Letting You Go
…So Arthur, if you could, please collect your things from your desk by 5pm. Janice in accounting will cut you a check on your way out. Again, downsizing is never pleasant, and the company appreciates all the hard work you’ve put in here.
On a personal note, I’ve enjoyed working with you, and I’m sorry it had to end this way. I hope that my firing you doesn’t harm the relationship we've developed over the years. For instance, if we see each other on the street, please feel free to still call me Sir or Mister Haynes. I don’t want that to change.
I want you to know you can always get me coffee. Any time, day or night. If you ever have a problem or need a recommendation, just fill out a slip and put it in the suggestion box, and I’ll address it at the monthly staff meeting. Margaret will cc: you the minutes. That’s a promise.
And, I would hope that feeling is reciprocal. For instance, if I have a problem with the copier, there’s no one I’d rather talk to about it than you.
Maybe we can grab a conference together sometime. It’d be just like old times—you shuffling through reports while I yell at you about a thumb drive I broke. I don’t want to lose that between us.
Please, send along my best to your wife, whose name starts with a B, I believe. You know what? Here’s a couple of bucks. Go out and requisition her a new stapler. On me. But, sign your own name to the memo. Live it up.
Good luck out there, Arthur. It’s been nice supervising you.
This Drum Circle
Hey, guys, not to be a downer here, but the third hour of this drum circle is getting a little repetitive. I mean it’s cool, but … yeah.
It started out, and we were just going with it, ya’know? Remember when we were all like pow-papa-pum-pa-pow-papum? That was awesome. But, then like an hour later, it was still pow-papa-pum-pa-pum-papow, which is really close to the same thing.
Don’t get me wrong, I love this drum circle. I could spend all day drumming with you guys in this public space. But, maybe we could work to change things up a little. Like, I was thinking we could do papa-pow-pa-pum-pa-pumpum. Or even a pum-papow-papum-papapa-pow. Nothing crazy. Just, ya’know, loosen it up a little.
Omar, maybe you and Jesse could trade djembes. Or, I’d be happy to let someone use my bongo so I could concentrate on the shekere more. Whatever. Just go crazy with it. Throw in a wood block or two.
If we up our game, maybe we could get some of those capoeira guys to come over and join us. That was kinda the unspoken hope when we started this, right? Right? Guys, are you even listening to me? I said—
Oh yeah, shhh, you’re right. Nevermind. It’s a drum circle. It’s not about control; it’s about flowing with the music. Pow-papa-pum-pa-pum-papum, it is then.
Our Tree House Fire
Alright, I don’t want to alarm anyone, but our tree house seems to be on fire.
Guys, calm down! Everything is going to be fine as long as we stay cool. This is why we have an emergency plan. I saw an Imax movie about fighting forest fires, so I nominate myself to be in charge of putting it out. All in favor? Great.
Bobby, you climb down the rope ladder and get the garden hose. Jordan, you help me bat down the flames with these dirty magazines your brother bought us. Tim, you just stay right where you are. It was your firecrackers that got us into all this.
What we want to do is create a perimeter around the flames. Jordan, make sure the fire doesn’t reach our paper airplane collection. That’s good. Good job, Jordan. Tim! Are you drinking an orange soda right now? Damn it, Tim, pour it on the fire! What do you mean you finished it? I can see it’s still half full.
BOBBY! How are we coming on that garden hose? Can I get an ETA? That means “estimated time of arrival.” Tim, go see if you can help Bobby untangle the hose.
I told you guys we should have gotten a fireman’s pole for this tree house. How awesome would it be right now if we had a real fireman’s pole to help fight this fire? Whoa, Jordan, don’t hit the fire with the Playboy. Ryan Carville at school is going to pay me ten bucks for that. Use the Maxim, instead.
Okay, it seems like we’ve got it under control. BOBBY! Never mind about the hose! Just get some wet towels or something. And, tell Tim he’s a butthead.
Good work, Jordan. Way to show hustle fighting that fire. Now, aren’t you glad that we don’t allow any girls in here? I can only imagine how much worse that would have been.
Welcome To Onam Pilates
Welcome to Onam Pilates.
