Tasteful Insipidity

THAT'S A FARGIN TRICK QUESTION!!!!!! (Caution: Language)

2012-01-19T18:11:00.000-05:00

2012-01-19T17:37:00.000-05:00

I found the accompanying sculpture at my local city hall yesterday. Though I was intrigued by the form and moved by the sheer elegance of the design, I could not help but feel dumb, faced with all them big words.

Kidneys

2011-10-29T13:26:00.000-04:00

Here are a couple of texts I received:

+1407…….: I sent you this earlier! I went ahead and updated your number just now. //So it's been crazy. Urologist did an ultrasound. Doc a little concerned that they did 2 CT scans without contrast at the ER. Sent me for a 3rd as soon as I can. Says he needs to look closely at the kidney. Wants to be sure it's not! Said it could have been a very small stone overlooked in the ER. Waiting to see my pcp in a few to explain the blood work. No pain so far today. Last night yes, with hot flashes again! Lol

Just got home. He ruled out 3 of 4 possibilities. Have to follow up with a Urologist to have more kidney tests and cancer test! They couldn't find anything, but some blood work was a little cause for concern. Recommended staying home tomorrow to rest. Also, following up with my primary care physician tomorrow. Tired! No pain now. Thanks for caring K! 6:53 PM

Here's my reply:

Me: Hi. I appreciate all your health updates but think you have the wrong number. 10:31 AM

And the final correspondence:

+1407…….: Yeah, lol..Thanks! We realized the other day when she was mad that I hadn't contacted her! Sorry about that.10:36 AM

2011-06-20T22:27:00.001-04:00

OK, OK. I'm opening the door for politics on this blog. I will start by endorsing SOUP CAN for President 2012. CAN has better ideas, more experience, and will be better for the future of our country than the current guy.

Penguins

2011-05-18T21:24:00.000-04:00

Maybe you've seen this.

The Brass Cannon

2011-04-10T13:27:00.002-04:00

I was reading an excerpt from this:

http://www.amazon.com/Economic-Facts-Fallacies-Thomas-Sowell/dp/0465022030/ref=sr_1_5?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1302452094&sr=1-5

and Professor Sowell referred to Robert Heinlein:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_A._Heinlein

and then I checked out Heinlein’s book

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Moon_is_a_Harsh_Mistress

and I was amused by his parable about the man with the job polishing the brass cannon and then going into business for himself. And then I had to check out the video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iZVauT_rZdk

which causes me to wonder a few things about geeks.

Juneau, you know.

2011-03-18T14:57:00.001-04:00

Kevin arrived in Juneau Alaska a bit ago. He called me from outside his motel to let me know he had arrived. I pulled his motel up on Google Earth and zoomed way in. I told him to wave and he did but I still couldn't see him. Bummer, man.

How to get a free gift card from Walmart

2011-03-18T14:23:00.001-04:00

(This happened to someone who is not me.)

How to get a free gift card from Walmart:

Go to the Sporting Goods Department and buy a box of ammunition.

Walk out of the store, look into your bag and notice you bought the wrong caliber ammo.

Walk back in and ask for an exchange.

Notice that the women in the returns department appear frightened by the ammunition. They will tell you there is a company policy that all ammo sales are final.

Ask them to call for a supervisor. Wait.

When the supervisor arrives, she will tell you there is a no returns policy on ammunition.

Show her your receipt with the time of purchase on it. Tell her she can check the surveillance video and it will clearly show you exiting the store and immediately returning, making it impossible to have tampered with the ammo. Politely add that the policy is not clearly disclosed and actually makes no sense.

The supervisor will apologize and tell you that she doesn’t have the authority to allow an exchange.

Ask the supervisor why she responded in the first place if she doesn’t have the authority. Ask for a manager. Wait. Remain calm.

