On the ignored advice of my attorney, I hereby confirm that this post is not intended to discriminate. Men are equally capable of dronery. (Another new word of mine, thank you very much.)
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Category Archives: Humor
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Best money for an honest opinion you’ll ever spend. If that sort of thing is important to you. If you have someone in your life who observably finds you appealing, that is the best definition of attractive imaginable.
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I’m probably the last person you’d expect to have an opinion about clothing or fashion. My past self was disinterested. Being fat makes much of the concern difficult to navigate. Once upon a time, I loved crazy clothing and vibrant, ridiculous colors. That love has returned.
Now that I look at ‘fashion’ (whatever that is) with a thinner eye, I discovered something I knew before: I am a huge fan of asymmetrical clothing. Shirts, vests, dresses, everything. I don’t remember noting the inclination as strongly before. Maybe there wasn’t as much of it. Maybe it’s me who has changed.
Interestingly, science fiction tends to portray most people in the future as fans of asymmetrical clothing. Don’t get me wrong: normal cut and other clothing is still interesting. But I find myself seeing the odd angles and mismatched materials much more interesting. I guess there is hope for me not getting old yet. In case you’re wondering about the last comment: it is difficult to find new things and enjoy them and feel old simultaneously.
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On a personal level, I haven’t lost a lot more weight. I’ve lost some. But I have not jumped on the scale. I’m at a plateau and I’m still okay with that. But do I feel thin? Lord, yes, I do, even though I have a pudge. I’ve yet to lose all sense and dive into unhealthy behavior, at least in regards to eating. I hope I don’t lose this sense of gratefulness to the universe for providing me with this feeling. I’m still convinced terrible consequences were impending without this big weight loss. I’m equally convinced that being significantly thinner is going to keep me smiling, even when other things might not, for quite some time.
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Being bilingual sometimes causes awkward laughter. Earlier this month, I invented a better, new word that better expresses what younger people want for Feb. 14th.
“Will you be my valentine?” will now be replaced with the more accurate, “Will you be my sinpantalón?”
¿Quieres ser mi San Valentín? = ¿Quieres ser mi Sinpantalón?
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As an educational comment. Many people do not know that a standard 9 volt battery contains six AAAA batteries (now obsolete, of course) linked in a series. Additionally, If you connect two 9 volts to opposite polarity, you create a hand warmer. Also a detonation device if you’re not careful.
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In a move best characterized as “ill-advised,” John located his martial arts studio adjacent to an Anger Management Institute franchise.
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Just me? “She Talks To Angels” by The Black Crowes summons a strident desire to recommend a competent mental health professional for the protagonist of the song.
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Now I understand why I’m obligated to buy expensive toilet paper: the Bible instructs us, “Be fruitful and multi-ply.”
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Feb. 11th
Coming over the hill into the long valley, I realized mine was the only car. Ahead, the ground and everything around it was strangely illuminated from winter’s touch. Winter did not bring its worst to us last night, choosing a subtle reminder that certainty eludes us. Far ahead the emerald traffic light burned with a green intensity. Go. Proceed. And I did, though I wanted to linger in the early February morning, as the world slept. On to work I came, as Evermore melodically hypnotized me. Go. Proceed. The emerald light is somewhere out there.
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“Gather ye rosebuds while ye may” is great poetry. But evidently a terrible horoscope for the day.
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Day after the Super Bowl
“We hold these truths to be self-evident: complaints about the halftime show are proportionally correlated to the likelihood that Centrum Silver is somewhere in the speaker’s medicine cabinet.” – X
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The pandemic was a really bad time to start using mustard in the hand sanitizer dispensers. That’s what my manager shoutily told me.6 Comments
(Shoutily is a word because I say it is. You’re welcome.)
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If I had a kid, I would name him or her “Mnemonics” so that people would be unable to forget the name without looking foolish.
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“‘X, how would you describe his intelligence?””Well, ‘Parts On Order’ adequately covers it.”
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Titles don’t impress. Even the monkey closest to the tree trunk is the Branch Manager.
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The above picture made me remember Amen Tailor.
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The above is to be used when you find yourself irritated that people place ideas over other people.
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Shirtless In February
A few times a day, even though it is February, I have a sudden urge to just take my shirt off. Initially, I attributed it only to weight loss. I guess there’s a word for this condition: “Detunicitis.”