At the Onam Pilates Center, you will find a warm, calming atmosphere filled with vague world music and the smell of cucumber. Here, students are encouraged to surpass their own expectations through a special form of advanced, super-stretchy Pilates. Onam Pilates is a nuturing yet challenging form developed by world-renowned Pilates master Onam Mendenhall. Hence the name. Did you catch that?
Revered internationally, Onam Mendenhall has taught his advanced variety of movement on six continents and in over one hundred countries. Since 1988, he has combined the practices of Pilates, yoga, belly dance, and tai chi into a complete, pleasantly multicultural system. In the process, Onam has fingered or performed oral on upwards of 3,000 lonely soccer moms. He is very tall and has lovely eyes.
In 2001, Onam founded the Onam Pilates Center™ (OPC), a comprehensive Pilates studio. This state-of-the-art facility features beautiful bamboo everything along with generic Asian and Middle Eastern art. There is also a gong. Here, students benefit from Onam’s more than 25 years of teaching experience and his extensive knowledge of the mature woman’s g-spot.
At Onam Pilates, we welcome everyone from the beginning student to the fifty-year-old lady with a smokin’ body but weather-beaten face. You know who we mean? The ladies who do trapeze or whatever, and from behind in their workout pants, they look pa-pow! But, then from the front, you think, Damn, lady, you should have stayed out of the sun a day or two in your life. Those are the people Onam enjoys “teaching” the most. He goes to town on those ladies.
Again, welcome. We hope you will enjoy the soothing mind-body-spirit practice of Onam Pilates along with Onam’s passion for his work and his generosity with orgasms.
Your Last Meal
Alright, Billy. It looks like the governor’s not giving you that pardon. So, it’s time to think about your last meal. What would you like before you go to the chair?
Steak and a milkshake? Really? No no, it’s nothing. Order whatever you want. I just figure you can get anything in the world for your last meal. Steak and a milkshake is fine, I guess. Kind of boring, though.
No, whatever you’d like to eat. Steak and a shake it is. Absolutely.
Unless... Have you ever tried oysters? What! You’re kidding me! You’ve never eaten oysters? Oh my god, you have to try oysters. Everybody needs to eat oysters at least once before they—
Anyway, you’ve got to try oysters. A nice steak and oysters—that’s a classy last meal. A milkshake wouldn’t be too good with oysters, though. Maybe rethink the milkshake. How about a Bloody Mary?
Shut up, you’ve never had a Bloody Mary, either? Billy, you have to get a Bloody Mary. There’s nothing better with oysters than a Bloody Mary. Oh man, the celery salt and the Worcestershire—it’s so good. Trust me, you’re gonna love Bloody Marys. They’re going to be your new favorite thing.
So it’s steak, oysters, and a Bloody Mary for your last meal. What kind of steak would you like? Ehhh, filet mignon is not really the best steak. I mean, I know it’s got the name recognition, but it doesn’t have the flavor profile to stand up to oysters. You know what’s good with oysters is lamb.
Yeah, sure, I guess lamb can be a little fatty for some people without refined palettes. Fine, you don’t want lamb? I got it. I know what’d be great instead of steak. Rabbit. I really feel you should try rabbit. It’s not to everyone’s taste, but totally worth the gamble. Maybe braised with capers and a hint of cilantro?
And, on the side, some fine cheeses. Like stinky feet cheese. Some people go their whole lives without eating stinky cheese. It takes awhile to get used to, but there’s a big payoff. Plus, it goes terrific with the fishiness of oysters.
Billy, I truly think you’ll love this last meal. I bet before you came to prison, you only ever ate McDonalds and boxed macaroni. Am I right? I thought so. This last meal is going to blow your mind. Seriously, you’re gonna see what you’ve been missing this whole time.
Alright, well, the nurse is coming in to shave your head for the electrodes. And, the priest should be here later for last rites. In the meantime, I am going to go place this food order for you.
For dessert, I hope you like surprises! I’ll give you a hint: molecular gastronomy. That’s all I’m gonna say.
It Must Be Fate
I wouldn’t say I’m especially religious. But, I do think that there’s a greater plan—fate, providence, immutable actions and reactions. That’s why I think fate brought me here to your pizza place, just as you were about to throw away that pizza.
Think about it. What are the chances that out of all the pizza places in the world, I would drunkenly stumble into this one? Just as you were closing up for the night. And, just as you were about to throw away the last of your unsold pizza. And, I happened to want to eat pizza. For free. Because I don’t care how old or gelatinous it is. Because I’m drunk. Seriously, what are the chances?
