Tuesday, November 30, 2004

Screw It

I had a weird long holiday weekend. It wasn't a bad weekend although the universe did seem to be conspiring against me.

Thursday morning, I woke to find my computer, printer, scanner and office lamp were all dead. Upon further investigation, I discovered that my power strip had died. I could be wrong but I think that's a pretty rare occurrence. We hadn't had bad weather or anything. The damn thing just died. Fortunately, for me (not for the workers) WalMart was open and I bought a new surge protector and everything has worked fine since.

On Saturday, I decided to put up my Christmas decorations. I have a small townhouse but I have a lot of decorations so it's an all day job, especially when I stop every ten minutes to eat something, drink something or watch something on television. When I was ready to put up my tree, I noticed I only had three screws for the stand. I knew the other screw was probably somewhere in the tree but I couldn't open the tree to look for the screw without putting it in the stand. So, I left it on the floor, sat down to watch "Love Actually" (excellent if you like fairy tales, by the way) and decided to go to the hardware store Sunday to get another screw.

Sunday, besides screw shopping, I also needed to go to the drugstore to pick up a prescription (damn cholesterol) which I had called in on Friday. Since I had called it in, it would be a quick, simple transaction. I would be in and out in ten minutes max. You're way ahead of me aren't you? The girl at the counter asked to see my card and said it had to be re-entered into the system because there was a problem. After waiting about ten minutes, someone paged me over the store intercom (even though I was sitting only three feet away) to go to the prescription drop-off window. When I got to the window, the woman there told me I had been terminated. I told her that I was, in fact, not terminated but I could tell by her expression that she didn't care and/or didn't believe me. Crap! I would deal with that at work Monday.

Off to the hardware store to buy a screw for my Christmas tree stand. At the first hardware store, I handed the screw to a helpful man who showed the screw to a not-so-helpful man who didn't even look at me and just told helpful man that he didn't have a screw to match. In a hardware store with six bazillion screws, he knew within one second that he couldn't match my screw. I was impressed. I had met the Rain Man of screws.

Well, screw him, says I, and I moved on to the next hardware store. At this store, I met a very nice guy who found exactly what I needed right away. When I got home, I threw the screws on the floor (I bought extra) and began to assemble my tree stand. Guess what. The stand only uses three screws. I was a screw short alright...in my head.

I got my insurance problem straightened out but the tree is still laying on the floor in my living room taunting me. I'm sure I'll decorate it someday but for now, I need to eat something or drink something or watch something on television.


I took the Miller Lite Challenge. I don't like beer so I told them I really couldn't be a reliable judge but they gave me a Miller drinking glove and a Miller sweat band (which I used as a Coozie, clever me) and they took my picture anyway. Quite glamorous, no?

Posted by Hello

Monday, November 29, 2004

Old (Oh-My-God) Navy

I'll say this for Old Navy, they are at least consistent in their infliction of truly horrible commercials on the television viewing public. Just when I thought they could not possibly make a more disturbing commercial than the one from last Christmas with George and Weesie, they give us this year's Christmas offering.

It's the usual nightmare inducing noise and visuals with the added twist of being just like a real nightmare. If it were my nightmare, it would end with those wretched singers (and I use the term lightly) beating each other to death with their performance fleece and half-zip pullovers while Morgan Fairchild sobs uncontrollably in the corner.

In Laurie's Brain: New Denny's Slogans

After watching a Denny's commercial for the twentieth time tonight, I noticed their slogan: "Denny's... A Good Place to Sit and Eat." My question is what slogans did they turn down before they decided on this klinker?

"Denny's...Impress Your Date...Buy a LARGE Orange Juice"

"Denny's...Like Home Cooking...If Your Mother Was a Lousy Cook"

"Denny's...Not So Bad...If You're Drunk"

"Denny's...Almost Never a Hair In Your Eggs"

Sunday, November 28, 2004

Blast from the Past

In the mid-80's I wrote a newsletter for the law firm I worked for at the time. I've received phone calls and e-mails from some of the people I worked with back then letting me know that they enjoy the blog because it reminds them of when we all worked together.

After a massive search, I finally found copies of the newsletters. It was fun reading the names of all the people I knew so long ago but it put a strain on my brain trying to pull some of the faces from long dormant portions of my memory bank. No matter how hard I try, I still can't picture some of the people I wrote about all those years ago.

In the old days, children, when a person wanted to share a joke or a humorous story with their co-workers, it had to be typed, printed, covertly copied on the company copier and discreetly distributed to only those you could trust not to rat you out to management for frivolous use of office supplies.

From time to time, I will resurrect some of the things I wrote in the newletters but for now, the following is something I found amongst my old papers which was apparently covertly copied and discreetly distributed. I still think it's funny.
We have not succeeded in answering all your problems. The answers we have found only serve to raise a whole set of new questions. In some ways we feel we are as confused as ever, but we believe we are confused on a higher level and about more important things.

Saturday, November 27, 2004

Is It Too Early to Go Back to Bed?

