Co-worker Brings Spinach Dip Again

Silver Spring MD – Employees of the Law Offices of Mudder, Wainwight and Washburn reported today that 26 year old unmarried and childless paralegal Tiffini Baskins has – for the third consecutive year – had the gall to bring deli spinach dip to the annual company holiday luncheon.

“I can’t believe it”, reported receptionist Carole Grossman, who was up at 5 am making from scratch and baking a chocolate and pecan chess pie.  “She just stands there hovering over it, like it’s a just hatched eaglet or something until someone has some”.

 “And she gets really moody if you don’t tell her it’s like the greatest you ever had”, added admin assistant Valerie Rush.  “I mean, she got it at Super Fresh”.

“Look, she didn’t even take the price tag off this year.”

Flanked by a box of multi-grain crackers and a bag of corn tortilla chips, the sad, afterthought of a dish appeared almost flippant among an array of delicacies including green bean casserole with brie and almonds, cheddar and bacon potato salad, and deviled eggs with paprika and garlic.

“I agonized for weeks on what to make, before deciding on the sausage balls with onion and Worchester sauce”, lamented account manager Heather Crittenden, “then Little Miss Size Six prances in here like royalty with something she scooped up from a grocery store deli on her way in this morning.” 

At press time, senior partner Harv Wainwright, married with four children and twelve years Baskins’ senior was complimenting her on her “thoughtful, heart-friendly” selection.

Ghosts of Summer

It’s this time of year - when summer surrenders its all-encompassing warmth and lingering sunsets that paint the sky with vivid hues - to autumn, with its inevitable decay of all that’s alive and green and vibrant.  But for me, it is more than a date on a calendar, or the return of children to school.  It is bidding good-bye to a friend who I know I will not see again for a long time.

And like a good friend, it becomes harder and harder each time to part ways.

If we liken the seasons to the stages of our lives, then summer would represent when we are typically at our strongest, our most robust.  We teem with energy and optimism and hope.

As my birthday is in the summer, and many of our milestones coincide with the anniversary of our birth it follows that many of my fonder memories lie in those months: getting my driver’s license, buying alcohol (legally) for the first time, officially becoming an “adult”.  By fate or happenstance, it was also during summer that I experienced many other things for the first time, most of which are best left to the reader’s imagination.

It will forever evoke memories, of late, late evenings which last until the morning dew arrives, to warm, embracing breezes and ocean waves which swell and crash onto sandy beaches.  Of wispy clothing, lightweight and easily donned and shed.  Of early Seventies hard rock music emanating from an 8-track tape player, and skinny-dipping, and lying on blankets in an open field with a cacophony of crickets in the distance.  There was a feeling of security, as if summer would wrap you in an ethereal blanket of warmth.

And now it’s gone.

For me, summer giving way to autumn is like the barkeep that comes over and somberly tells you it’s “last call” and you don’t have to go home but you can’t stay there.  But there’s nowhere else you want to go. 

 
Except back to summer.

America the Distracted

Okay, so I was thinking, there’s this… wait, that’s my phone.  Okay, my team’s up two nothing in the first, good.  But anyway, I was- the door.  Who’s at the door?  Oh no, it’s the Lawn Rangers again.  How many times do you have to shout obscenities in Mandarin out the window before they get the message?  I’ll just duck in here until they’re… Dang, my phone again.  Oh, it’s just a video of a Panda playing a banjo.

Where was I?

Here’s the thing: Is it just me, or have we lost like 75% of our attention span?  I mean, you can’t even have a conversation without the other person donning that faraway gaze two minutes in.  My last attempt went something like this:

Me:  Hey, what’s up?

Them:  Nuthin.

Me:  Nothing huh?

Them:  Yep.

Me:  Really? Nothing at all?

Them:  Have you seen that video of that Panda playing a banjo?

