Regulate Explained

It was clear black night in East Los Angeles. Warren was on his evening stroll. “Tonight I’m going to find a new girlfriend,” he said hopefully. As he perused the dark alleys for the future Mrs. G, Warren chanced upon a dice game. Warren loved to play dice in back alleys and he asked the fellas if he could play too.

Meanwhile, Nathan was cruising around looking for his friend, Warren. This was in a time before cell phones so the only way to find Warren was to drive around aimlessly. They didn’t even have AOL or Nate would have been able to read Warren’s away message. But Nate knew Warren and his unfortunate gambling addiction so he made straight for a back alley gambling district.

Nate glanced over and noticed that a car full of girls were checking him out. Golly, they were pretty, but Nate Dogg was on a mission. The girls were trying to get his attention and lost control of their vehicle. They crashed into some cardboard boxes and the side of a building. “Bros before hoes,” he said to himself as he left the scene of the accident.

The dice gambling guys didn’t want to let Warren play dice since they already had enough players. Instead they put a gun to his head and took his gold watch and rings and used them as a part of the gambling. There, in his own town, Warren thought he was going to die as a direct result of his gambling problem in dramatic irony.

Out of nowhere Nate Dogg appeared.  Nate Dogg didn’t recognize anyone except for Warren so he shot all of them without asking questions.  He unloaded his firearm into the people that were holding up his friend.  Nate beat them 10 against 1.  It would be a story to tell his grandchildren.  Warren thanked Nate for saving his life and gold things.  They picked through the bodies until all of the jewelry was recovered.

Killing people really gets a man’s libido going so Nate and Warren went back to the car accident to see if the girls were still there. Sure enough the girls were standing there in the middle of the street assessing their injuries and damage to the car.  The car had hit the building so hard that the engine failed.  They didn’t have cell phones so they couldn’t’ text their dads or boyfriends to help.

Warren and Nate politely introduced themselves to the ladies.  Warren understood Nate’s glance that he shouldn’t mention the fact that he had ran them off the road earlier.  Should they recognize him, they might have trouble with the police.  Still, Warren thought they should probably call the police to report the accident and get an ambulance in case anyone had neck injuries.  But Nate took control of the situation and told the ladies to load into his car.  They could get their car out of the side of a building tomorrow.  Warren was upset there weren’t enough seat-belts in the car for everyone so Nate and Warren each took two ladies in their cars.  “Buckle up ladies.  Safety First!” Warren said.  On the drive over Warren wondered if one of these ladies could be he new girlfriend.

When they arrived at the motel Nate suspiciously went to the bathroom while Warren tried to entertain the ladies by himself.  Warren wanted to impress the ladies as the scholarly musician he was.  He began explaining his new found philosophy on life called G-Funk.  “The rhythm is the base and the base is the treble.” he said.  The girls started to glance at each other.  One raised her eyebrow and the other started looking at her watch.  Warren was monopolizing the conversation and the girls and were regretting accepting the ride from these strangers.

Just then, Nate Dogg bursts from the bathroom, carrying drug paraphernalia.  “Who wants weed, bitches!” he exclaimed.  The girls ran to Nate and for the third time he was the hero of the evening.

Warren reflected on the evening and he was glad to have Nate as a friend.  After a tough night of regulating he could finally relax and enjoy himself.

Choosing where to have Baby (sic)

There are a lot of choices to make when you want to have a baby.  You can have a baby in a bathtub.  You can have a baby in the desert.   You can have a baby on a bungee jump.  Some creepy people even have a baby at their house.

We have chosen the “traditional” route and have decided to have Baby (sic) at a Hospital.  Notice the lack of the possessive pronoun preceding “Baby”.  I learned that hospitals do not use articles or possessive pronouns when talking about babies.  It’s all “Baby will sleep here.  Baby will go home with you after a couple days.  Baby will sound an alarm if it gets up and tries to walk out the doors.”  Never “The Baby” or “Your Baby”.  It is either because hospital workers are so overworked that they must ignore certain grammatical constants to save speaking time or that political correctness does not allow hospital workers to assign possession or ownership of another human.

We decided to tour both of our local baby factories before settling on a location.  We toured the Small Hospital and the Mega Hospital.