We went out again last night. I got in at 3:00 a.m. and woke up at 9:00 a.m. It's now 9:30 a.m. and I'm wondering if it's too early to go back to bed. I think I've given this whole awake thing enough of a chance. It's not all it's cracked up to be. While I'm up, though, I might as well give you an account of our evening.

My brother-in-law's brother Mike is in town from Pensacola. We're all in our late 30's to late 40's age-wise but we don't look it. Check out the 11/7 - 11/19 archives for New Orleans pictures if you don't believe me. You would think that all the years of late nights, drinking and smoking would have had the opposite effect. However, we look pretty good for a bunch of old geezers. Yes, we take our vanity quite seriously.

While we might still look pretty good facially, our bodies have other ideas. My sister, Terry, has to have foot surgery next week and Mike came to town with a 23 year-old girlfriend and bursitis in his elbow. We liked the girlfriend but the elbow looked like an uncircumcised penis and he kept making people touch it. I would say it felt like an uncircumcised penis but I've never felt one so I can't be sure. If you've seen Popeye's elbows, you have a pretty good idea of what Mike's right elbow looked like.

We played some pool at the Star Bar then went to the Black Cat to see Anna and Radi, our Bulgarian friends (see 10/17 - 10/23 archives "Learning Bulgarian"). Anna has moved to California and was in town for the holiday with her new hunka hunka burnin' love German boyfriend. We were quite international last night.

When we were leaving at around 2:00 a.m., Terry thought she lost her wallet and Melissa thought she lost some money. Terry found her wallet and I found Melissa's money (in her purse) and we followed the bouncers out as they were kicking out some hoochie's so we could watch the action. However, no action ensued, and some our our little group went to Waffle House while I wussed out and came home to my big warm bed.

Oh yeah. My big warm bed. That's where I was going. Goodnight (morning).

Friday, November 26, 2004

Confessions of a Blog Explosion Addict

Note from Laurie: This is longer than I intended, if you're a blogger, please try to make it to the end. If you're family and friends dropping by, you will think (as if you didn't already know), that I've gone hopelessly insane, and you can skip this one.

I created my blog just two months ago but it seems so much longer. In the beginning, I was writing just to write and realized I had more crap in my head begging to be put "on paper" than I could have imagined. Within a very short time, it occurred to me that my loyal audience consisted of family and friends who heaped praise upon me for my works of semi-genius.

Being aware that they were somewhat impartial, I ventured out of the security of my little cocoon to see what strangers thought of my writing. Writing is a strange and lonely business. When I write something, it sounds good to me at first, then after reading and editing it a few (hundred) times, I find it neither funny nor amusing but I hit the "publish" key anyway and hope for kindness and understanding from my readers. Please be gentle.

Soon after beginning my blog I discovered Blog Explosion by surfing through Blogger. I also put a "Stat Counter" on my blog at around the same time. In the beginning, I would surf the other blogs on Blog Explosion for the required thirty seconds to gain credits and readership. Then, I discovered banners! Wow, "readership" was up! My addiction grew. I had my blog reviewed at Weblog Review and got a good review. A monster had been born. I would look at my stat counter and find that people from all over the world were stopping by. I was a superstar!

After closer review of my stat counter, however, I realized that people were cruising through my blog quicker than shit through a goose. What the hell? In my maniacal zeal to acquire adoring fans, I decided I would buy credits. My statistics skyrocketed to the moon, sort of. Oh, happy day! But, it was an empty satisfaction.

I strongly believe in fate and karma and, while the bought credits looked good on my stat counter, they felt wrong. I had interrupted the natural order and randomness of people stumbling upon my blog when it was supposed to happen.

Therefore, I will buy no more credits. I do like the banners because I can be creative with them so I will continue to do that. And, now that I've gotten over myself, I have discovered something else. I love surfing other member's blogs. I no longer do it for the credits as I had selfishly been doing in the beginning. I truly enjoy it for the simple pleasure of seeing into other people's heads. It took me a while to get there, but I think I've accidentally stumbled upon the real beauty of Blog Explosion...reading other people's blogs. Imagine that.

Sorry, this was much longer than I intended. If you made it through to the end, thanks, and come back and see me sometime.

What did she say?

When I first graduated from high school, I worked for an ophthalmologist. The nurse in the office was a high strung, highly stressed single mother of four and grandmother of two. She was angry (most of the time), cranky (all of the time) and she was hilarious and great fun to work with.

I ran into her several years ago at the airport in Las Vegas, of all places, after not seeing her for at least ten years. She had remarried and was living in a tiny town in Louisiana. She was happy and looked great. These were some of her favorite sayings (usually said about the patients):
  • He'd bitch if you hung him with a new rope
  • He's not worth the pound of lead it would take to blow his brains out
  • Well, she can just get glad in the same shoes she got mad in
  • It's colder than a well digger's butt in Montana out there

Sears and K-Mart

I just heard that Sears and K-Mart are merging or one is buying the other or something. I wasn't really paying attention.

This will save me a lot of time since I never shopped at either of them, I can now not shop at either of them at the same time.

