Like Nails On a Chalkboard

Do you know what sound drives me absolutely nuts? That sticky squealing noise of fingers squeaking and clawing at a full balloon. You know, that horrible whining sound you hear just moments before the inevitable POP! The very same sound can be produced by gnawing on the balloon with your teeth.

*shudder*

That sound is just terrible.

You wanna know what makes that squeaking sound even more annoying? I'll tell you what makes that squeaking sound more annoying (thanks for asking, by the way).

WHEN THE AIRPLANE

YOU ARE ABOARD

MAKES THAT SOUND

DURING TAKEOFF!!!

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On the bright side . . . I have a new item to add to my list of "Annoyances Irritants and Pet Peeves."

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Geoducks

I had never heard of a geoduck before last night. I'll be honest; I was far more comfortable with the world I knew before I became aware of the existence of geoducks. Dear GOD those are disgusting little bastards.

This freaky little creature, my friends, is a geoduck:

Looks a bit like a clam gnawing on a unwell phallus, does it not?

Here's what little I know (which, if you ask me, is too much) about the geoduck, or panopea abrupta for you fancy book-learnin' types.

The geoduck (aptly pronounced "gooey duck") is the world's largest burrowing clam. When fully grown they weigh approximately three pounds. Even more disturbing is that geoduck has a life expectancy of up to 150 years with the oldest recorded at 163 years.

THAT'S TOO LONG!

Apparently . . . . and this is awful . . . people eat the geoduck.

Sweet Jesus why?!

This "delicacy" reportedly has a sweet flavor and crunchy texture that is best appreciated when eaten raw. I've often wondered, is the word "delicacy" synonymous with "incredibly creepy?" I have perused the internet and found recipes.

RECIPES!

Do me this one favor, if you ever find yourself in a restaurant, and happen to read Geoduck Sashimi on the menu, slowly back away from your table and RUN!

Never before have I actually wished complete extinction upon an entire species . . .

I'm fairly sure whatever sicko made children pose with geoducks should be required to keep his address up to date with some sort of offender registry.

The Quest Continues

You may have read about my search to locate my creepy toe pictures. They have to be out there somewhere, and I won't rest until I have found them.

So far, I've had no luck finding pictures of my toes, HOWEVER I may have a lead on the physician that took them . . .





Boo Creepy Foot Doctor, Indeed!

Also, I contacted the good people at Bent Medicine, optimistic that Doctors Flim and Flam might be able to provide valuable information to my creepy toe investigation. However it seems I have hit another dead end there, as well.

I'll still be sure to keep listening to the Bent Medicine Podcast in hopes that they might yet turn up some useful information.

The Hobo and the Hoagie

I finished up working late downtown the other night. I decided to run over to the sandwich shop across the street to grab some dinner before heading home. This is where my story ceases to be normal.

I got my food and was exiting the front door when a so-crazy-I-though-he-must-have-been-KIDDING gentleman blocked my egress and began to spew forth random words in my general direction.

I don’t know what the hell he was saying, but was waiting for the eventual request for money.

So he gets to the end of his gibber-spiel, and says “so maybe you can help me out … so I can buy some dinners or something.” I was kinda happy, because I had no cash to give him, should he have asked, so I said, “Sure! Let’s go back in and buy you a giant sandwich!”

The part that troubled me was that he found the offer to be agreeable enough that he made some barely audible comment about how NOW, he wouldn’t try to hurt me, or touch me, ‘er nuthin.

Why, thank you, for that, crazy-man!

While the crazy and I waited in line, he indicated to me that he is somewhat uncomfortable with the kid at the counter thinking that I was buying him food out of some charitable motivation . . . so could he please do the talking?

"Fair enough," I say, "order yourself silly. "

He orders 2 sandwiches: “one for me, and one for my girlfriend”

He orders 2 bags of chips: “one for me, and this here, my lady”

He orders 2 cokes. When asked if he preferred bottles or fountain drinks, he indicates that he would prefer bottles: “I like to get nice things for my woman.”

(swear to God, I would NOT make this up)

When he is done ordering -- which was tough considering all of the superfluous words and noises he threw in for good measure -- I gave the kid at the counter my bank card, signed the slip and gave him a hefty tip in consideration of the fact that he was going to have to deal with this guy after I left.

I don’t think I mentioned that throughout our encounter, my crazy companion kept whispering “I’m not gonna touch her . . . . I’m not gonna touch her …NO! ... not gonna touch her . . . not gonna touch her … not gonna …”

Anyhoo . . . I apprised him of the process by which he would take his seat, and that they would bring his food to him.

“Don’t you want to stay and eat your dinner?” he asked me.

I pointed to my own bag and said, “Thanks, but I think I’m set.”

“Well, at least take your Coke.”

So I did. And I thanked him for treating me.


While he was waiting inside the store for his food, I made record speed back to my car.

Dying Declaration

I really wish I could find the entire debate presented in this episode of the Family Guy. Here's the rest of the sparkling dialogue not included in this clip:

PETER: It’s not a great scene. I have no idea what they’re talking about, it’s like they're speaking a different language. That’s where I lose interest and fade away.

CHRIS: They’re speaking Italian!

LOIS: The language they’re speaking is the language of subtlety, something you don’t understand.

PETER: I love The Money Pit . . . That is my answer to that statement.

LOIS: Exactly.

PETER: Well, there you go.

LOIS: Whatever.

CHRIS: I like that movie too.


*** UPDATE ***


Here it is!!

Family Guy - Godfather

Strict Constructionist

If I promise to get a project done before lunch, the project is not late until after lunch.

Right?

However, it was never specified whose lunch. Here's how I figure -- unless and until I have eaten my lunch, I'm still ahead of my
meal-centric deadline.

So here it is 9:00 pm. I'm still at the office ... still have a couple projects to finish ... still haven't eaten my damn lunch.

My dinner prospects are looking rather bleak as well.


* I had the exact same lunchbox as shown above
from 1st through 3rd grade. How cool am I? Huh?

Self Discovery

I learned three important truths about myself while working a crossword puzzle. Here they are in order of significance:

3. I tend to overcomplicate things;
2. I spend way too much time at Starbucks ; and
1. I need to brush up on my spelling skills.

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A 5-letter word beginning with "D." The clue was "a coffee order."

I wrote in D O P I O .

The correct word, of course, was D E C A F .

It's all about the packaging

Call me fussy. I really, really do not like cleaning up after my dogs. I think I have pretty much mastered the skill of bagging that loathsome stuff with a minimum degree of ickiness. That notwithstanding . . . I never developed anything akin to affection for the whole process.

Until today.

Check out this bag. How goddamn cute is this ?!

Let me take a moment to point out the finer points of this bag.

First, I can't tell you how much I enjoy the fact that this bag was designed with handles. This way, if I just can't part with my dog's latest creation, I can comfortably carry it with me for the duration of our walk.

Next, the bag has a great name: "Poopy Pouch." How clever. It truly does change my whole perspective. While a steaming sac o' crap is just disgusting, a Poopy Pouch Doggy Poo Bag is friggin' adorable!

Finally, while I am toting this bag all over my neighborhood, I can be proud of its fantastic graphics.

Let's take a closer look, shall we?

OMG! There is a pooping puppy on the poopy pouch!!!! Not only is this just the most darling little picture, but should I ever forget the reason why I am carrying this bag . . .

I am so excited about this new product. Now I can't wait for my dogs to shit!

This is the greatest idea since the Britax Shipping Containers.

Thank you Poopy Pouch!

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I have to tell you . . . I still cannot figure out why the bag's little defecator is wearing a crown. What the hell is that about?