Category: My stories

Feature Freezes are when the development staff stops working on new feature code for the next software release, and they hand over their code for a final test and bug hunt.
If code doesn’t make the grade, then it’ll goes into the development hopper for the next version.
To celebrate the Feature Freeze for the summer release, the company rented a snow cone truck, and the staff all got brain freeze.
If sales pick up, good. Otherwise, the Feature Freeze for the winter release will coincide with an actual freeze, because management will shut down the heat to the building.

Philosophers say that you cannot step into the same stream twice. The water is different from moment to moment, which makes the river different.
Also, after you step into the stream the first time, you know there’s a stream there, so the next time you go out walking you won’t step into the stream like a goddamned fool.
Pay attention to where you’re walking! Stop staring at that iPhone and look around you! It’s beautiful out, with all the trees and birds and grass.
And the stream, dummy! Slow down, look where you’re going, and enjoy the journey for once!

King Wilbert looked around his dilapidated castle and cursed his ancestors for wasting their maintenance budgets on parties and wars.
“C’mon, Mildred,” he said to his queen. “Let’s go shopping for a new castle.”
Architects drew up plans for a new castle, but the royal accounts could only afford a inflated bouncy castle.
“I’m not living in that thing!” said Mildred.
“Well, we could rent it out for kids birthdays until we can afford a real castle,” said Wilbert.
Which they did. And they dressed like clowns and made balloon animals and painted kids’ faces.
And lived happily ever after.

The guy at the deli counter says that life is like meat in a meat slicer.
You slice off a bit at a time, one slice after the other, until you get to the end.
Thin slices or thick slices, you still come to the end eventually.
All the while, he’s slicing up a chub of ham, and it’s getting shorter… shorter… shorter… and I wonder if he’s going to slice his hand to bits.
He stops just in time.
“You thought I was gonna cut my hand up?” he asks me.
Ever since then, I buy the prepackaged stuff.

The old man in the penthouse condo had himself a harem of young mistresses, and when he died, they fought with each other over whom he loved the most.
Out of respect, the building manager let them be, and didn’t ask about the maintenance fees or bills.
So, they wept. And fought. And annoyed the neighbors.
One of the mistresses asked him for help to get her luggage to a taxi.
“Oh, by the way,” she said. “He really didn’t care what happened to the place after he died.”
The next day, he threw the rest out into the street.

I refuse to eat McDonalds, Burger King, and Wendy’s burgers.
The McDonalds is next to Goode Company’s mesquite grill. Great mesquite grilled burgers, but with fries and drink it’s eighteen bucks! Crazy!
Burger King is next to Goode Company Barbecue. A brisket sandwich on jalapeno cheese bread with two sides is the superior choice there.
What about Wendy’s? Who gives a fuck? I drive to Bubba’s Buffalo Burger Shack and load up a lean bison beef burger with everything. Best in town.
If it has a drive through window, drive past it and go park at a real burger joint.

I don’t care what the best-selling hamburger is.
Or soda. Or beer.
Or which movie
I want quality, not quantity.
I want expert testing for products, and if it’s a subjective decision on taste, then something I will like.
I want warranties, just in case something goes wrong.
Which I hope doesn’t, but it might.
If price is a factor, then I will sacrifice only so much quality that I can afford, and then assume that I save on future repairs and maintenance and the cost of replacing a shoddy alternative.
Because the cheaper you go, the regret is free.

They say that Barbara Walters had her finger on the pulse of America. But interviewing celebrities with soft-pitch questions is hardly having your finger on the pulse. Nor is an ignorant gab-fest with a panel of opinionated and ill-informed women.
Just a vapid, fawning hack, marketed as some kind of hard-hitting journalist, when all she really did was plumb the shallows of a prettyboy or fancygirl, or stroke the ego of a politician or flavor of the day.
She leaves the profession worse than she found it, her audience dumber than she found it, and we haven’t hit bottom yet.

A day after you eat corn, you shit corn.

No matter how much you chew it up, a whole bunch of indigestible yellow kernels will show up floating in the bowl.

It’s a good way to see how quickly things are passing through you.

There are probably times when you eat corn and nothing appears in your poop. Maybe you chew your food up too well.

Then there’s the times you poop corn, but can’t remember when you last ate it.

A week? Two weeks? Three?

Me, I don’t care. As long as the condom full of diamonds comes out.