At Small Hospital the lady was very friendly, but our personal one-on-one tour turned into an eight-on-one tour where a couple of other couples were invited to go along.  The first other couple was cool because they didn’t talk the entire time. The second couple consisted of a 50-year-old woman, due in May, her husband, Paul Bunyan, and their two children, a boy and a girl under 4.  Legends never die, and Paul Bunyan was no exception adding to his resume his ability to impregnate a 50-year-old woman.  However, today the statuesque legend was obviously preoccupied with the fact that they wouldn’t let him bring his axe into the hospital so he couldn’t focus on the fact that his kids were running and screaming all over the place while our tour guide patiently explained exactly what would happen to those of us who have never had a baby before. All of us were intent on listening, but Paul obviously didn’t want to be there.

Paul finally spoke up later on in the tour when Timmy was chasing Emily around the birthing table with a speculum.  The boy crashed face first into the pull-out couch and stood up with a bloody forehead when Paul asked, “So where is the free coffee again? For the husbands?”.  His 50-year-old wife looked at him, incredulous, and then back to the tour guide.  “Actually,” she said, “where do we go to get car seats checked?”  Blood gushed from Timmy’s wound.  After your 3rd kid its probably a good time to get your car seats.  At first I wanted to curse at them, but I then I realized that I am in no way more qualified to fit a car seat to a giant Blue Ox.

Despite the distractions we really liked the Small Hospital, but we headed across the street for our appointment at the Mega Hospital.

At Mega Hospital we experienced a whirlwind tour of the facilities.  Mega Hospital opened a couple weeks ago so we had to excuse some of their dust.  Our guide quickly pointed out the features like, “Here is triage, here is where Baby gets born, here is where Baby gets to sleep, here is your emergency alarm bracelet that plays music when close to Baby that ensures it’s (your?) Baby, here is the menu and they might start up celebration dinners again but you can order a hotdog or whatever when Baby comes.  Any questions?”

She was really excited to tell us all about the technology of the facility but all I noticed was a haggard staff were in search of a break and treated each patient as a burden to their iPhone time.  We even saw a nurse balled up on the floor crying between two double doors because of too much work.  She was not supposed to be a part of the tour.  We also saw some cool dudes walking into the baby center, hats cocked, carrying a 12 pack of Bud Light into one of the delivery rooms.  The alarm sounded and some blue strobes started going off.  The tour lady yelled in her phone that someone was stealing a baby again!

One piece of technology the tour lady at Mega Hospital was especially excited to show us was the Big Blue Button that the husband, and only the husband, gets to push when Baby is born.  It would play a song to alert the entire hospital that you are a new dad!  I imagined myself lurking around the hospital, after hours of labor, giving sideways glances at the other husbands, letting them know that I was going to be the next dad and the next to push that button.  But then the tour lady pressed the button!!!  For a few seconds of my life, That Button was one of the few unique pleasures afforded to the modern man.  But when she pressed it, the magic of the button immediately disappeared and was cheapened to a hokey gimmick. I also expected a great triumphant fanfare as my first official act of fatherhood, but was disappointed that it played a soft, barely audible, lullaby. Lame.

It was then I remembered that Small Hospital said we could bring anything to their hospital as long as it wasn’t fire.  No candles or campfires (I asked).  So I added a Staples Easy Button to our Baby Go Bag.  When the baby is born I get to push the button and declare myself as the father!  “That was Easy!” I will exclaim at the top of my lungs.  I will also yell about how great the staff is at Small Hospital and thank them for realizing that you can’t replace good people with technology.

I will also yell about how wonderful my wife is to the entire hospital and how excited we are about our baby.

Expect a lot of excited yelling this August.

Manning 2 Manning: The Sitcom

S01E1: Pilot

Peyton arrives at Eli’s New Jersey condo sporting his new Jet’s gear and asks if he can stay for awhile.  Peyton soon learns that he was cut from the Jets and tries to keep it secret.  Peyton convinces Eli to go to the gym.  Peyton uses many hilarious methods to prevent Eli from seeing the gym TVs which are all reporting about his being cut. Peyton throws a weight at the TV when it appears that Eli might see the news.  The manager kicks the brothers out of the gym.  Peyton intentionally crashes Eli’s car when Eli tries to tune the radio to Sport Center.  Abby pressures Eli to get Peyton to search for an apartment.

S01E02: The Jersey

Abby accidentally ruins Peyton’s Jet’s jersey in the washing machine.  She holds the jersey behind her back when Peyton comes looking for it.  Abby tries to fix it but only makes things worse when she sews the sleeve shut.  She tries to hide the jersey but their dog, Chester, steals it from the laundry basket.  Meanwhile, Peyton keeps changing the channel to 2 Broke Girls when Eli is trying to watch The Voice.   Chester jumps on the couch with Peyton’s ruined jersey and Peyton threatens the dog while Eli holds him back.  Abby guiltily watches from the kitchen while Eli disciplines the dog.  Abby continues to pressure Eli to kick Peyton out.  Later, Eli gathers enough courage to ask Peyton to move when he overhears Peyton on the phone talking about getting cut from the team.  Abby and Eli reluctantly accept Peyton as their new roommate.  Peyton finishes watching 2 Broke Girls with the whole family.  Chester eyes Peyton from his kennel.

