St. Geekwhere

• by GeekMan • In Experiments, Geek Life, Rants •   2

“Doctor, you have to come quickly, there’s a patient in dire need of medical attention!”

“Pardon me for a moment Mr. Davidson while I deal with this interruption.”

[Doctor turns from his patient to face Intern]

“You’re a first year intern, right?”

“I don’t know what that has to do with anything, but yes, I am.”

“Right. So intern, tell me what’s wrong with this patient you’re so worried about.”

“I don’t really know, doctor. He was wheeled in on a hand-truck by his wife.”

“Wait. He was admitted on a hand-truck?”

“Yes, doctor. By his wife.”

“That’s new. Must be a clever woman. Well, go on.”
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An Army Of Dumb

• by GeekMan • In PhotoBloggery •   4

I blame my father.

You see, when a young boy asks his father what a soldier is, he takes his father’s words as gospel. He doesn’t understand how his father might see his questioning as a means to alleviate his boring afternoon of housebound babysitting. The boy wouldn’t see the gleam of mischief in his father’s eye as anything other than eagerness to answer his question. He wouldn’t even begin to comprehend the cruelty of his father’s seemingly innocent inquiry as to whether the boy’s younger brother might also like to know.

The two boys aren’t stupid, they’re just naïve.

And when the father of these two impressionable children decided that mere words might not be enough, that perhaps they would better understand what it meant to be a soldier if they were to dress up like real army men, these two angelic children might simply laugh and exclaim at what a wonderful idea that was.

And then the horror would begin.

The two boys were dressed helmets, belts, pouches and canteens. When they told their father that they wanted to have medals like a real soldier they were given “purple hearts” made from red Valentine’s Day stickers. Then they were taught the proper way to salute by their supposedly loving father. The very same father who, holding back what at the time seemed to the young boys to be tears of joy, ran to the bedroom to grab his camera and take a picture of “his little soldiers” for posterity’s sake.

Sigh; at least I’m not the one who looks like Mini-Benny Hill.
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Passover Geek Style

• by GeekMan • In Geek Life •   4

Aunt Vodka’s grandson is reading the four questions.

Grandson:
“Why is this night different from all other nights?”

Granddaughter:
“I know! I know! It’s different because grandma Vodka isn’t drunk yet!”

Uncle Cigar:
“Granddaughter! That’s not nice. You should apologize to your grandmother right now.”

Granddaughter:
“You’re right, grandpa. I’m sorry you’re not drunk, grandma Vodka.”

Aunt Vodka:
“Not nearly as sorry as I am.”

Many spit takes and coughing fits ensued.

One Day

• by GeekMan • In Experiments •   3

One day I will find time.

One day I will find time hidden away in the darkest corner under my bed like an old action figure I used to love only to discard when it lost its kung-fu grip hands in an unfortunate sky-diving incident. One day time will be there when I need it and not cavorting like a carefree bachelor with space at the continuum dance party while I sit at home alone wondering if time will ever call. One day I will find time and, like old friends meeting by accident at the bus station, we will embrace and talk of time’s past over a cup of hot chocolate. One day time will look upon me from across the room and smile at me and grant me enough of itself to do everything that must be done. One day I will find time and time will let me work, play, write, read, eat, sleep and single-handedly save the world from mutant alien llamas without disappearing when I need time most like morning mist on a warm summer’s day. One day I will keep time in my pocket like spare change and doll it out judiciously in order to do that which I so dearly love to do. One day time will allow me a tiny portion of itself so that I may write more than a stupid tribute to time I wish I had but do not.

One day, but not today.

Wandering Fool

• by GeekMan • In Traveling •   4

Or; The GeekMan Cometh.

I’m headed down to Orlando Florida this Sunday where I will hopefully have time to once again cause great destruction and mayhem throughout the city with my Blogging cohort Solonor The Moderately Dangerous Man-Ferret.

He’s got a utility belt and everything.

So, should you live in or near the home of a certain anal retentive mouse with a high-pitched voice, you are cordially invited to have dinner with the Geek and the… uh, Solonor which should make for an entertaining evening since Solonor truly does take after his name. And, as everyone knows, Solonor is Lilliputian for “Not of the Sun” which of course is the exact wording used by Nostradingus to describe Satan.

Anywaste, I’ll be back Wednesday. If Solonor doesn’t kill me, that is.

Going Post-Nasal

• by GeekMan • In Rants •   7

I have post-nasal drip.

Do you know what that is? Post-nasal drip is when snot drips down your throat due to leakage from the back of your nose. I know what you’re thinking, but get past the disgust factor and you know what? You’ve got an open phlegm-faucet in your throat that’s constantly pouring a fresh supply of wannabe-snot down your breathing and eating tubes.

Basically, you’re constantly eating your own snot.

Do you know how fricking annoying it is to be constantly eating your own snot? It’s not as if I enjoy it, you know. Snot is not at the top of my list of favorite foods, it doesn’t even make the top 100. I mean, when’s the last time you heard of anyone entering a fast food restaurant and saying, “I’ll have the Big Phlegm Happy Meal with a side order of Coagulated Blood-fries and a coke, please. Oh, and that order’s to go.”

Mmm-mmmm. Now that’s good eating.

Even worse than eating it though, is feeling it constantly dripping down my throat. It both tickles and repulses me every time I swallow. I find myself constantly clearing my throat in the hopes of dislodging the mucus, but no matter how obnoxiously I make the “Heh-HEGH!” noise, nothing ever comes up.

And if you think that’s bad, it’s even worse at night.