When the manager arrives, explain your problem and remind him he can check the security video to see there is no funny business going on. He will tell you he cannot accept the merchandise back. Remind the manager that policies are in place to serve as guidelines and that human managers should be empowered to deviate from policies at times as a means of satisfying customers. Otherwise the stores would be fully automated. He will tell you there’s a lot of “red tape” with the ATF as far as ammo sales is concerned, and will still refuse the return. Remind him that neither gun shop down the street operates under any such regulation. Ask him to confirm that you are now stuck with a $24 box of ammo for which you have absolutely no use.

The manager will offer you a $15 gift card for your inconvenience.

You can apply the gift card to a box of the correct ammo. You will have paid $33 for the second box of ammo, $9 too much. You will also be stuck with a box of ammo you can’t use, but you can then trade that box of ammo for the correct caliber at the gun shop down the street.

Or you can buy a can opener with the gift card.

The Rug

2011-03-05T00:00:00.005-05:00

Last week I had the pleasure of assisting a guy whose house was burglarized. He is a Moraccan National living in the US for eight years now. Poor fella went to work in the morning and came home in the evening to a mess. Suspects unknown had pried open his back door, tossed his entire house and stolen various articles of value, e.g., TV's, laptops, clothing, jewelry, etc. Also stolen were three valuable Persian rugs his mother had shipped him from Morocco. The guy helped me measure out the footprints of the rugs to get an idea of their size, should they somehow be recovered (yeah right). I stood back and took a look at the living room where the biggest rug had previously been and I said to the guy, "That's a bummer man. I bet that rug really tied the room together." He agreed that it did.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ezQLP1dj_t8

Speedo guy

2011-03-04T10:38:00.000-05:00

Last night I got a text message from a long distance number I did not recognize. The texter and I engaged in the following exchange:

John: Dov. It’s John. Have you seen my speedo?
Me: Yeah, i know. It’s SOOOO hot!
John: No. i mean i left it at the y.
Me: Your butt looks like granite in that thing.
John: No dude. Seriously. I lost my speedo. The red and black swimming one. Did you or someone else pick it up?
Me: Oh sorry dude I thought you were john wilson. No I hauen’t seen it.
John: Oh. Alright. Thanks man.

So I slept all night and of course this morning I felt bad. My juvenile hijinks may have prevented the recovery of John’s Speedo. So I texted him, “Dude you should look for your speedo. I’m sure you figured out you texted the wrong number.”

So far no reply.

I’ve drawn a few conclusions and have some questions based on this conversation. Beginning at the top:

What kind of name is Dov?

I think John is at least thirty since he uses punctuation and caps (for the most part). And no emoticons.

I also think John is straight. He apparently also wears another type of Speedo, the non-swimming one. I’m not sure what that’s all about but I’m sure it doesn’t make him gay. Besides he uses the word “dude” a lot (which also makes him white, I suppose). On the other hand, he is fond of the brand name “Speedo.” Not the generic term “swim trunks” or “male bikini bottoms” or some such. He (and Dov) live the Speedo culture which raises questions all over again.

John obviously swims with a group, perhaps a team. Maybe adult water polo? What do they have at the YMCA?

Your thoughts?

USPS

2010-11-27T21:29:00.000-05:00

Lance visits his Post Office daily or so. His customers mail their checks to his P.O. box as opposed to his home (good idea, Lance). So he dropped in a few weeks ago and the post office had apparently decided to advertise a new goal. The customized sign hung on the wall was inscribed, "Our goal: deliver to your P.O. box by 8:30 AM."

"Cool," Lance thought, as he picked up his mail from the previous day.

A few weeks passed during which time Lance received regular payments from customers in his P.O. box. Business is fine and most folks seem to be paying OK. Monday, Lance stopped into his post office again and noticed something odd. The customized sign hung on the wall was changed to an all new customized sign inscribed with the proud declaration, "Our goal: deliver to your P.O. box by 9:30 AM."

Evidently, the post office workers couldn't meet their 8:30 AM goal so it was moved up an hour to 9:30.

Government work is great if you can get it.

Merry Christmas!