I can’t remember the last time I saw anyone focus on anything for more than a few minutes, unless it was binge-watching the latest flavor-of-the-week Netflix release, or immersed in some video game.  Engage in conversation? Pooh-pooh the thought.  Having a barbeque?  Better collect the phones at the door.  Trying to organize a neighborhood clean-up day at the local park?  Good luck with that.  Unless there’s Wi-Fi.

No, we have – through conditioning, apathy, or some combination of the two – pretty much lost our ability to think about one thing for more than fifteen minutes, twenty tops.  Yet we are captivated by the most trivial, inane, and immaterial of shiny objects; it’s like junk food for the brain. 

A series of tornados tears through the Midwest sucking a few hundred people – and a handful of tractors - up into the vortex, but that’s soon forgotten when some reality show chucklehead tearfully reveals she was forced to eat lima beans as a child.  Life-changing events are occurring all around us, often right on our doorstep, but social media is abuzz over a couple of celebrity’s Twitter feud.

Some have suggested that we’re being manipulated into focusing on some things, to distract us from others.  And, they’re probably right - to some degree.  But, we can only ascribe so much blame to others when we are ultimately responsible for the choices we make in where to invest our time, energy, and emotions.

So, that’s it.  In closing, I’d just like to say- WHOA! A METAPOD JUST SPAWNED LIKE 600 YARDS FROM HERE!  Gotta run!

 

Stay focused out there.

How to be That Guy (or Gal)

If you know at least as many people as there are flavors of TCBY yogurt, there’s a good chance you know “that guy” (or gal).  You likely grimace audibly upon their arrival, and sigh in relief as they leave.  But, maybe – just maybe - you’ve wondered what it would be like to take a walk on the wild side and become one of them.  If so, I have some tips which may come in handy:

Don’t ever put your phone down

Whether at the drive-thru at Whammy Burger, or about to give the Best Man speech at your college buddy’s wedding, you make sure that phone is slapped upside your big, goofy head - or your nose is buried in it.  People giving you that irritated look?  Too bad.  Exaggerated throat-clearing from every direction?  Ignore it.  Don’t you put that phone down for anything short of a good tasering.

Get louder with every drink

Out for a few brews with the guys?  Well you grab that volume control and yank it clockwise with every round, until by evening’s end you’re louder than an Orca whale with a toothache slamming head-first into a jetty during mating season.

Know everything about everything

No matter the topic, you’ve been there, done that, and bought the proverbial t-shirt.  Friend having potty-training issues with her youngest?  You look her right in the eye and let her know in no uncertain terms, she’s doing it all wrong.  Co-worker planning a camping trip?  Well you make indubitably sure everyone knows you wrote the book on camping.  From the best insect repellent to the correct way to pitch a tent on a slope, you are The King of Camping.

Be habitually late

Look, no one actually expects you to be on time anyway.  So you show up at 10:47 when you were supposed to be there at 9?  Nothing says “my time is valuable, yours not so much” like being a few minutes late.  Or an hour.  Or two.

Tell the same anecdotes repeatedly

If you’re not absolutely positive everyone within earshot has heard about you rolling your Volkswagen Golf during Spring Break, you relate the experience in excruciating detail, with particular emphasis on the sensation of being inverted, and how you required 16 stitches on your left forearm.  And how you still have the rear-view mirror in a drawer somewhere.  Or maybe it’s in a closet.

Write pompous “how to” articles

Insert slow clap emoticon here.

Five Things I’ll Never Understand About Women

I’ve been around the block a couple or three times.  And, I’ve come to know a lot of women over the years – most platonically.  In observing the gender, I think I’ve pretty much figured them out, save for the following:

The obsession with footwear

To your average man, shoes are just another article of clothing; something we’re forced to replace every few years or so.  But to women, shoes have transcended the role of accessory and attained an almost sacred status in their hearts.  No, shoes are not simply something women slip into so they don’t have to walk around barefoot; they are to be revered.  As much as I have tried to make sense of this phenomenon, I cannot bring myself to comprehend how a woman will experience a metaphysical state of bliss upon stumbling onto a pair of “the sweetest suede clogs you ever saw”.  Which cannot be worn when it’s raining.  And, they were on sale for only $175.