It’s important to note that I just made that word up.
When we were young, no one wanted to be ‘skins’ in the horrible PE games that the bored coaches made us engage in. It’s why half the world insists on wearing a shirt in the pool, which makes as much sense as flippers in the bedroom. Except for Gary. He can keep his flippers on, thanks to a condition I can’t publicly discuss. (Gary, you be you, okay?)
While I’m complaining about childhood PE classes, it was kind of sexist that the coaches never made the girls play “shirts” vs. “skins.” Particularly observant guys pointed this out to deaf ears on the part of the coaches. No one ever understood the complex morality of being modest in such matters while encouraging cheerleaders to run around half-naked. There’s a disconnect there, much in the same way that we don’t want anyone to see us in our underwear yet we cavort around poolside wearing less than our imaginations.
But we need a word to describe the sensation that encompasses the moments of realization that we’ve transitioned from obesity to normalcy. Those moments manifest themselves perfectly in those moments at Target where you’re looking at the ketchup selection. And realize that you’ve yanked your shift off.
It’s a real thing.
And, as for the three older ladies at Harps on Thursday, please accept my apology. It only got awkward because they started throwing money at me. Coins. It’s part of the reason that you can’t take your Grandmother stripping.
Anyway, if you see me without a shirt on, just walk past me without comment – even if I’m receiving communion when you notice. If it doesn’t bother the pastor or priest you’ve got no dog in the hunt. (I hate that cliché.)
“f you’ve got smokes, light’em,” so to speak.
I’m struggling to decide if this post is a joke or real. I’ll let you know.
Love, X
A Word From Our Sponsor
Facts.
Yes
The Piper
NSFW.
This post ends with the punchline.
A while back, I wrote about the fact that I would start writing more things that cross people’s lines. For anyone close to me, you already know that I don’t have a problem with cursing or other objectionable language – especially if such language is creative. Everything is context.
It is probable that people who don’t know me well will have a problem with me not having a problem.
The reason this fascinates me is that I’m the same person in that respect I’ve been most of my adult life. Acknowledging that my comfort zone is far wider than other people in no way negates whatever version of me that you hold in your head. One of the great realizations in our lives is to come to understand that each person in our lives has a different version of ‘us’ inside their heads. There is little we can do to alter that version of us.
If you think I’m the kind of person who doesn’t curse, you’re wrong. I adjust my audience accordingly, especially if I know that someone has a problem with coarse language. It’s a delicate balance that requires a bit of ‘squish’ on everyone.
Likewise, my turn of phrase goes directly to the idea of paying for the consequences of our words and actions. The original idiom implies misbehavior or tomfoolery that comes due.
My turn on the old cliché goes a step further. I don’t mind paying the reasonable consequences of something. Paying more than reasonable becomes onerous. From that was born my extrapolation of the phrase to be both humorous and accurate.
Don’t make people pay more than is due for errors, words, or deeds.
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“I don’t mind paying the piper. I just don’t want to blow him too.”
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A Masked Anecdote
I don’t always succeed at looking the other way or being the person I should be. Being thinner and having more confidence brings unexpected problems. I also tend to sometimes follow a thread or story just because I’m curious. Not because I have an agenda.
Today, I was at a business drinking a double shot of espresso. Obviously, I had to pull my mask down for a second. Espresso via a straw is lunacy.
No other person was within 20 feet of me. It’s important to note that several people in the facility had no masks, wore their masks improperly, and some were employees of the facility. I’ve had both covid shots. I also tend to tune out paying attention to those who don’t wear their masks or wear them properly. A couple of weeks ago, at Walmart, a man got furious at me, because he was obviously spoiling for a fight about not wearing a mask. I had not even noticed he didn’t have one on when I acknowledged him and said hello. He was looking for a fight.
Part of the social contract during the pandemic is to avoid being a maskhole in either direction. Truthfully, the safest course of action is to avoid going out. Engaging with those who don’t wear masks is a fool’s errand that will fill your day with argument and stress.
I don’t do it. And though it’s been that way for me for a while, I usually fail to notice whether someone has a mask on or not.
As I pulled my mask down to finish my espresso, an employee approached me. I made eye contact with her. And said hello. To my surprise, she shouted, “Sir pull your mask up!” Which I was already doing as she shouted. Keep in mind that she walked past several people making no attempt whatsoever to wear their masks or wear them properly.