Thursday, November 25, 2004

I Have to Cook Yams Tomorrow!

Oh God! It's 1:00 a.m. and I have to cook yams tomorrow. Let me start out by saying, that I had no intention of going out tonight. I was perfectly content to put on my pajamas and sit on the couch and watch the "Ghost Hunters" marathon. However, my sister, Terry, called and I was coerced into making the trek downtown for the Thanksgiving Eve festivities. For the cost of one canned good (I brought Trappey's Jalapeno Pinto Beans) you were admitted to all venues.

I made the most of my can of beans and went into every club on Crockett Street. Unfortunately, everyone over the age of 25 was smarter than me and had stayed home (in anticipation of cooking yams, no doubt). Nonetheless, we heard some great music by Sheila Marshall at the Star Bar and Vallejo at Antone's.

I ran into one of my favorite people in the world at Antones, Andrea, a former co-worker. She said she loves my blog. Yeah me!

When I got into my car to drive home, "Back in Black" was playing. Now, that's a good way to end the night. The best tribute band I've ever seen is called "Hell's Bells" and they are, obviously, an AC/DC tribute band. When I Googled "Hell's Bells", I found out that there is a female AC/DC tribute band called "Hell's Belles". I would love to see THAT!

I'm going to bed now. I have that yam thing tomorrow morning.

Tuesday, November 23, 2004

Do You Think This is Funny?

Carly called me after she got back from lunch today and we had the following conversation:

“I need to ask you if something is funny,” Carly said.

“Brnfh?” I asked (I was eating popcorn).

“Well,” Carly continued, “I saw something on my way back from lunch and I don’t know if it’s funny or not.”

“I’m sure I’ll think it’s funny but you really can’t go by me.” I said, “I pretty much think everything is funny.”

“That’s why I called you,” she said.

“What did you see?” I asked.

“I saw a Federal Express truck in front of a funeral home.”

I had to agree that it was pretty damn funny. I said, “Yep. That’s funny alright.”

Carly said, “I mean, what were they delivering?”

“Or picking up,” I added.

“Could someone not afford the usual mode of transport or what?” Carly asked.

I snickered and said, “Yeah, it’s probably a pretty narrow spectrum of funny, but it’s funny.”

“That’s what I thought, too. Bye.”


Five minutes of my day well spent.

Guest Writer

Our guest writer this evening is Davie with a hilarious story about a guy she once dated. The title of the story is "The Chikin Eeter" and it's in the guest area.

Monday, November 22, 2004

Blog Post From the Edge

The law firm where I work has an in-house computer tech who does a great job. On occasion, an equipment malfunction will occur so enormous, so cataclysmic, so disastrous, that the "big dogs" are called in. Today, that malfunction happened to me or, more precisely, to my printer.

I have the kind of job that requires me to work with my computer from the moment I sit at my desk to the moment I leave for the day. There is no wiggle room for screwing off. Of course, I do screw off, but then I have to bust my ass to make up for the ground I've lost. When I say "screw off", I'm talking about five or ten minutes gossiping here and there during the day or watching the coffee brew or making a hat out of a Federal Express envelope and walking around my side of the office with a golf umbrella slaying the demons of fax-induced madness.

The "big dog" computer techs made the mistake of sending out "New Guy" to work on my printer. I am a tech guy's dream customer, if he knows what he's doing. I will sit there and type anything he wants me to type, over and over and over again. I will give him my chair. I will answer his questions, but I want results and I want them yesterday. This guy worked on my printer for two hours as I watched the faxes and e-mails and deliveries take over my office like kudzu. With every tickin' frickin' second, I was getting more and more behind.

I am cooperative and patient with the computer guys because theirs is a thankless job. However, I will turn on them like Roy Horn's house cat when they piss me off. When this guy declared the printer exorcised of all demons, I told him that it was, in fact, not fixed because my print jobs were coming out on yellow paper rather than white paper.

He actually looked me in the eye and said there was yellow paper in both paper trays. I was incredulous. This yahoo walked into my office for the first time, today. I've been here five years. I know what color paper is in the freakin' paper trays, you dipshit. I tried to remain calm as I explained that there was white paper in one tray and yellow paper in the other tray when I really wanted to say, "Why the f*** would I put yellow paper in both trays, you dick face?"

So, he gets on the phone to double check me with someone. At this point, I could feel myself becoming Courtney Love's evil twin, only meaner. He turns to me, with the phone still on his ear, and says, "You have to choose Tray 2 when you send a print job if you want it to print on white." I told him, evidently louder than I intended because people several offices down prairie dogged out of their doors to see what was going on, that "MY PRINTER IS SUPPOSED TO BE SET TO DEFAULT TO THE WHITE PAPER TRAY!"

It must have been something in the way I expressed my printing needs that convinced him that, indeed, his work was not yet done here. He once again went from my office to printer to computer room and back again several times with the phone to his ear until, finally, finally, everything worked correctly and all was right in my tiny universe.

