Wednesday, September 26, 2007

And Now Presenting...

...another hilarious episode of "What's Funny; What's Not."

Little Britain on BBC America (“I’m the only gay in the village, you know.”)

When our stupid bird loses his balance and falls off the back of the couch.

Mrs. Lefty spilling her coffee onto the newspaper.

Video clips of cats appearing out of nowhere to pounce on young children.

This guy:

Howard the Duck

Long losing streaks in which every game is lost after taking a lead into the late innings.

Lefty spilling his coffee onto the newspaper.

Video clips of cats playing the piano.

This guy:

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Tuesday, September 25, 2007

It's Like Working in a Carnival Sideshow

Does anybody have any advice for handling people who have fragile egos? And by that, I mean the people who feel the need to gain attention and gather accolades to themselves, and who fume and pout at every perceived slight? And all of this, despite the fact (or perhaps, because of the fact) that they produce few actual results except to drive everyone around them completely nuts.

One of these days I'm going to snap and put them all into the wood chipper.

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Monday, September 24, 2007

What's in a Name?

In lieu of my usual intellectually complex blog entry about global warming, economic theory and drinking more beer, I've decided to keep it light today. Also, it will give me more time to do actual work this morning.

This is from Allison at Planet Alien:

1. YOUR ROCK STAR NAME: (first pet & current car) Sunrise Sonoma

2.YOUR GANGSTA NAME: (fav ice cream flavor, favorite cookie) Cherry Garcia Oatmeal Raisin

3. YOUR "FLY Guy/Girl" NAME: (first initial of first name, first three letters of your last name) L-Sni (for "Lefty Snicket")

4. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (favorite color, favorite animal) Blue Hawk

5. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, city where you were born) David La Mesa

6. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first) Sni-Le

7. SUPERHERO NAME: (2nd favorite color, favorite drink put "The") The Crimson Beer

8. NASCAR NAME: (the first names of your grandfathers) Norman Edward

9. STRIPPER NAME: (the name of your favorite perfume/cologne, favorite candy) Old Spice Peppermint Patty (I'd better keep my day job with a name like that.)

10.WITNESS PROTECTION NAME: (mother's & father's middle names ) Belinda Riley

11. TV WEATHER ANCHOR NAME: (Your 5th grade teacher’s last name, a major city that starts with the same letter) Kraft Kalamazoo

12. SPY NAME: (your favorite season/holiday, flower) Arbor Day Poppy

13. CARTOON NAME: (favorite fruit, article of clothing you’re wearing right now + “ie” or “y”) Strawberry Shoelacey

14. HIPPY NAME: (What you ate for breakfast, your favorite tree), Number 22 Combo Oak

15. YOUR ROCKSTAR TOUR NAME: (”The” + Your favorite hobby/craft, favorite weather element + “Tour") The Drinking Sunshine Tour ("Don't miss Sunrise Sonoma in The Drinking Sunshine Tour. It's the hottest ticket since Hitler in Springtime.)

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Friday, September 21, 2007

More Miscellany

It has been a long week. I look forward to sleeping in tomorrow.

I have come to the sad realization that Jessica Alba is too young for me.

Plus, I'm way too hot, Lefty.

I already have a busy October planned. On October 1, I have jury duty. On the 10th, I am scheduled to fly to Atlanta for a small seminar with one of the top people in my field. That will be a lot of fun, especially since some of my favorite colleagues will also attend.

I am a little afraid of Atlanta, though. I’ve heard it is a scary place full of mountain trolls and Piggly Wigglys.

Try the Mountain Troll Chitlins.

Did you know that I lived in Hawaii for 6 years?

Baseball is one of those games that interjects the highest highs and the lowest lows into your life. From inning to inning--let alone throughout an entire season--your team can go from being on top of the world to the pit of despair. Hope is eternally kindled, but easily dashed. That is especially true during the pennant race and postseason.

My particular team has had a string of disasters just when it seemed as if they were making a move. One of the late inning pitchers, who had come in to dominate opposing hitters for nearly two years, suddenly lost it. He was giving up clutch home runs almost every time out, something like 6 out of his last 7 appearances. There is no real chance to make the playoffs.

I look forward only to a long winter full of regret.

Is it just me, or does the sun look a lot more menacing lately?

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Thursday, September 20, 2007

Who Even Knew I Had Brain Cells?

Neurons firing randomly in my brain...

