Technology disappoints

I love seeing the disappointment on people's faces when they realize there's only hand dryers in the bathroom and no paper towels
— Ignite Your Thinking (@LaughTherapy) September 29, 2014

I'm not sure how many problems I have because math is one of them. http://t.co/hLZTYYfaxw via @someecards

— Ignite Your Thinking (@LaughTherapy) June 17, 2014

Confessions of a bachelor

I love being single, mostly because I can get away with things no sane spouse could handle. Here are a few examples of my daily life that keep me laughing at myself:

Ironing

I keep a water bottle handy to spray my clothes with a light mist, then throw them in the dryer to get the wrinkles out.

Dusting

Thanks to Sharper Image, I just turn on my Ionic Breeze machine and it takes all the dust particles out of the air.

Trash

There is an art to stacking, shoving, piling and towering the trash.

http://ejucatedguy.blogspot.com/2005/12/art-of-bachelorhood.html

Eating

Do not under estimate the power of gift cards.

Laundry

Don't let the care instruction tags fool you - throw it all in together, even "Dry Clean Only"

Sweeping

A leaf blower works wonders, even inside.  Just make sure the Ionic Breeze is turned on.

Shoveling

Snow melts.

Cleaning

When I need to clean the toilet, I flush first and then pee really hard on the stains.

My roommate scares me to girlish screaming

Kumon: Seems like an odd name choice for a child education center.

Dear massage therapist

Dear massage therapist,

There's something I keep meaning to tell you, but it's awkward at the moment it happens.  So, here it goes:

Please stop talking to me while you give me a massage.  If I wanted to pay big bucks to talk with someone, I would go see a counselor.  Please note that the first word in your title is "Massage" and you asking me questions while you're supposed to be performing your primary job duty is distracting, and quite frankly, disturbing to my relaxation.

It's hard for me to talk while my face is enclosed in a small cushy pillow with a hole in the center.  My words don't really come out right and I frequently fear that I will drool on your feet while trying to compose a sentence.

Really, even if I get a discount session by purchasing from Groupon or Living Social, it's still not worth it if I have to constantly answer your questions.

Thanks for listening and I'm sorry I wasn't able to tell you to shut up during my massage.  Also, please pass this message along to any of your dentist friends.

Thanks
Ejucated Guy

Kona: A force to be reckoned with

I love my little puppy Kona and thank goodness she's not the destructive little force she used to be.  I had never owned my own dog before, just family pets so I let my parents take care of all the problems and training.  I live in a townhome, so I held off getting a dog for a long time.  It's not an ideal situation - no yard, every potty break becomes a long walk, etc.  But I'm glad I got her.

But I will say,  it hasn't always been easy.  Early on, she enjoyed chewing things up. From speaker wires to a couple sage green throw pillows. I once left her alone for just a few hours and I guess the separation anxiety got to her. My roommate had just purchased one of these lowes synthetic and jute aubusson carved rugs (basically an indoor /outdoor rug which can withstand pretty much anything except for the Jaws of Kona) and we came home to small little fibers spread throughout the house, plus some interesting poop for the next few days.

But truthfully, she's helped me get more organized.  You have to be responsible with a little puppy! Both with your time and your surroundings. I started by buying a muscle rack 5 shelf super storage rack to organize all her food, toys, treats, and dog stuff.  Pretty soon I was doing all kinds of home improvement projects, because once you start, you can't stop!

More than that, I rescued her from a shelter (some might say I bought her used).  She's a good companion and also inspires me to exercise more so she doesn't get fat (yeah, so SHE doesn't get fat.  I may or may not have a beer gut).

Home Fashions from Publishers Clearing House

For those of you that have high self esteem, you can now purchase the Butt Face towel available from your friends at Publishers Clearing House. Yep, it's just a reminder every morning of the ridicule and harsh words your elementary classmates threw your way growing up. Order now and receive the Jack Ass wash rag set, plus the I'm A Huge Tool shower curtain.  Your whole bathroom can gleam of insults and your morning routine in the bathroom will change the way you look at your day, and yourself!

Guaranteed to lower confidence, spur depression, and send you in a downward spiral, all before your morning cup of coffee!

Lather, Rinse, and Stop

I don't know why I decided to read the directions on my Gillette shampoo in the shower this morning because I'm pretty familiar on how to wash my hair. But I'm glad they understand me:

DIRECTIONS: Lather, rinse, and get on with your day.

Seems a bit shady to me

 

I was driving down Fillmore today when I spotted this. Does this seem a bit sketchy to anyone else?

