I don’t like to answer the same question twice, let alone a hundred times, so I tend to tell people to just Google something… I’ll say “Just Google it!”
If someone doesn’t know how to Google something, my answer won’t make any sense to them.
If someone is too busy to Google something themselves, then they are probably too impatient to listen to me and comprehend what I tell them.
If someone is too lazy to Google something themselves, then they’re probably too lazy to stop, drop, and roll when I drench them with gasoline and light them on fire.
Category: My stories
Memorial Mistake
What if two people who died on 9/11 had the same name?
When the annual memorial event organizers read the list of names in alphabetical order, would they say the same name twice? Or just once?
And when they made the memorial, would they engrave the name twice or just once?
It would be embarrassing to go there to make a charcoal rubbing of your loved one’s name, only to find strangers standing there doing a charcoal rubbing of your loved one’s name?
Or, I suppose, release chickens with the numbers one through nine on them, minus the seven.
Jason
When I go to sleep, I play camping sounds on my phone.
Crickets, a crackling fire, owls, and frogs fill the air.
It helps me to dream of when we’d go camping long ago.
Back at Crystal Lake.
Yeah, there was this Jason kid that we harassed and drove into a homicidal fury. He put on a hockey mask and chopped up a bunch of hot teens.
Thank goodness I was a pimply nerd back then. Jason just passed me by without a single look. Dude just snickered. Jerk.
I still came down with poison ivy. Man, did that suck.
as a
Freddy says that he’s sick as a dog, so he can’t meet up with me at our favorite bar.
Sick dog? Is one of your dogs sick? I ask.
I’m a vet. I take care of Freddy’s dogs. He’d have said something if one was sick.
“No, as sick as a dog!”
Oh, I must have misheard him.
I guess I’m getting to be as deaf as a post.
Freddy works for The Post. As an ombudsman. He has to listen all day to readers.
He swore and hung up. I guess he heard me the wrong way or something.
Color Lists
When you blacklist an address, everything sent by that address is deleted.
When you whitelist an address, everything sent by that address is received.
What about greenlists? Or bluelists? Or redlists?
What do those lists do?
Would they still do those things if you were color-blind, or would they just be different shades of grey lists?
I, for one, haven’t read that Fifty Shades Of Grey book, but I’ve heard that it’s full of smut.
I don’t want to read smut, so I’d probably just blacklist all that stuff.
Even though I’m not actually color-blind.
But if I were, certainly.
Alarm Clocks
I always set my alarm clock before I go to sleep, and I always set the alarm clock on my phone as a backup.
Even though I set two alarms every morning, I wake up before them. But I still set those alarms, just in case I sleep late and need them.
It’s like circus acrobats and trapeze artists who use nets. If they are good, they don’t need or even want the net, but they have it there anyway.
So, I set the alarms, go to bed, and I dream of being a circus acrobat.
Without a goddamned net.
Cables
I keep a recharging cord on my desk at work for my phone. I have another on my nightstand.
I keep a third one in my backpack so I have one with me all the time.
The cigarette lighter adapter came with a cord, too. So did the emergency recharging battery pack.
Pretty soon, I had hundreds of these cables. Too many cables to count. My cats were playing with these things, dragging them around. I can’t even eat spaghetti anymore because I end up biting into a cable.
Now if only I could remember where I left my phone.
Rum Sleep
It’s been a while since I last had rum.
Usually, I drink Jack Daniels or amaretto. Or beer.
But rum? I mean, if I want to get messed up so I can go to sleep, I’ll do vodka. Or walk around the block to wear myself out.
Rum isn’t my go-to sleep potion.
Still, rum is rum, and my coworker brought me back a bottle from Puerto Rico.
How can I say no?
After mixing my third rum-and-Coke, I realized that it wasn’t going to help me get to sleep.
Regular Coke. With caffeine.
Not the gold-label uncaffeinated Coke.
Oops.
Change The Names
Not only did we change the names to protect the innocent, but we’ve changed them to condemn the guilty.
So, instead of just keeping Monica Smith’s name out of the papers for writing bad checks, which was all just a big misunderstanding and a simple math error by the bank, we’ll put Christina Bloomgarden’s name in there for drinking up and gambling away all of her kids’ college funds.
What? Monica wrote those bad checks to Christina when she bought Christina’s old car? So the college fund thing all her fault, not Christina’s.
Stop the presses. Change the names again!
Ricky The Rat
Back in the day, Ricky The Rat would drop a dime and rat you out to the cops.
The Syndicate never managed to finger Ricky, so they muscled the phone company into raising the price of a call from ten cents to a quarter.
“Exact change, please,” said the operator to Ricky.
That kept Ricky quiet for a while… until 911 made it to the city. That was toll free.
Ricky would still drop a dime out of habit, and get it back.
Then, cell phones took over. Phone booths vanished.
The Syndicate tracked Ricky with GPS, and whacked him.