Coming soon, to a computer near you

Installing a new operating system on my computer - ‘Innuendos 7′.

I don’t care for the way it uses a winky emoticon when it asks me to insert a boot disk.

Et tu FedEx?

Thank goodness the delivery notice telling me “we delivered your package” was affixed directly to my package, or I never would have known.

If they’re going to play these sort of mind-games, they should go all out, check ‘other’, and pencil in “right fucking here.”

Things that go bump in the night

Just as I was falling asleep Saturday I was jolted awake by a loud CRASH. The cat was next to me on the bed (though she made a mad dash for cover) so I knew it wasn’t her. Since there was no one else here, I decided it must have come from the downstairs neighbor. Replaying in my mind what I’d heard, I decided that it sounded like someone dropped a large metal can full of smaller cans, or possibly dishes; probably in the foyer. Satisfied with this explanation, I dozed back off, though I was still contemplating it. Sometime later I awoke again, worried that the noise could have come from my apartment somewhere. Checking for signs of calamity, I made my way to the kitchen. There, sitting in pool of water amid the shattered shards of the cat’s water dish was my old toaster, which apparently fell from its spot on the shelf of the microwave cart.

I’d refilled the cat’s water when I got home, then gone to bed. A short while later I awoke and went to the kitchen for a drink. I noticed that I hadn’t put her water in its usual spot, next to the microwave cart, so I moved it. At no time during this process did I notice the toaster (which hasn’t been moved since I got a new toaster last Christmas) resting precariously.

Here’s the really crazy part. This isn’t the first time it’s happened!! A couple of years ago the toaster dove into, and smashed, Caldonia’s food dish while I slept.

This is obviously the work of a ghost. A ghost with a taste for toast. Or a ghost that doesn’t like my cat. Or an evil mouse. Whatever the fuck it is, I wish it would stop. One thing’s for certain: I’m getting rid of that damned toaster. Then, if need be, I’ll call an exorcist and/or exterminator.

My new hero, MC SpandX

Still here, not eaten by bears (yet)

I feel bad for neglecting the blog. If you feel like you’re missing out on your daily/weekly/monthly allotment of Gregisms, you can catch up with me on Twitter (@gargreguan). Anyway, I just wanted to share my latest brainstorm with you, my adoring public.

I’m going to start an “anti-social networking” site and call it…

HateBook(!) As soon as I figure out a way to monetize the thing I’ll be sitting on easy street.

Shut up! I hate all you melon-fevers!

How hard is it to buy stamps?

In the wee hours of Friday morning, I found myself in need of a stamp. Sadly, the Post Office half a mile from my house mysteriously removed their stamp machines some time ago, so I’ll have to turn elsewhere.

No problem, I think, the US Bank (an account I’ve kept open for no reason other than occasional fee-free ATM usage) is just as close and the ATM sells stamps. And so, off I go. After I go through the dozen or so steps necessary to purchase stamps the ATM informs me that my card has expired and asks if I want another transaction. Another transaction? WTF? No, thank you, just give me back my useless card.

So, I return home to search for the ATM card which I assume came, unnoticed, in the mail. No luck. If the card came, it apparently made its way, unnoticed, into the trash. OK, plan B. I can use the debit card for my primary account, pay a fee to everyone involved, and get my stamps. I return to the ATM, only to discover that neither of the possible PIN’s which come to mind will work so I’m thwarted once more.

Dejected, I turn for home and when I’m almost there I realize Fulmer’s (the very conveniently-located grocery store which I hate and never shop at) is open 24 hours and sells stamps. I turn around, zip over to Fulmer’s (which looks suspiciously dark) and head for the door. As I approach the doors a man inside meets me and indicates that they’re closed, they don’t open until 6. Huh, apparently they are no longer open 24 hours.

So after all of this, I head to the Kroger across town where I normally do my grocery shopping, which I know for certain was still open 24 hours as recently as last week. It is open. Victory is mine! Naturally the only cashier working is taking her break, and naturally, the guy filling in for her is unfamiliar with the stamp selling protocol, but after a few false-starts I finally have my stamps.

I place a stamp on my envelope, drive back across town to the Post Office right by my house (you know, the one where they took out the fucking stamp machines) and drop it in the mail. A mere 2 hours after I started this little adventure, I was safely back at home.

And that, friends, is how hard it is to buy stamps.

I was remiss…

…in mentioning the Tour of California and not saying:
“John Jacob Levi Leipheimer Schmidt”.
I never get tired of that.
Go Levi! Go!

Postscript: Apparently Levi’s website (linked above) hasn’t been updated since November 2008. Hell the first link on the “Links” page is to “Levi’s new team, Discovery Channel”. Also, e-mails to the webmaster bounce, so don’t bother. You would think Levi could afford to keep that shit up to date, but I guess the economy’s bad for everyone.

I think there’s something wrong with that baby

This is how I amuse myself at work late at night…

…defacing the poor baby on the Angel Soft toilet paper package.
My coworkers never mention my artwork, I don’t know if that’s due to inattention or apprehension. No matter, I keep my self entertained and that’s really all that counts.

Kathy Griffin, Setting the tone for the year to come

When I heard that Kathy Griffin was sharing hosting duties with Anderson Cooper on CNN’s New Year’s extravaganza, this is exactly the type of entertainment I was hoping for.

Bless you Kathy Griffin, bless you!

Barney Fife’s words to live by

The other day while I was at work “The Andy Griffith Show” was on and Barney delivered a line so wise, so insightful, that it made me stop what I was doing and grab a pen and paper:

A slender high-spirited person needs a sugar pick-me-up late in the day.

Were truer words ever spoken?

It just wouldn’t be the holidays without a food disaster

This year it was the sweet potatoes. After baking them, mom turned the broiler on to brown the obligatory marshmallow topping. Then she got distracted with something else until she smelled smoke. She opened the oven door and the sweet potatoes were literally in flames!

Sadly, I didn’t get a photo of the conflagration (I was too busy staring stupidly and being of absolutely no assistance). I did, however, get a photo of the aftermath. Thank goodness my mother has a sense of humor about things (as evidenced by the fact that she didn’t smother me with a pillow when I was a child).

Ice Cream Antisocial

I was talking to my best friend earlier and he was exhorting me to get a Facebook account. I explained that I’m not a big fan of the “social networking” sites and related the story that follows to illustrate my point. He seemed to enjoy the tale and said, somewhat derisively, that I should write about it on my blog, so that’s exactly what I’m doing.

Every year my town holds a real old-fashioned ice cream social at the park by my house. Big Band music, ice cream, the whole shebangabang.

Several years ago, overcome by curiosity, I attended said event with my (at that time) girlfriend. After the music, as I was enjoying my ice cream a sweet elderly lady came up and engaged me in conversation. I played along and chatted for a bit, but the voice in my head was saying:

I don’t know you, why are you talking to me? What the fuck is wrong with you?

Apparently some of us just aren’t ice cream social material. I still chuckle at my grumpy antisocial attitude (at an ice cream social no less!) to this day. Don’t even get me started on the people at the hardware store!

Evidently I would feel right at home at the ‘Grumpy Old Bastard Days’ festival.