I guess you could say we idiot proofed them

I don't drink, not because I think it's evil, but more because I'm pretty sure I wouldn't handle it well. Since I don't, I can't blame anything on alcohol. The stupid things I say and do can mostly be blamed on ... well, stupidity.

Several years ago, I was a software developer at IBM. My department worked on the floor control software for the RS/6000 manufacturing line. One portion of the line was called the pickpack area. In this section the operators would put the loose materials into the box: the mouse, documentation, support disks, etc. However, we got frequent complaints from customers because necessary items had been left out of the box.

So, my department implemented a very nice scanning system in that area. The scanners had small LCD screens on them. The operators would scan in the serial number of machine, and a list of pickpack items that needed to be placed in the box would be displayed. When they scanned in an item before placing it in the box, it would be removed from the list. After it was implemented, the plant manager made an appearance on the floor and even scanned in a few items.

At the end of the year, my department was making a presentation to the plant manager. My part was to present the department's significant accomplishments that year. And one of those was the scanners in the pickpack area.

When I mentioned that accomplishment, the plant manager commented that he was impressed with how well the scanners worked because even he was able to work them.

And without thinking (obviously), I replied, "Oh, I guess you could say we idiot proofed them."

A collective hush fell over the group and a few gasps were heard. I immediately continued with my presentation thinking, "Well, maybe he didn't hear me."

After the department presentation was done, the plant manager thanked us and talked about all he learned from it. He concluded his list with, "And I learned that Mr. Young is obviously independently wealthy or else he wouldn't risk his job like that."

So I guess he did hear me.

But at least he knew who I was. :)

The Hannah Montana Karaoke Sing-along and Petting Zoo

My girlfriend has a theory: when an ex-husband who was typically delinquent suddenly starts showing an interest in his child it's probably because he has a new girlfriend. After all, he has to impress the new woman with his dedication and commitment.

A couple of weeks ago a friend's daughter was having a birthday party. The ex-husband asked if he could plan the party and have it at his house. The mom was skeptical, but would never turn down his offer to do something for his daughter. (And yes, the ex-husband had a new girlfriend.)

So he planned a Hannah Montana karaoke party. Not a bad idea, if you assume the daughter was a Hannah Montana fan ... although that assumption was incorrect. However, the bigger issue that was pointed out to him was that the party was also going to have little boys in attendance, and the odds were pretty high that they were definitely not Hannah Montana fans.

So what would they like to do at the birthday party? A petting zoo, of course.

Thus, the first ever Hannah Montana Karaoke Sing-along and Petting Zoo birthday party. Where else could you pet a goat, ride a pony, and sing Best of Both Worlds?

I'd like some ham on that burger please

Texadelphia is a restaurant chain in Texas and Oklahoma featuring cheesesteak sandwiches and other items. There are several locations in the Austin area; however, one of them is very close to where I work, and I visit it frequently. In fact, when the cooks see me walk in the door, they start making my food before I even order because I am a creature of habit. I'm not sure if that is really cool or really sad. I'm going with "really cool."

Earlier this week I was picking up lunch and noticed a seasonal item on the menu: The Veggie Cheesesteak. The sandwich is made of cheese, peppers, mushrooms, and various other vegetables that I don't like on a 6" whole wheat roll.

So I was thinking: can you really call it a cheeseSTEAK sandwich if it doesn't have any meat? That's like getting a HAMburger without any ham.

Isn't it ironic, don't you think?

Growing up, I constantly corrected the grammatical mistakes of my friends. I was even given the nickname The Master Grammarian. It wasn't a compliment. :) Luckily, I've learned to let things go as I've matured.

Perhaps not.

Yesterday, I was talking to a friend who shall remain nameless. We were discussing her current relationship because I'm such an expert. (Yes, that was sarcasm.) She mentioned that the behavior of her significant other had improved greatly after a long talk, although he still had a "stupid moment" or two. However, she said stupid moments are part of being a man so she was going to give him some "leadway."

I paused, thinking, and decided to point out her mistake, "Don't you mean leeway?"

She laughed and said, "You couldn't just let it go, could you?"

I said, "I would have, but you just insulted my gender and called us stupid."

Sweet, delicious irony. :)

It's another name for a cat

NOTE: Names have been changed to protect the innocent. But I'm still Don because I'm not that innocent.

