Please check your plumbing

Special thanks to "News Quirks" by Roland Sweet for blessing us with this info.

Police at Texas A&M University arrested two men for showering at a women's bathroom at a shelter for victims of Hurricane Katrina. Evacuee Arpollo Vicks, 20, of New Orleans, said that he and his 16-year-old cousin were both born male but live as women and consider themselves female. (Notice no evidence or mention of an "operation.") Vicks said that she had never encountered a problem when using women's bathrooms, adding that she wanted to shower in the women's facility because she felt safer and more comfortable doing so. "This is nothing to be in jail for," she explained. "I live like this. This is my life."
--Bold italics added for emphasis upon the exact wording used for this story.

Hey, at least you didn't have to share a cell with a Packers fan! (See "File under 'Get a life'.")

Get the idea!

Here's proof of yet another business organization that doesn't understand that using automated dialing services is a huge waste of money...
The phone rang. I unwisely answered after seeing a number I didn't recognize on the Caller ID. A recorded message came on, informing me I may be eligible for "an exciting offer for a new rural home loan!" I laughed, because as I have previously shared, we aren't homeowners. I decided to call back, since it was a local number, to let them know who they have offered their services to.
RECEPTIONIST: Thank you for calling Smackers Home Loan Mortgage Confederation*! How may I help you?
MR. I: Yes, I just received a recorded message from your business offering me a home loan...
R: Yes?
MR. I: This is public housing. Obviously, I am not qualified to get a home loan!
R: ....Oh! (Recovering) I'm very sorry. We use an automated teleservice to place our calls.
MR. I: Yes, and obviously, it's a huge financial drain on your company, because who knows how many people like me you'll contact!

Sometimes, it's a whole lot of fun being undeniably right.
*-Name of company changed to protect them from further ridicule and embarrassment

Welcome to Walmart. How may you help me?

My wife ("Mish-mash mousse") went to Walmart to buy a Christmas present for me today. (No, I don't know what it is!) She apparently found the item in a large bin, price clearly marked, near the registers. So then she goes to check out. The cashier went to scan the item, but it had no SKU tag. So she asked my wife, "Do you know how much this item is?"
MMM: Well, it was right in that bin over there, so I think it's probably X dollars.
C: Um, do you know what department that is?
MMM: Sorry, I don't but it was in that bin right there.
C: Gee, I don't know. (Looking over to next register) Hey Bob! Do you know how much this item is?
B: No, what department is it from?
(Finally, C gets the idea to go over to the bin to make sure like items are in it. But, instead of doing the obvious and grabbing another thing with a SKU, she wanders back to the register and...)
C: OK, now I have to figure out how to override the system so I can enter the department and price...

"Can I please have a CSM at register 3 for a brain scan?"

File under "Get a life"

Just saw something totally ridiculous on the news. Apparently, during the game this past Sunday between the NFL's Green Bay Packers and the Philadelphia Eagles, played in the City of Brotherly Shove, A man, last name Nateboom, ran onto the field with a bag full of his mother's ashes and scattered them on the field. He then stopped upon reaching the team logo at center field, dropped face-first and allowed himself to be carted away by security. He claimed that it was his mother's wish, as she was a lifelong Eagles fan. He said, "The only bad thing was having to spend the night in the slammer with a Packers fan."

PLEASE reprioritize your life, buddy! (If you can call it a life.)

A little late, don't you think?

From "News Quirks" compiled by Roland Sweet comes yet another story that just makes you shake your head in bewilderment.

The Rev. Kyle Luke was stepping into a small pool to baptize a new member at University Baptist Church in Waco, TX, when he reached to adjust a microphone so he could be heard. (Was Kyle impersonating Homer Simpson? Why why why why OH WHY??) It produced an electric shock, which electrocuted Luke in the waist-deep water. Ben Dudley, the church's community pastor, said, "Everyone just immediately started praying."

Yeah, I guess everyone was so busy talking to God about a dead pastor that nobody remembered to call the operator to ask, "What's the number for 911???"