The “Bad Boy” attraction

As a commercial that ran awhile back stated: “People do stupid things”.  And we do; all of us.  But I will never understand why a reasonably intelligent woman will allow a man into her life whom  - based on his track record - she knows in advance will eventually lie to her, cheat on her, run her car into the ditch behind the Quik-E-Mart, then call her at 3:00 am to bail him out of the drunk tank.  And no, if he really loved you he wouldn’t act like a spoiled, irresponsible nine-year-old.  And yes, people can change, they just almost never do.

The size of the purse is directly proportional to the odds of losing something

It goes like this:  She pulls up in front of the bar, or restaurant, or friend’s house.  If the purse is smaller than your average Shih Tzu, she’ll take it with her.  Otherwise she’ll think, “Oh, I’ll just take my keys.  And my phone.  And my charger.  And my sunglasses.  And a tampon – just in case.  And my mascara.  And some breath mints.  And maybe eyeliner.  And a lint roller.  And another tampon – just in case.  And this copy of Luckiest Girl Alive.  And my tweezers.  And this single-pole, double-throw industrial strength lockout switch.”  So, they stumble into wherever they’re going – arms overflowing with this stuff – and the odds of remembering it all upon leaving are about the same as my winning a Pulitzer Prize.

The loftiest adjective they can assign to any object is “cute”

Women will plot, scheme, spend the rent money and even fight one another over something – and I mean anything – they deem is cute.  It could be a portrait frame, a candle holder, ceramic figurines of Danny and Sandy from the movie Grease.  Doesn’t matter.  If it’s cute its worth is incalculable.

The cattiness

I admit I’ve been somewhat envious of some of the guys I’ve known over the years.  The “chiseled Adonis” that I suspected all the women secretly desired; the jock, with their athletic prowess; the “regular Joe” that women all seemed to adore; the “hit me up when you leave the club” type that never had to lift a finger to get women.  But you ladies – you just can’t stand it when you think another woman is a little hotter, or thinner, or more popular than you.  You should know that underneath the make-up and false eyelashes her insecurity is just as real as yours, her fear of rejection just as palpable, her tears just as salty.  If not more so.  So, stop it already.

Well, that’s it.  Next week: How to Sleep Comfortably on a Sofa

Banish the Handshake!

Here’s the scenario: I’m in a restaurant waiting for my dinner to arrive.  From across the room I see a causal acquaintance approaching, another fellow in tow.  I pretend to be looking at my phone, but it’s no use.  “Hey, whatcha doin’?” he asks, and before I can answer: “This is my brother-in-law Lou”.  Lou shoves his grimy paw in my face.  “Hi ya”, he says, with a boozy smile.  My heart sinks.  It’s in these moments I am again reminded that the time has come to banish the handshake.

In a day and age when people are walking around wearing surgical masks with tiny bottles of hand sanitizer dangling from their wrists, how is it we continue to engage in this germ swapping practice which likely originated when the life expectancy was only in the late twenties?  I mean, what’s a few germs between friends when you’re probably going to succumb to botulism or an abscessed tooth or a wooly mammoth before the first thaw anyway?

No matter, it’s time to retire the handshake, and replace it with:

The fist bump

Pros: It’s relatively easy to do a half-hearted one, so that just the knuckles touch.  Cons: Women don’t much care for them.

Vulcan Salute

Pros: It’s really cool, and no contact.  Cons: Many people, myself included, just can’t make the fingers do that.

The air kiss

Pros: Again, no touching, except for the occasional cheek brush.  Cons: Being that close to another person, however momentarily, will insure you’re getting a whiff of something you probably don’t want to smell.

The Macarena

Pros: Good exercise.  Cons: Absolutely none!  It’s all upside!

Exchanging recipes

Pros: In the above situation I could have simply offered Lou my recipe for lemon baked tilapia and maybe picked up some fresh ideas for pork roast.  Cons: Requires a modicum of effort.

So, at this point I don’t care what we go with; just pick something.

