P

A – Z April: P

An old but good one.

Tim fidgeted his way up to Miss Williams’ desk. “Miss Williams, I need to use the potty.”

The small child was well known for doing what he could to get out of class. Miss Williams said, “Are you sure you have to go?”

“Yes.”

There was a sure way to weed out the fakers in her first grade class. “First recite the alphabet, then you can go.”

The boy sighed, “A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, Q, R, S, T, U, V, W, X, Y, and Z.”

It was unlike Tim to get the alphabet wrong, no matter how much he was trying to get out of work, so Miss Williams asked, “Tim, where’s the P?”

He responded, “Running down my leg.”

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Vacuum Cleaner Equality

I got a new vacuum cleaner for my birthday and Christmas. It’s a Shark. Not quite a Dyson, but I won’t be complaining. It does what I need it to do. But as I was looking at the box, reading the instructions (after I put it together, what type of man do you take me for?!), I realized something horribly sexist: there are only pictures of women.

Yes, I saw the contradiction in the last paragraph. Let’s move past that. I’m excited to have this vacuum cleaner. My apartment will be beautiful and clean, and that makes me happy. I can’t wait to go home tonight and vacuum. Or tomorrow. More than likely tomorrow. So why are there no men? What happened in this age of feminism and sex equality that we only show women vacuuming? And where are the children? As a child, my brothers and I were the primary source of vacuuming. Where is the teenager, doing his chores as a good boy?

Ultimately in our world of equality, why are house chores still done by women? In my perfect world I’ll be the at home dad, while the woman brings home the bacon. I’ll cook and clean, watch the children and write novels, help with homework and workout. We need to promote gender equality so I can have my sugar mamma! So write to your local vacuum cleaner. Tell them to have men cleaning the carpets and raising kids. Can’t let the teens get lazy, so promote that too.

I’m Glad FaceBook Makes Me Look Like a Nerd

I had a friend who went out with a friend of hers and bad things happened. So she showed me his FaceBook. The cover is saying bad things about the cops and his picture wasn’t much better. And all I could think was, “What a jackass.” This speculation was confirmed. I’m not just a judgmental bastard (generally). But how many people have you seen on FaceBook, and all you could think was “Really? This is how you want the world to perceive you?” It says a lot about a people, but it seems like we don’t really pay attention to it. We shrug it off until we realize, “Holy crap, that really is who this person is!”

When I saw this guy’s picture and thought about some of the other FaceBooks I’ve judged (don’t be that way, you’ve done it too), I thought about mine. What do people think about me when they see my page but don’t know me? When they aren’t a friend? What’s my first impression.

My cover page:

My Photo:

What did I learn about myself? I’m a nerd. When people see my FaceBook, they see a complete and utter dork. I’m okay with that. Did I mention I’m going to win this year?

So then I thought, this is only a recent development. What else would people see?!

Last cover:

I’m a worldly man who has traveled many places and therefore is sexy. Or at least has gone to Antigua. Some Tough Mudder. Guild Wars 2, Lambeau Field, and then pretty much Guild Wars 2. I had other covers. They were deleted, but painted a very different picture of who I was and cut up some of the GW2 photos. So pretty much I’m a huge geek. Who did Tough Mudder. This is awesome!

Last Photo:

Okay, I lied. This is going two back. The last one was Guatemala. This is Tough Mudder. There were a lot of deleted FaceBook photos. Several confidence builder photos as I lost weight and did cool things, like play on a washboard with a spoon. A few video game pictures. One of me with Hello Kitty and another with me playing with a barrel of monkeys. I’m a nerd.

From looking at my FaceBook at the things others can check, I realized I’m a huge geek who loves what he does and isn’t afraid to express it. I’ve also seen that in the past month I’ve experienced new things. I hope to keep this up. At the end of the day, though, I like who I am. I never truly analyzed myself on FaceBook. At least based on this. Going to the world view posts, I think I have some emo songs from like two years ago you could see and a few Game of Thrones references. But at the end of the day, I like this person.

Now if you actually friended me, things get weird. I have an awesome sense of humor. With that said, I leave you with this:

And that’s why spelling matters. Have a great night!

Things to say when leaving the bathroom

“Is it supposed to be that color?”

“I definitely had corn last night.”

“Beets can make it red, right? I hope so.”

“I shouldn’t have drank all that food coloring.”

“I really need to see a doctor about that.”

“You don’t want to go in there.”

“I need fresh air!”

“That was at least two feet long.”

“I’ve never hurt so badly. It burns, man.”

“I’m going to need new underwear after that.”

What’s the worst thing you’ve said, thought, heard, or could possibly hear in this situation?

Throwing Dice and Nuts

Image

Rico strutted down the walkway, his cigarette barely between his slightly open lips. His jacket was off his shoulders, revealing the golden chains and beater under. His pants were just above his knees, his white boxers showing. There was a game every Saturday at the park downtown. Squeeks was the man to talk to about getting in, and Squeeks loved when Rico joined in.

The crowd was substantial, people shouting and cursing, throwing cash and clothes around. There was nothing Squeeks wouldn’t gamble for. A story long ago told of a man dating a playboy bunny. The guy was so certain of winning, he gambled her to Squeeks for a night. After losing, she never went back to the man. The story goes that she staid with Squeeks for a week. Then she was shuffled away as a boring play thing no longer required. Squeeks was cold.

Wearing a visor, standing on his hind legs, Squeeks, the brown squirrel, chittered, wagering and throwing money around. Jackson handled the cash for the little guy and Tommy played body guard, wielding a baseball bat menacingly. Some kid tried to rip off Squeeks, thought himself clever. That was until Squeeks clawed at the kid’s eyes and Tommy busted his knee caps. No one’s seen him since, and some say he hasn’t seen since.

“Yo, puttin’ down two k.” There was cheering and cat calls. “I’ll challenge the damned rodent.”

Jackson nodded, holding out his hand for the cash. Rico handed over what he owned, and the financial handler counted it, “Looks legit. Roll kid.” The dice were handed over. It was high low. Squeeks already had his two gems in hand. The dice were thrown, rattling about. Seven. Squeeks had one still rolling, though he had a three already down. The odds were up in the air as Rico held his breath, only to release it violently when a six came up. Jackson pocketed the money, “Squeeks says thanks for doing business with us, please do come again.”

“Ain’t done. Husslers. Take my two g’s and then think I’m finished? My chains for what I lost.” He took off all the jewelry weighing around his neck, suddenly feeling lighter. Handing it over to Jackson, he tossed the dice again. A four and five, but Squeeks had his number with a six and five. “You kiddin’ me? Bro, what’s this? This squirrel is nuts. Fine, jacket and shirt.”

“Squeeks says that’s not a fair trade. We’ll give you five hundred.”

“Whatever. Need to win this back. Let’s go.”

“Squeeks says there seems to be an issue with your dice. Would you like to exchange?”

Rico nodded, “Can’t hurt. Yeah, I’ll do that.” He was given a new set, tossed, and rolled snake eyes. Cursing, Rico jumped up and down, finally throwing his jacket at Jackson and storming off.

Smug, Jackson shook his head, “Kids these days. They just don’t read signs anymore. Damned squirrel cheats at dice.”