Read "duh" directions

Today, I bought one of those lighted reindeer lawn ornament figurines to decorate our front yard. It was in a pretty small box, so I knew I'd have to do a little bit of assembly when I got it home.
Sure enough, I took it out of the box, and all the parts were neatly folded/fitted together, surrounded by bubble wrap. On the one end was a strip of paper tape, affixed onto the wrapped package. The paper tape had some information on it, so I went to read it.

"1. Do not cut light string wires when unpacking product."
Gee, I guess that would kind of defeat the purpose of the ornament!
"2. Do not use scissors, knife or sharp blade to cut protective bubble wrap away from product."
OK, that's common sense to me, but I can understand why they'd write that.
"3. Find paper tape that secures the protective bubble wrap around product and pull away paper tape."
Uh, what is this thing I have here with the instructions???

If you can't follow and understand stuff like that, you don't deserve to have lawn ornaments!

Potatoes with panache?

Buffet-style restaurants can be such a mixed blessing. On one hand, you can get something for everyone in your family that they'll like to eat, but then on the other hand, you have to deal with other people and their peculiar food practices.
We went to the local buffet last night, and as I passed the spot where all the condiments are, I saw a lady holding a scoop full of cottage cheese right up to her nose with a crinkled look upon her face. In her hand she held a small plate with a baked potato. She sniffed the white substance, sniffed again, and sniffed a third time. She turned to the lady next to her and asked, "Thelma, does this smell right to you?"
Thelma stayed at a distance and said, "I can tell just by looking at it that that's cottage cheese. If you want sour cream, it's in the container next to it, on the left."
"Oh," responded Sniffer Lady.
Then she looked again at the spoon full of cottage cheese, gave it one last whiff for good measure, shrugged her shoulders, and plopped the cottage cheese right on top of her potato.

Could somebody please contact our flavor expert, Flava Flave?

A Thanksgiving break from stupidity

On this Thanksgiving day, I realize I have much to be grateful for, perhaps even more so than in past years. Today, I am breaking away from the ridiculous and listing some things that I am extremely thankful for... This is mostly in no particular order.
1) I am thankful for my home. It isn't much by most people's standards, but it is home, and we almost didn't have it. (Long story I'll not delve into.)
2) I am thankful for my job. Yes, at times my supervisors and co-workers can get under my skin, but it is a good, secure job with numerous possibilities for the future, if I so choose. For now, I'm glad I have the position I do, in this time when so many fine, outstanding people are struggling to find work.
3) I am thankful for God's patience, which I have tried many a time.
4) I am thankful for my children, who, though they can be a source of headaches at times, are the beautiful, remarkable kids that I dreamed about, even years before I met my wife.
5) I am especially thankful for my wife, who has meant what she said when she vowed "For better or worse." She has often seen me at both extremes.
6) I am thankful for pain. Without it, I wouldn't have realized how dangerously close we were to being ripped apart as a family.
7) I am thankful for my freedom. I am free to worship as I choose, express myself and prosper as much as I can.
8) I am thankful for my friends, especially my old college roommate, Dan, who taught me an invaluable lesson in facing the most dire of obstacles and overcoming through sheer determination. (My prayer for him is that he remembers what he taught me as he confronts some amazing difficulties now.)
9) I am thankful for my extended family. We haven't always seen eye-to-eye, but in the end, we all realize we're in this thing called life together, and have stuck it out through thick and thin.
10) Finally, and most importantly, I am thankful for God, who, though I fail to understand His ways more than ever, has proven Himself faithful and merciful to me, who deserves it least of all people.

Uh, yeah, you think????

We get a lot of people calling us looking for a lawyer who used to have this number several months ago. Today, the phone rings and my wife looks at the caller ID, seeing a number from Michigan. Intrigued, she picked up the phone.
MRS. I: Hello?
CALLER: Hi, is this "John Costello"?
MI: No, we've had his number for about 4 months now.
C: Oh. Well.... May I speak with the homeowner, then?
MI: This is a public housing unit.
C: (Offended) OH! Well then, I have the wrong number! (hangs up)

Gee, what gave you your first clue? I didn't know my wife (who has a mezzo soprano voice) sounded like Joe!

