23% of all photocopier faults worldwide is caused by people sitting on them and photocopying their butts. What I gather from this statistic is that there is a real market for a photocopying toilet. You know, something with the photo printing abilities of a photocopier but the long lasting durability of a toilet. Move over Bishub, introducing the Shizzhub!
Monday, August 5, 2013
Minvans and Adult Diapers
As a lot of you know, I drive a minivan. Or maybe I should say I actually own and drive a truck but our family vehicle is a minivan. I have people all the time ask me why I chose to purchase and own a minivan, as if I had a choice in the matter. Come on people. I have 4 kids, a wife, and a crapload of stuff to haul around. A Honda Civic or Toyota Prius ain't gonna cut it. I find this question to b...e a little offensive because it's not something you choose to do but it's something that happens to you. It would be like asking someone who has cancer why they chose to have cancer. Nobody chooses to have cancer just as nobody chooses to own a minivan, it just happens.
I look at minivans much in the same way I do adult diapers. When it comes down to it nobody wants you to know they have it or want you to see them in it, but it has it's purpose and it certainly makes life a helluva lot easier. Life happens, and eventually you realize that these things (adult diapers and minivans) are inescapable. Reluctantly you come to realize that you have no choice but to submit yourself to them, knowing in the end, as hard as it may be to accept, that it really is for the best.
I look at minivans much in the same way I do adult diapers. When it comes down to it nobody wants you to know they have it or want you to see them in it, but it has it's purpose and it certainly makes life a helluva lot easier. Life happens, and eventually you realize that these things (adult diapers and minivans) are inescapable. Reluctantly you come to realize that you have no choice but to submit yourself to them, knowing in the end, as hard as it may be to accept, that it really is for the best.
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
To Bee or Not to Bee, That is the Question
So this morning at work in honor of the high number of bee stings some of our employees have been experiencing this summer I decided to read of some interesting bee facts during our weekly safety meeting. Here is a list of some of those facts (in quotes) and a few of my own thoughts on them as well.
“Bees can count to four.” – Big deal. Can they count backwards from four. All other numbers elude them I guess.
“Honey bees can fly up to 15 miles per hour.” – They have been recorded at even faster speeds than that but usually when stuck to the windshield of a moving vehicle. I guess there is a rule or something about the bees having to be alive in order for the speed to officially count. Dumb rule if you ask me.
“Bees and wasps are some of the most feared insects due to their ability to sting and their great mobility.” – This is why I refer to them as the ninjas of the insect world.
“There are 314 million people who currently live in the US. Bee stings cause between 40-60 deaths each year on average in the US.” – What I gather from all of this is that you have a much greater chance of dying from a bee sting if you are actually stung by a bee than you would if you weren’t stung by a bee. Scary stuff.
“Honey bees will travel up to 3 miles from their hive in search of food.” – Lazy insects. I’ve been known to travel over 20 miles just to get to the nearest McDonalds for food and that includes during rush hour.
“The Honey bee Queen may lay 600-800 or even 1,500 eggs each day during her lifetime.” – This is where the expression “busy bee” comes from. It’s much nicer than saying “bee slut.”
“The only insect who produces food for humans are honey bees.” – Oh really? Then what is it that my collection of dung beetles produces that I’ve been eating all of these years, if not food? It makes a great cracker spread, that’s all I know.
“Honey bees never sleep.” – Who could, with that constant and annoying buzzing sound around all the time? No wonder why bees are so easily angered…they are tired all the time.
“Wasps that have consumed fermented juices have been observed, eventually, to become drunk and pass out.” – If they get caught flying drunk they are likely to get a BUI (Buzzing Under the Influence). Is this considered “sleeping on the job” if Worker bees are caught doing this? You’d have to think that the Queen bee would always be drunk with as many kids as she has, or at least she’s gotta have a good “buzz” going all the time. Get it buzz?
“Bees can recognize human faces.” – Which is why you should never commit a crime in front of a bee because they’ll recognize your face in a police lineup. Also don’t commit a crime in front of an elephant because obviously, they never forget. I hear the F.bee.I is looking at using bees in helping identify people out of large crowds.
“The only bees that die after they sting you are honey bees.” – Live like a honey bee, die like a honey bee, is what I always say.
“Wasps on the other hand are able to sting repeatedly.” – It’s no wonder why I hate wasps so much.
“Bees communicate with each other by dancing and by using pheromones.” – Pheromones are a nice way of saying “farts and body odor.”