2010-11-22T06:58:00.002-05:00

As far as I know, there’s no Ramadan Tree, no Hanukkah Tree, no Utsava Tree, no Bodhisattva Tree. When you put a tree in the living room and string light bulbs around it and put presents under it, it’s uniquely a “Christmas Tree.” And December 25th is uniquely “Christmas.” I’m not afraid to say “Merry Christmas.” From what I gather this phrase does not offend non-Christians. If my Jewish friend says to me “Happy Hanukkah,” I’m cool with that. If anyone is offended by the word Christmas, he or she is an idiot, therefore I don’t care.

This year I will not shop at any store whose management is too stupid to understand it’s OK to say the word Christmas during Christmas.

That’s just me.

Feeeeeeeeeeeels like................

2010-08-02T16:35:00.000-04:00

I've about had it with this whole "feeeeeeeeeels like" crap. The local TV station said it's 97 degrees outside but it "feeeeeeeeeeels like" a hundred and five. No, it feeeeeeeeels like 97°. If it is exactly 97° outside and I walk outside into 97° heat, then 97 degrees hits me in the face. THAT’S what 97° feels like. It does NOT feel like 105°, it feels like 97°. 105° feels like 105°.

This approach is not limited to the weather. And since we don't talk politics here I'll leave it at that. Can we PLEASE stop living our lives - and making our rules - based on some whimsical feeling pulled out of someone's colon?

Cool Job

2010-07-22T22:10:00.002-04:00

I saw the Turd Runner again today.

My trip to Philly

2010-01-30T00:54:00.004-05:00

I have documented my recent visit to my brother's home in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, USA. Here's a link to the video:

http://www.xtranormal.com/watch/6032823/

Yet another drive-thru yarn

2010-01-30T00:40:00.003-05:00

My other kid Lance had an episode. One Sunday morning he and his young bride felt like a little breakfast snack and, as they were in motor transit, thought McDonald’s sounded nice. Simple. Quick. Consistent. You know what you want, you know what you get.

They turned into the lot of an out-of-the way McDonalds, found the arrow lane and hit the drive-thru. No wait. Cool. “Thank you for choosing McDonald’s would you like to try thuhhnwbacneggsuprMcmufzick?” crackled the order board. “No thanks.” Knowing the Egg McMuffins were on sale for two for $2.00, Lance ordered three. Two for him and one for his wife Sharon. A dollar per McMuffin. Not bad. Three bucks, right? “Four seventy first window please” spake the Big Board. “What?” Lance said aloud to Sharon. “Four seventy?!” He drove to the first window and the thirty-something McDonald’s University junior class lady slid open the window and repeated, “Hi. Four seventy.”

Lance objected, “It says two for two dollars. That’s three for three dollars, right? Why is it four seventy?”

“I can’t charge you one dollar if you order three. The third Egg McMuffin is $2.39. I’m sorry,” reasoned the genius.

“Well I’m not paying $4.70.

“I’m sorry, sir, that’s the way the computer does it.”

"OK well then can I just order four so I can get the deal?"

"I can't change the order, sir," came the reply.

“Just let me speak to the manager,” Lance instructed, now impatient with stupid people.

(Lance has little tolerance for idiots. He doesn’t so much want to beat them up; he just wishes they would all call a really big convention and then join hands and run off a cliff together into the ocean.)

A few seconds later the manager arrived to settle the matter. "I want to change my order to four Egg McMuffins so I can get the deal," Lance exlained.

The manager lady explained her position. “I’m sorry sir, we can’t charge your order after it's been entered. It’s going to be $4.70. I’m really sorry.”

Apparently the customer must notice the sale at the menu board and respect the terms of the contract when placing the order. If the terms are not respected, the customer loses the game. Lance admitted to himself that he had not properly considered the rules. Still, the merchant has an obligation to inform the customer. And Lance didn't remember any fine print on the menu. Now Lance was beyond impatience with morons and had reached the level of disgust. Look. You're going to change my order. I want four Egg McMuffins for four dollars!

The manager lady turned away. (Tap-tap-tap-beep-beep on the register) “Four twenty eight,” affirmed the manager lady. She must have voided the first order after all. How bold!