S01E06: Cooper Visits

Eli is upset at Peyton for being 3 weeks late on the rent.  Peyton assures Eli he will get the money but more importantly he excitedly reveals that Cooper is coming to town.  Eli and Peyton take Cooper out to dinner and end up at a dive bar.  The brothers try to get Cooper to confess who is the better quarterback.  Peyton attempts to win Cooper over by buying rounds of shots for the entire bar.  Eli is noticeably perturbed by Peyton’s use of money.  Eli drinks too much and passes out.  Eli wakes up on the condo roof in his underwear.  Peyton and Cooper lie to Abby about Eli’s whereabouts and she threatens to call the police.  Eli attempts to keep his sanity by talking to a nest of attentive baby birds about his situation with Peyton.  Chester bites Peyton in the crotch.

Manning 2 Manning - This fall on NBC

 

 

 

Signature Pad Art

I have been signing my name with a smiley face on digital signature pads for at least 3 years.

It started as a test to see if anyone would notice.  When I first started signing with a smiley face, I would look up at the cashier for approval; waiting for them to harshly censure me or call security and throw me in retail jail.  But its been accepted every time.  The only time it wasn’t accepted was when I tried to sign with a smiley face when I refinanced my house.  Banks do not have a sense of humor and insist on you carefully crafting your full name (not a real signature either).

Cashiers are rarely aware of what customers are doing with the signature pads.  Most of the time they don’t even have a mechanism for checking a signature unless they crawl up on the desk and crawl to the end of the counter to see what you’re doing over there.  At some merchants my smiley face will show full screen on the monitor, flashing the words “COMPARE SIGNATURE WITH CARD”.  In this case, the cashier looks at the smiley face, makes a cashier grunting noise, fails to recognize the smile, and approves the transaction mumbling something about having a good day.  In my 3+ years of doing this, it was acknowledged once as one cashier said it was cute before approving the transaction.

My wife has started signing with a smile too.  She was actually stopped by one brazen cashier who didn’t want to approve the transaction or really hated smiles.  My wife told the cashier that she always uses the smiley face as a security measure because a card thief probably wouldn’t be aware of our unusual signature pattern.  The cashier relented when my wife showed her ID and reluctantly approved the transaction.

So we’ve had one near-rejection in hundreds of transactions.  Still, what’s the worst that can happen if you get “caught” not putting your proper signature on a signature pad?  Are they going to make you sign again?  Would a merchant really enforce a policy that sends you to the parking lot, leaving them the task of putting  $150 worth of melting groceries back on the shelves?

Digital signature pads are a completely worthless parts of a transaction. The only feasible use for them would be if your one and only true signature is on file in a master database and it’s digitally compared on a POS system.  It’s become such a routine that it doesn’t matter.  I feel bad for people when I see them carefully scribing their signatures on a pad.  Even if your card is used fraudulently, you can dispute it and will most likely win. Your signature never comes into play.

But there’s no reason to get mad about it or start a class action lawsuit.  If they’re going to make you do it, you might as well have fun with it.

Recently I’ve been crafting more elaborate signature pad art.  I usually don’t pre-plan my sketches so they are pretty terrible.  Here are some pictures I drew when I had my camera ready.

A dude riding a motorcycle

Two people about to make a baby

The sun setting a house on fire and people running away and one guy is on fire

In all 3 of these cases no one looked at my “signature” or even asked why the hell I was taking a picture of it.

Your homework is to begin making your own Signature Pad Art and report back on the results.  Does a cashier challenge your signature or threaten to send you out on the street without your purchase? Sneak a snapshot of your art and send me the picture so I can post it.  Have your camera on and ready with the flash off to avoid making a scene.  I’m not responsible for the results of your transaction or your ability to handle the cashier police.  If you get sent to the Mall Jail, I will pay for your bail for the story value.

Also you cannot sign with a smiley face because I own it.  To do so would be forgery and you’ll go to jail for fraud.  Get your own fake signature.

Whiskey Stones

This Christmas everyone in my family got Whiskey Stones. No, it’s not a contagious, alcohol induced, second cousin to kidney stones. Whiskey Stones are a good thing.