“Brains of bees are the size of a sesame seed.” – Which explains why they can only count to four…it’s all they have room for. But it doesn’t explain why they are so good at recognizing people’s faces.
“Honey bees have to consume about 8 pounds of food to produce one pound of beeswax.” – That’s nothing…I have to consume a whole heck of a lot of food just to produce a little ear wax.
“Honey bees are responsible for pollinating approximately 80% of all fruit, vegetables, and seed crops in the US.” – The other 20% of fruits, vegetables, and seed crops in the US are pollinated at the hands of illegal immigrants. It’s no wonder the bee population is on the decline…Illegal immigrants are taking all their jobs.
“Honey bees are designated “state insect” in 12 different states.” – But if you ask any bees how many states they are listed as the “state insect” in, the answer is always the same…four!
“Honey bees do not actually “make” honey, but instead they convert the nectar they gather from the flowers to the thicker honey, by constantly regurgitating it and allowing it to dehydrate.” – Makes me wonder what our puke might taste like if we put it through the same process. Yummy!
“The honey bee is believed to be introduced to this continent by the European Settlers and Native American’s referred to the honey bee as the “White Man’s Fly.”” – I’ve heard the same expression before, only it was when I accidently had the zipper to my pants down in a predominately black neighborhood.
“The Queen bee receives about 90,000,000 sperm from mating with a male but she controls how they are used.” – Nice to see females are the same no matter the species…like to be in control.
“Bees can count to four.” – Big deal. Can they count backwards from four. All other numbers elude them I guess.
“Honey bees can fly up to 15 miles per hour.” – They have been recorded at even faster speeds than that but usually when stuck to the windshield of a moving vehicle. I guess there is a rule or something about the bees having to be alive in order for the speed to officially count. Dumb rule if you ask me.
“Bees and wasps are some of the most feared insects due to their ability to sting and their great mobility.” – This is why I refer to them as the ninjas of the insect world.
“There are 314 million people who currently live in the US. Bee stings cause between 40-60 deaths each year on average in the US.” – What I gather from all of this is that you have a much greater chance of dying from a bee sting if you are actually stung by a bee than you would if you weren’t stung by a bee. Scary stuff.
“Honey bees will travel up to 3 miles from their hive in search of food.” – Lazy insects. I’ve been known to travel over 20 miles just to get to the nearest McDonalds for food and that includes during rush hour.
“The Honey bee Queen may lay 600-800 or even 1,500 eggs each day during her lifetime.” – This is where the expression “busy bee” comes from. It’s much nicer than saying “bee slut.”
“The only insect who produces food for humans are honey bees.” – Oh really? Then what is it that my collection of dung beetles produces that I’ve been eating all of these years, if not food? It makes a great cracker spread, that’s all I know.
“Honey bees never sleep.” – Who could, with that constant and annoying buzzing sound around all the time? No wonder why bees are so easily angered…they are tired all the time.
“Wasps that have consumed fermented juices have been observed, eventually, to become drunk and pass out.” – If they get caught flying drunk they are likely to get a BUI (Buzzing Under the Influence). Is this considered “sleeping on the job” if Worker bees are caught doing this? You’d have to think that the Queen bee would always be drunk with as many kids as she has, or at least she’s gotta have a good “buzz” going all the time. Get it buzz?
“Bees can recognize human faces.” – Which is why you should never commit a crime in front of a bee because they’ll recognize your face in a police lineup. Also don’t commit a crime in front of an elephant because obviously, they never forget. I hear the F.bee.I is looking at using bees in helping identify people out of large crowds.
“The only bees that die after they sting you are honey bees.” – Live like a honey bee, die like a honey bee, is what I always say.
“Wasps on the other hand are able to sting repeatedly.” – It’s no wonder why I hate wasps so much.
“Bees communicate with each other by dancing and by using pheromones.” – Pheromones are a nice way of saying “farts and body odor.”
“Brains of bees are the size of a sesame seed.” – Which explains why they can only count to four…it’s all they have room for. But it doesn’t explain why they are so good at recognizing people’s faces.
“Honey bees have to consume about 8 pounds of food to produce one pound of beeswax.” – That’s nothing…I have to consume a whole heck of a lot of food just to produce a little ear wax.
“Honey bees are responsible for pollinating approximately 80% of all fruit, vegetables, and seed crops in the US.” – The other 20% of fruits, vegetables, and seed crops in the US are pollinated at the hands of illegal immigrants. It’s no wonder the bee population is on the decline…Illegal immigrants are taking all their jobs.
“Honey bees are designated “state insect” in 12 different states.” – But if you ask any bees how many states they are listed as the “state insect” in, the answer is always the same…four!