If I go in tomorrow morning and my printer isn't working, I'm kidnapping the Fed Ex guy and going to Mexico. Forward my mail to Courtney Love.

Sunday, November 21, 2004

Lazy is as Lazy Does

There was a day, not so long ago, when I was famous for my homemade cookies. You know the ones I'm talking about. I would make those fantastically delicious cookies that I paid $200 to Neiman Marcus for the recipe. Yes, all you doubters, it is true that I can cook. I actually cook very well. I just choose not to. Lazy!

I have become so lazy that someone at the office was selling pre-made cookie dough. A year ago, I thought this was a great idea. However, now I don't even want to scoop the dough. No, that's way too much trouble. I want to do no more than break apart pre-made, pre-scooped cookie dough.

I put gas in my car the other day at a pay-at-the-pump station and the display asked me before I pumped if I wanted a receipt. I chose "yes" because, without a receipt, five seconds after I leave the gas station I will forget I was there and not charge myself for the gas.

When my tank was full, I replaced the nozzle and waited for my receipt. However, the display which usually is trying to convince me that I really do need a 64 oz. Bladder Buster soft drink, was telling me I needed to go inside to get my receipt.

Are they insane?! What is this, 2002? Who goes inside a gas station unless you need "Mini-Thins" or beer? Walk twenty feet and stand in line to pay for gas? I'm no peasant. I have a debit card, by God, and I use it.

So, I left without my receipt and...crap.

Cock Fight

Andrew, honey, I hate to bring this up but I know you check in here from time to time to see how we're doing here in Beaumont without you (our lives go on), but, I'm wondering if you were at the University of South Carolina game when the broo-ha-ha broke out.

After the Indiana and Detroit fiasco, I'm wondering if sombody is spiking the steroid cocktails that absolutely none of these athletes and/or fans are actually really not taking.

Go, Cocks!

Boob Job

A friend of mine (I'll call her Raquel) related this story to me of a conversation she had with another friend of ours (I'll call her Dolly) who is contemplating a boob job. Her friend and I are about the same age. Boob jobs for baby boomers are of a different type than those of the younger generation. We don't necessarily need more volume. We just need what we have redistributed a little further north of our equators.

The conversation went something like this:

"How much does a surgery like that cost?" Raquel asked.

"Around $3,000.00," Dolly responded.

"Do you have that much money?" Raquel asked, undeterred by the obvious inappropriateness of the question.

Dolly said, "Well, I thought it was going to cost twice that much. So, it really doesn't sound like so much to me. Hell, I could just start hoarding all the loose change my husband leaves lying around the house and I would have the money in no time."

She added, "I could put it in the...I could keep it in a...I could start a TITTIE KITTY!"

After she has enough money in her "titty kitty," I wonder if she'll start a "pick up my ass stash."

Dear Abbie Normal,

Note from Laurie: The following Abbie Normal letter is (obviously) not from Marvin. However, Marvin, couldn't resist responding to her dilemma. We're still working on a name for Marvin's advice personna but, for now, I have created a suitable temporary pseudonym.

Dear Abbie Normal:

Well it's that time of year again. The time for a wonderful and warm gathering with the family to indulge in a Thanksgiving feast. However, I have an idea for an alternate plan this year. You see, Abby, I have a fifteen-year-old who lives with me and is somewhat of a prude who believes that her mother has had sex only twice in her lifetime. Once when I conceived her sister and the second time when I conceived her. I have decided after much thought and ponderance that I would forsake the holidays with the Addams Family this year and spend some quality time alone getting to know myself and catching up on some much needed apartment organizing.

I recently found out that one of the biggest nights to go out and socialize is the Wednesday night before Thanksgiving. In gaining that information, it came to mind that I might have a possibility of getting laid. I would truly give thanks for that as it has been some time since I have had drunken monkey sex. I was wondering, do you think if I put on my new black $300.00 outfit which consists of a tight furry sweater and tight black pants with silver buttons down the side of the legs and go down to Crockett Street, that I might have a possibility of meeting someone who could assist me with my dilema?

Or should I just stay home and really get to know myself better? I um, feel, uh, like I know myself extremely well.


Grace Slick's Twin Sister (of different mothers)

Dear Grace Slick’s Twin:

Since you and your (white?) "rabbit” have probably had enough practice “getting to know yourself”, you are probably ready for the real thing. Use protection, clean up after yourself and, as Luke Skywalker would say, may the sexual force be with you.

Abbie Normal

Dear "Grace":

I hear you're looking go out next week, maybe fill a void in your life. (I love that pun).

From the cheap seats of the peanut gallery, I offer these words...

Tears are running down and down and down your breast

And your friends, baby they treat you like a guest
Don't you want somebody to love, don't you...
Need somebody to love, wouldn't you...
Love somebody to love, you better...
Find somebody to looooooooooooooooooove.

Yours truly,

Teddy Testosterone

Guest Writer

Our most recent guest contributor is Tracey. Tracey and Marvin have a son and two daughters and she writes about Marvin and Ryan winning the Lad and Dad Boy Scout cake baking contest. A proud moment for the family with an interesting revelation by Marvin regarding his progressive family.