Whiskey stones are an elegant substitute for ice. Since the invention of soap, people have been avoiding mixing rocks and dirt with their foods. Whiskey Stones bring back a man’s primal urges to mix his libations with cold hard minerals and get the earth closer to his mouth.

A few frozen Whiskey Stones can be added to lowball drinks to keep them cold.  Since they are made out of rocks, they will not melt like their inferior competitor, ice. Whiskey Stones can also be microwaved for 30 seconds giving them lasting drink heating power for coffee or tea. The high heat capacity of soapstone gives both hot and cold modes a lasting effect, perfect for slower drinkers and children.

There are rules to using Whiskey Stones:

1. You never touch Whiskey Stones
2. You never touch Whiskey Stones!

Learned from experience, microwaved Whiskey Stones reach and sustain a temperature rivaling lava or the sun. Whiskey Stones should only be picked up with welder’s gloves or plutonium tongs after microwaving.  Also, if your frail human body contains over 75% water, do not touch frozen Whiskey Stones or risk making them a permanent member of your phalanges.  I would have 911 at the ready if you’re thinking about putting a frozen Whiskey Stone on your tongue.

Whiskey Stones work as advertised, with subtle effects.  They don’t make drinks as cold as ice, but the fact that they don’t melt means your liquor taste doesn’t change over time.  Wine can also be chilled with the stones.  Only an uncivilized neanderthal would put ice in his wine.  The soficitated gentleman chills his wine with a handful of rocks.

They also do a decent job keeping coffee and tea hot for a longer amount of time. I’m afraid to place frozen stones into a hot drink for fear they’ll shatter, but I’m guessing they would be a suitable, non-water substitute for cooling down your oatmeal or hot chocolate. The only drawback to Whiskey Stones is that you have to wash and dry them before putting them away, which is difficult to do with ice.  However, they win over ice in the fact that there is no practical way to use microwaved ice in a drink.

Whiskey Stones are also environmentally friendly since you don’t have to waste water (save it for the whales).  You’ll realize these savings in about 4000 years.

Available from Sparq or wait until the next time they appear on Woot!

The Dog Clicker

Feedback is an important but often overlooked aspect of any design.  Feedback manifests when a light turns on after the flick of a switch.  Feedback comes when you chirp your car lock. Feedback is also enjoyed when your airbags deploy informing you that the semi did run that red light and that your car did really do a 1080.

It’s when you don’t receive feedback that you irritably notice the uncertainty to if the machine understood the last command you issued.  When you click a button on a website there is a noticeable absence if the button doesn’t graphically “press in” or make a click sound.  Small things like this can send a reasonably calm person into a frenzy, mashing the button over and over again until finally the screen pops up informing you that you have ordered 13 iPads.

Dogs also need feedback to help prevent them from insane behavior as well.  If you don’t give a dog understandable feedback after he completes a command, there is a good chance that he will never be sure that he actual satisfied you by, say, sitting down.  He could think your hand gesture meant for him to shit all over the house.  The dog goes running and shitting all over the house and keeps looking back for affirmation.  Yelling may be a rally call to continue shitting and so he does, all over the kitchen.  When you chase him, he runs into the bathroom and pees on the linoleum and when you scramble after him in the bathroom you slip on the pee and the dog points at you and laughs.  This is a failure to feedback.

The dog clicker was designed to prevent dogs from getting a mind of their own when it comes to completing commands.  A click punctuates each command and the dog knows that sitting was the only command in mind.  The dog is happy to please you and you are happy the dog is not shitting all over the house.

After completing a session of dog training, I needed to buy some hardware.  I selected my hardware and went to the self-checkout.  Sometimes when you buy hardware they try to put bar code stickers on things that are too tiny to scan.  I kept trying to scan the screw.  I really wanted to buy the screw.  They haven’t invented 3D lasers to scan 360 degrees around a screw bar code yet.  It’s because a kid might put their head inside inside of the laser and look at the laser at 360 degrees and go blind and have to be stuck working at Lowe’s for the rest of their life. I was getting mad at the self checkout robot and started slamming the screw on the scanner.

The Lowe’s self checkout Guard came over to see what the big problem was.  He calmly showed me how to remove the sticker from the screw so it could be scanned.  He put it on his finger and scanned his finger.  For a second I was afraid that I was going to have to buy the checkout Guard and wasn’t sure how much a human being would cost and if I was going to have to raise the limit on my credit card and where he would fit inside of my house. It made me sweat so I put my hands in my pocket.  Then the machine beeped.  Feedback.  And the price showed on the screen for $0.19.  Double Feedback.