This past Sunday I was at my girlfriend's house doing some computer work and lounging around. Mostly lounging around. She had let her dog outside to go do dog things, but she later realized that the dog had gotten out. I'm no detective, but more than likely she got out through the open gate.

I jumped in my car to drive around the neighborhood and look for the dog. Riding with me was my girlfriend's almost 6 year old daughter (we'll call her Felicia) and the 8 year old daughter of the next door neighbor (we'll call her Amanda). I gave them each the job of sitting in the back seat and looking out their respective window so that they could help.

Felicia was concerned for the dog and in her nervousness proceeded to talk non-stop, saying things like, "Oh, there's an open gate. Maybe she's in that backyard. I think that mean lady across the street called the pound. I hope she's not at the pound, they'll be mean to her. What if she went in someone's garage and they kept her? Maybe we should ask those people if they saw a dog? What if she's cold and scared?"

For that last comment I replied, "It's 106 degrees outside, she's not cold."

Felicia continued, "What if she's at the lake and she gets in the water and can't swim?"

Amanda replied, "Oh, all dogs can swim. Well, unless she's a p*ssy."

Yes, she said the p-word. At this point I nearly ran off the road. I wasn't sure what to do since she wasn't my kid. Plus, I didn't want to overreact because I was thinking that if I let her know she said a bad word she'd just want to say it more. And I wondered if she really knew how bad that word was.

Felicia wondered something as well. She asked Amanda, "What's that mean?"

Amanda replied, "Oh, it's another name for a cat. And cats can't swim."

That worked for me.

I may be right, but I'm also hungry

When I'm paying cash for anything and I don't have the exact amount, I like to give what seems like an unusual amount so that I can get the fewest number of coins back. For example, if the total is $4.86, and I don't have 86 cents, I'll give $5.11 so that I can get a quarter back. An added benefit is the look of confusion in the face of the cashier when I hand them the unusual amount.

One Saturday morning, many years ago, I was on my way to work, and I decided to stop for breakfast. I'm not really a fan of Burger King, but it was very close to my apartment, so I hit the drive-thru for a breakfast sandwich and a drink.

My total was $2.79. I gave the cashier $2.84 expecting a nickel back. She proceeded to give me 4 pennies back as change. I stared at the change, looked back at her, and asked, "Uh, excuse me. I gave you $2.84."

She replied, "No, you gave me $2.83."

I thought, "Now why would I give her 3 extra pennies just to get 4 back?" And I also knew that I gave her 4 pennies --- not 3 --- and that she was a big stinky poopy. So I muttered some obscenities under my breath and roared out of the drive-thru in anger.

I calmed down on the 15 minute drive to work. However, as I sat in my office I was still thinking about how right I was. Then I realized something.

I never got my food.

I had two options: 1) slink back to Burger King and get my food, or 2) forget about it and learn a $2.84 lesson in anger management. Or a $2.83 lesson if you believe the cashier. I went with option 2, and I've never gone back to that Burger King.

The Big Easy

My incredibly handsome twin brother just returned from a business trip to New Orleans. The Big Easy. And although he and his coworkers don't have time to go sightseeing, he did make it to Bourbon Street briefly.

He said there are four types of businesses on Bourbon Street: restaurants, bars, souvenir shops, and adult-themed businesses. Sometimes they combine two of them and end up with a restaurant and a souvenir shop.

And I thought, "You know, if they had an adult-themed souvenir shop, someone could buy a vibrator that said, 'Welcome to the Big Easy!'"

:)

I'm popular in Brazil!

Several years ago I was sent on a two-week business trip to Brasilia, Brazil. We were installing our software at several locations of a large bank. Since it was important that the computers be available during business hours we were only allowed to work on those computers during the night. And because we were sleeping during the day it didn't allow much time for sightseeing.

One evening the computers weren't available so a group of us, and our translator (none of us spoke Portuguese), decided to find a dance club. Our translator took us to what he thought was a popular place. And it was crowded. The place was full of incredibly stunning women. But something seemed a little off.

We sat at a table, and I observed my surroundings. I noticed that there were more women than men (about a 6:1 ratio), and that there wasn't really an unattractive woman in the place. Also, it seemed that every guy (or group of guys) in the place was being chatted up by the ladies. I pointed that out to the translator, and he went to get more details on the club.