“OK. Here’s five dollars,” Lance barked. Holy cow she gave him the correct change.
They were quick, Lance gave them that much. A half minute later the first lady returned with a bag full of McMuffins. She stuffed a handful of napkins in the sack and handed it to Lance. Before the woman could slide the window shut, Lance reached in and pulled out the top McMuffin and flung it at the building, smashing the breakfast sandwich to the ground. Then he drove away. The woman had a kind of dumb look on her face as she watched him leave, but Lance figured that was normal for her. Lance saved forty two cents and that felt a lot better.

I guess this whole thing makes sense (?)

Bananas

2010-01-28T10:59:00.002-05:00

My wife peels open bananas from the bottom and uses the stem as a handle.

Eating your vegetables

2009-09-27T17:03:00.006-04:00

I know this is not a cooking blog but so what. Here's a recipe for a little thing I like to call Barbecued Cabbage. OK, I don't necessarily like to call it that but I don't mind.

1 large cabbage

3-4 slices bacon, snipped into pieces

1 small onion, diced

½ green pepper, diced

½ cup (or more?) BBQ sauce

½ stick butter

Of course, you can add or subtract anything you want.

Carve a large cone/crater out of the base of the cabbage. Maybe 2” deep, 3-4” across. Eat the part you carved out.

Form a foil donut as a base for the cabbage.

Sauté the bacon, onion, and pepper.

Drain the mixture and save some bacon grease.

Stir the BBQ sauce into the mix.

Place the cabbage crater-up on the foil donut on the grill. Paint the outer leaves with the bacon grease.

Fill the crater with the mixture.

Plop cubes of butter on top.

Grill over indirect medium heat for an hour and a half. Maybe 2 hours. You can add wood chips for a smoky flavor. If you don't have a grill, I don't know what to tell you.

When the mixture is bubbling, the cabbage is probably done. Allow it to cool a bit.

Use tongs to move the cabbage to a plate. Did the donut come with? That’s OK.

It's still hot. Let it cool even more.

Remove the burnt outer leaves and the donut. Throw the slag away.

Cut the cabbage into wedges and serve to people you like. If you don't have any friends,

That’s about it. I don’t know if that sounds easy or hard. But I’m telling you it’s super easy.

A Winter Story to Warm Your Heart

2009-01-31T13:16:00.006-05:00

Here is a brief tale as told by my twenty-six year old son. It happened recently in the heart of an American municipality where male siblings are quite fond of one another:

This story requires that I use an alias, as there may be some touchy legal issues. So I’ll call myself Zevin Zitchell. I live and work in downtown Zilladelphia. I work close enough to home that I often just walk. This afternoon I was walking home from work, on a sidewalk, along a one way street. Even though the street is one way, there’s room left to park along the curb and still allow traffic to flow. It snowed yesterday in Phi….sorry, Zilly and there was about three inches still on the ground. The temperature was in the thirties. I wore a waterproof hoodie, shorts, and tennis shoes, and carried a backpack. Because it was now sprinkling a bit, the icy sidewalks were extremely slick. The city had salted the streets so I decided to walk off the sidewalk, kind of on the edge of the street so I wouldn’t slip and fall.

So I was walking along minding my own business a couple of blocks from home. Suddenly I felt a thump on my back, and I immediately recognized the projectile as a snowball. I quickly turned around and saw an approaching SUV, a dark blue something, I’m not sure the make. I was on the left side of the road so the SUV was passing me on my right. A youngish white guy – I presume the snowball thrower - was hanging out the rear driver’s side window. As the SUV passed, the guy yelled at me, “Hey, dumbass, why don’t you put on some pants, it’s cold outside!” The SUV drove on.

I almost never wear long pants. Even if it’s freezing outside, I’m usually fine as long as I wear a jacket and cover my head. As long as I’m not outdoors for hours or something. So shorts and a jacket is the uniform of the day. Besides, eff him, it’s none of his beeswax what I wear.