I noticed that the dog clicker was still in my pocket!  Since the checkout Guard had done such a good job, I clicked the dog clicker. *CLICK* Triple Feedback!  He looked up at me, so  I pet him on the head and told him that he did a good job.  He made a happy face and started panting. Another satisfying Lowe’s experience.

I got a text on my phone that told me I should meet some friends for some food and drinks. With my new screw in tow, I went to the bar.

At the bar the waitress brought us all of our drinks.  When I had confirmed that she had brought everything correctly, *CLICK* I let her know.  She looked around and made a confused face, but knew she did a good job.

After the second round she asked what the heck the *CLICK* noise was.  I told her that she was really smart and being such a good girl.  I pet her on the head and told her to fetch us some food.

Instead of food the manager of the store came over.  He told me that I had to leave the bar because I was touching the waitress without permission.  I told him that he had a really good waitress working for him and he should be proud of how smart she was and she had a really shiny coat and that he must be feeding her food other than bar food.  He asked if I was on drugs.  I didn’t click the clicker since the manager was wrong.  The manager started to get mad at me and said he was going to call the police if I did not leave.  I did not click the dog clicker because he was being a bad boy.

The policeman came and brought a big dog with him. The dog started smelling me when the manager pointed at me.  But the dog kept looking at the manager.

*CLICK* the dog looked at the manager.  *CLICK* the dog started smelling the manager.  *CLICK* the dog started smelling the manager’s pockets.  The manager tried to get away from the dog but it started following him.  I started clicking the dog clicker, rapid fire, and the dog got more and more aggressive with the manager.  *CLICK CLICK CLICK* the dog started barking really loud. *CLICK CLICK CLICK* the dog started biting the manager on the arms and neck.  *CLICK CLICK CLICK*.  The whole bar was watching.

Finally the policeman made the dog stop biting the manager. The dog sat down facing the manager and the cop found a bag of grass inside of the manager’s pocket.  The policeman put the bag in his pocket and told me that I did a good job.  With no audible click I didn’t know if there was some extenuating circumstances to his compliment, but he put his hand up and we did a high five (a form of feedback for cool people).

Then the policeman took the bag of grass out of his pocket and held it in the air.  “The next round of drinks is on the manager!” he said.  The manager wearily sat up with his hand to his head.  The policeman threw the bag of grass to the bartender and the whole bar cheered.  I clicked merrily in satisfaction.

Holiday Inn Express Pancakes

The elevators in the hotel had a swinging door on each floor that you could close over the elevator so people would think that the elevator no longer existed.  I think the idea was that when the fire alarm went off, a magnet would release the door, trapping the elevator behind it.  Anyone in the elevator wouldn’t be able to get off at any floor, except the first.  Also, anyone who tried to use the elevator on the top floors would have to run around screaming that they couldn’t find the elevator.

Since I wasn’t sure how the doors worked, I pulled the fire alarm to see if the doors would close.  Sure enough the door swung shut and trapped the elevator behind it while the fire alarm blared.

I watched people start coming out of their rooms.  They wanted to know what all the noise was about. A lot of people were in the hallway, yelling.  I told them to be quiet while I tried to turn the fire alarm back off.  But it wouldn’t turn off and the door remained shut over the elevator.  I heard people in the elevator screaming, but I banged on the outer swinging door to let them know that help was on the way.

One lady came out of the her room and started screaming.  She said we were all going to die.  When she got to where she thought the elevator was, she screamed louder and started clawing at the wall where the elevator used to be.  I tried to tell her about the swinging door trick but she just kept screaming about dying.  She fell to her knees, clawing at the wall.  I guess she really wanted to ride the elevator one last time before she died.

All of the noise made it difficult to think and I was hungry.  It was too early for the commotion that all of these people were causing.  I walked down the stairs (much faster than the elevator) since we were on the second floor.

I went down to get breakfast.  The pancake machine was broken.  The screen on the machine told me that it was in bagel making mode and that I should press a number to tell it how many bagels to make.  I got mad at the machine because there were not any numbers – just a big “OK” button.  I pushed OK, but the machine still wanted me to enter a number.  “I want pancakes!” I yelled at the machine.  The cleaning lady came out of her hiding room to tell me that the pancake machine only wanted to make bagels and I was going to have to be happy with bagels.  I told her I wanted pancakes but she just threw her arms in the air and went back into hiding.

Then I found the secret panel on the machine.  There are more buttons that just OK at the Holiday Inn Express pancake machine, but they try to hide them because they don’t want you to start choosing things for yourself.  There were a lot more buttons with secret options behind the secret panel!  The machine worked just like a label maker in which you could pick size, font, bold, underline, designs, shapes, and numbers.  I punched through the menu until I had selected the pancakes that I wanted.  I picked the BATMAN pancakes, in the largest size possible, in the maximum quantity of 10.

