Saturnalia, Christmas, Kwanzaa, etc.

Morticia Adams, Lilly Munster,....Siouxsie

I just hung up the phone here at my desk. It was my wife calling me. I have come to expect a great number of various topics to come up when she calls me at work anymore. Ever since she has been doing her internship as a Funeral Director, there have been many. Some of them, I must admit, I believe my imagined picture is far worse than the reality of what her anecdotes must have really been like to view. But I digress.
Today I answered the phone in the most normal of fashions and upon my final word looked at the caller ID on the phone to see it was Siouxsie. The first words out of her mouth were:

I Drove The Hearse!

I immediately felt very excited for her. She told me all about the experience in trying to adjust the seat correctly, and the "Hearse Cam" (which sounds like a rear view cam only with a whole lot more angles). The driving on the highway and then having to drive the Pastor home.
But what I just realized is that my wife, the woman I look at and think naughty thoughts of, the woman who will one day - most assuredly - end up going to a take your parents to school day, works with dead people and funerals. And I am totally okay with, and interested in these moments. The thought of the emotional bereaved, or the icky dead body, don't phase me. Except when she brings it up during a meal, or when she comes home smelling like Formalin. I guess I will just be the one to take our daughter in for bring your kids to work day. At least until she is a teenager and can brag about going to the funeral home morgue for the day!

Shane Ott Benefit Concert

I Guess You Really Can Milk Anything With Nipples!

Proof of God?

Christmas Post.....?

As I spoke to the most beautiful woman in the world the other night, who I am lucky enough to be married to, I was made aware that I have neglected posting anything for quite while. Apparently she checks all the time. Below are some direct quotes and phrases uttered by someone I know. Names and associations have been left out for security reasons.

“How do you spell dull? As in dull moment.” D-o-a-a-l?

“I’m Gain for anything.”

“How do you spell smother?” S-u-m-v-e-r?

“I get the JUST of it.”

“I did a shlue of chores yesterday.”

My personal favorite from today:

“Well, you know there is this fruit called Marzipan. Yeah, it tastes like coconut.”


Conversation about a friend's (fictitious) girlfriend:

Glynn: “Well, he’s prolly getting more poontang than I am!!!”
ME: “You could probably get more than him if you tried.”
Glynn: “Well, I am still legally married, and I won’t do that.”
Me: “…..You know that poontang specifically refers to vagina, right?”
Glynn: “No it doesn’t! One of my girlfriends used to say that she was going to go out and get some poontang. She wasn’t gay!”
Me: “Did you ever see her with a steady boyfriend?”
Glynn: “No, but that doesn’t mean anything.”
Me: “Is she married?”
Glynn: “No, but that doesn’t mean anything. When Mr. X and me used to get it on I used to say that I got some poontang over the weekend, and nobody ever looked at me funny for it.”
Me: “Maybe you’re right…I’m probably confused about what it means…”

This is but a small sampling of what I deal with. It is a true wonder of the world that she does not have to wear a drool bib, and velcro closure shoes by court order. I often wonder if she has to stop to ask directions every day when she pull out of her driveway.

So here's to you! I could certainly live without you...although it wouldn't be as entertaining.

To my lovely daughter. You have been the source and cause of so much joy in my life. I love you with all of my heart. You are able to take a total shit day and make it all better the minute I walk in the door and see your beaming smile! My favorite development of late is how you dropped the "F"-Bomb on me the other day. And the scary thing about it is that you were not even doing so by immediately parroting. You also happened to use it at the most appropriate time. We were wresting around and you accidentally (I would like to check with the third man in the ring on that one by the way.) headbutted me in the nose. I pulled back and said Aaaawwwh as I moaned out in pain. You then immediately placed your perfect little hand on the spot on your forehead that clashed with my proboscis, and said quite clearly "Futch". I called your mother to tell her the story and as I relayed the word you uttered, you looked up with a sparkling mouth full of teeth and said "Futch" in a very matter of fact tone.

I look forward to the coming days when the stress dies down and we are able to enjoy you and your actions during the holidays. You have played your mother and I like a Stradivarius, so I am quite confident that you will be getting every little item that you have eyed up along the way as well as a few that you may not have known existed. I love you so very much my little munchkin!

Moving on to the aforementioned most beautiful woman in the world. I know that you feel that these are just words, but I have said it many times. If you could only see yourself through my eyes for five minutes, you would truly understand. You make my everyday worth facing. You also have the ability to make the worst of days the best of days with a side eyed smile. You shoot down my corniest of jokes with mighty "Boos", but I know that there is a part of you that is laughing a little bit.

It has been six years full of everything from death to life. The wondrous throws of passion and drinking. Moments of "Are you looking that way?...Well keep looking that way!" Mornings when I was shocked you were able to drive home from The "Share" only to find out that you were thinking the same thing. Never really knowing how it happened. To the wonderful life of not drinking, let's schedule some time for that later this week, and discussing the latest episode of Sesame Street.

I honestly would not be the man I am today without you. You make me want to be a better me! We are far from perfect, but we are more perfect that any other couple I know of. I am grateful for everyday with you, even if it does not seem that way sometimes. We are not the easiest of people to deal with all the time, I know I can be a pain in the ass. Don't think for a minute that you are exempt. But at least we "Subscribe to our own brand of humor." That sometimes is enough for us.

You are my heart, my love, my life. Thank you for being you and loving me in all the ways that you do!

P.S. - I cannot wait to give you your Christmas present!!!

Office Terrorism

Lost somewhere between lunch and getting home to dinner these drones make their way, en mass, to the pantry to microwave their little bags of popcorn goodness. But most of them failed "following directions 101" and do not read the bag where is says "Listen for popping to slow to 1-2 second between pops" indicating that their sack of hot munchies is properly prepared. They instead just hit the microwave industry's dirty little laugh button labeled "popcorn". This button has actually been known to make the machine 10 times as powerful as the owners manual would have you believe it could be. Yet, time after time, they saunter up and put their bag in, hit the popcorn button and walk away awaiting a beep. Which no doubt has to some degree burned their popcorn. Forcing me to smell it for the next hour or so. Anyone who works in an office knows the 3 o'clock carnival smell and how it can be downright annoying.

Today I have successfully exacted my revenge upon all of those around me guilty of ruining my afternoon day after day by making the office smell like a second rate circus everyday.

I struck back with bad intentions. I took a bag of popcorn from the communal snack area (trough) in my group. No wonder there is a weight problem in corporate offices. I then made my way to said pantry and hit the legendary popcorn button. And when it was done I hit that button again. I could smell the nastiness even before I opened the door. I took it out and walked around the center area of our floor. Making my way over to "The Mayor's" desk. I promptly opened the bag and placed it on his desk. It was nanoseconds before he realized what I was doing. Not that The Mayor necessarily deserves this treatment, but why not, his desk is in the center of the room and perfect placement for the popcorn of vengeance.

Within a minute or two all you could hear around the office was banter about the crispified corn and how repugnant the smell was. I even received and email from Mrs. Hitachi who sits at the exact opposite corner of the room from me complaining that she has had enough of people not knowing how to operate the microwave.

I have yet to respond to her email. I figure sending this should suffice. I feel that my point was made. People may be more inclined to actually try not to burn their corn in the future. I feel that I have closed this chapter of vindictive behavior regarding these offenders. As for the innocent, well, lets just call them collateral damage. Seems to work for the government.