That’s because when I go to bed the slow drip becomes a fricking flood. I find myself swallowing twice as much as normal for fear of drowning on my own snot while I’m asleep. Then, just when I think I might have the whole breath/swallow ratio figured out well enough to actually sleep, the stupid snot begins drying out in my throat! That makes even breathing painful plus I start coughing as if I had swallowed a duck with bronchitis! Right now I’m so frustrated with my nasal passages that I hate them. In fact, I hate every thing today. I hate my nose, I hate tissues with aloe, I hate daytime TV, I hate people, I hate you, I hate life, but most of all I hate, HATE, HATE post-nasal drip!

Aaargh! I’m out of fricking tissues again! Damn you, poetic irony!

Super Perfect Happy FunWorld

• by GeekMan • In Traveling •   2

I’m going to hell.

Most people wouldn’t look at it that way, of course, but then again most people aren’t jaded and bitter about traveling the way I am either. This weekend I’m headed down to the sunny state of Florida, where citrus fruit and neon colored houses grow like weeds. And, although I am an old and decrepit individual, I am not going down there to retire like so many other New Yorkers. Quite the contrary actually, I’m headed south for work, not pleasure.

But that doesn’t mean I can’t try to have fun, right?

So, once again I’m throwing my heart ego heart on the ground in the hopes someone will pick it up and show me some love. You see, I happen to know that some of my readers live in Florida, so I’m giving them all fair warning that I’m coming down so they can either pack their bags and flee the state like so many rats from the Titanic, or they can clear their schedule and plan on having a meal with the man behind the Geek.

My money’s on them running, how about you?

Voice-Less

• by GeekMan • In Breaking News •   2

I’ve lost the ability to speak.

My cold has been racing through my system, ravaging first my head with aches and pains, then my sinuses with clogging and dripping and now, finally, by attacking my throat and vocal cords with a paralyzing deluge of phlegm. No matter how many times I clear my throat I can’t seem to dislodge the cloying, silly-putty-like covering of mucus encasing it and it’s driving me crazy. Talking is impossible since no matter how hard I try all that comes out of my mouth are sounds one can only imagine might be made by a boy going through puberty trying to speak while gargling with Drain-o after swallowing an angry porcupine.

It’s also killing me how much HoBiscuit is enjoying my silence.

She keeps asking me questions she knows I want to answer; only to answer them herself in ways she knows will drive me insane. Want an example? Ok, she asks me questions like, “Would it be ok if I spent the money you were saving for the home theater’s new preamp/processor on new shoes for myself?” and then she’ll immediately answer herself in a the lowest, most manly voice she can muster with, “Of course not, Honey! You go buy your shoes because all I want is for you to be happy.” Then she just laughs and laughs and laughs until she cries. Which I guess is a good thing.

Why? Because when I remember that we’re together forever, I start crying too.

Sneezing & Wheezing

• by GeekMan • In Breaking News •   3

Stupid, stupid weather.

In case the title wasn’t enough of a hint, let me tell you all straight out that I’m sick. Apparently, while refusing to towel yourself off after a shower for fear of mind controlling rays from the government satellites in space may allow you to remember all the deep thoughts you concocted while soapy and wet, it will also lead to a runny nose, sudden chills and a tendency to sweat profusely while unable to keep warm. I hate being sick.

Can some kind soul email me some chicken soup? Please?

Medically Induced Epiphany #79834

• by GeekMan • In Experiments •   4

It happens to me every morning.

You know how, when you’re in the shower, your mind seems to wander the great philosophical divide and come up with all those amazingly deep thoughts? You know, those great Questions Of Worth like, “What is the speed of darkness?” or “How do villains in movies always manage to recruit thousands of faceless henchmen who are willing to die for their cause?”

I mean honestly, they must have one heck of a good medical plan.

Anywaste, have you ever noticed that when you’re done with your shower and have dried off your fit and trim body and run to the computer to write those miraculous shower-inspired thoughts down, that you can never, EVER, remember what they were? They’ve simply disappeared, like morning mist, never to be recaptured again.

It’s enough to make you scream in frustration.

Well, I have some good news for all of you out there who suffer in silence from this great malady. I, GeekMan the Great, have finally figured out what we can do to reverse this process of epiphany-loss that is afflicting us all. It was a simple matter of carefully eliminating all external factors of influence until all that was left was the root cause of the problem. After hours of study, and over 28 showers, I have finally discovered what that root cause is.

Your towel.

That’s right, your towel. Don’t be fooled by its smooth, soft, Egyptian cottony goodness because that seemingly innocent towel is really an insidious weapon of thought control employed by the government to keep us free thinking citizens in check. Now, while I have absolutely no scientific proof to back up this theory, I do have the following observations;

  • When I am in the shower I get wet.
  • While I am wet I have thoughts of great intellectual and philosophical worth.
  • These thoughts stay with me as I exit the shower.
  • As I exit the shower I am still wet.
  • I reach for the towel to dry myself off.
  • … And a rift forms in the space-time continuum that sucks my ideas from my head and into the towel leaving only the sense of great loss behind.
  • When I leave the bathroom I no longer remember my thoughts of great intellectual and philosophical worth and I am no longer wet.

These observations can lead to only one conclusion; the water used when showering somehow interferes with the mind-numbing, thought-control rays the government is beaming down on us from their satellites in space! And that towels help reassert control over us by sucking up not only water, but our thoughts, our hopes and our dreams.

Damn you, towels. Damn you to hell.

Luckily I’ve managed to avoid the government’s insidious plot and spread the word to all of you by simply refusing to towel myself off this morning. Now, I admit I’m a little cold sitting around naked and wet while it’s snowing outside, but at least I remember what I was thinking about in the shower. And that means I’m smarter than the government, even without my tinfoil lined pants.

Wait a sec! I just remembered I forgot to take my meds this morning…