Then I pushed the OK button.  This time the machine started buzzing, reassuring me that my pancakes were coming soon and that I had reprogrammed it correctly.  There’s a graphic on the machine that showed the Batman symbol scrolling across the bottom so I knew when I would get my pancakes.  Soon I saw multiple Batman symbols scrolling across the bottom and my excitement increased with each one.

Then I started to see batter coming out of the pancake machine entrance.  “That’s enough” I told the pancake machine, but it wouldn’t listen.  The uncooked pancake material kept coming out of the machine and was getting all over the counter.  It was almost touching the muffins.  I started making a wall out of plastic knives since they laid flat on the counter and had more uniform batter blocking power.  The batter acted as a good mortar between the knives and proved to be an effective tool against pancake batter touching the bagels and muffins (possible disaster). When my wall was 15 knives high by 3 knives wide, the cleaning lady came out and started panicking. She screamed about all of the mess she was going to be cleaning up and how it was going to cut into her hiding time.  Pancake batter was dripping on the floor.

Meanwhile I had a big cooked pancake coming out of the pancake machine conveyor belt.  I eyed it with anticipation.  It was not Batman shaped but had jagged edges to look like the machine made a good try, but all of the Batman cakes just ran together into one giant Batman sheet cake.  I was getting impatient with the machine and used the last plastic knife to cut off all I could eat, leaving the rest for the next lucky hotel patron.  Since I was late for the meeting, I was going to have to eat it in the car without syrup. Plus the cleaning lady was making too much noise to enjoy breakfast anyway.

I would say my stay at the Holiday Inn Express was a roller coaster ride, but ultimately a disappointment due to the high noise levels. 2 Shrugs out of 5.

Top Searches

The whole point of writing in a weblog is to trick people into reading some nonsense when they thought they were going to gain valuable knowledge.  Blogs are the technological equivalent of a bear trap.  A friendly bear sits down at a computer searching for honey recipes and WHAM he accidentally clicks on a blog and gets sucked into hours of mindless reading, trapped in the toothy iron vice of imagination.

Just like my friend, Shane, people end up at my site while searching for the most interesting things.

• “for a good time restroom stall“ – The Internet is a giant bathroom stall. No need to find new friends in a public restroom anymore!
• “what is waze candy?“ – There are over 30 hits for waze and waze candy related searches.  Remember it is OK to break the law in order to collect waze candy.
• “how to turn yourself dog“ – Not sure if they wanted to turn into a dog or if when a dog searches google they have to punctuate each search with “dog” in order to find relevant results (i.e.  “How to open door with mouth, dog”) The internet is very human biased and this dog was having trouble turning.
• “let husband use credit card declined“ – His purchase at the hardware store wouldn’t go through after your shopping spree.  Good thing he wasn’t able to come home with that hammer!
• “underwear with track suits?“ – Be careful not to get something that bunches up or shows lines. The internet has lots of other great tips.
• “quick mud kids” – They are quick and hiding in puddles, waiting to strike at your pets.
• “hot girls in sport bras playing field hockey” – I’m not sure which of my posts this goes to but if anyone figures it out let me know!
• “what is it when you have a not thing on your leg” – it’s a transcendental void on your leg that is not really there, but something is there. Let me know if you’ve found it (or didn’t find it?)
• “prank male underwear switch” – Half way through the day you realize “These aren’t my underwear!”
• “subway blade in bread” – This is what happens if you ask for a footlong worth of meat on 6 inch bread.
• “dog paying bills” – Beggin Strips aren’t free and it’s time the dog pulls his weight.
• “why frito lay put air in the bag” – They are getting away with selling you air!
• “compostable sun chips” – This search actually got one of my pictures, with photo credit, on a TEDx talk back in May.  This company, Ecovative Designs, makes biodegradable packing material from Mushrooms, rather than Styrofoam.  I talked to this Sam and we both agreed that the sunchips bag as a bad design and he tried to sell me papers on landfills.

The Hands of Smoke

A Louisiana Hospital has decided to ban the clothing of employees who smell like smoke. This is known as 3rd hand smoke.  Some employees have found the banning of their clothing liberating, but many argue that working naked at a hospital is not universally desirable and argue that it is less healthy than than a doctor who smokes while delivering a baby.