It’s a sign, man. It’s a sign from the universe that I was meant to be here, swaying back and forth, staring at you and your pizza. There’s a purpose to this moment. Do you feel the purpose? I was put on this world to eat the pizza that no one else wanted. And, you sir, you were put on this world to give me that pizza for free.
It feels like a weight has been lifted off us, right? Right? All that uncertainty, all the worry—it’s gone. We’re destined to connect across this pizza counter—you as the owner, and me as the dude who needs to soak up some cheap whiskey in my belly. We’re special.
So, can I get that pizza now or what? No, I won’t pay half price. That’s not what Fate is about. Fate’s about you giving me free pizza. And, then maybe we would have struck up a friendship, and eventually you would have been the best man at my wedding. But, you had to ruin fate by being a dick. That’s fine, be a dick. That’s fine.
I’m gonna go. Maybe there’s another pizza place closing soon nearby. Maybe that’s where Fate wants me to end up. Fate just used you as a side something… Distraction—a side distraction is what I meant. I’m gonna go find my new best friend who owns a pizza place but isn’t a dick about it.
Whoops, I knocked over your thingy. I’m sorry. I’m putting it back. Sorry. That wasn’t because of the thing with you not giving me your garbage pizza, I swear. Maybe it was just Fate that I was supposed to knock it over.
I gotta go throw up in the alley. See you later, best friend.
My First Act as Mayor
As my first act as mayor, I am going to get rid of all these squirrels. It’s the platform I ran under, and the voters have clearly given me a mandate. Today is the dawn of a new era for our great city. No longer shall we be plagued by these thieving, bushy-tailed tree rats.
When I started my third party candidacy, people said I was crazy. No one believed that a simple falafel vendor with no government experience could get elected mayor—especially with such a focused campaign of ridding our community of its squirrel infestation. Seriously, people thought I was some kind of wacko.
But, as the race progressed, something happened. First, the incumbent Democratic candidate was caught on videotape taking bribes from an orphanage builder. The audio is a little fuzzy, but you could actually make out the mayor saying, “Asbestos, schmabestos. Give me my damn money, you c*#%!”
Then, just a week ago, the Republican candidate had his unfortunate autoerotic asphyxiation accident. And, after his death, the polygamy charges came to light. My heart goes out to his families.
(I can’t be sure of it, but I’m sure squirrels were involved somehow in his passing. Maybe their annoying squirrel chatter kept the Tea Party candidate from hearing the safe word. My heart goes out to her family as well.)
Now, normally a third party candidate still wouldn’t stand a chance of getting elected. However, people believed in my message of poisoning every squirrel that ever stole a falafel from my cart. That, and the election fell on the same day the American Idol tour bus broke down near the fairgrounds. I heard it was a pretty good free concert. I wouldn’t know; I was busy taking part in the lowest voter turnout ever recorded.
And yesterday, with a whopping six percent of the vote, I beat out the Aliens-Are-Controlling-Our-Jews candidate to become your new mayor.
So, look out, squirrels! I’m prepared to spend every dime this city has to outfit our police and firefighters with anti-squirrel hammers. Your days of terrorizing our noble cart vendors are over.
God bless you all, and God bless America.
Welcome Aboard!
Welcome aboard aboard Flight 209 non-stop from Akron to Orlando.
Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.
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[Text of the above audio.]
Folks, I’d like to welcome you aboard Flight 209 non-stop from Akron to Orlando. I’ll be your pilot today, Captain Wally Briggs. If, for any reason, something should happen to me, which it won’t, my copilot is Alice “Legs” Mulrooney. She’s a very capable, beautiful first mate, and in the rare, miniscule chance that I become incapacitated, she is more than ready to take the controls.
It looks like we’re gonna have clear skies all the way to Florida, where the temperature is a breezy 82 degrees. Should be a smooth flight, unless I have some sort of health scare, which again is highly unlikely.
My personal doctor just this week gave me a clean bill of health, and he thinks we’ve finally got my heart medication balanced out. Plus, I recently gave up caffeine and replaced it with energy drinks, which I assume are much healthier.
On top of that, our entire crew is ready to handle even the most improbable emergency. “Legs” Mulrooney, for instance, has over twenty years of flight experience. We first worked together when she was the most stunning flight attendant I had ever seen.