Heeey Macarena!

 

Study Reveals Americans “Fed Up With This Crap”

Knoxville TN – A study released today by the University of Tennessee has confirmed that Americans from coast to coast are “up to their eyeballs with this nonsense” and “don’t know how much more they’re supposed to take”.

“It’s been bad before”, reported Hillsboro Beach, Florida boardwalk concessionaire Sid Bosworth, “but not like this.”  That sentiment was echoed by Racine, Wisconsin clothing store manager Shelia McDormand, who added, “It’s just a shame, a crying shame”, before briskly walking away, her head shaking contemptuously.

“If something doesn’t change soon, I don’t know what I’m going to do”, retired school teacher Lois Elderbridge of Mesa, Arizona offered soberly.  “I mean - Jesus, Mary and Joseph – when does it stop?”

The report went on to say that 46% of Americans are “about to blow a gasket over this”, and 39% have “a thing or two to say about the situation”.  A staggering 81% insisted “somebody needs to do something – like, right now”.

“I told them.  I told them this would happen”, an animated Lawrence “Bucky” Barber said, stepping into his eighteen-wheeler at a truck stop outside Salem, Oregon.  “But did they listen?”

University of Tennessee spokesperson Amber Kernan suggested the findings are not surprising.  “If one looks at the current situation from the perspective of the average person, one would have to surmise that this pretty much blows.”

In related news, sources reported that several residents of Warrensburg, Missouri would be “very interested in knowing” when the city is going to get around to fixing that “ding-dong pothole” at the intersection of Third and Addison, and at least one Goshen, New York resident wants to know where you can get a decent calzone at this hour.

Microwave Dinner Still Cold in Middle

Upper Darby PA – Snatching the box from the counter for the third time, a very disgruntled Brandt Chisling reported today that while he had followed the directions faithfully, his microwave dinner was still not sufficiently heated in the center.

“Cut and remove film cover over potatoes”, he muttered.  “Check.  Four minutes on high.  Did that.  But there’s clearly no steam rising from the middle section”, he continued, tossing the box on the countertop, his frustration apparent.

“Wouldn’t you think they’d at least test the directions before they put them on the box?”

Sources reported that Chisling had gone so far as to verify his microwave‘s wattage rating was within the specified range, and even placed the frozen Salisbury steak meal on a microwave safe plate.

“Isn’t that what microwaves are supposed to do?  Cook everything uniformly?  I don’t have this problem with pizza rolls or taquitos.  Jeez.”

 
At press time Chisling had reportedly spun the Salisbury steak patty horizontally, and stirred the potatoes and corn before returning the dinner to the oven for an additional two minutes.

Soup from a Nail Revisited

My fifth grade teacher told our class the tale of a man who during the Middle Ages would travel from village to hamlet claiming to be able to make soup from a nail.  The townsfolk would gather around a caldron, presumably in the town square, which they’d fill with water and build a fire underneath.  All would draw near as the stranger produced a nail from his vest pocket, muttering some incantation before dropping the nail in.  He’d stir the “soup” with a ladle and proclaim, “Yes it’s coming along nicely.  If only we had some cabbage to flavor it.”  One of the locals would scurry off to fetch an oxcart of cabbage; the scene would be repeated with turnips, or beets, or whatever they ate in those days.  The man would then divert everyone’s attention long enough to slip the nail out of the caldron, again mutter some magic words, and – voilà: soup from a nail.

The moral of course is that he did not in fact make soup from a nail; he made soup in spite of the nail, which was a simple prop to divert attention.

As much as we may like to think we’re too clever to fall for some ruse that obvious, we are often too quick to draw a line from cause to effect.  A forklift operator takes a corner too sharply and damages some shelving.  He was listening to loud rock music through his ear buds, so that must be what caused the accident.  But, he was also wearing a blue shirt at the time, so maybe blue shirts cause accidents.  He had a cheese Danish for breakfast that morning.  Could the cheese Danish be the culprit?