In today’s society, it’s important to name and categorize everything, so when bad things happen you, know who is to blame.  Many have been surprised to find out that such a thing as 3rd hand smoke exists.  You’ll be even more surprised to find out that there are actually 6 and a half hands of smoke. Each hand of smoke carries with it certain criminal fine and punishment for the offending smoker. Awareness is important.  Many victims are not even aware of the awards available for any and all instances of smoking used against you.  Since smoking is now 99% illegal, these charges have been categorized and listed by the court system.

1st Hand Smoke

You’ve intentionally inhaled an amount of smoke.  Symptoms include: “the edge” is temporarily taken off and looking a little cooler.  It is also a crime and you are going to jail.

Penalty: 25 to Life in prison
Civil rewards: Pending all encompassing class action lawsuit against the cigarette companies

2nd Hand Smoke

You’ve entered a room where someone has expelled smoke or inside of the 20 foot safety zone of a building.  After measuring the distance from the building entrance to the offending smoker, report this crime to the police.  Symptoms include having to take a shower before bed and temporary irritability but otherwise having a good time, enjoying life.

Penalty: 20 years in prison plus 5 years house arrest
Civil rewards: $35,000 per inhalation ($50,000 if smoke is blown into your face – 1.5-Hand Smoke)

3rd Hand Smoke

Smoke that lingers on clothing, couches, curtains, or carpets.  Being around someone who had a cigarette once can lead to highly damaging 3rd hand smoke.  Even smelling the jacket of a former smoker can lead to instant lung cancer and damaging bowel movements. Symptoms include: not liking how someone smells and dealing with it in a reasonable manner – then calling the police.

Penalty: Up to 2 years in prison with lifetime GPS ankle bracelet
Civil rewards: $1000 per detection of smoke residue

4th Hand Smoke

Knowing someone who knows a smoker.  This hand of smoke is insidiously dangerous.  You may shake hands or share desert with someone who knows a smoker.  The smoke residue may travel from the original smoker through your friend or colleague and enter through your mouth or nose causing an unmeasurable amount of damage.  Symptoms may not reveal for 50 years or more and will be difficult to track back to the proper source.  Since it’s hard to pin down the source of this hand of smoke so it’s best to hire a detective to follow your friend around to see if they consort with smokers.  Symptoms of a 4th hand smoke victim include: headache, back pain, being tired, talking to strangers about the weather, and hunger around noon, daily.

Penalty: 500 hours of community service
Civil rewards: up to $100 per incident plus medical bills

5th Hand Smoke

The victim has communicated with a smoker.  Be aware of raspy voices and coughing.  It’s your right to have a phone conversation free of the interrupting effects of a smoker.  Your precious minutes are wasted with asking the caller to repeat themselves or waiting for their coughing fit to end.  It’s estimated that companies lose 35% productivity each time an employee speaks with a smoker.

Formerly this applied only to voice phone communication but has recently expanded to all telecommunication including texting, email, and Facebook.  Monitor your friend’s Facebook pictures and report any smoking activity. Their family or friends may be using their phone or keyboard and it’s important that you worry about their well-being at all times.

Penalty: 300 hours community service and banned from the Internet for one week
Civil rewards: up to $100 per incident

6th Hand Smoke

The victim experiences smoke during a dream or altered mental state.  The metaphysical effects of 6th hand smoke can be far greater than that of any other kind, because of the long lasting mental effects.

You walk into your high school gym riding a giant chicken.  Your car in the middle of the gym with the engine running.  Your late grandmother, 3 of the Keebler Elves and a your ex-roommate are inside of your car, smoking.  You try to get away but everyone in the gym will laugh at you since you don’t have pants on and you are the only one who can drive them to Disney World.  You accidentally drive the car into the ocean and it turns into a Sea Lab where you live out your days studying migration patterns of dolphins.  Symptoms include: A burning desire to tell everyone about the dream you had last night, no matter how glazed over their eyes become.  Also, fear of going back to sleep.

Penalty: 300 hours community service and one week in a sleep deprivation chamber
Civil rewards: automatic $100 from each person in your dream

Please join me this November in the Walk to Promote the 6-and-a-half Hands of Smoke Awareness.  Together we can make sure nothing mildly undesirable ever happens to a person again.

Sears Tower

We spent the weekend in Chicago. Of all the times I’ve visited, I never had a chance to see the city from the top of the Sears Tower – before they tore it down and built the Willis Tower in its place. I was drawn to the new-ish observation ledges where you can see the city straight down over 1000 feet below.

