Woody Who??

For those of you (the 4 of you that normally read my blog) that thought yesterday's post about pee pee popsicles was in bad taste, I have 2 things to say to you.

1. It was false. I made some stuff up. I do NOT in fact have a 72 oz. Big Gulp cup at work. The largest fluid vessel I have is 20 oz. (not nearly enough for making a decent batch of popsicles).

2. It was done to cheer up a co-worker. If you have never gone to a customer site...in another state away from your family and run in to less than stellar problems whilst installing or updating software...well..then you just don't know. Is it like fighting insurgents? Um...no. Don't be stupid. But it can be mentally taxing and sometimes just knowing that your co-workers back in the office thought of you enough to freeze up a fresh batch of peepopsicles is enough to get you through the next next next install.

And sadly, I fear that today's post isn't going to be much better. Whilst I will stay away from the topic of bodily fluids, I will post about something that struck me today.

And it's this....

I know how you can pick a fight at any bar on OSU campus...any time of the year.
WHY this particular piece of knowledge is useful, I have no idea. Maybe you're a psych. major or a soche major and need to explore the depths of mass legend worship and its effects on modern day culture.

Or maybe you're just bored.

Either way. Here's what you're going to need. appropriate attire. Clothing with fraternity letters of any kind are out. That introduces a whole new variable that can skew your results. But you should dress in either OSU Football fan attire...or like that Carson Daily dude. To break it down..you either need to look like a jock (but not a frat-boy) or you need to look like a homo (or metro)sexual. Take your pick.

The second thing that's absolutely vital is a wing man. For two reasons...you have to start this experiment as a conversation. In techy terms...the wing man is your control. You know how they are going to act (pretty much as you tell them). The other reason for having a wing man is that you need someone that's going to tell the cop that the other person threw the first punch. To establish your witness, your wingman should arrive 23 minutes before you and have already had a couple of beers and be sitting near a group of people (2 or more).

Once you get there, you order up a brew (something middle class--bud light or MGD. Too froo froo on the brew brew and you could blow your cover). Next sit near your wingman.

And then, at the next awkward lull (which ALL bars have at some point), your wingman needs to say (loudly as though trying to be heard over the music which has suddenly stopped).

"Are you crazy?? Woody Hayes was NOT gay. I don't care what you've heard. The man was married...had a family and was one of the greatest college football coaches EVER. There's no way he could have been batting for the other team!"

And from there you'll have to improv. Gauge the crowd. See if you've gotten anyone's attention....have your wingman go over to someone that is trying to listen (but trying even harder to look like they're not listening) and say , "look buddy. Help me out here. Is there any way that Woody Hayes could have been a butt pirate? (feel free to insert 'ass blaster', 'fruity', 'queer bait' or the socially acceptable slur of your choice here)."

If it goes according to hypothesis...at some point, your assertion against Woody Hayes' masculinity will incite someone to physical violence. If so...consider your little social experiment a success....and then quietly weep in the holding cell for humanity's near-sightedness.

I've given you the construct...it's up to you to figure out why calling someone...a dead, iconic legend....gay would cause someone to come to blows (and I'm almost positive it would have that result). Given your particular geographical location, feel free to substitute Woody Hayes with the icon of your choice (preferrably a beloved sports coach/figure that's dead now).

Folks, the challenge is not to get the fight to ensue (that's the easiest part)...the real challenge is to get some insight as to why people turn to violence when their mental images of an icon are challenged.

And why does being gay or accusing someone of being gay affect people that way? I don't know. Fundamentally a gay person is absolutely indiscernible from a straight person (in most situations...excluding shopping....or interior design stores).

Just like a vegetarian and meat eater. It's a facet of who a person is...but you can put a vegan right next to a steak and potatoes guy and not be able to tell the difference (provided, of course, you don't try this little side by side at ComFest or Hookahville).

But accusing Woody of being a vegan....well, it's just not going to have the same reaction.

It's an interesting and slighty depressing observation of our society and it's level of (or lack of)willingness to accept the unknown.

Alright, I'm done with it now (well, hell, what did you think--that i was going to write your dissertation for you?? Pishaah. As if!...get back to work).

Half-priced thrift tomorrow y'all!


I'm in HELL!

So....first things first. The last Wednesday of the month is approaching. Which means, there will be a thrift post no later than Thursday (And by Thursday, I mean by Sunday afternoon if I don't have too many beers on Saturday).
What follows is the occasional potty humor that occupies my mind. But in my defense, it was done to cheer up a friend who sometimes gets a little down on things.
In typical email fashion, you will need to scroll to the bottom and read back up to this point. Enjoy.

From: W--  R-- 
Sent: Wednesday, June 20, 2007 4:21 PM
To: Todd
Subject: RE: I'm in HELL!

I laughed. Thank you.


From: Todd
Sent: Wednesday, June 20, 2007 3:59 PM
To: W-- R--   
Subject: RE: I'm in HELL!


Well. there's the problem. I did.

And that was BEFORE the puddle. But I couldn't empty the cup faster than I could fill it. So I spilled.


And now I'm not really even all that thirsty. And of course no one around HERE has a jellyfish or sea urchin sting. So what the f am I gonna do with a Big Gulp 72 plastic cup full of urine?



I wonder if they make good popsicles?


From: W--  R-- 
Sent: Wednesday, June 20, 2007 3:55 PM
To: Todd
Subject: RE: I'm in HELL!

Only if you have to drink it.


From: Todd
Sent: Wednesday, June 20, 2007 3:55 PM
To: W--  R -- 
Subject: RE: I'm in HELL!


I'm sitting in a puddle of my own urine. Does that count?


From: W--  R-- 
Sent: Wednesday, June 20, 2007 3:53 PM
To: Todd
Subject: I'm in HELL!

Worked to midnight last night, been here since 7AM. All (hundreds) of calls from ROLM bounced back to ROLM. Their system menu quit working. I have some users who can’t log on. I haven’t eaten anything since 6:30AM. I’m working tonight.


How’s your day?


Rosy Festivities

All in all, I'd have to say this was a pretty chilled, laid back weekend. Friday night was the boy's soccer party where we got together with the other kids and parents from his spring outdoor team, most of whom I didn't know since I'd only made it to about 5 of the games. But hey, I'm never one to turn down brats on the grill.

Speaking of that, Saturday brought a graduation party at one of my neighbor's. He graduated college and threw a party complete with 'wedding reception' soundtrack on shuffle. But again, I'm not one to turn down brats...or beer, in this case. And I'm usually not one to turn down barbecue on the big ass BBQ pit either. Unless of course, the barbecue'r happens to dowse the food in lighter fluid in a (weak, and rookie) attempt at making the fire temporarily hotter to try to cook the food faster. Yes we were hungry. But damn, son! I would have waited another hour if it didn't mean sucking down lighter fluid on my ribs (I'm still burping that shit up today).

But again, it was free. And there was beer. And there was Darrin, my homey, that came over to hang out and burp lighter fluid. And I have to say that listening to some of the shite we did in 2nd Floor from 6 years ago was very VERY funny stuff. And I can't wait to do it again.

From that I went to skipping soccer on Sunday (didn't think they needed me yakking lighter fluid) on the field. But Nancy and I did go to the Festival of Roses.

That leads me to the pix.


Failing NaNo - 4 Years and Counting

I looked, Dear Readers, and noted that the last time I saw fit to let the words fall from my brain bucket and onto these virtual pages was o...