Speaking of health, by all appearances, hers had held up extremely well. I did catch a glimpse of some sun-damage where her blouse is missing a button, but the muscle tone down there more than makes up for any concern.
If you take a look at your in-flight magazine, that’s “Legs” pictured on page 27 in the advertisement for the airline. Hopefully, her vibrant smile and intelligent eyes give you the same confidence I have in her in the near impossible case that the old ticker gives out.
Ever since Alice here got her commercial pilot’s license, there’s just something about her that’s both exciting and humbling. She’s like an Amazon—powerful yet feminine. As she’s leaning past me right now to stow the wheels after takeoff, even I—a seasoned, manly pilot—feel schoolboyish butterflies in my stomach.
Actually, the butterflies are in my chest. Kind of a tight feeling to the butterflies. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take a moment to loosen my tie so I can breathe.
Please enjoy your complimentary XM Radio, and the crew will be in the aisle soon with beverages. If one of them could bring me some water and the tiny white pills from my bag, that would be much appreciated.
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[Author's Note: Heeeyyyy!! This is my 100th post!]
You Stupid Computer!
Oh man, computer! Why can’t you just work for once? Damn it, you were supposed to be auto-saving! I expected you to crash. You always crash. But, at least auto-save. I hate you, you stupid computer.
Look at you, sitting there on the desk, acting like it’s my fault. Don’t even pretend this is about me not running an update. I update you plenty.
Listen, I don’t want to fight in front of the lamp. Lamp, this isn’t about you. We both love you. But, sometimes the computer and I, we just don’t see eye-to-webcam. Especially since the new printer showed up.
Yeah, computer, don’t think I didn’t notice that’s when the problems started. As soon as I installed the new printer driver, everything changed between us. Suddenly, you stopped receiving my email. Your start-up time got slower. Your trash icon vanished.
You think I don’t notice you running in stand-by mode with the printer all night? I might not care so much if the printer had a secure wi-fi connection, but we both know it doesn’t. God knows what kind of viruses the printer is picking up out there. I can’t even look at you, knowing its USB plug has been inside you.
Look what you’ve done; you’ve upset the chair. Now it’s squeaking.
Listen, I gotta take a walk to clear my head. Maybe spend some time on my smartphone. That’s right, computer; I have a smartphone on the side. It makes me feel young and free, and it plays Scrabble with me in the park. And, unlike you, my smartphone gets my email. Any time I want it.
Chair, lamp, file cabinet, don’t you worry; I’ll come back. You will always be my office furniture. I promise. The computer and I both just need some time to cool off, that’s all.
See ya later, light switch.
Steamboat Piloting
Piloting a riverboat is not to be taken lightly. You’ve got surface currents, undercurrents, rocks, submerged branches, and don’t forget about the other boats. I’m just saying, if you insist on dropping out of college to be a riverboat captain, at least have a fallback option.
Your mother and I worry. That’s just how it is. That’s how it’s always gonna be. We love you, and we want what’s best for you. And, if you truly believe that means taking the helm of an old-timey steamboat and heading down the Mighty Mississippi, than we will support your decision. But, until then, maybe you can take an accounting class and see if you like that, too.
I understand where you are coming from with the steamboat thing. When I was your age, I wanted to start a rock and roll band. Instead, I stayed in school, and I practiced guitar on the weekends in the garage. Now, I’m a successful actuary, and you know what? Without my career in life insurance, I could never have bought that Fender Telecaster in the den. I’m just saying, maybe you want to keep the thing that you love a hobby.
Because, once you get out there in the real world of riverboat piloting, it becomes a job just like anything else. I mean, sure, there’s the prestige and the glamour of it, but it’s still hard work. A daily grind even. I’ve seen you behind the helm of a steamer; I’ve seen the gleam in your eyes. Honestly, I don’t want you to lose the fantasy of it. I worry that it won’t live up to the dream.
So, how ‘bout we say this? How about you finish up this semester? Then, this summer, we go out and find you an antebellum steamboat--something small at first, not a full casino on board, just a few poker tables. We’ll see how that goes before we make a final decision about school.
And, you can start growing out your handlebar moustache now. That’s how serious I am about giving this idea a try. Don’t worry about your mother; I’ll get her onboard.