I just realized the only way to end a conversation about the super bowl is to say, “Should be a good game though.”
I just spent half an hour telling a coworker why it is going to be a bad game. Two defensive teams. Cam dancing around like a cocky jerk. Manning throwing record numbers of interceptions this year. Bland running games on both sides.
Yet, when I walk away I feel something slipping off my tongue. Unable to stop myslef, I blurt, “should be a good game though.”
Heres the bad news: We can’t listen to Pandora at work.
Here’s the good news: We can watch youtube playlists.
Here’s the Worst news: Youtube thinks since I like Adele, I will like Justin Bieber.
So I’m rocking out to Adele, right? I mean, Hello? She’s the best. I’m absorbed in my work and after a few minutes I realize this isn’t adele I’m still listening to. It’s more girly and juvenile than that.
Right as I click over to my chrome tab to see what Youtube choose to play next, my co-worker walks up to my cube! Just in time to see little justin’s face on the video I’m watching…at my desk…at work. Sigh.
I know he’s never going to let me forget about the time he walked in on me playing JB. But I know how to handle these situations. Steer into the skid.
It’s time to play some Rebecca Black “Friday” on repeat!
“It’s all about muscle confusion,” my college lifting partner would squeak at me.
Due to his lengthy career as a medical student, the only thing that surpassed Grant’s debt was his knowledge of anatomy.
For all the impromptu anatomy lessons I got while we lifted weights together, the one I remember most is that “muscle confusion” is very important. Evidently, my muscles need “different” exercises than the ones I always wanted to do. If I did the same weight lifting routine for more than a few days in a row, my muscles would plateau and my hair would fall out and my spleen would rupture. Or something like that, I wasn’t really paying attention.
What I didn’t know at the time was that my colon was paying attention, because it has the muscle confusion technique mastered. I noticed it particularly when traveling..
At first, my colon would be unhappy if I had pressure on my stomach. I took to holding my seatbelt a little slack with one hand at all times and sometimes loosening my belt. But those colon muscles must have plateaued and been worried about my spleen, because the game soon changed.
Next, my colon played the jealous ex game. I would urgently need the bathroom when it was just out of reach. But after I got there, and was able to have my way with the bathroom, I didn’t need it anymore. Typical high school relationship stuff. Come on, colon. Grow up.
Now to throw in some more confusion, it is going with a more passive aggressive tactic. My stomach will feel uneasy like I’m going to need a bathroom reeeeeal quick… but then nothing happens. Then the same thing 10 minutes later… and nothing. and then Boom! bathroom, now, sucker!
So as retribution, I call it means names on my blog. I would punch it in the face… but we share a face… so that’s no good. I get the feeling that it doesn’t care that I call it names though… I’m beginning to think it doesn’t even read my blog. Jerk.
It’s ok though. I’ll have the last laugh. It thinks it’s so cute with it’s confusing travel games. Well, figure this one out colon: fireball. whiskey.
I heard on the radio that most americans gain 6-10 pounds between thanksgiving and new years. Which sounds like a lot till you realize the average american gains 10-15 pounds every month of their whole life. So, really we slow down a bit this holiday season. Which makes sense cause we are Stuffed!
My company holds a weight challenge around this time each year. Instead of losing weight, participants have to maintian their weight between thanksgiving and new years. Or they have to be really good at losing water weight come weigh in time…not that I would ever do that just to earn ten bucks.
(I didn’t drink liquids for a day and a half last year to make weight. It was one of the dumbest things I’ve ever done for ten dollars)
The way I see it, losing weight is what the new year is all about… so it’s ok to put on a few now, right?
Scene: a loud bar. A man walks in the door and sits down at the bar and shouts over the noise of the music and the other patrons.
Man: “Can I get a Bud light?”
Bartender: “If I give you this drink, are you up for whatever happens next?”
Man: “Uh, Sure. What?”
Bartender: “Ok, here. Thanks for being up for whatever.”
Man: “Whaa? How did you speak with italics?”
Bartender: “Nevermind that. It’s just to make this dialogue easier to read.”
The bartender hands the man a bottle of Bud Light. The Man is immediately surrounded by a pack of midgets dressed as pac-man. The midgets are grinding and gyrating all over his ankles. The man tries not to lose his balance and step on any of them.