Suspecting she was having a bad day, and also suspecting that me making eye contact is what pissed her off, I locked eyes with her as she passed and shook my head laughing at her. Which really pissed her off more. She wisely kept walking. Also, I was seated. Had she followed her own trajectory, she would not have violated social distancing.
Walking around, I observed people and realized more people than I thought weren’t wearing masks properly. Especially employees. Then I noticed the pissy employee who shouted at me was standing there with her mask down talking a foot away from another employee. I walked up within 10 feet and said excuse me. And then reminded both employees that social distancing and proper mask etiquette were required at all times without exception for employees at the facility. And that hypocrisy was not a good color for an employee to be displaying openly. I smiled, wished them both a good day and walked away. Laughing, of course.
One of the employees cursed at me and called me a son of a b****. I won’t argue the veracity of that. My mom was guilty of the charge. I turned and gave them the thumbs up and walked away.
I know walking up and being smarmy and snarky like that wasn’t the right thing to do. But I also know it wasn’t the wrong thing. And if it results in both employees not being assholes to the people they’re supposed to be helping, my transgression is certainly lesser than theirs.
After observing several other employees engage in similar behaviour, I went and asked to speak to the customer service manager. The employee did not want to help me. I told her I would wait as long as necessary and to not stress. She tried to do everything she could to encourage me to bug off or to explain to her what the issue was.
She looked even more confused when I explained to her that in the interest of time and efficiency for both the business and myself, it would be easier to proceed without needless repetition. I thanked her.
The purported manager approached. I showed her my covid vaccine card and ID and explained what happened.
I tried to avoid identifying the employee. And I certainly did not tell her that they had cursed at me. I wanted her to know that employees were sending mixed messages and causing anger issues needlessly.
She was perplexed when I told her honestly that I was talking to her only to see what her genuine reaction was. While standing there, I got more and more amused my how she was staring at my awesome women’s floral jacket. Her body language and demeanor told me she didn’t care about what I was saying.
And that’s okay. Customer service is a thankless job.
I told her that the objective of me talking to her, other than to observe a reaction, was to remind her that the rules are there to be enforced or not. But to watch out for hypocrisy.
I don’t know what my demeanor was saying to her, but she finally asked me, “Who are you?”
I told her I could be anybody from anywhere. But most importantly that I’m a human being with human reactions. And that employees are no different than customers in a world where we’re all equals. And to be kind, attentive, and happy.
I left her scratching her head. She thought I was somebody, so to speak.
I’m writing this post on my phone. I know I’m probably not capturing the nuance or communicating my points clearly.
All this started simply because I made eye contact with an employee. That’s weird. Weirder than my awesome floral jacket.
Tofurky: Live Life On The Edge
tl;dr: violently unappetizing smell and appearance. Tastes great! (You’ll never see that juxtaposition of words again in your lifetime. Savor them in the same way you savor the door closing when the in-laws depart.)
“Ask not what you can do for your country. Ask what’s for lunch.” ―Orson Welles
Usually, if I say something smells a bit like wet cat food, it wouldn’t be something I’d put in my mouth. In this case, though, the Tofurky Plant-Based Deli Slices 100% smell a bit like wet cat food. Not the elegant kind featured on the tv commercials with well-groomed cats, either. The cats that would eat this type of smell are the ones you’d never stoop down to pet without wondering if you’d need a shot afterward.
After picking up a packet and looking at it at least a dozen times over the last few months, I bought one today instead of throwing it back in the case. I’m a would-be lazy vegetarian, so this type of product catches my eye. The package claims that the contents are hickory smoked. I don’t see how that is possible, but it must be true; they spent a lot of money on the package’s extra wordage. Take note of the large print on the reverse that proclaims: “Taste Bud High Five!” It could just as easily said, “And Nose/Eye Slap In The Face.” They undoubtedly ran out of money to budget the extra printing.
Note to food manufacturers: brown-orange is not the go-to color I’d recommend for food. Sweet potatoes already have the market cornered on that aesthetic.