Even with limited visibility the tower was crowded that Saturday. The lines were long and people were getting restless. The family in front of us begrudgingly towed along their chatterbox mother. She wanted to be our best friend.  She let her daughter cut her in line so she could cut her.  (not knife cuts, but jumping in line cuts) “Cuts for cuts” she said looking back at us.  “You remember that?  Cuts for cuts from school?  We used to do cuts for cuts all the time!  It was so funny!”  I nodded my head.  However, at my school we called letting someone jump ahead of the line so you could cut them “being an asshole”.

We stood in back of a seemingly endless queue of roped-off, switchback lines.  When the line looked hopelessly long I felt a tap on my shoulder.  I spun on my heels to find nobody.  Then I looked down and saw a dwarf of a woman holding a walkie talkie, looking up waiting for an answer.  I stooped down to hear what she was telling us.

“The faster way up is over here!  Come this way!” she beckoned with her cute little hands.

She didn’t have a badge on or an Sears Tower markings or tattoos, but you can always trust a person with a walkie talkie.  It’s just a reassuring feeling seeing someone with a walkie talkie because you know they can call for help or order food with the press of a button.  Seeing this as an opportunity to escape the line but more importantly, the Chatterbox’s prattling on about her long distant grade school memories, we followed the walkie talkie lady to the “faster way”.

She led us down a concrete hallway to a giant stainless steel door, which turned out to be the freight elevator.  We were herded into the elevator with a large group.  I was disappointed to see the Chatterbox woman and family shuffle in beside us.  Chatterbox proceeded to narrate the elevator trip as she most likely does her entire life.

At least one person met the criteria

“Oh look girls, we are in the freight elevator.  We’re going up like luggage.  Look at all of the buttons.  Let me get your picture with the buttons.  Could everyone in the elevator scoot to the sides so I can get a picture of Jordan and McKenna with the buttons?  We are on vacation from Wisconsin.  This is an expensive camera but I got it on sale at Target.  Sometimes I say TarJAY to make the sound more exotic.  Ha ha ha!  My husband works but I just stay at home with the kids- OH MY GOSH WE ARE STOPPING?! I think we are at the TOP!”

The elevator attendant had said that we would make a few stops before reaching the top.  If everyone was listening and not talking, they would have known that already.  We stopped on the 67th floor and there was a couple of dudes waiting for the elevator, holding a couch on its side.  They looked kind of surprised to see the freight elevator full of people.  The freight doors were tall enough to scoot the couch into our already cramped elevator.  The couch guys gave us a ‘sup’ nod, so I knew they were cool.

The Chatterbox started asking questions, “Where is this sofa going?  Do you live here?  How much does it cost to live here?  Do you have to work on Saturday? Do you get paid more for that? How much do you get paid? Has this couch been in your family for centuries?” One of the dudes covered his ears and refused to remove them when we stopped again on the 87th floor.  His buddy was ready to move the couch out of the elevator but the other wouldn’t uncover his ears.  Seeing an opportunity to get away from Chatterbox, we volunteered to help.

We walked the couch down a hallway to an apartment.  The dudes told us where to put the couch 3 or 4 times until it was in the perfect spot.  I love to help people, but now I was getting kind of mad because we paid $17 each to help a guy move a couch?  I still had to see the The Ledge!  Plus those guys were only faking being cool before because as soon as we got to the apartment they sat down on the couch and started playing Angry Birds.  “Hey I want to see the ledge now!  Where is the freight elevator troll?”  I asked, kind of mad.  The guys did not answer so I went over to large apartment the window.

From the 87th floor you can see just as much of the city as anyone on the 100 floors.  I folded out the top window so it was parallel with the ground.  With the help of my wife and an end table, I was able to crawl out on to the window.  It was a lot like what I thought The Ledge would be like so I was getting more happy!  I crawled out on the flat window far enough so I could stand up and look straight down and see the city.  It was an exciting thrill, but with such a little ledge, it got boring quickly because I couldn’t do a handstand or get a good picture taken.

The Window Ledge

I crawled back inside and yelled at the dudes on the couch.  Still playing Angry Birds, they paid us no mind. So they didn’t mind that I taped a bunch of their mail to heavy odds and ends (like a clock and some glass decorations) and threw them out of the window. Think of it like the pool game where you throw colored rings or sticks into the deep end of the pool and then you dive down and try to find them all (for points).  We left the apartment and ran down the stairs (exhausting!) and went out to find the trinkets we threw out of the window. But, there were a lot of police outside when we got to the bottom.  Also some broken cars.  The Police were hogging the find-the-trinkets game pieces and putting little yellow tags on them to count up how many points they got.  Cops ruin all the fun.  At least they will find the dudes’ apartment so he can get his stuff back.

I learned a lot from this trip to Chicago, but the most important lesson was to never help people move.