Furthermore, I’ve been in a number of snowball fights where friends hurl consensual snowballs at each other. I realize it can be quite fun and generally doesn’t hurt. In fact, in this case it didn’t hurt either; as I was wearing a fairly substantial waterproof hoodie and only felt a mild thunk. But that’s not the point. I’ll admit firstly that I had just finished a pretty tough day at work and my mood was a bit….hmm…..let me see….cranky. And besides, this was not a fun game of snowball toss among friends. It was a nasty, malicious prank directed at a complete stranger, who was just walking home from work, minding his own business, on a cold, rainy day. So I was pissed. Of course they had driven away so there was nothing I could do about it anyway. Still, I thought, those bastards, I wish I could beat their ass or something. “Whatever,” I thought.

Just then I noticed brake lights as the SUV become stuck in traffic at a stop light a block ahead. It was as if God had flung the traffic control switches and spoke directly to me: “Zevin,” God declared, “you must do what is commanded!” I seized my opportunity.

I sprinted toward the SUV as it sat waiting for the green. As I approached from the driver’s rear side, I noticed that all the windows were now rolled up. Tinted windows, as I recall. Everything was rolling so fast I wasn’t really sure what I would do if I was indeed lucky enough to reach the SUV before it was able to pull away. It turns out I caught up in plenty of time. I realized that I must formulate a plan in a flash. I thought to myself, “kick a dent into the car? Punch the guy?” Punching the guy was out of the question since the windows were up and I actually couldn’t see inside. Then, through what must have been divine guidance, it all became automatic. I cocked back my right arm and elbowed the driver’s side rear window as hard as I could. The window shattered into a billion little pieces and showered the interior of the SUV. I saw the guy in the back seat as he cowered away from my side and noticed another dude in the front passenger seat with eyes like golf balls. I never saw the driver. Somebody yelled, “Holy shit! What the fuck, dude!! Holy Shit!!” The guy in the back seat finally turned his head to see what was happening. So I said, “Hey dumb ass, why don’t you fix your window. It’s broken.”

Then I turned and walked away in the direction I came from. I figured they couldn’t follow me or run me over, since it was a one-way street. I continued to the next block, turned right, and walked around the block to get home. I never saw the SUV again.

The whole thing was surreal. I’m pretty sure the other guy did a (minor) crime in heaving a snowball at me. I’m not sure the legality of my reaction. I also don’t think I care. My crankiness had subsided. I had a much better day after that.

Change

2008-06-09T12:56:00.004-04:00

Yesterday while working a day shift I stopped by the 7-11 for a little snack. I had no idea what I wanted but I preferred something filling, maybe sweet(?), and at least marginally nutritious. I settled on a Payday candy bar – a delicious combination of peanuts, caramel, and chewy nougat. OK I'm not certain about the nougat. Anyway, a regular sized candy bar cost a buck. (ONE DOLLAR for a basic candy bar, you gotta be kidding!) A sign read “Buy two for $1.50.” Fair enough, I thought. I’ll buy two and save one for tomorrow. So I did.