“Honey bees do not actually “make” honey, but instead they convert the nectar they gather from the flowers to the thicker honey, by constantly regurgitating it and allowing it to dehydrate.” – Makes me wonder what our puke might taste like if we put it through the same process. Yummy!
“The honey bee is believed to be introduced to this continent by the European Settlers and Native American’s referred to the honey bee as the “White Man’s Fly.”” – I’ve heard the same expression before, only it was when I accidently had the zipper to my pants down in a predominately black neighborhood.
“The Queen bee receives about 90,000,000 sperm from mating with a male but she controls how they are used.” – Nice to see females are the same no matter the species…like to be in control.
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Hostess: Too big to Fail
With the news of Hostess closing its doors for good, came
the sudden realization that yet another chapter is ending in America’s great
story. Customers are left to scramble for the last crumbs of Hostess products
from store shelves, making the annual mad dash on Black Friday look like a (Hostess)
cake walk. I for one am heartbroken at the news. I wish I had a box of Twinkies
to drown my sorrows in, but alas, it wasn’t meant to be. Instead, like so many
other Americans, I will be forever left to wonder what could have been.
Hostess, the bakery company that has brought us such timely classics such as Zingers, Suzy Q’s, and Ho-Ho’s, not to mention favorites such as Twinkies, Fruit Pies, Sno Balls, and Ding Dongs, has announced they are no longer financially soluble and are therefore closing their doors for good. News hasn’t rocked the food and beverage world like this since Wilie Wonka announced he would be shutting the doors of his famous candy factory – and even then, that was only in a fictional story. Americans are left to wonder who will be next? If it can happen to Hostess, why not other great American food companies such as Hershey’s or Kraft or Hebrew National? I personally cannot even imagine a world without Kraft imitation cheese slices, which completely revolutionized the hamburger industry.
Hostess, the bakery company that has brought us such timely classics such as Zingers, Suzy Q’s, and Ho-Ho’s, not to mention favorites such as Twinkies, Fruit Pies, Sno Balls, and Ding Dongs, has announced they are no longer financially soluble and are therefore closing their doors for good. News hasn’t rocked the food and beverage world like this since Wilie Wonka announced he would be shutting the doors of his famous candy factory – and even then, that was only in a fictional story. Americans are left to wonder who will be next? If it can happen to Hostess, why not other great American food companies such as Hershey’s or Kraft or Hebrew National? I personally cannot even imagine a world without Kraft imitation cheese slices, which completely revolutionized the hamburger industry.
I have never been a fan of the Wall Street bailouts of the
big banks and auto industry, only because I find the concept of “too big to
fail” to be a slap in the face of every business that has struggled to keep their
financial house in order, not to mention the financial burden it puts on the
American People. But the news of Hostess has left me to wonder, if any bakery
is too big to fail, certainly it would be Hostess. Hostess Brand is as American
as apple pie, baseball, or the groovy hippie movement of the 70’s. Certainly
Hostess is a company deserving of the financial backing of Chinese borrowed
money from our government. I mean if not Hostess, then who?
I, like so many others, am left to wait and see what will
happen. The Sno Ball, Mr. President, is in your court…the only question is what
will you do with it?Sunday, May 13, 2012
Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire
I’m no politician, but I’ve been known to tell a whopper or
two in my life. Especially as a kid. But many times it wasn’t exactly lying
that I did, per say, but more like hiding
the truth about something that had happened. I can recall one particular Saturday
morning when I woke up rather late to an empty house (my family was all gone,
which, with a family of eight was very rare) and found a note from my mother
stating that I was to shovel my assigned portion of the driveway before I could go out to play with my
friends (I lived in Alaska, and in Alaska those are the sort of chores you get).
Of course I was outraged at my parents’ demands, as any 13 year old boy would
be. How could they expect me to shovel the driveway…on a Saturday of all days? I know what most of you are probably
thinking. “Oh the horror. That’s child abuse.” Exactly my sentiments.
I reluctantly and angrily began to shovel the driveway, muttering more than a few choice words under my breath. After almost a whole hour of shoveling (or so it seemed…it was probably more like 20 minutes but who is keeping track of such minor details) I had but a small area of snow left just under our old yellow Subaru, which was parked in front of our garage, so I ran up to my dad’s dresser to retrieve the keys so I could move the car. The yellow Subaru had a manual transmission (for those of you who are too young to have heard of such a thing, it means it had a stick shift and a clutch, which were very tricky to operate, especially for a 13 year-old kid). Still quite peeved at my parents for ruining my perfectly wonderful Saturday morning, I placed the key into the ignition and turned the key while flooring the gas, without first engaging the clutch. You see, cars back then worked differently than they do now. They didn’t have all the latest fancy safety measures and automatic crap that keep folks today from getting whiplash every time they turn the key. It took real skill to drive a car…skill that I certainly didn’t have. So as I stepped on the gas you can probably guess what happened. The car totally lunged forward into the closed garage door – a door that had been freshly painted just the summer before!