Friday, November 19, 2004

Regarding Abbie Normal

All Abbie Normal answers are products of my twisted mind. The questions are mostly from Marvin (Tracey's husband) but I'm beginning to get questions from other people. If you leave a question in my comments, Abby will be happy to answer.

Dear Abbie Normal:

Bill Clinton opened his library this week, complete with an exact full-size replica of the Oval Office. Honest, carpet stains and all.

My question is do you think they set up a cigar stand in the gift shop?

I Am Curious Fellow

Dear Curious Fellow,
Yes. The cigars are located beside the beret's in the "Head" shop.
Abbie Normal

Thursday, November 18, 2004

Dear Abbie Normal,

I am troubled by the tenor of the broadcast networks these days. First it was Janet Jackson's appearance at the Super Bowl- and what a flop that was. Then NASCAR fined it's drivers for using words like 'possum drops' over the air. Now, I think it's gone too far. Monday Night Football raised a stink when Nicolette Sheridan of 'Desperate Housewives' disrobed and jumped into the arms of a black football player in a promotional spot prior to the most recent game.

Is that not hypocrisy at it's best? We just went through an exhaustive presidential election. For two years the airwaves hammered us again and again with the travails of Dick, Bush and two Johns. I'm so confused...

Confused and Possibly Disgusted

Dear Confused and Possibly Disgusted:
I understand your despair. Let us not forget that our Colin has also been constantly probed for the past four years.
Abbie Normal

Bad Day

Poor Jen was having a bad day today. She had one disaster after the other. She decided she would answer the phone the rest of the day as follows:

“Hello, this is Jen. What may I f*** up for you today?”

Making Out with Ben Affleck

Last night, I dreamed about Ben Affleck. We were making out in the back seat of a car and we just kissed and kissed and kissed. Then I woke up. So, all we did was kiss (dammit). I'm sure he had the same dream and is wondering who that great kisser in his dream was last night. At least he should have had the same dream if that crap I bought at Marie Laveau's is worth a damn.

Look out George Clooney and Jude Law. You're next.

Wednesday, November 17, 2004

Another Guest Writer Contribution

We have another guest writer contribution. Our subject this evening is "Smothered in Love: When Guys Get Too Clingy." It's entertaining and informative reading.

I put a link to my guest writers in the left column under "Fellow Bloggers." Enjoy.

More "Abbie Normal" Advice

Another co-worker has a question for "Abbie Normal"

Dear Abbie Normal:

My last boyfriend accused me of being clingy. I just don’t understand! All I want is to be with him. I want him call me all day and be the most important thing in his life. I know he has to work, but what’s 15 minutes every hour for him to call me! I only expect 22 text messages a day and an e-mail every now and then. Does he not understand commitment? I mean we just met 4 days ago, but it was love at first sight.

I called his mother’s phone number yesterday to inform her of the upcoming nuptials. Can you believe she didn’t even know about me?! My boyfriend was angry that I called, but I explained that it was true love and he shouldn’t worry about anything…. I would plan everything.

He just sent me an e-mail breaking up with me! Does he not understand the depth of my love? What am I going to doooooo!!!?????? He threatened a restraining order!

Should I wait for him to change his mind or take the wedding dress back? I just know he will come to his senses and realize we were meant to be together.

Love in My Eyes in Mississippi

Dear "Love in My Eyes in Mississippi"
Leave your brother alone.
Abbie Normal

*Pic* Me and Cory and Jamie went out for sushi for his birthday. Posted by Hello

Happy Birthday, Cory!

Today is my son Cory's 24th birthday. I often think back to being a young girl and talking with my friends and wondering how our lives would turn out and what our children would look like and what they would be like. Young girls do that a lot.

One day you're telling everyone you want to be a nurse or a teacher when you grow up and have seven children (all boys) and the next, your amazing son and his beautiful, equally amazing wife are sitting beside you at a Cher concert (something I never imagined all those years ago listening to "I Got You Babe") .

I could never have imagined a more wonderful son (and daughter-in-law!) in all of my daydreams. I love you, Cory. Happy Birthday.



Tuesday, November 16, 2004

The Big Mouth Trip

After a trip to New Orleans, we gather together to exchange pictures and try to recapture the parts of our memories that were mysteriously left behind in the French Quarter.

This past Friday, we combined the "Great Picture Exchange" with Steve's (my brother-in-law Dan's brother) 50th birthday party. We also watched the video of us singing "American Pie" at the Cat's Meow. It's my niece Katie's favorite song so it was my sister Terry's brilliant idea for Katie's mom and dad and aunts and uncles to get on stage and sing it. We knew it was bad while we were doing it but there's nothing like having video proof that you suck.

As we looked at the pictures from the trip, we noticed a pattern. A disturbingly high percentage of the pictures feature people with their mouths wide open. When I say wide open, I'm talking uvula shaking, tonsil exposing, TMJ inducing wideness. See for yourself...