Man: “Um, Can I help you guys?”
Midgets dressed as pac men: Dancing harder
Man looks up at the bartender who was suspiciously accepting a bulging envelope from a group of Clydesdale horses.
Man to the drunk next to him: “Dude, are those horses over there?”
Drunk: “Shouldn’t have gotten bud light, Man.”
The bartender walks to the other end of the bar and pulls a lever. The man falls through a trap door, taking a few of the midgets with him.
Midgets dressed as pacmen: “Weeeee”
Drunk: *takes Man’s bud light*
The group falls through a dark tunnel for a few seconds, then crash onto a concrete floor.
Man’s Legs: CRUNCH!
Man: “AAAHHH… Uhhh… Whaaaaat the…”
Dark Figure: “Let’s go, Bud, somebody’s up for whatever”
The two dark figures pull the Man onto a ping pong table. The Man stares at the ceiling that is plastered with movie posters. The Expendables. Napoleon Dynamite. The Man blacks out.
The Man comes wakes up with throbbing pain. He looks around in a dirty corner of a blaring club. One Republic is playing. He looks down and sees a large incision across his stomach. He loses consciousness as they sing, “everybody knows where we’re going, yeah, we’re going down.”
The Man dies. His family tries to sue Anheuser-Busch for stealing his kidneys, but they lose the court case because the bartender testifies that the Man agreed he was “up for whatever.”
Yesterday I checked the integrity of concrete sludge storage tanks as part of my job. (I’m a structural engineer) (Yes, Sludge means what you think). I awarded the concrete tanks 10 integrities, in case you were wondering.
We (my 2 coworkers and I) left at 7am, for our 2 hour drive to the jobsite. No big deal, right? Wrong. My colon doesn’t like confined spaces such as tight pants, medium-sized cars, or even larger sized boats. Like a baby knows when mom is away, my colon knows when there is no bathroom nearby. And he is not afraid of throwing a temper tantrum.
I’ve taken this trip about 5 times now for different sludge storage tanks, (humans produce a Lot of sludge… some more than others…*Blush*) and this is the first time I’ve asked to stop for a bathroom break on the way.
I wasn’t sure if it would be better to say “I gots to go to the bathroom, fellas… I’ve got ulcerative colitis.” Or just, “If you don’t stop this car now, Imma crap my pants.” I went for some variation of the latter.
My question to you, reader, is do you think I should have told them about my condition, or just let them wonder as to why I’m so fond of bathrooms?
have you ever wore a new pair of socks that were so new they were slippery and every time you stepped in your dress shoes, your feet slid forward about half a centimeter (for my American readers, think of this as about the width of a french fry… McDonalds…not Wendy’s) and made a squeaky vibrating noise that was so annoying you tied your shoes tighter but that cut off the blood circulation to your feet and then your feet fell asleep so you walked around lifting your sleeping feet up and down like you were a puppet on a string?
No? Oh. me neither.
A question my friends never ask me, but I wish they would is this: “In these days of financial uncertainty ¹, what is a sound investment?”
Well, thank you for asking, hypothetical friend.
Here is a bit of wisdom I learned in an investment seminar²:
“You will always get a good return on your investment when you invest in yourself.”
Which, of course, is true if you are someone like bill gates or elon musk. However, a fundamental truth about nearly everyone I’ve ever known is that the average person thinks they are better than the average person.
This has always been the case, but is now painfully evident with the internet. Now any number of idiots can write about anything they want… say, their ailing colon… and expect people to listen and read their musings.
So, in short… you’re probably not that great, but keep trying cause that’s how you improve. (I’m thinking of writing here…if you suck at other things, like juggling knives…maybe it’s best to not keep trying while you still have a few limbs left)
I recently read a great blog post about what is valuable when using social media. Check it out here.
¹ I’ll be honest, I have no idea if the markets are financially unstable. But, I did see a scary click-bait add on Weather.com about a guaranteed market collapse within 5 months. (It turned out to just be an add…but still, you never know)
² by “investment seminar,” I mean “overheard at chipotle.” But hey, at least it wasn’t Qdoba, AMIRITE!