Two dumb engineers talk about nothing: Those Left Behind

Note: don't forget to make a sentence out of your word verification code!

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Legend:
me
him

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I read something today that disturbed me.

What was that?

It's an old wife's tale that touching an animal baby will cause it's mother to reject it. I read that the real reason that "fact" is circulated is to keep children from handling wild animals. I feel like I've been living a lie.

So now are you going to touch as many wild animal babies as possible to catch up on all those lost years?

Yes.

Hand me that hot dog

Sometimes my engineer training has the effect of me taking things a little too literally. Case in point:

My 3 year-old brother leaves the restaurant table in order to go under it and leaves his hot dog half-eaten.

"Will you give me his hot dog, please?" asks my father.

I reach into the bun with my fingers and place it in front of him.

[beat] "Now can I have the whole plate?"

Two dumb engineers talk about nothing: Judgement Day

me him

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(walking between classes)

...the Ballrus

What?

That's your animal spirit guide, the Ballrus.

What kind of animal is that?

It's a spherical wallrus.

So is it bloated or is it compressed?

It's a perfect sphere.

But is it bloated or compressed into a perfect sphere?

Bloated I suppose...for density's sake. It can either bounce or float.

What's your animal spirit guide?

The Bearfallo. Guess what that is.

I'll guess half raccoon and half squirrel.

No! You know that's not true! It's half bear, half buffalo!

I want my spirit guide to be the Beefallo.

What is that, half cow, half buffalo? Wait, did you say beefallo or beefallo?

The second one—a beefallo couldn't be alive because beef is made of dead cows.

*laughs*

*laughs*

(And then we parted ways)

Wetjet

Aside: Don't forget to make a sentence out of your "comment verification code!"

The Swiffer WetJet is the crappiest "mop" ever invented.

"Buhhhhh...I'm the Swiffer WetJet...Duhhhhh...I convert easily sweepable dust into a gloopy mess and push it around your hardwood floors. Buhhh...I couldn't even absorb water if I wanted, so I'll leave the slop on the floor for you to pick up with paper towels.

Duhhhh!"

Deus ex machina

December 21st, 1870

Henry Tupperware walked into the dimly lit room at precisely nine o’clock in the evening.  He left his office exactly 13 minutes ago in order to arrive at the red-light district building in time for his appointment.  It was a very important appointment.

On the bed was lying the mistress of the bordello, expecting his punctual appearance.  Henry was always on time and nobody liked him due to this distinct lack of fashion.

“Do you have the document?” muffled Tupperware as he lit his pipe and waved the match to its extinction.

The mink-coated whore raised an eyebrow and gestured to her boudoir dresser, top drawer.  

He walked over, each step making two distinct knocks, and examined the drawer’s contents with gloved hands.  Nestled under the black and red silk lingerie was an envelope with the wax seal of Timothy Naughtiton, a.k.a. Butcher of the Bronx. Tupperware pocketed the envelope and spun on his heels to exit the room.

With his back to the woman and the aperture of the door framing his body, he paused.

“Mrs. Mole, your mind stinks of deception.  Now, put down the pistol and slide it on the floor over to me.”

Mrs. Mole was presently kneeling on the bed, her mink coat sliding down one shoulder.  In her shaking hands was the Alpha T6700 Laser Fusion Pistol, revision 5.6, with its reticule fixed on the back of Tupperware’s head.  Check mate, old man.

“Give it up, Tupperware.  You may be a telepath, but I know you skills terminate there.  Now, unless you want a hole in your head as large as a hole slightly smaller than the size of your head, you’ll put your hands up in the air and get on your knees.”

But Henry’s pipe was no ordinary pipe.  It was a flash bomb!  Mole was blinded by the light instantly.  Henry, on the other hand, let out a small chuckle and subsequently morphed into a pheasant and flew out of the edifice.  Streaks of laser fire followed him out of the window, but to no avail to his assailant.  

Damn, the shape shifter had eluded Mrs. Mole once again.  But she had one comfort in his disappointing escape…it was pheasant hunting season.

I have a dream

Last night I had a dream.

The dollar store was going out of business.

Everything was marked down to $0.59.

The little things

Sometimes, for lack of better things to look forward to, one must become excited about rather insigificant items.

"Oh boy, I can't wait to lather my body with Engergizing Lever 2000 in the morning instead of Spring Water Dial!"

"Mmmmm...my mouth salivates at the prospect of trying this new Vanilla Whitening Expressions toothpaste tomorrow..."

"I haven't had a hot dog for so long. That's it—I'm having a hot dog for lunch tomorrow and nobody's going to stop me! It's going to be awesome."

But alas, one must then come to terms with the fact that one has lost sleep because of the excitment over the next day's lunch entree.

Hoss

Today's Tuesday, so don't forget to leave a comment and make a sentence out of your word verification code (either letter by letter or by using the entire word). This is supposed to be a challenge, so no fair not using the code you're given! That means you, Sasha ;)

I'm a maverick.

That means I don't drive a car. I ride a hoss. It's a big brown hoss with a mane of slightly browner color. It also has my brand on its hide.

I know one usually brands cows and bulls, but I'm a maverick. I do what I want.

I ride my hoss right into class and tie it to the professor's podium. Also, I don't take notes—I whittle while smoking a Lucky Strike.

And at the end of the night I cuddle up with my Aberican Bear and fall to sleep with my player piano playing Beautiful Dreamer in the background.

Memorable misheard quotes

Brokeback Mountain

Jack Twist: "God, I wish I knew how to quit chew"

Set in a time when the harmful effects of tobacco began to be reported, Jake Gyllenhaal's character must grapple not only with the social norms of his time, but also with a 16 times greater chance of contracting oral cancer.