“Seize the moment. Remember all those women on the Titanic who waved off the dessert cart.” ―Erma Bombeck
I’m blaming covid for convincing me to try this. My logic is that if a pandemic can get me at any moment, I don’t have a lot to lose by trying something that might smell like cat food and/or taste like used cat litter. Everyone knows that my taste already leans toward “inhuman.”
The picture I posted doesn’t do justice to the perplexing texture and color of this alternative deli slice. I can’t help but imagine that a team of scientists worked for years, hoping to develop the opposite of whatever appetizing might be. They succeeded. After a lot of thought, NASA engineers associated with the solid waste portion of space travel might have given them ideas.
If you try this food, do not smell it before putting it on a sandwich, tortilla, or in the cat’s food bowl.
In my case, I used Olé tortillas, lettuce, and horseradish sauce. And another with Sriracha. They were delicious.
These fake deli slices tasted amazing on them both.
You might doubt me. I’m sure you doubt me, especially after my review of the alien autopsy fake bacon. (Which is even more amazing cooked on a cookie sheet in a stupidly hot oven.)
To recap: do NOT smell this before trying it. Just put it in your mouth.
“If you use a food app and it calls 911 for you when you input what you’ve eaten, you are at least taking risks, which the happiness experts claim makes a beautiful life out of the most mundane.” – X
Love, X
Right In The Eye
“Humor is in the eye of the beholder but in the craw of the begrudging.”
Underestimating the distance chasm between intent and receipt is one of my greatest weaknesses. But also one of my strengths. How much love, mirth, and creativity fail to shine because we suffer the illusion that we have any control over the manner in which anything is interpreted.
“That which can be adequately explained by stupidity should not be attributed to malice.” It’s a wise cliché for a reason. My version is better: “That which can be adequately explained by humor, stupidity, or simple oversight should not be attributed to malice unless the other guy is a real asshole; in which case, fire away.”
It’s not that we can’t spout malice with frequency.
The reality is that most of the people we allow in our lives just don’t behave that way, not really. And if they do, it’s our fault, not theirs, that we gave them room in our sumo ring.
For every angry word, a laugh is displaced. For every frown, a smile withers.
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“It’s always funny until someone gets hurt. Then it’s just hilarious.” -Bill Hicks
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“Keep your sense of humor. As General Joe Stillwell said, ‘The higher a monkey climbs, the more you see of his behind’.” -Donald Rumsfeld
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“I am as bad as the worst, but, thank God, I am as good as the best.” -Walt Whitman
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Here’s an old one: “I, for one, like Roman Numerals.”
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The Worst Best Thing In The World
A few days ago, I was at Aldi. That’s problematic enough. I have a love/hate relationship with Aldi. It used to be hate/hate, but I’ve softened a bit. I still leave the cart out in the wilderness of the parking lot, though – quarter be damned.
Immediately upon entering, I encountered a little section tucked up into the produce area. In it were several small vials of interesting liquids. Two of them were little vials of Vitalife Kick It In The Ginger / Turmeric. For whatever reason, it caught my attention. The Ginger shot contains cayenne pepper, lemon juice, ginger, and probably cat tears.
Vitalife is the sort of company that creeps me out. I can’t explain why, mainly due to the lawyers. I’m kidding.
This is the sort of thing I would never purchase habitually. But I am a connoisseur of foul-tasting substances; this seemed to be a prime candidate. That it contained lemon juice was the deciding factor. “Lemon anything” is my new go-to formula for happiness. I can’t get enough Lemon in my mouth no matter how I try.
I wanted to drink it then, but unfortunately, store personnel frown upon eating the merchandise before paying. Which, if you think about it, is both completely logical and also highly objectionable.
On the way home, I opened the vial and drank a bit of it. Yes, it tasted rank. Did I like it a lot? Also, yes.
I won’t say what it LOOKS like because everyone who knows me also knows that I am a perfect gentleman in every respect. It’s okay if you’re snarking already at this point.
I know people love spouting the benefits of drinking ginger. I don’t care what the benefits are. For me, the foul taste that I love is enough.
I won’t pay that much for a little vial of horrible taste. I can get that by eating a cricket or tasting anything at Wendy’s or Hardee’s.
If you need to try something that will make you reject your humanity, I highly recommend the Vitalife Kick It In The Ginger Shots.
Just don’t look at it!
Love, X
P.S. I really like it.
P.S. Parenthetically Speaking 