So I locked myself out of my house this morning.  I love it when I do stuff like that - it makes me feel so smart.  Although, I still had my phone with me so I was able to make lots of early morning calls which resulted in people's voicemail.  Most of them promptly returned my calls a few hours later.  Thankfully, I had just locked all my windows a day or two before, you know, for safety.  I wouldn't want anyone crawling in the windows. I had also recently removed my hide-a-key, one of the world's best inventions when it's in place. So, I was stuck outside, with my coffee and my phone. Ideally, I should have been headed to my appointment across town that started in 15 minutes, but instead I had coffee on my front porch. It was fun to look through the back sliding door and watch my dog sit there and wag her tail.  It was like she was saying, "Hey, don't you wish you would have taught me to unlock doors?" Yep.
It's such a helpless feeling. At one point, I thought about kicking down my front door like a swat team member, or perhaps breaking a window. But I resisted. After my cup of coffee, I realized I had given a key to a friend to watch my house a when I went to Disneyworld.  I'm pretty sure he was looking for an excuse to leave work at 8am since he had been there so long already for the day.
Yep, there's really no point to this story. It's more of a long mental note to myself to remember to drop my keys into my pocket before I walk out the front door.  Noted.

Vote NOW for Best of the Springs

 It's that time again - Gazette's annual Best Of The Springs where we all get to give our opinions on our favorite restaurants, shops, activities, bars and clubs, local artist, entertainment, comedians, etc, etc.
Make sure you submit a vote. It's a fun way to think through your favorite things about this great city of Colorado Springs and support local businesses with your votes.

Dear Wendy's Sandwich Makers

Dear Wendy's sandwich makers,
I have a few requests for the next time you make my sandwich.  Certainly, I'm no restaurant connoisseur, but there seem to be some common sense ideals I'd like to mention that perhaps you could consider.
First of all, please consider the fact that I don't eat my entire hamburger in one bite.  I don't know what kind of training you go through or what burger-making formula you're taught your first day working at Wendy's. But let me give you a little insight: most people enjoy pickles with every bite of the burger, not just the very center bite where you stack all 5 pickles on top of each other.
Same goes for the glob of mustard. There's a reason it comes out of the container in a thin line. Try rotating your hand in a circular motion around the top of the hamburger. One giant squeeze, creating "Mustard Mountain" right in the center is not the preferred method. You can also practice this method with the ketchup and mayo!
Next, onions are obviously the cheapest ingredient since you so graciously pile 1/4 pound of onion on each burger. I thought it was supposed to be a quarter pound of meat? Perhaps there is some confusion and you should go back and reference your manual.
Also, keep in mind that when surveyed, most American's preferred red tomatoes, not hard green crunchy ones. I think I may have figured this one out. Your slogan on your website reads Quality is Our Recipe. I guess I need to request that recipe next time I come in; I didn't realize it was by request only. This is no fault of yours, as a sandwich maker, but maybe just consider it in the broad scheme of things.
Finally, when I  unwrapped my burger tonight, I found most of these condiments smeared all over the sandwich wrapper and consequently all over the outside of the bun. I understand you're working for speed, but obviously that's not working out for you too well either. There's always a huge line when I come in to order and I end up waiting about 5 minutes per customer before I even make it to the counter.
Is any of this making sense to you?  Do you eat your own sandwiches and actually experience these issues that countless customers are taking in stride every meal? Certainly, you don't claim to be "sandwich artists" and it's becoming more and more clear why.
One more thought - has your store ever considered getting more than one credit card terminal for all the cash registers, which gets tied up when you get a phone call or another customer chooses to pay with credit?
Just thought you might consider my suggestions.

Gifts that will not be forgotten

My Great Grandma Goodenough (God rest her soul) use to send me and my cousins boxes of random things growing up. I believe she intended them as gifts and perhaps even thought we might use the items. Sometimes these gift packs were for a specific holiday and sometimes we just got them out of the blue.
You see, my grandma was a garage sale shopper. She always liked to find a deal, even if it wasn't really a deal. I once went along with her to find these gems. That particular day, she bought some plastic figurines which she later super-glued to the dashboard of her 1978 Chevy Caprice. She also tried on some used lipstick at one of the garage sales, but decided it wasn't her color and put it back.
When I was in college, my entire dorm floor would gather around when I got a box from her because the contents were always so random. For instance, one Christmas, I got a white knit stocking cap (made for a child or perhaps even an infant - keep in mind, I was about 18 years old). The best part was after talking with my brother, who was 6'4" 260lb college football player, I found out he scored with the matching infant gloves in his box. Yeah, grandma never really had a good concept of the type of things we might actually enjoy or use, but she kept trying; and kept sending, again and again.
We got everything you can imagine from garage sales across Iowa, from dirty stuffed animals, to kitchen utensils, to food that was often in a questionable state by the time it arrived at our house.
Perhaps some of the best and most memorable gifts was a bright red sweatshirt with a giant screen printed teddy bear on the front. The teddy bear print had a great big smile, open arms, and was surrounded by pink and blue hearts. At the top, it said, "I need a hug." I would have been killed instantly if I would have worn it anywhere.
But I think my all-time favorite gift, which I regret now not holding onto for memory sake, was a baby-blue mesh hat, with the words carefully embroidered on the front, "My love belongs to my Daddy." As an added touch, my name was thoughtfully airbrushed above the words.
At times, we questioned her sanity and would try to visit her so she could see how old we actually were with the hope that it might sink in that she was sending us stuff we could never use. Unbelievably, despite her poor judgment on picking gifts out for us, she always remembered exactly what she sent each of the grandkids. Needless to say, it was always awkward when she asked me face-to-face how I liked the teddy bear sweatshirt, customized faux trucker hat, and kitchen accessories.