Disney is shooting part of a film on my street today. The working title is G-Force. They are filming a chase scene. That means that my house could become famous. Maybe it will win an Oscar (“Best Single Family Dwelling in a Supporting Role”). I did have to park one street over last night, though, to be sure I could get to work in the morning.

I haven’t had a good cake donut with white frosting and rainbow sprinkles in a long time.

Poor Mrs. Lefty had to go to the emergency room Sunday night. She has severe abdominal pain occasionally, and we usually get to the ER three or four times a year because the pain gets so bad.

Did you know that I make the best buttermilk pancakes ever?

If you plan to drive on a public road, remember to pay attention to the lights. When it is green, that means “go”! And yes, I’m talking to you, driver of the black Audi who would rather talk on her damn cell phone than actually drive her car.

I have a meeting tonight, so I can’t play basketball. Sometimes this damn job of mine really messes up my life.

I have begun to address the question of offense vs. pitching/defense again. Rather than simply spouting off my own beliefs without solid evidence, I have started compiling some statistical data. That’s one more reason to love baseball--statistics. Mmm. Delicious.

That being said, I hate baseball today even more than I did yesterday.

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Wednesday, September 19, 2007

The Lights Are On, but Everybody's Home

I woke up suddenly on Saturday night. The room was dark as a cave. That’s unusual, even at night, because there are normally half a dozen LEDs staring at me from the computer and modem. But there was nothing.

Mrs. Lefty seemed to be stirring, too. “We don’t have any power,” I said.

Other than the obvious, the problem with this is that both she and I have to be up very early on Sunday mornings. That means we need our alarm clock, which is, of course, electric.

“Somebody is knocking on the door,” said Mrs. Lefty.

My first thought was that somebody was coming around to evacuate the neighborhood due to a pack of rabid hyenas on the loose or some similar disaster. I leapt out of bed, actually remembered to put a pair of pants on, and headed out into the darkness of our hallway.

In weeks past, a trip down our hallway would be like a trip through a minefield. Lately, though, we have told our kids never, ever, on pain of death, to put anything in the hall. No clothes, no trash, no unwanted siblings. Nada. Nothing.

I was confidently striding down the dark hallway when I discovered a laundry basket full of heavy towels in the hall. I discovered it when my shin whacked up against it. I said something I won’t repeat in polite company.

The banging was from my 12-year-old son, knocking on his sister’s door. You see, he is a big chicken. I guess he can’t help it. He lives with me part time in a house with a mom and two sisters, and with his biological mom in a house with a grandmother and great-grandmother. He’s totally surrounded by women.

I have tried to counteract the extreme feminine influence by playing violent video games with him, you know, to toughen him up. And though he’s great at blasting virtual people and monsters to bits, anything that moves in the actual world scares him to death.

So anyway, there I was, shin smarting, staring at the dark image of my son. I told him to go back to bed, and I went to peek out the front window. I looked out and up the hill, and for many blocks, there was nothing but darkness. I looked the other way, and just across the street, taunting me, were all the lights on my neighbor’s front porches.

I went back to our bedroom, where Mrs. Lefty waited. She had apparently just realized our alarm clock was out, because she said, “Oh shit, I’m late for work!”

“What time is it?” I asked.

“I don’t know.”


It turns out that Mrs. Lefty was not late for work. It was only about 1:30am. I set the alarm on my watch.

It also turns out that it was Mrs. Lefty who kindly put the basket of towels in the hall.

The electric company did get the power back on. Ten hours later.

P.S. Sometimes I really hate baseball.

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Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Return of the King

Yes, I’m finally back. No, I didn’t retire. Nor did I do a stint in the slammer.

Vacation was very nice. Mrs. Lefty and I took two of our kids to San Francisco for a short visit. We did all the typical tourist things—cable cars, Fisherman’s Wharf, Chinatown, beating up homeless people.

When I arrived back at the office there was the usual pile of extra work and emergencies to clean up. I don’t know the name of the physical law involved, but whenever you leave for two weeks of vacation, you always come back to six weeks of work on your desk. Plus, as you know, I have staff people with a gift for creating emergencies unless I am holding their hands.

I’ve been working my ass off, which is why you’ve not heard from me lately. I’m also moving into my busiest quarter of the year, so my goal is to post two to three times a week, probably no more for a while.

Of course, I’ll be as witty and charming as ever.

Note to Tink: I saw a Landshark Lager billboard.

Note to American League fans: Scott Proctor's not bad; Esteban Loaiza sucks.

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