We are bombarded with these messages in advertising.  A man drives this or that brand of car and he gets the girl; a woman’s adoring family smiles approvingly because she gets their clothes cleaner with this or that laundry detergent; a wife gazes at her husband adoringly as they walk hand-in-hand because he asked his doctor about this or that prescription drug.  You want to be like these people?  You buy the product.

In this election year, there will be a veritable blitzkrieg of recycled “soup from a nail” arguments.  There were more jobs when this party was in office, therefore they created jobs.  The deficit was smaller when the other was in charge, therefore they must be more financially responsible.  Another candidate was able to obtain “bi-partisan support” for his referendum, therefore he can get people to work together.  They will pounce on every “hot button” issue with this convoluted logic.  As I’ve stated repeatedly: it’s all smoke and mirrors, it’s sleight of hand, it’s confounding.

It’s soup from a nail.

(P.S. The forklift operator crashed because he’d been up half the night playing Fallout 4 and binging on energy drinks.)

Ignorance is Bliss (or a Reasonable Facsimile)

In looking back on my life, I’ve come to a startling revelation: Every wrong decision I’ve ever made could have been avoided if I’d only been a little dumber.  You heard me right.  If only I’d taken the oft travelled path, if I’d limited my choice to the first two options that popped into my head, if I’d only asked myself: “What would Kim Kardashian do?”

But no, I overthought everything.                                                        

It seems every time I turn around someone is falling backwards into a small fortune; waking up from a night of hard drinking and finding a Mark Fidrych rookie card stuck to their forehead, or inheriting a silver mine in Wyoming from a Great Uncle they never even knew they had. 

Yes, ignorance truly is bliss.  Or, a reasonable facsimile.

                              
In a typical day I reckon I see a hundred or so people, shuffling down the street in seasonally inappropriate garb, with that far-off glazed stare; at the stop light, a finger run up their nostril to the second knuckle; in line at the Burrito Barn, phone out, getting ready to share the latest internet hoax with 1,627 online friends.  They care not one whit about global warming, human trafficking, or what the stock market is doing, and most are as content as a pig rooting in mud.

To be clear, I’m not talking about those with diminished mental acuity.  I mean reasonably intelligent people who’ve intentionally set the bar embarrassingly low, and don’t take any particular interest in climbing over it.  They’re phoning it in; they’ve chosen a dumbed down life, and when they’re honest with themselves, will admit it was a no-brainer.  Ignorance equals bliss.  In a manner of speaking.

So the next time you have a critical, even life-changing decision to make, do yourself a favor: Get a coin, and flip it.  Make sure you determine in advance which side means what.

Stay dumb out there.

Man Enticed to Leave Larger Tip after Being Called “Sweetie”

Huntsville, AL – Sources reported today that Branigan’s Bar & Grille patron Dale Critz was prompted to leave a nearly 35% tip for bartender Brandi Philameno after having two Jack and Sevens at the neighborhood watering hole after work.

“Brandi’s good” Critz said with a nod, “she always takes care of me.”

“If they (men) come in here alone, I’ll call ‘em “honey” or “sweetie” and smile a little more than usual”, the 24 year old raven haired beauty reported with a shrug.  “Maybe I’ll pretend to yawn and stretch my arms out, arch my back a little”, she added, winking.

Critz reportedly tossed an extra dollar bill on the bar while basking in the sight of Philameno bent over the bottled beer cooler.  “She just has that extra…  something”, he said, “not like Connie.”  Critz was referring to 37 year old former bar manager Connie Agar, who’d recently left to pursue other opportunities.  Agar - who in addition to tending bar was also tasked with several managerial duties - had many more years’ experience than Philameno, who often confused the club soda and ginger ale, and had to constantly refer to the blackboard for the daily specials.

“If showing a little skin when I reach up for the Grey Goose, or tossing my head seductively as I’m dropping off the tab keeps ‘em coming back, then so be it”, Philameno concluded, running her professionally manicured nails through her hair.

At press time, Critz was reportedly inquiring as to Philameno’s favorite brand of perfume.