Microsoft Spell check, part II

So I'm performing a spell check of the post "This is just plain nuts," and I realize that apparently, everyone who worked on MS Windows Spell Check failed anatomy. The system doesn't recognize either "cranial" or "genitals." In fact, when the latter word came up, the suggestions given were:
gentiles
gentlest
gondolas

So, when somebody mentions someone who is uncircumcised, you'll now know why they're called gentiles!

This is just plain nuts

Disclaimer: pardon the pun.

From the AP comes yet another tale of dastardly deeds, morose mishaps and absurd awkwardness!

Police accidentally hit a naked man in the genitals with a Taser after he was caught breaking windows and asking women to touch him... (He) tried to run away when sheriff's deputies approached so one of them shot their Taser...
Said (Lee County) Cpl. Matt Chitwood, "The Taser is relatively accurate, but when someone is moving like that, it doesn't matter if you have a Taser, or a pistol. (Officers) can't aim."

Moral of the story: if you're ever caught running around naked by police, HOLD STILL!

Smelling clean without Febreeze

Today my travels took me past a car wash. As is the case with most establishments like that, there were heavy industrial vacuums outside the wash bays. What was surprising was the sign attached to the one vacuum.

"Vacuum Fragrance".

Hmm, I've always wondered what a vacuum smelled like!

...People always say to me I need to get a life, but I can't figure out why!

Life ain't nuttin' but a funny funny riddle!

I was forced to endure the torment of country music at work today on the radio. For whatever reason, the DJ decided to take an impromptu call from a listener. Bad call.
DJ: Thanks for calling "JR." Who's this?
CALLER: Hey, this is Jake. I got a riddle for ya.
DJ: (hesitantly) O --- kay, go ahead...
C: Ok, "I've got no brothers or sisters. I'm my father's son." Who is he talking about?
DJ: (great annoyance in voice) I have no idea.
C: Himself. He's looking in the mirror.
DJ: (quickly) Here's Toby Keith on "JR."

Obviously, wit is NOT the area of excellence for this caller!

WANTED: Effective pet birth control

A couple of summers ago, my family and I moved to Western NC. We lived in a little boon-dock community called Edneyville, which consisted of farms, houses and apartments, a convenient store and a Mexican grocery. THAT WAS IT. Being that there was very little to do there, life traveled a lot slower than it does in civilization. Some of the people themselves were a lot slower, too.
Case in point: one of our neighbors in our apartment "complex" was a good-ol' Southern redneck named Chad. He, his wife, daughter and a little Bichon named Chloe, lived across the hall from us. Chloe was free to roam the land. So was "Buster," a Chihuahua whose owner didn't give a darn 'bout nuthin.'
One day, Chloe and Buster got together and proved that neither they, nor their owners, had heeded Bob Barker's advise that he leaves at the end of every "Price Is Right." Yep, that's right, they were... Propagating. Well, Chad looks down from his balcony (we lived on the second floor) and sees "Action Jackson" violating his pooch. His response?
(Whiny, apathetic tone) "Chlooooo-eeee... Chloooo-ee. C'mere, Chloe."
Chloe was NOT interested in her master at this point, so Chad went down the stairs with a full pan of water. He got to within 3 feet of the immoral beasts and flung the water at them. Both Chloe and Buster, teeth bared, took a lunge at Chad, keeping in position all the while. Chad jumped back, then, with his hands in his pockets, watched the party continue, and then said in a resigned fashion, "Ohhhhh.... Thayut's not a good thang..."

Free to good home: Miniature mutts. Must be spayed or neutered. Whatever that means.

Psycho calling on line 2; psycho on line 2!