*Pic* Steve... Posted by Hello

*Pic* Terry and Steve... Posted by Hello

*Pic* Terry... Posted by Hello

*Pic* Stu... Posted by Hello

*Pic* Mike and Steve... Posted by Hello

*Pic* Mike... Posted by Hello

*Pic* Melissa... Posted by Hello

*Pic* Jimmy... Posted by Hello

*Pic* Jamie... Posted by Hello

*Pic* Christi... Posted by Hello

Still More Marvin and Abbie Normal

Marvin continues to require advice from Abbie Normal. Since my aspiring advice columnists are still emotionally unavailable, I have once again come to his rescue.

Dear Abbie Normal:
I'm a compulsive liar but nobody believes me. Help!!!

I believe you.
Your friend in truth,

Dear Abbie Normal:
Say I take my lovely wife to Chili's for their famous babyback ribs. When the waitress brings our food, is it appropriate to say, "Wow, what a beautiful rack you're carrying."

It is indeed appropriate. Before making this adorable observation, however, be sure you are wearing stain resistant Dockers and there are clean linens for the couch.

Dear Abbie Normal:
What is the definition of spousal abuse, and just how far does it apply to justifiable homicide?

The legal definition of spousal abuse: Anything done by a husband that pisses off the wife. Conversely, short of shooting the husband or setting his bed on fire, there is no equivalent definition for spousal abuse of a husband by the wife.

Dear Abbie Normal:
If Hooters delivered, should they change their name to Knockers?

Yes. And their delivery customers would be called “second degree felony Hooter/Knocker-Stalkers.”

Dear Abbie Normals:
I work with a lady that always has one nipple hard. Not two, just one. While I'm compelled to ask what might cause this, I'm more interested in knowing the etiquette of serenading her with The Wallflowers "One Headlight" as a tribute. Thoughts?

The medical term for her condition is “Purple Nurple-itis.” Please be considerate and try not to stare. If you must stare, please close one eye.

Monday, November 15, 2004

Wrap It Up

My friend Shannon and her family are moving and she is frantically collecting boxes and packing material from the office. Today, I walked into her office and she was practically hidden by a huge stack of bubble wrap. She had gone through the CD-Rom's that law firms now use to exchange exhibits, depositions and discovery answers and removed all the packing material used to mail the CD's to us.

I looked at her and asked, "What are you doing?"

She slowly peeked over the top of her treasure trove of bubble wrap and said proudly, "I'm not as dumb as I look."

I can verify that. She's not dumb at all but she sure did look goofy behind her leaning tower of bubbles.

Journey Tribute Band Tribute

I think I've mentioned before how much I enjoy tribute bands. This weekend a Journey tribute band will be playing at Antone's. I mentioned it to one of my friends at work (Tracey) and she e-mailed her husband, Marvin, about it. Here is Marvin's response:

"Think the kids would welcome us with Open Arms if we tried to Escape for the night? Maybe we should just Keep On Runnin' if we go, because you know they'd call and we'd be asking Who's Crying Now. Of course we could go Separate Ways and you could stay home. I'll Be Alright Without You, but I would definitely come home later for some Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin' action- but we can do it Any Way You Want It.

Faithfully yours,

(Damn, couldn't work Wheel In The Sky in there anywhere. Light weight.)

More Marvin

Some of the girls in my office are considering adding an advice column to my guest area. Tracey asked Marvin for some questions to start them out. I couldn't resist responding to his first question. (The rest of the questions I will leave to the experts when they start their column.)

Marvin's Question:

Dear Abbie Normals:
If a man allergic to chocolate married a woman allergic to almonds, what would be the odds of their kids being allergic to coconuts?

My Answer:

The odds would be directly proportional to the number of days that they feel like a nut versus the number of days they don’t.

Sunday, November 14, 2004

More New Orleans Pictures

Below are more New Orleans pictures from October, 2004 and one picture of me and my brother and sisters with my dad in 1963.

*Pic* Mike and Christi, New Orleans 2004 Posted by Hello

*Pic* Laurie and Dan, New Orleans 2004 Posted by Hello

*Pic* Jamie, Cory, Steve - New Orleans, 10/04 Posted by Hello

*Pic* Jamie, Jimmy, Bonnie - New Orleans, 10/04 Posted by Hello

*Pic* Stu and Jimmy, New Orleans, 10/04 (See: Past Funny Stories - "I'll Start With a New Orleans Story") Posted by Hello

*Pic* Terry, Stuart, Laurie, Bonnie - New Orleans, 10/04 Posted by Hello

*Pic* (Front to back) Bonnie, Dad, Stuart, Laurie, Terry - February, 1963 Posted by Hello

Saturday, November 13, 2004

Send in your yogurt caps? Gross!!

Am I the only one who finds the commercials with the women licking their yogurt caps and putting them into envelopes to donate to some worthy cause disgusting?

What poor bastard got the job of opening and counting all the saliva coated yogurt caps so some "huge corporation" can donate a lousy ten cents a cap? Note to "huge corporation", forget the non-hygienic gimmick and just give up the cash.

