I have had a few interesting experiences lately. Individually, not enough for a post. However, together they provide yet another snapshot of my world....
Hey Fonz, Learn the Rules
Recently, in a restroom at work I strolled in to perform "little potty", aka #1. There was a gentleman facing the mirror, obviously enjoying the view of himself as he ran his hand over his hair and nodded. With the urinals about 9 feet behind him, he was taking very slow, small steps backward. I needed to go badly (big Mountain Dew from Quick-N-Easy) and did not want to use the shortie urinal, so I quick stepped him and beat him to the "adult" height urinal. Upon his spinning around, he gave me his version of "heyyyyyy" (insert best Fonzie imitation). Whatever, dork. Enjoy the shortie....and next time, fight the your narcissistic urges. Might help keep you from peeing on your shoe.
The Mating Habits of the Rare RB
We get the local newspaper delivered to our doorstep each morning. It is the ONLY newspaper we get (key fact). Each morning, as the young ones get up, I go downstairs, bring the paper in, remove the rubber band around it, place the rubber band on a kitchen counter, and check the morning weather forecast. So, if my math skills are still in tact, at the end of the week I should have 7 rubber bands on the counter. However, it is now appearing I need to separate the boy rbs from the girl rbs. For, over the last two weeks, I have found no fewer than 23 rubber bands on the counter and floor near the counter. As I sit here typing I see another one on the table near the computer. This is what the kitchen will soon look like:
"Bing" Means it's Done
On my floor at work there are two microwaves. Each appears to have been purchased around 1980. I love the semi-accurate dial to "program" in the cooking time. Anyway, in a fiscally motivated move, I have started taking my lunch in occasionally. As I stand in line for my turn to radiatively adhere my food to its Tupperware, I have noticed a very annoying lady. EVERY TIME she uses one of the microwaves, she does this. She places her food into the microwave, then finds someone to talk to. She talks, and talks, and talks.....then the microwave "bings". Of course, she completely ignores the bing, along with the growing line of people waiting to use the microwave and continues to chat. UGGHHH. I have two words for her .... Two Feet. She is only two freaking feet away from the microwave. Just turn 180 degrees, bend over, and remove the damn food! Next time I am next in line and she pulls this crap, guess whose food will be "accidentally" removed and dropped because it is "surprisingly hot".
Can't Be Frugal All The Time (aka, Fingernails Don't Lie)
We have one son who will be heading to college next year....and another 2 years later. Needless to say we are very sensitive to costs of groceries. My wife is much more frugal than I am. I still insist on buying name brands for a few grocery items. One of those items is toilet paper. I still insist on the multi-ply, mega-strong, ultra-soft, triple thick rolls of Charmin. Unfortunately, Mrs. WHW recently did the shopping, and came home with a large package of store brand, single ply tp. Hell, I can see through the squares if I hold them up. I expressed my displeasure, only to be greeted with the lecture about the recent Quicken reports (stupid Quicken). Anyway, we are now 4 rolls through the pack, and I have had 7 fingernail pokes/rips/light scratches. OMG! I would rather use eucalyptus leaves. Needless to say I now have my own secret stash.
Thanks for the Spray
If you follow me on Twitter, you may have noticed that I have been working out at a local health club. It's a very nice health club. I have been doing quite a bit (at least for me) of aerobic exercise (45 minutes on bike, 45 minutes on the treadmill). As a result, I have been getting very sweaty. That means I have been using the locker room....something I really don't like doing. My dislike goes way back to when I came in after a workout only to find a very hairy, very naked, very sweaty, very large guy sitting on the bench in front of my locker reading a newspaper. This evening I was probably one of only three people in the locker room. Unfortunately, as is usually the case, one of those people was using a locker next to mine. As this person was cleaning up, they decided to apply spray-on deodorant. The area then resembled a room that just had a roach bomb detonated. A huge cloud of Axe, Secret, Degree, Old Spice, or something became floating around the room. I can still smell the damn stuff on my bag, my nice Cubs hat, and my Colts Super Bowl tshirt. I think I need to take in some of my catfish stink bait in case I cross paths with this guy again.
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