Nuthin’ but an H thang, Baybay…

Picture this: I’m on my way out of the office trudging through the parking ramp trying to find my car (so, a bit distracted). A bright yellow Porsche Boxster starts to drive in my direction and I notice that the driver has a short blond hairdo styled upward. In my mind’s eye, I thought it was one of my high-ranking female coworkers. I smiled as she passed by and nearly waved…until the car got closer and I realized “#@*&! That’s a dude!” Nope, it wasn’t my coworker at all, it was some random guy who spotted me smiling at him, slowed down slightly, and smiled back. Great.

As I approach the ramp’s exit, my car ends up behind the Boxster so I divert my eyes from any possible contact. He pulls ahead, then I do. Now on the street, I have to pull up behind him again at a stoplight to make my turn for my usual route home. He checks his rearview mirror nervously, probably thinking he’s being stalked by some weird chick from the parking ramp.

Oh, it gets better. It turns out that he takes the same route home I do – nearly all the way to my neighborhood! Which means that I followed him for about 6 miles on side-streets! He’s probably filing a restraining order against me today.

Think I need to start taking the bus again.

Me: Hello?

Adam: Hi, what are you doing?

Me: Working. Where are you?

Adam: North Minneapolis.

Me: What are you doing there?

Adam: Drugs.

Me: *laughing*

Adam: What?…What?

This morning, Garet decided to try to get me out of bed to drop some food in his dish…at 5:30am. His method of choice is to jump up on my dresser and nudge the window blinds with his snout. He knows that the slight banging of the blinds against the window pane wakes me from my slumber, and this time was no different. I checked the clock and boy, was I mad. I have a spray bottle tucked behind my bedside table for just this occasion, and at 5:30 this morning, I began to fumble around for it. As soon as my hand felt the nozzle, I pulled it up from its hiding place, aimed in Garet’s general direction and shot with my thumb on the trigger. At that moment, a blast of cool water hit me right in the forehead…in my zeal for punishing the naughty kitty, I’d apparently had the spray bottle pointing at my face.

I heard Garet jump down from the dresser and run from the room.

This is my favorite part of Gremlins.

On a weekly basis, I have to complete a report for my boss called a “DealTracker”. Every time someone mentions “DealTracker,” I am reminded of the Gremlins torturing mean ole Mrs. Deagle. Oh, I’m sure it has something to do with “deal” and “Deagle”…and the fact that I simply don’t enjoy filling out reports.

My brand of humor is SO not appreciated.

Funny story from our sunny Scottsdale vacation:

It’s Wednesday, around 11am. Adam and I have been in and out of the hot tub and pool all morning, enjoying the 75 degrees and the impressive mountain scenery around us. We’re laying near the edge of the hot tub, soaking up the sun and doing absolutely nothing (glorious, wonderful nothing). The bar has just opened, and the smarmy young-20’s server makes his rounds. He’s a tall, lanky sort wearing a ball cap and large sunglasses.

Honestly, I’m slightly irritable when he approaches because 1. I feel pudgy and white in my swimsuit and I don’t want to encounter anyone (except Adam, lucky guy) and 2. since he’s sporting sunglasses, I can’t see his eyes and I’m 200% sure he’s thinking, “Jackpot! This one looks like she’s gonna eat!” Did I mention I was irrational on this day?

Adam suggested I order a beer and some nachos, and then asked for an iced tea for himself (wimp!). Our server apologized and said the pool bar had a terrible selection of beer. I believe he put it this way: “We have nothing good…our list includes Amz-dell, Corona…” Adam chuckled and noted: “She likes both of those.”

Now feeling defeated, I entered my order: “I’ll take an AmSTEL, please.” Smarmy Sunglasses went to fetch our drinks. I looked at my husband to ask, “What the hell is Amz-dell?” and we couldn’t help but giggle.

The drinks were welcome and the nachos were fabulously appointed with 3 decadent sauces. After some time, our server came around again to check on us: “Can I bring you another Amz-dell?” At this point, I could no longer control my urge to tease poor Smarmy: “What did you call it?”

His response: “Amz-dell?”
Me: “You mean ‘AmSTEL‘?” (Now who’s being smarmy?)
Him: “Oh, is that what it’s called?”
Me: “Yeah, AmSTEL.”
Him: “Amz-dell?”
Me: “No, AmSTEL.”
Him: “Oh, AMSTEL!”
Me: “Right! And I’ll even order another one if you use the correct name!”
Him: “Okay! AMSTEL! Sounds good!”

For those of you who know (and love) me, you know that this is similar to the Cah-row-rah-roh Bur-rog incident and that I meant no harm. Really, it’s only because I’m so big-hearted that I had to do it…I mean, I didn’t want him talking to confused patrons about “Amz-dell” for years to come. (Well, let’s just say I left a big tip to make up for being a pain in his rear.)

Stolen from Adam’s Facebook page: here is Sobi, from Benihana, singing “Hoppy Bursday” to my friend Carolyn and me in a most operatic way.

In recent IM conversations with coworkers, I created some real blunders while furiously typing. Here are some examples:

- adapeter (meant to be adapter, but with an extra appendage?)
- additionanal (yikes)
- sweather (weather, but with more sweat)
- othera (the new plural form of “other”)

In order to quit embarrassing myself and othera, it might be a good idea to slow down…

Drunker than skunks, Sven and Ole die in a snowmobiling accident and end up in Hell.

The Devil observes that they are really enjoying themselves in the fiery pit. He inquires, “The heat and smoke don’t bother you?” Ole replies, “Vell, ya know, ve’re from nordern Minnesooota, da land of snow an’ ice. Ve’re yust happy fer a chance ta varm up a little bit, ya know.”

The devil decides these two aren’t miserable enough and turns up the burning heat. When he returns to the blazing pit containing the two guys from Minnesota, the devil finds them in light jackets and hats, frying up walleye and drinking beer.

The devil is astonished and exclaims, “Everyone down here is in abject misery! You two seem to be enjoying yourselves!” Sven replies, “Vell, ya know, vee don’t git too much varm veather up dere at da Falls so ve’ve yust got ta haff a fish fry vhen da veather’s dis nice.”

The devil is furious. He comes up with an idea.

Sven and Ole seem to love the heat because they have been cold all their lives, so the devil decides to turn the heat completely off in Hell. The next morning, the temperature is 60 below zero; icicles are hanging everywhere and people are shivering so bad that they are unable to wail, moan or gnash their teeth.

The devil smiles and heads for Sven and Ole. He finds them, once again, in their parkas, bomber hats and mittens. They are jumping up and down, cheering and screaming with glee.

The devil is dumbfounded, “I don’t understand. When I turn up the heat, you’re happy. Now it’s freezing cold and you’re ecstatic. What is wrong with you?!” They both look at the devil in surprise and say, “Vell, don’t ya know, if hell iss froze over, dat must mean da Vikings von da Super Bowl!”

(Thanks, Daddio. We’ll be sure to pass this on to Uncle Dan.)

Does it look like me?

www.faceyourmanga.com

Normally when I see a spam email, I’m pretty quick to delete it. This one caught my eye because of the way they misspelled Viagra…when I pronounced it in my mind, it sounded much like sangria:

Vagria and Calias pills may help you.
We also have many more things in our store!
Now. Visit us now.

I’d like to see what they’d do to “Propecia.”