*Pic* Dannielle, Christy and Baby Girl Posted by Hello

*Pic* Christy's baby girl Posted by Hello

*Pic* Dannielle, Christy and Cory Christmas 1981 Posted by Hello

Time Flies When You're Having Fun

My cousin Susan has two daughters, Christy and Dannielle. You might remember Susan and Dannielle from the blog article about Carlsbad Caverns ("Did You Hear That?" - Archives 10/3/04 - 10/9/04). Christy recently had a baby girl and we have just found out that Dannielle is pregnant. Dannielle, her husband and Christy's husband are all in the military and we are hoping to see them all for Christmas.

It seems like it was only yesterday that my cousins and I were taking the kids around Southeast Texas to see Christmas lights. My cousin, Dawn (Susan's sister), has a son named Brady and a daughter named Tiffany. Tiffany and my cousin Derek's (Dawn and Susan's brother) kids (Mya and Ava) came along later. But, Brady, Christy, Cory (my son), Kara (my cousin) and Dannielle were stairsteps, all born within a year of each other.

One Christmas, we piled all the kids (ages 7, 6, 5, 4, 3) into two cars to caravan to see the beautiful decorations in Nederland and Port Arthur where we lived at the time. My cousins live in Louisiana and I'm sure they have gorgeous Christmas decorations over there as well. However, as we were driving along, Christy (6 years old) proclaimed in her thick Cajun accent, "Boy, mama! These Texans sure know how to do Christmas, yes!"

We turned down one street and there was a fake Santa standing in front of his house handing out hard candy. We (stupidly) gave all the kids candy. As we pulled away from Santa, I heard gagging from the back seat and Christy yelled, "Mama! Cory's choking!" In one continuous dramatic ballet of impending doom, I stopped the car, put it in park, reached behind me, grabbed Cory (5 years old) under his armpits, pulled him upside down over the front seat and shook him (still upside down) outside my driver's side car door. Out popped the candy, Cory was replaced into the backseat and we moved on. My sister, who was driving behind us, said it was an amazing sight to see.

It's hard to believe that these kids are now adults. Dannielle was and always has been fearless. (She jumps out of planes for a living.) When she was about two, she was the slayer of bugs no matter how big or small. Christy's childhood claim to fame was catching the chicken at the "courir de Mardi Gras" in Lafayette, much to the embarrassment of Cory and Brady.

I'm sure Christy and Dannielle will both make wonderful parents. I have one important piece of advice. Don't let your kids take hard candy from a fake Santa standing in the middle of a street in Nederland, Texas, no matter how much your bratty kids beg.

Friday, November 12, 2004

Blog Notes

I've become so obsessed with this blog that sometimes, while I'm falling asleep, I'll think of something I want to write about. I grab a pen and paper out of my bedside table and write it down. There was a Seinfeld episode where he woke up from a dream and wrote some notes for a comedy bit and then couldn't read his writing. That happened to me the other night. I wrote something down and, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't read it. I finally had to throw it away because it was driving me nuts.

It might have said "maximum fish money" or "Norman fresh mange" neither of which sound particularly entertaining.

Thursday, November 11, 2004

Office Space Log - November 11, 2004

I'm one of those people who is so sensitive to antihisimines and caffeine that I can get a nice buzz from a strong cup of coffee or pass out cold from two Benadryl. Today, I was sleepy all day. Usually, just one cup of coffee in the morning is good enough to keep me perky for the rest of the day. However, today I had two cups of coffee in the morning, two glasses of iced tea at lunch, a Dr. Pepper and a fudge brownie after lunch and I was still dragging. Tracey recommended an Excedrin Migraine because of its high caffeine content. I decided "what the hell" and took the Excedrin. I kept a log to document the experiment.

Caffeine Experiment 364-BC-62(a); Subject "L-3"

Log Entry 1 - 2:30 p.m.
Subject took one Excedrin Migraine caplet.

Log Entry 2 - 3:04 p.m.
Subject is feeling ultra-alert, has created new word ("ultra-alert"), and has apparently stopped blinking.

Log Entry 3 - 3:35 p.m.
Subject is typing faster than her computer can translate the characters to the screen, misspellings are frequent and subject doesn’t give a shit.

Log Entry 4 - 4:00 p.m.
Subject having trouble concentrating and is moving rapidly from one project to the other without completing anything and once again doesn’t give a shit. Subject has taken off her "office sweater" for the first time in 3 years.

Log Entry 5 - 4:30 p.m.
Subject has begun spamming her co-workers with useless and incoherent updates about her caffeine buzz.

Log Entry 6 - 4:32 p.m.
Subject has moved from elation to nausea, her scalp is all tingly and her tongue feels furry.

Log Entry 7 - 4:44 p.m.
It’s so bright in here…and HOT!

Log Entry 8 - 4:58 p.m.
Subject Windex-ed her office neighbor’s window because it was just SO grubby.
(Note: I really did that.)

Log Entry 9 - 5:05 p.m.
Subject last seen driving out of office building parking lot like a bat out of hell.