You know how people talk about near death experiences, the ones where everything moves in slow motion while their lives flash before their eyes? That’s exactly what happened to me. I actually saw my life flashing before me on the panels of the falling garage door. You see, the laws of physics tell us that a moving object (such as a car), when coming into contact with a stationary object (such as a garage door) will move that stationary object (garage door) if the mass of the moving object (car) is bigger and has enough force behind it (floored accelerator pedal) than the stationary object (garage door). Please don’t ask me exactly what law of physics this is, because at that point I neither knew nor cared to know. I just knew it existed because I was witnessing, first hand, the law in action.
As I sat in the stalled car, which was now conveniently parked halfway into my parents’ garage, (notice how I identified ownership of the garage? This will become important for obvious reasons later) a simple thought crossed my mind. That thought was of course, “I’m dead,” since it was my parents’ garage (see now why I needed to point out the ownership?). Not knowing where the rest of my family had gone or when any of them would be back, I scrambled faster than any 13 year-old boy ever has to fix the garage door. It didn’t matter that the railing and lag bolts had been ripped from the walls or that the individually crafted panels of the garage door laid crumpled like an accordion on the garage floor. I had one task and one task only, and it was to save my own life by repairing the damage before any witnesses (brothers or sisters) could see what had happened and report back to my parents.
I really don’t know how I did it, but to this day I can faintly remember hearing a choir of angels singing and a surge of strength that could only have been sent from above. I can attest that it wasn’t my time to die that day. Somehow with powers beyond my own I was able to lift the garage door back up and reset the lag bolts into the wall. And after patching the half inch gap that now stood between the garage door and wall with one inch weather stripping - not to mention ignoring a rather large dent in the center of the door where the bumper of the car first initiated the contact - the garage door was as good as new. In fact nobody even realized anything had ever happened to it. It wasn’t until 20 years later that I actually had the courage to tell my parents what had happened that fateful Saturday morning. I never technically lied about the garage door, but I certainly didn’t ever tell anyone the truth. In fact, when I finally did muster up the courage to tell my parents about what happened to the garage, it was only because I figured my statute of limitations had expired. How’s that for honesty?
I reluctantly and angrily began to shovel the driveway, muttering more than a few choice words under my breath. After almost a whole hour of shoveling (or so it seemed…it was probably more like 20 minutes but who is keeping track of such minor details) I had but a small area of snow left just under our old yellow Subaru, which was parked in front of our garage, so I ran up to my dad’s dresser to retrieve the keys so I could move the car. The yellow Subaru had a manual transmission (for those of you who are too young to have heard of such a thing, it means it had a stick shift and a clutch, which were very tricky to operate, especially for a 13 year-old kid). Still quite peeved at my parents for ruining my perfectly wonderful Saturday morning, I placed the key into the ignition and turned the key while flooring the gas, without first engaging the clutch. You see, cars back then worked differently than they do now. They didn’t have all the latest fancy safety measures and automatic crap that keep folks today from getting whiplash every time they turn the key. It took real skill to drive a car…skill that I certainly didn’t have. So as I stepped on the gas you can probably guess what happened. The car totally lunged forward into the closed garage door – a door that had been freshly painted just the summer before!
You know how people talk about near death experiences, the ones where everything moves in slow motion while their lives flash before their eyes? That’s exactly what happened to me. I actually saw my life flashing before me on the panels of the falling garage door. You see, the laws of physics tell us that a moving object (such as a car), when coming into contact with a stationary object (such as a garage door) will move that stationary object (garage door) if the mass of the moving object (car) is bigger and has enough force behind it (floored accelerator pedal) than the stationary object (garage door). Please don’t ask me exactly what law of physics this is, because at that point I neither knew nor cared to know. I just knew it existed because I was witnessing, first hand, the law in action.