I noted there was a lone cashier behind the counter assisting a garbage man, who was the only person in line ahead of me. I didn’t recognize the cashier, a youngish black fellow with a white shirt and tie and gold colored name tag. He didn’t wear the usual red 7-11 smock. I wasn’t sure if he was a visiting manager or a brand new employee. The garbage man was cashing in lottery tickets and buying more. I wondered to myself: if there is only one person in line, is it really a line? I knew for sure this was a line since it contains two people. But was there a line before I got there. I didn’t think so. Anyway, the clerk was taking a while handling the lottery transaction. Like a few minutes. Meanwhile, an actual line was forming behind me. Finally, the garbage man got his new tickets and moved on. The clerk looked at me and I placed the candy bars on the counter. I said, “How you.” He said, “All right, how you doin’.” I said, “Excellent.” The clerk rang up the candy bars and said, “One sixty.” (I guess there’s tax on Paydays.) OK here’s where it gets complicated. You need to follow the sequence of this. I held in my hand one of those little gummy plastic coin pouches that my grandfather used to use. The one you squeeze lengthwise to open it. Inside were a dozen or so dollar coins I received as change one day from the stamp machine in the post office. Some Sacagaweas and a couple of Susan B. Anthonies. (Never put a twenty in a stamp machine. You’ll get dollar coins back and then you have to strategically spend them to get rid of them. Leave them as tips or something.) So I told the guy, “You’re going to love this,” and I handed him two Susan B’s. He took the coins, stared at them for about a second and a half, then tossed them into the till and shut the drawer. He then looked at the guy behind me as the guy set his chili dog and Big Gulp down on the counter while I kind of side-stepped. Evidently, while brewing coffee, the second clerk had noticed the line growing and had hurried behind the counter to help. Clerk #2, a balding white guy in his sixties whom I recognized as working there for a long time hollered to the line, “Who’s next!” while clerk #1 rang up the guy with the chili dog and Coke. Folks started shuffling toward the second cashier and now I was between the two cash registers. I answered Clerk #2, “I’m not really next but he – and I nodded toward Clerk #1 – owes me my change.” Clerk #2 replied, “Oh, he does?” and he looked over at Clerk #1. I’m standing there in my police outfit, so I’m always being scrutinized anyway, but now I’m the dead center of everyone’s attention. The guy to my left took his chili dog and Big Gulp and backed out the door. Clerk #1 had heard me and so he reached over and picked up a quarter from the counter next to Clerk #1’s register, and handed me the quarter. He then prepared to ring up his next customer. (You’ve done the ciphering, right? Should have been forty cents.) I said to Clerk #1, “I need fifteen more cents.” I could tell I was really interrupting his flow. He turned away from his current customer again, grabbed another quarter, handed it to me, and attended to his next sale. I kind of shouted, “Dude! Now I owe you a dime!” I actually said dude. I mean I was not so much frustrated as incredulous. I chuckled. The guy replied to me, “Don’t worry about it, it’s extra.” I presumed he meant it had been left behind by a previous customer or someone had been overcharged or something like that. So right now I was a cop who just took ten cents from a cashier in front of eight witnesses and on video. I said to Clerk #1 loudly and clearly, “I’ll bring you back a dime later!” and left with my Paydays. Just surreal.

I never did drop off that dime.

Infant wink

2008-01-16T22:15:00.000-05:00

The other day, a friend and I were eating at Taco Bell. A nice looking young couple were in the next booth. They has a baby in a car seat in the booth with them. As the couple stood to leave, the guy placed the baby in the car seat on top of the table for a few seconds. My friend's back was to the couple so he hadn't seen anything. The baby was maybe six feet away from me as its mom and dad tidied up the table. Then the baby winked at me. I mean his teeny little right eye winked right at me! I'm telling you this was an infant. Like a couple of months old or something. So the guy picked up the car seat and carried the baby past us as they left. I thought for a brief moment to say to the guy, "Hey, fellow, your baby just winked at me." I thought maybe he would find it amusing too, but I also thought that maybe the baby has some brain problem so I better just shut up right now. So I shut up. Still, I bet you've never had an infant wink at you.

Traffic Problem

2008-01-16T22:12:00.001-05:00

I don't know what percentage of drivers actually stress out over obstacles to their travel plan. Personally, I do curse other asshat drivers as well as traffic engineering in general. For example, if I and a number of cars get a red light and have to stop, in order to allow like ONE car to proceed or some bike rider to cross, I cuss the government fools who fail to design a better system. "Damn red lights!" I will bark, all by my little self in my little car. Then I eventually get where I'm going and everything's fine. So... Today I was driving to work and somehow traffic was pretty light going my direction. In the distance was a pretty large intersection and my light was red. As I approached, my light turned green. I was the only car going my way as far as I could see. But crossing traffic was heavy, and I noticed as I crossed the intersection, about twenty cars stacked up at their red light while I sailed right on through. Then it hit me. I really should be consistent here. Now I'm the one holding up progress. What am I? Special? So I did the proper thing and cussed my own green light. It was the right thing to do. Now I always make a point to cuss all the green lights I am fortunate enough to drive through. True, now I am cussing all lights, both green and red, but I have to be consistent and fair, so as to set a good example for my kids. Makes sense, right?