CBS!!! What the F***?!

Last night, four minutes from the end of CSI New York, exactly at the point where all the loose ends were about to be tied up, CBS interrupted to announce that Yassar Arafat had died. The man had been sick for weeks. They couldn’t wait four more minutes?

We all know that Yassar Arafat has always been more of a liability than an asset on the stage of world politics. That being said, anyone’s passing deserves to be treated with respect. May we share a moment of silence please?

Now that that’s been taken care of, I have one thing to ask. CBS!!! What the f***?!?

Wednesday, November 10, 2004

Clean Up On Aisle 14

How many times do you walk past something on the floor before you finally stop to pick it up?

Shortly after I got to work this morning, I noticed that a leaf from the plant by the front door of the office had fallen off. I noticed it but I didn’t do anything about it. It was more of a subliminal thought as I passed it, barely registering on my there’s-crap-on-the-floor radar. However, the more times I passed it during the day, the more obvious it became, begging for my attention. Still, I didn’t bother to pick it up.

Later in the day, I noticed that someone had left a candy wrapper on the table by the elevators. Once again, I noticed it but it didn’t occur to me to pick it up and throw it away. The table with the candy wrapper is about four steps away from the plant which had discarded its lifeless leaf. Nonetheless, it still didn’t trigger my usual obsessive compulsive need to tidy up a bit.

Still later in the day, the cubicle down the hall from my office lost a piece of its rigging. I took one step past the dislocated hole plug on the floor but could no longer remain uninvolved. The squalor had now reached epidemic proportions. I replaced the hole plug, walked to the table and picked up the candy wrapper and walked the four steps to the dead plant leaf and picked it up as well.

At last, the office was safe from the evil crappity-crap demons which had possessed it. Domestic office bliss had been restored. You may praise me now.

More from my Calendar at Work

One good thing about being wrong is the joy it brings to others.


If you're having trouble finding an article you've heard about on my blog, check the archives in the left column.

Physics 101

Example of perpetual motion: my left nostril

Tuesday, November 09, 2004


I just got home from the Cher concert and it was amazing! I have definitely been neglecting my inner diva. Cher has been my idol since the 70's and I had the hair and the nose to prove it. It's time for me to play some catch up. Look out Beaumont! I wonder where I can find that outfit she wore in that sailor video.

More Guest Writers

Two of my friends had ex-girlfriend encounters on the same night and collaborated on an article in my Guest Writer blog. Go to "View Complete Profile" (left hand column) and go to the bottom of the profile page to choose the guest writer area. By the way, that's where you'll find Darlene's article, "Got Milk? Hell No!" in case you couldn't find it this morning.

Guest Writer!

We have a guest writer contribution. My co-worker, Darlene, has written about her horrifying experience this morning entitled "Got Milk? Hell no!"

Monday, November 08, 2004

Mean Girl

There is this girl in my building who I occasionally see in the mornings and we sometimes end up on the same elevator. I've seen her at least once a week for the last five years and she has never smiled, sneered or acknowledged my existence in any way. It isn't only me that she ignores. The only people I have ever seen her talk to are people who equal her in stylishness and arrogance.

If you're reading this from points north, it's probably strange to you that I would comment on this. However, here in the South, especially in Texas, we actually smile and talk to total strangers. So, someone you see several times a week, if only briefly, can be called your "elevator friend" or your "parking lot friend" or your "candy machine at break time friend" or your "smoke break friend." You might never know their name but you know their favorite candy bar or how their car got scratched or that they bring everyone in their office donuts on Friday.

One morning as I got on the elevator, "mean girl" also got on the elevator along with two "nice girls" and one "nice guy." When "mean girl" got off, one of the nice girls looked at the other nice girl and in a trembling voice tinged with old forgotten memories quietly said, "Oh my God. I knew that girl in school. She was mean." Bless her heart. She sounded like she was 13 years old again being shunned and ridiculed by the popular girls.

I looked at her and I said, "You know what? She's still mean." That made, nice girl smile.

Of course, "mean girl" might have problems that I know nothing about but, damn, for five years? And the problems dissipate when a handsome man or someone with a Gucci bag walks up? No. That chick is just mean.

Sunday, November 07, 2004

New Orleans Pictures - October 2004

The following are pictures Bonnie and I took in New Orleans in October. My brother Stuart and his wife Kim flew down from Arkansas with some friends and I apologize that I can't remember some of the names so I didn't use any of their names.

The family tree: My family: Laurie, son Cory, daughter-in-law Jamie; Sister Terry and her husband Dan; sister Bonnie; brother Stuart and his wife Kim.

Dan's family: Brother Phil and girlfriend Trish; sister Christi and husband Jim; brother Steve; brother Mike

Friends: Roger and Melissa; Wakelyn and Tobin

*Pic* Stu...Addicted to Love! Posted by Hello

*Pic* Jamie, Cory, Wakelyn, Tobin, Bonnie - Going home! Posted by Hello

*Pic* Dan, Kim, Terry Posted by Hello