anything? Then can you spell check all the icon's on my desktop?

Tony: Anything you say sir! I'll get right to it... just after I'm done praying for Tom Brady's knee. Did you see the 1,000 paper cranes I made for him?

Boss: Promotion!

Bringing up professional sports teams such as The Red Sox, Patriots, or any of the great exploits of Scotty Pippin will instantly excite anyone within a 20ft radius of your cubicle, earning you the respect and adulation of your colleagues! Give it a try and see for yourself!