Funny, I don't remember that...

If you've been reading my blog you know that I got a new puppy last September. She's a rescue dog, so I don't know exactly what the mix is, but definitely some lab. But that's not the point. You see, I keep finding black dog hair in weird places.
It's funny, because I don't remember telling her she could get on the couch...but there's hair there.
It's funny, because I don't remember seeing her sit on the toilet seat..............but there's hair there.
It's funny, because I don't remember telling her to help herself to my Lucky Charms...but there's hair there.
It's funny, because I don't remember her crawling through my miniblinds....but there's hair there.
It's funny, because I don't remember her changing my furnace filters....but there's hair there.
It's funny, because I don't remember her making me coffee in the morning...but there's hair there.
It's funny, because I don't remember seeing her using my iPod headphones...but there's hair there.
It's funny, because I don't remember watching her fold my laundry...but there's hair there.
It's funny, because I don't remember noticing her crawl through all the heating vents...but there's hair there.
It's funny, because I don't remember driving herself to the vet in my car...but there's hair there.
It's funny, because I don't remember her putting on my Oakley's on a sunny day...but there's hair there.
It's funny, because I don't remember her weighing herself on my scale...but there's hair there.
It's funny, because I don't remember the last time she used my laptop to get online...but there's hair there.
You get the point. I guess the good news is she's with me where ever I go.

Whiner Gone Missing

So, I have to admit my dog (Kona) looks kind of funny. She was just spayed this week and the vet shaved her tummy and a patch on her left leg so they could do the surgery and give her an IV.
But I think they did more than a ovariohysterectomy....I don't know how they did it, but they took her "whiner" as well. Usually, she goes to the front door and whines when she needs to go out, but now she just sits there and make this weird breathy, air-pushing sound. Hmmm....maybe it'll come back.
They also told me she can't jump, run, use stairs, play, take a bath, swim, etc. Are you kidding me? What am I supposed to do - I mean, she's not too upset about the no bath rule, but everything else can only be accomplished if I tranquilize her (which apparently is how COPS control kids in Colorado now).

You're a huge tool and everyone knows it

You think you're so cool, walking along with your new Christmas clothes on and your sharp new haircut. You sniff up a confident stream of air through your nose which only makes you realize there's still a bit of that Christmas cold lingering in your sinuses. After a quick but moderately quiet snort, you feel the need to spit. But there are so many people watching you - it's hard to be so good looking. You keep your mouth shut waiting for the perfect opportunity to spit where few people will notice, perhaps a small shrub or street crossing. Finally, the moment is right - no one's looking and you let it go...but not quite. It's that damn stringy spit that won't break apart! How is this still attached to your face?!? You gave it a good effort but now it's blowing in the wind and you're awkwardly bent at the waist while continuing to walk, waiting for the 3 foot long strand to release from your bottom lip. Now, you're realizing you should have stopped walking much earlier as it has attached itself to your new Christmas sweater, yet it continues to cling to your chin. NOW people are looking, and it's not your haircut they're noticing. Mothers are pulling their children close with fear in their eyes and disgust in their faces, and even the homeless are shocked by your lack of control. You have to take action and you sacrifice the back of your hand to avoid further embarrassment. But word spreads immediately - don't shake his hand or give him a hug. You're practically a huge walking disease of filth and saliva. There are so many people laughing at you right now. Don't worry, it happens to the best of us.

If you enjoyed this, you may also want to read about drooling while you sleep.

A surprise in every meal!