He came back to the table and told us what kind of bar it was in Portuguese. When we all stared at him blankly - since we didn't speak the language - he told us in English, "This is a prostitute bar." Prostitution is legal in Brazil (or it was back then), and this club was for men to come see what was available, buy the lady some drinks, negotiate a price, and take her back home.

Later, I made the mistake of asking someone to dance. She considered that the beginning of our negotiations, and she became rather offended when our translator had to tell her I just wanted to dance. After talking to me through the translator, she finally said, "Why even come to a country if you don't speak the language?" :)

So I sat at the table and didn't ask anyone to dance. Unfortunately, that didn't work too well either. Since there were so many more women than men, the odds were that a girl wasn't going to be "chosen." And if she wasn't, then she didn't get any money. So if there was a guy by himself, one of the ladies was going to talk to him and try to start the negotiations. I fended off many women that evening.

For a moment I thought I was extremely popular in Brazil.

EPILOGUE: When our group got back to the hotel our concierge asked us about our evening. After telling him, he told us that we didn't have to go that place because the hotel would provide those services for us. Apparently, they had a book with pictures of "working women" for the guests to choose from. Your choice was then called and sent to your room. The reason the hotel provided this service is because they would charge you for having a guest in your room overnight.

Desire with an extra e

A couple of years ago my roommate Nono had a personal assistant named Desiree. Also, to help earn even more money she cleaned my house and took care of my pets during the day. A year later she had to move back home for health reasons, and I haven't really heard much from her since.

Until yesterday. There was a call on the home phone, but I let the answering machine pick up since I didn't recognize the number. After the outgoing message played, I heard a voice say, "Hey Don, this is Desiree, and ..." at which point I picked up the phone.

I said, "Hey, I haven't heard from you in a long time. How come you never comment on any of my blogs?"

She replied that she hadn't received any of my e-mails, so she gave me her current e-mail address. I noticed that she spelled her name differently than I remembered, so I told her, "I always thought it was spelled like 'desire' with an extra 'e'."

She asked how I was doing so I gave her a lengthy 10-20 minute speech on what was going on in my life (I do tend to ramble). I asked her about her job, and she was doing something (graphics art) that I didn't remember her being trained for. I asked her about moving back home, but she said she was in a different state now. I also asked her about her health issues, but she said she wasn't having any.

It was at this point that I realized I was talking to a different Desiree (or as she spelled it, Desarae).

So after wasting more than 20 minutes of her life with my questions and talking, I explained our confusion (ok, MY confusion) and apologized for thinking she was somebody else. And after hanging up, I thought, "You know, her voice didn't even sound the same."

I think I'll let the answering machine pick up the next time she calls.

It sucks to be me!

Several years ago I had a girlfriend who had a couple of close female friends. Julie was a very attractive and happily married redhead, and Beth was an attractive blond who was engaged to Julie's brother. Both of their significant others worked nights, so they would go out with my girlfriend and me because 1) their significant others knew I wasn't a threat to steal their ladies away, 2) my girlfriend didn't mind if I danced with them, and 3) I was a good designated driver since I didn't drink. And I didn't mind them tagging along because they would try to make me blush by complimenting my butt the entire evening. Yeah, it sucked to be me. :)

One evening we were at a dance club, and Julie, Beth, my girlfriend, and I were standing near the dance floor. During the course of the evening, several guys asked Julie to dance, and she turned them all down. A couple of times, she asked my girlfriend permission to dance with me, which was granted, so we hit the dance floor.

Later in the evening I had to use the restroom. For the female readers, let me explain an unwritten "guy rule." Unless you know the guy standing next to you at the urinal you keep your eyes forward and your mouth shut. There is no small talk in the men's room. On this night, a guy broke that rule. The guy in question had had a few drinks, and he was one of the guys who had asked Julie to dance. And he had also noticed that Julie had been dancing with me.

So, as we're taking care of our business ... individually, of course ... he turned to me and said, "Hey, you're making out pretty well with that redhead." Since I knew I was their ride, I replied with confidence, "Yeah, I think I can get her to go home with me." When I got back to the group I told them what had happened. So Julie asked me to dance a couple more times just so that the guy would wonder what I had that he didn't.

And yes, he did notice us all leave together later that evening. Mainly because I waved to get his attention, pointed to Julie, and gave him the thumbs up sign.

It sucks to be me! :)