As I sat in the stalled car, which was now conveniently parked halfway into my parents’ garage, (notice how I identified ownership of the garage? This will become important for obvious reasons later) a simple thought crossed my mind. That thought was of course, “I’m dead,” since it was my parents’ garage (see now why I needed to point out the ownership?). Not knowing where the rest of my family had gone or when any of them would be back, I scrambled faster than any 13 year-old boy ever has to fix the garage door. It didn’t matter that the railing and lag bolts had been ripped from the walls or that the individually crafted panels of the garage door laid crumpled like an accordion on the garage floor. I had one task and one task only, and it was to save my own life by repairing the damage before any witnesses (brothers or sisters) could see what had happened and report back to my parents.
I really don’t know how I did it, but to this day I can faintly remember hearing a choir of angels singing and a surge of strength that could only have been sent from above. I can attest that it wasn’t my time to die that day. Somehow with powers beyond my own I was able to lift the garage door back up and reset the lag bolts into the wall. And after patching the half inch gap that now stood between the garage door and wall with one inch weather stripping - not to mention ignoring a rather large dent in the center of the door where the bumper of the car first initiated the contact - the garage door was as good as new. In fact nobody even realized anything had ever happened to it. It wasn’t until 20 years later that I actually had the courage to tell my parents what had happened that fateful Saturday morning. I never technically lied about the garage door, but I certainly didn’t ever tell anyone the truth. In fact, when I finally did muster up the courage to tell my parents about what happened to the garage, it was only because I figured my statute of limitations had expired. How’s that for honesty?
Tantrum Time
I really hate it when my kids throw a tantrum in a public place. They're smart and know they got me because it's a public place where other people are around and watching. I'm in their territory. The only thing I hate even more then a child throwing a tantrum is when someone approaches you with advice on how to handle the situation. Like I'm doing something wrong. Like the tantrum is somehow my fault. Yea, it's my fault, I didn't give in and give my child the damn candy bar she wanted because I didn't want her to ruin her appetite for dinner and have her mom mad at me. I'm not ruining my chance at some snookie later over a candy bar.
Next time someone approaches me with parental advice about a screaming kid I think I'm going to say, "Look buddy, I might not be able to smack my kid right now but there's nothing stopping me from smacking you across the head right now. So back off." That would actually feel pretty good.
Next time someone approaches me with parental advice about a screaming kid I think I'm going to say, "Look buddy, I might not be able to smack my kid right now but there's nothing stopping me from smacking you across the head right now. So back off." That would actually feel pretty good.
Happy Mothers Day
When I was in the eighth grade there was this girl I sort of had a crush on, who told me that I had the longest and prettiest eye lashes she'd ever seen. It was during our social studies class and she told me this while the teacher was talking and we both should have been listening (I know we were being naughty).
The word “pretty” is not something you should ever say to a boy at that age, not at least when describing something about them. Needless to say that night I used a tiny pair of scissors I had found in my mother’s makeup kit to cut off my eye lashes...completely…they were gone, nothing but nubs. The next day the girl obviously noticed and asked me if I had cut my eye lashes off. To which I lied and said no. Who was I trying to kid. What I had done was not only obvious but also pretty stupid.
The point is, girls make boys do silly things in life. Which is exactly why I blame everything stupid I do today, on my wife. You see, it's her fault. She is an amazing, accomplished, highly intelligent, and beautiful woman in which who's presence I do stupid things. I'm so in love with her that my mind is unable to focus on much else and I become unfocused and unreasoning moron. I lose my better judgment around her, resulting in a blubbering and bumbling idiot. Happy Mother's Day honey, I love you. And a happy Mother's Day to all the amazing women out there, mothers or not, you make the world a much stupider place (and yes I realize stupider is not a word…blame my wife for me using it.)
The word “pretty” is not something you should ever say to a boy at that age, not at least when describing something about them. Needless to say that night I used a tiny pair of scissors I had found in my mother’s makeup kit to cut off my eye lashes...completely…they were gone, nothing but nubs. The next day the girl obviously noticed and asked me if I had cut my eye lashes off. To which I lied and said no. Who was I trying to kid. What I had done was not only obvious but also pretty stupid.
The point is, girls make boys do silly things in life. Which is exactly why I blame everything stupid I do today, on my wife. You see, it's her fault. She is an amazing, accomplished, highly intelligent, and beautiful woman in which who's presence I do stupid things. I'm so in love with her that my mind is unable to focus on much else and I become unfocused and unreasoning moron. I lose my better judgment around her, resulting in a blubbering and bumbling idiot. Happy Mother's Day honey, I love you. And a happy Mother's Day to all the amazing women out there, mothers or not, you make the world a much stupider place (and yes I realize stupider is not a word…blame my wife for me using it.)
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