The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Archive for December, 2009

De Jour of the Week (12/13/09)

12/13/09

My little work space is shared with a guy who has two (I think) little kids. And so I thought of the phrase “a parents work is never ending.” Which naturally led to this poem. Any time I can do a joke about “Mom – you don’t get me, I’m going to the mall” I’m happy. Hope you enjoy it.

A Child’s Work

A child’s work is never ending
Because rules aren’t good unless they’re bending
And threats aren’t worthwhile unless they’re rescinding

Oh yes, I know, I’ve heard it’s tough to be a parent
And with all your effort at the end of the day you’re just so spent
But give credit to those heaven-sent-demon-children who are so malcontent

Do you think it’s easy to make you worry 24/7?
NO!, You have to hate bike helmets, and cross-walks, and love late night trips to the 7-11,
While wearing that black t-shirt and those expensive jeans (you’re for all mankind, but not their wallets, right seven?).

Do you think it’s easy to roll eyes so much?
NO!, It takes hard work and planning and just the right touch,
And deliberately mentioning so and so and then getting angry when you bring up such and such.

Do you think it’s easy to spend that much time at the mall food court being moody?
NO!, Moody is very tiring and exhausting but it’s in this season, you see?
And when Becky told Lisa that Jimmy said hey to Claire it’s just – GOD you don’t GET ME!

Do you think it’s easy coming in four nights a week right after curfew?
NO!, You’ve said the curfew so many, many times forgetting it is hard to do
And then having to remember to say sorry sorry, and it’s nothing really but pretending to give much ado.

Do you think it’s easy asking one more time why that can’t be done (especially since kevin’s parents are cool and he’s going)?
NO!, Are you kidding? You’re kidding, right? You’re kidding. Why can’t you just – you’ve got to be kidding!
It’s very difficult to understand why you don’t get that the house party will have no alcohol/danger/that one friend/older kids/any kind of smoking.

Yes, a parent’s work is never ending
And your rules come from on high and your words of wisdom are so wise and your threats aren’t idle thumb spinning
But that’s only because a child’s work is ALSO never ending (and we’re much less forgiving).

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Du Jour of the Week

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Weekly Wacko (7)

Since it’s nearing Christmas it’s the perfect time to buy things for yourself while making it look like you’re a good person shopping for others. That’s the Christmas spirit.

How am I Single?

I wanted to buy a video game whose target market was probably a bit younger than me (one of those Legos games – the Star Wars one). I went to the video game store and browsed around so that it would not seem like I came there with Legos on the brain. I looked at a number of games and eventually picked up the game I had come there for.

I went to the register and ended up getting the ‘cute girl’ (video game stores always seem to have one of those as a way to remind nerds of their place – and that place is at home, not talking to girls). She looked around for the CD, found it and put it in the case.

Suddenly, I speak (I had not planned this), “that’s for my nephew … Christmas gift.” This was a lie.

“Do you want me to gift wrap it?”

“Oh, no, no, that’s ok … It’ll just delay him getting to play with it.” That’s a lie, unless you replace the word ‘him’ with the word ‘me.’

“It’s no problem at all, I’ll gift wrap it.”

I’m not sure what’s more pathetic – me unwrapping a gift from myself to myself, or me lying without meaning to.

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Weekly Wacko

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Liver Problem

I entered this in a short story contest … and LOST! Yeah! The contest was under X words, and the story had to start with, “A man walks into a bar. But it isn’t a bar.” The story that won (if I recall correctly) was the man walking into like a smoothie place, but he wanted to be in a bar because he’d found out his wife was cheating on him. I took a different route.

A man walks into a bar. But it isn’t a bar.

“Uhh … hello?” The man asks this, panic in his voice. Rather than his usual bar, it is a black, hot, seemingly small room.

“Hello.” A voice calls back at the man.

“Uhh …?” The man says this into the darkness, unsure where the voice has come from. “Hello? What?” The man’s eyes bulge and he looks around, then he whispers, “what’s happening!?”

Riotous laughter fills the cavernous, black space. “Ohh that was fun! All right, take it easy, take it easy. It’s just me. Your liver.”

The kind of silence you’d expect after an announcement like that followed. You know, the kind of silence that happens when you think you’re going to a bar but then it turns out not to be a bar but a giant-sized version of your liver, which also talks to you.

After a while the man manages to say, “Wh …”

“Listen, I want to talk to you.” The liver says this in a very serious tone.

The man nods his head, even though the room is too dark to see anything, and as far as the man knows his liver is omnipotent and can read his thoughts.

“Tonight, you left work and headed to a bar to meet up with some friends. Your friends, seeing as it’s a Friday and they had a rough week, are excited about happy hour … You are excited about the bar’s nachos.”

“Yeah? … They’re … good nachos …?” The man says this in a, ‘hellooo, isn’t it clear!?’ way.

“I’m sure they’re great nachos. But I’m bored! Do you know what I process? Water, milk, coffee and orange juice! Well, and food. But come on. You even eat boring. I. Am. Boooorrrrreeeddddd!”

“Wha … Wh … Wha?”

“All right.” The liver audibly exhales, as though the man is trying its patience, “so when you’re at work and all you have to do is the same stuff over and over again, you get bored. Right? Right.” The liver doesn’t wait for the man to respond.

“It’s like that with me! This week you were so bored and then on Thursday you got that one assignment from Cathy and you were annoyed but so happy! ‘Finally, a challenge!’, you had thought to yourself. I need that challenge! But, ya know, in the form of like tequila shots or maybe some Irish Car Bombs.”

“You said? … You’re my? … Liver? … Right?!”

“Yeah?”

“So …? This is like … When I was in grade school I was in D.A.R.E. … and I heard about … bullies and drop-outs trying to get me to drink and do drugs … And how I should say no. But these bullies were always pictured as one white boy, one black boy, and one Hispanic girl … It was never … My liver …”

“So you don’t have a reason to say no.”

The man and his liver laugh at this and the man had to hand it to the liver, “that was a pretty good one, liver.”

“Seriously though,” the liver says after they both stop chuckling, “seriously, don’t you want to be cool?”

“What!?” The man nearly yells.

“Ha … just kidding? No, no … Ok … Seriously, I’m bored. I mean … I hate to deal with stereotypes but … You … We …We’re one fourth Irish, right? Well … Your body may be twenty-five percent Irish, but I’m one hundred percent Irish … Know what I mean? Huh?!”

The man tries to give his liver a dirty look, but doesn’t know where exactly to aim it. “Liver, if I end up drinking, does your LAME sense of humor end up coming out?”

The liver laughs at this, then pauses and laughs even more. “I don’t think you know yet how true that is … Let’s find out though. Together! Tonight!! Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!”

The man rolls his eyes as his liver continues to chant.

“Fine!” The man finally concedes. “If it’ll shut you up! I don’t want to have to be bothered by you causing me problems – if it takes me drinking all night to calm you down, that’s what I’ll do!”

“You really don’t know livers, do you?”

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Short Short Stories

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