Deep from within the chasms of our past comes a woman who used to go to the same church as us named "Gladys." Gladys is... er, um... not stable. Hasn't been for years, but the past two years, the senility rate has dramatically increased. The last bout of warped thinking came as she attempted to call my father-in-law, "Mark Sr," and instead called my brother-in-law, "Jr." Though this isn't word-for-word (since I haven't tapped any phone lines lately) I do get the gist of the call from Mark Sr...
G: Hello, Mark Shmoo, Sr.?
M: No, this is Mark Jr.
G: No, you mean Mark Sr.!
M: No, I'm Mark Jr. You have the wrong Mark.
G: No, no. You go to the prayer meeting. You sing on the worship team.
M: Right, that's Mark Sr., but I'm Jr.!
(Conversation #1 ends. However, like a Ginsu knife commercial, "But wait! There's more!")
(Phone rings.)
M: Hello?
G: Yes, Mark Shmoo Sr.?
M: No, this is Jr. Again. You keep calling the wrong Mark Shmoo!
G: But I know you! This is Gladys from the prayer meeting!
M: Sorry, you want to speak to my father. This is the wrong number.
G: Well, I have to call everyone in the prayer meeting to tell them they have the wrong number for you!
(Conversation #2 mercifully comes to a close. But since we're apparently gluttons for punishment, Gladys decides to continue pursuing this "matter"...)
(Phone rings again.)
M: Yes???
G: You are Mark Shmoo Sr.! I called before!
M: Look, I told you already, I'm not the right Mark! You want to speak to my father!
G: Well, what's his number? You give me his number?
M: It's in the directory. You can look it up there.
G: (After a brief pause) Oooooohh, wait! I know who you are!!! You're "Greg" Shmoo! You married "Brianna!!!"

BTW, I'm "Greg" and Mark Jr. really is married to Brianna.

I smell cranial smoke! Hmm.. Smells like burnt bacon.

The brain you have dialed is no longer in service!

My wife checked the phone messages upon arriving home today. Pearle Vision, as they often had, called to tell Joe and Carla that their glasses were ready. Never mind my wife's name is NOT Carla... She called them back. Again.

MRS. I: This is not Joe and Carla's phone number.
PV: Oh. Well, this is the number we have for them.
MI: Yes, I know. However, we've had this number for over 4 months. Please take this number off your list.
PV: But he was just here, and he gave this number to me.
MI: Again, this is NOT their number. We'd appreciate it if you would stop calling here for them.
PV: But I don't understand. This is the number he gave me.
MI: This number is not theirs, OK!?
PV: I don't understand.

Operator? ...Operator?? Hel-loooooo?

"...PEOPLE with guns kill people!"

So, you're one of the good people of Williamsport, eh? Never mind you got a 9mm in one pocket and a bag of snow in the other. You're wearing one of those magical T-shirts!

Now that everyone in Williamsport's equipped with their (apparently) bullet-repellent T-shirts, Mayor Mary Wolf got to put her spin on the matter!
"[It's serving a purpose for the city.] He (T-shirt creator Stu Congdon) is probably doing us a favor because he's raising the awareness of all the good people we do have in this community."

Yeah, that alleviates all my doubts about whether "Billtown" is going to pot or not!!!

"GUNS don't kill people..."

The community of Williamsport, PA (pop. c. 30,000) has been ravaged as of late by drug activity and gun crimes. A half-dozen shootings have taken place within city limits in just a couple months. Mayor Mary Wolf attempted to calm the general populace with words of comfort, saying "the good people of Williamsport are safe." Playing off of those words, local business owner Stu Congdon created a T-shirt that's (pardon the pun) selling like gangbusters.

"DON'T SHOOT! I'm one of Williamsport's good people."

Yeah, that'll protect you. Great safety gear!!!

...To be continued...

Money for nothing and "Cats" for free

There's only one thing worse than a man who lacks common sense, and that's a man who is filthy rich, arrogant, and lacks common sense.
Moron-of-the-month, Steve West, apparently has turned down an interview op from NBC's "Today" show, because, according to wife Carolyn, NBC wouldn't guarantee (free) tickets to a Broadway show and accommodations at the "Plaza", the tab being picked up by NBC.

Apparently, $110 million is just not quite enough to cover the costs of life's luxuries. How unfair.

Meefph mumph mumphfln nrvff!

Fearless leader strikes again!!!
My supervisor "Jan" had to deal with some procedural issues before the start of the workday this past Friday, so she addressed the matters at hand, trying to be as nice as possible, while stressing the need to change some poor work habits. But no talk from Jan is complete without a butchering of the Queen's English!
"My attention is not to offend anybody, but... blah, blah, blah...."