Month: August 2005

Family Matters

• by GeekMan • In Breaking News •   2

I have a weird family.

Case in point, MotherGeek calls yesterday and, in between asking me about my day and complaining about how tired she always is, informs me that an aunt I never knew I had died Monday evening, the funeral is this afternoon and would I like to come.

Say wha…?!

During the conversation that follows I also discover that I have a whole other family that I haven’t seen since I was three including, I kid you not, a cousin named Brucie and an uncle named Dr. Phil.

No, not THE Dr. Phil, but even so it still creeped me out.

So, after thinking it over I decided not to go to the funeral because I just didn’t feel right showing up to pay my respects to someone I never knew surrounded by people I don’t remember. Also, I didn’t have anything to wear and lord knows I can’t be seen at a funeral wearing last years mourning suit fashions. I might as well show up in a toga.

Talk about funeral faux pas!

In other news, my little Adam’s Revenge contest seems to be drawing in a boatload of apathy from everyone out there. In the hopes of garnering some response from you people I thought a last minute reminder might help spur some of you closet writers into sending in your entries before tonight’s 11pm deadline. But, if that doesn’t work then maybe I’ll have to resort to another, less pleasant, tactic. That’s right people. If you don’t send me a sentence soon, and I mean in the next five minutes, I’m bringing Bread back!

Oh man, I think I threw up a little in my mouth…

One Night In Geekdom

• by GeekMan • In Geek Life •   3

“What did you say?”
“What?”
“What did you just say?”
“When?”
“Just now. Did you call me fat?”
“What?! No!”
“Then what did you say?”
“I just asked if you wanted the rest of my steak because I’m full.”
“So, you think I’m a fat pig? Is that it?”
“What?!”
“Don’t play innocent with me, smartass. I know you and now you’re in trouble.”
“What the hell…?”
“Don’t talk to me.”
“Honey, have you been watching Oprah again?”
“Bastard.”

[15 minutes later]

“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Uhm… trying to give my wife a hug?”
“That’s not what you were doing.”
“It’s not?”
“Don’t try to lie to me, mister.”
“But I…”
“You were touching my waist!”
“Well, yeah. I was trying to hug you.”
“No you weren’t! You were trying to find my curves! You were touching my fat!”
“What?!”
“Yes you were! You can’t get out of it this time, don’t even try!”
“You’re fricking crazy!”
“Now I’m fat and crazy?! CRAZY?!”
“Honey, it scares me when your eyes pop out of your head like that.”
“I. Hate. You.”

[1 hour later]

“Move over.”
“Oh, are you talking to me again?”
“Don’t start. I just want to lay down on the couch and you make a nice pillow.”
“I what?”
“You make a nice pillow.”
“Wait. Did you just call me fat?”
“No. Not really. You just have a nice, soft…”
“Go on. Don’t stop now.”
“Well, you have gotten a little softer around the middle lately…”
“You’re calling me fat!”
“Oh come on! Be a man and take a little criticism, will you?”
“I don’t believe this!”
“What?!”
“I get an hour and a half of arctic winter for trying to hug you at a time you’re feeling insecure and yet you’re allowed to casually inform me that I’ve gotten so fat I can double as a human pillow?”
“Of course.”
“And I’m just supposed to just take that?”
“Well, yeah.”
“For frick’s sake, why?”
“Because I’m a woman.”
“But… sputter… I… sputter…”
“Quiet, the movie is starting.”
“But this just isn’t fair.”
“Life’s not fair. Now shut up and watch the movie.”

[30 seconds later]

“Why are we watching an action movie?”
“Because.”
“But I don’t want to see an action movie. I want to see a girlie movie.”
“You get to throw psycho tantrums; I get to watch crappy movies.”
“Why?”
“That’s just how it is.”
“That’s not fair!”
“As a loved one once told me, life’s not fair. Now shut up and watch the movie.”
“Hmmph! Well, don’t you touch my fat.”
“I won’t. And don’t you touch my remote.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”

[10 minutes later]

“I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
“Can we change the channel now?”
“Dear lord, yes! This movie sucks!”
“Look, Flip That House is on!”
“Quick, like a bunny!”
“Thank god!”
“Amen!”
“I love you, PillowBoy.”
“I love you too, PsychoGirl.”

Points of Interest

• by GeekMan • In Quickie •   1
  • Chicago seems like a very nice place to visit and I’m sure I would have enjoyed being there more if not for my complete inability to get Frank Sinatra’s song “Chicago” out of my head. It’s especially difficult after walking down State Street (that great street, I just want to say) and actually witnessing a tourist couple laughing and dancing together on the sidewalk. However, I will admit that it was damn cute when he tried to dip her and she dragged him down to the ground as she fell.
  • The best part of being in first class on an airplane has nothing to do with legroom, leather seats or better meals. It’s all about the extra overhead storage. Bless you, overhead storage. Bless you.
  • There’s still time to enter the Adam’s Revenge story contest! I’ve gotten a few sentences but not yet enough for the ten I require to start the story. Come on people! Help me entertain you and send me a sentence! You know you want to.

Paper Trail

• by GeekMan • In Experiments •   1

Sometimes I question my TP technique.

But then I remember how silly the other techniques are. You see, I’ve heard tell of people out there who use a TP method I think is both absurd and irresponsible, but every once in a while I wonder if maybe, just maybe, that method would work better than my current wrap-and-fold technique.

Luckily, I always come to my senses in time.

Now, I’m sure that the people who use this weird method of crack-spackle removal don’t do it because they’re devil worshippers, I’m sure they’re nice people who just don’t realize the danger their immortal souls are in every time they go to the bathroom. But anyone who uses the method I like to call “The Brady” is in for a big surprise come judgment day.

And I’m not talking a good surprise, like chocolate cake, either.

For those of you who might not know, The Brady method involves gathering up some TP in your hand and just bunching it up willy-nilly for the big ole’ wipe. Not only do I frown upon this method for its overindulgence of two-ply, I also don’t like it because it just sounds so messy. Think about it, you’re taking a wad of bunched up TP in your fist, sticking in a place you will never see with your own eyes and praying your hand is protected as you clean steaming fresh poopy from yourself.

Now to me, that sounds awfully dangerous.

I mean, what if you failed to wad the paper up properly and there was an area of your hand exposed to your foul detritus as you did the reach around? You wouldn’t know the danger you were in until after you felt the stinky, warm squishy with your own hand.

And what if you had tacos the night before?

You’d spend the rest of the day trying to avoid touching anything and everyone while surreptitiously sniffing your hand and hoping against hope that the cheap soap your office always buys for the public restroom would manage to remove the evidence of your bad TP technique. And what do you think would happen if someone should notice that you kept sniffing your smelly hand all day at the office? They’d laugh at you. And point. And call you Poopsniffer behind your back.

And then the cute receptionist would never date you. Ever.