Ennis Del Mar: "Well, why don't you?"

In a touching but later cut out prologue, Jack Twist visits his doctor for more details about a tobacco cessation program.

Before Canker

Sometimes I think of those idyllic times before I had this canker sore in my mouth, and I cry my eyes out into my pillow. My potato pillow. Yes, I have a pillow that is textured like a potato and has sewn-in "eyes."

Those were times that I could smile without that dull pain in my lower lip. How I miss the smiling.

These days I live in the constant fear that putting in my bottom retainer will irritate the angry beast with that loopy part of the wire that goes in front of my cuspid. So I don't put it in. Oh how I miss straight bottom teeth.

I also miss being alone with my thoughts. Now they're just polluted with the hateful screeds of the telepathic canker.

When it disappears in the next couple days, I pray that I can rediscover what it's like to have a normal life. But it's possible that one can never truly get over something like this. Maybe it's really about learning to live with the emotional pain and never letting it get the best of you. Just maybe...it's about humanity.

Cigarillos

I hate the act of smoking. The haziness...the bleghiness...

But I like the smell of a raw, unmolested tobacco cigarette.

I also enjoy the smell of someone who has just come in from an outdooor cancer stick choke-down. It's like...fresh death. But in a good way. So maybe I should rephrase that...

Thinking

*nose itch*

*scratch*

Okay, whoever is thinking of me, I'm really flattered. However, could I ask you to think about me with less frequency for the time being? The havoc you are causing on my nose is too much to bear.

*scratch, scratch*

Seriously. It's an ego boost and everything, but it's just too much right now. I just cut my nails yesterday and am impotent against relieving this onslaught!

*rabbit nose*

Crack the code

Some people complain about the anti-spam code one must type in before leaving comments on Blogger, but I've always viewed it as a sort of "daily letter association puzzle."

Exercise your mind and say hi.

Meat swamp

If making liver sausage with your father doesn't turn you into a vegetarian, then I'd say that there's nothing that will. Here are some key phrases that turned up during the making-sausage-from-scratch process:

"...smells like petting zoo..."

"...looks just like pus..."

"...meat swamp..."

"...my eyes are sealed shut..."

And yet, the final product is delicious?

Yes.

An Open Memo: The Reckoning

Dear tacit tabby cat sitting in my mother's living room chair,

Boy, that chair you're on sure looks comfortable. You know, you could let someone else have a shot at that thing for once.

Your winking at me tells me that you understand, but that you are tenacious in your position as Queen of the White Overstuffed Livingroom Chair. You do realize that chair, while looking young and available to your claim whatwith its new upholstery, has been in the family for a long time, don't you?

Now could be the perfect time to rekindle your [sitting-on] relationship with the radiator.

Or, instead of sitting on the human ass-sized cushion, you could sit atop the back, like the rest of your kind. Then I could sit in it with my new Homedics Shiatsu Massage Chair pad and you can resume your all-day sleeping and bath-taking activities uninterrupted.

Good, you're nodding your head yes—oh wait, there goes the paw. You're just giving your head a bath.

Umm...okay. I'll just walk over there, now.

Regards,
Master(?) Erik

Something

Oh Lawdy, I just drove 10 hours from Pierre, SD to here, Duluth, MN.

I'm trying to think of something to write, but my mind is a total blank!

And yet, I must give you something, so... *rustles through computer files*

Umm, here we go, here's...uhhh...a report from this past semester on an optimal flyby trajectory from Earth about Venus.

Enjoy?

Aside

May I deviate from the format of this blog very briefly and just...just vent a little? Just a little venting because there's a certain bloc of people in this country that are wearing on me, today especially.

What is it about assigning new definitions to well-established ideas that is so attractive to the religious conservatives?

In the case of intelligent design, they're trying to involve science in the sphere of philosophical and theological debate. What part of science consiting of theories that can be verified by experimentation and that are falsifiable do they not understand? The idea that God masterminded the design of the biological mechanism is not falsifiable and one cannot set up an experiment that supports such a 'theory.'

In the case of gay marriage, they seek to uproot the very philosophy underlying democracy. Too many people in this country associate the democratic process with the will of the people only. However, democracy consists of two pillars that should have been drilled into their heads during high school civics: Majority rule, Minority rights. You see, whether or not there should be a "vote" to allow or disallow gay marriage is moot. Your opinion on the matter doesn't...matter. A self-respecting democracy is compelled to respect and uphold the culture, individuality, religion, and social practices of the minority.

So remind me where the debate is? On either of these issues?

We will now return to our regularly scheduled programming: squirrels wearing hats.

Squirrel with hat

I'm weird

Five weird things about me:

1. Dream car is a kite-powered buggy.
2. Can roll eyes completely back into head.
3. Was tricked into trying Rocky Mountain Oysters. Would have them again.
4. Animal spirit guide takes the form of a bearfallo (half-bear, half-buffalo).
5. Two words: back dimples.

Fondue party

I just want to fondue the crap out of something.

I want to get the biggest fondue sword ever, stick a piece of bread on it, and dip it in a giant vat of simmering cheese. But not too simmering, because then a gross skin will form on the cheese. That would ruin the whole fondue party.

I'm going to dress up real nice, but still look a little rugged at the same time. You'll look at me and go, "oh, he's going to ride a horse now or do something similarly rugged." But you'd be wrong, because BAM!...a hunk of steak on the end of my fondue sword in some scalding oil.

I'd have some sake with it too. Is that what you drink when you're fondueing? Or do you have wine? I'm pretty sure you have sake, but I could be wrong. But there's one thing I'm sure of, and that's WHAMMO!...a strawberry in the vat of hot chocolate.