I'll admit - I eat out a lot. (Alone. But that's another story.) I think Sonic Drive-In is one of my favorite places. Yeah. They don't even invite you inside. You're encouraged to stay in your car. Sure, they set up a few picnic tables outside, but they're the kind with the holes in them and you end up loosing lots of food through the table. Plus, if you spill your drink you're screwed. It immediately soaks your pants and you'll need an ample supply of napkins. But none of the car-hops are around when you need something. Sure, they've been over a dozen times to see if you want more ketchup packets or another peppermint, but good luck finding them when they mess up your order or you spill all over your pants because of their special recipe-for-disaster-picnic-tables. If you dare try to go inside and open the sacred "Sonic Door" all the employees yell out some sort of secret code word that basically means you shouldn't have walked into their kitchen. Also, few people know this, but Sonic DOES have bathrooms. They're kind of like gas station bathrooms; it's a scary door that looks like a janitor closet you can only access from outside the building. But my favorite thing about Sonic is that you get to sample a bit of everything when you go. Sure, they always ask if you want fries, tots, or onion rings but we all know it doesn't matter which one you order. After a couple of tots, you find a few fries mashed into your box, and if you're lucky, some onion ring pieces. I wonder what their thinking in that private little kitchen of theirs. I order tots for a reason, but I always get the "combo pack". The real reason I go to Sonic is the amazing music they blare over the loud speakers. And, I'll admit it, I'm just hoping one day to see a car hop bite it in the parking lot on their roller skates.

I'm chewing the ocean

True Story: I was out with my (then) girlfriend to Black Eyed Pea for lunch. The waitress knew me, because I had given her a hard time in the past. At one point, I begged, "Please don't spit in my food" and from then forward, it was her joke everytime I came in. I would order chicken fried steak, green beans, and mashed potatoes and she would ask, "Would you like spit in that?" Yeah, I didn't think it was funny either. Anyway, this particular day, she asked the same question and I responded, "You know, I hope you really don't spit in my food or poison it every time I come here." Ha, ha, ha we had a good laugh, blah, blah, blah. Part of her daily pitch of specials included a Blackberry cobbler, made fresh for the lunch hour rush. We were there around 1pm for a late lunch, and I was surprised there was any left when I ordered some for dessert. So, back to the conversation with my girlfriend (she's married now, I kind of blew that one). We were having a fairly serious conversation and she was close to tears as I took my first bite of cobbler....there was something terribly wrong. It was, perhaps, the worst thing I've ever had in my mouth. I didn't want to cause a scene or interrupt the serious conversation, so I kept chewing, gagging, and finally swallowed what tasted like a huge bite of chunky ocean water. Finally, Sarah (the relationship I once had) noticed by the contortions in my face that something was wrong and paused the conversation to check in on me. Yeah, it was bad. I knew immediately - they made the cobbler with salt instead of sugar. Apparently, I was the 1st lucky customer of the day to test the awful mix of ingredients. I'm still not sure why I didn't just spit it out. So, we called the waitress over to inquire why she really went through with the threat of poisoning my food. She alerted the manager, who made the entire staff try the disgusting concoction and then they threw away all 6 pans of the wretched mix. Really, I can't ever have Blackberry cobbler again. Thanks Black Eyed Pea for a ruined relationship and bad food.

SPECIAL REQUEST: Stop

To all companies, sales people, and other pointless ventures of advertising, consumer aquisition and retention, please note that I would rather not receive the following items from this point forward:
1) The stupid neighborhood/community newspaper that gets thrown at the end of my driveway and eventually rots into small scraps of newspaper that wash down the city streets.
2) All Facebook application requests.
3) DVD's from Columbia House that I have to return because I forgot to decline my selection of the month.
4) The coupon magazine that comes in my mailbox filled with mail-in cards for collectible figurines that fall out of the stack of mail before I make it inside.
5) The email notification from various people in Africa that I can work with confidentially to get the money I'm owed as a beneficiary to some large some of money.
6) The plastic swords in my drinks and toothpicks in my sandwiches. these are dangerous.
7) the extra screws that come with self-assemble furniture. I don't even use all the required pieces and I certainly don't need extra. as long as the furniture doesn't collapse, I'm okay with the standard supplies.
8) coupons for "buy one sandwich get one free". I'm single and I eat alone frequently. I don't really want another sandwich. I would rather get half price on the sandwich I just bought and not have someone remind me on a daily basis that I have no one else to share a second sandwich with.
9) the huge cotton ball in bottles of medication. I can get a whole bag of cotton balls for 99 cents at Wal-Mart. I don't need more.
10) the annoying phone call I get 2 minutes after arriving in my hotel room to make sure everything is okay. first of all, your phones are nasty and smell like perfume and body sweat. I prefer not to use them. Plus, I'm tired. If I felt like chatting, I would have had a cup of coffee with you at the front desk when I checked in.

Thank you for your consideration. My patience is running thin.