Garbage Day

2007-10-06T00:08:00.000-04:00

The most stupid thing I can remember happened to me this morning. It’s a ridiculous story and is true.

I went to bed late last night and slept in a bit. As I was waking, which is always a process, I heard what I assumed was the garbage truck, maybe on the next block. I hurried out of bed, threw on some shorts and a shirt and stepped outside to take the garbage can to the roadside. I was still really sleepy and clumsy as I pulled the trashcan across the front yard toward the street. I glanced down the street and saw a young couple about four houses away walking casually in my direction in the roadway. She was walking alongside he, who was carrying in one hand a large black bag of (apparently) trash, holding it by the red drawstring. I parked the garbage can by the road and wondered absently why the guy was carrying trash down the street. It occurred to me that maybe he had also heard the garbage truck coming and he and his girl were walking to meet the truck. I looked up again at the couple and they were now three houses away. I realized that it was not a bag of trash at all but a big shaggy black dog on a red leash. I broke out into laughter at myself. Then I noticed that all the cans up and down the street were upside down and empty. I had missed the garbage truck after all. I rolled the garbage can back across the yard and toward the side of the house. I knew for certain that this couple was laughing at me after watching me pull the can to the street and then back. And I was sure that they were amused at the silly man laughing all by himself at nothing at all.

I could tell I needed my coffee right away.

Condiments

2007-10-06T00:06:00.000-04:00

Last night I was driving with my daughter and she asked if we could stop at Steak And Shake for one of their (allegedly) excellent milkshakes. I agreed to stop. I pulled into the drive-thru and ordered only the shake, and pulled up to the window. A little sticker on the glass read, "Salt and ketchup available upon request." So the kid opened the window, took my money, and gave me some change. In a few minutes, the kid returned with the milkshake. I asked him, "Hey, may I please have some salt and ketchup?" The kid handed me a few salt and ketchup packets. I asked, "May I have some more ketchup, please?" The kid reached under the counter and came out with about twenty packets and handed them over. He asked, "That OK?" I replied, "Yep, thanks!" and drove away. No burger. No fries. Just a milkshake. Cool practice, Steak And Shake. Now, I'm a bit slow on the deviousness uptake sometimes and it took me a while to consider that I should have pushed further, to see how far I could go. Could I have gotten a month or two worth of ketchup? Maybe. I will return to the drive-thru and request salt and ketchup without any food order at all.

Chia Pet

2006-03-07T00:03:00.000-05:00

This is s true story.

So I received a Homer Simpson Chia Pet as a gift. Nice gift. You soak the seeds and the Chia head in water for 24 hours, while the seeds form a spreadable gel. About 6 hours into the soaking, I noticed that the seeds and water had in fact formed a gel. I wondered if I really needed to wait until tomorrow to spread the seeds. I noticed that there is a website (chia.com) and on the website, there is a phone number for help. I phoned the Chia Pet help desk, asked my question and received a satisfactory answer. Then something interesting occurred to me. I toldTim, the Chia Pet help desk guy, "Hey, Tim. I gotta tell you something. I can't believe you sit there all day on the phone answering Chia Pet questions." There was a moment of silence on the line. Then Tim replied, "You know, I honestly can't believe I do it either." I thanked Tim for his help and we hung up.

After I hung up I started to feel kind of bad. I guess maybe I insulted Tim. Maybe I helped him open his eyes. Maybe he went right out and enrolled in college. Maybe he's already studying and just does this job for extra cash. Maybe he already has his Master's degree and is searching for a career in his field. Maybe he's just satisfied where he is. I just hope he didn't get right up from his desk, walk upstairs to the roof, and take a header into the parking lot.