Do Not Use Spatula for Rocket Construction, Elon

Your love is like  scrambled eggs and horseradish mustard

Are you a developer of an app you want on the Google Play store? Don't list that your app includes support for the .ASS subtitle format or you'll get rejected faster than you can say, "I disagree with social media's version of the election."

• Vladimir Putin (R-DC) said his first call with President Biden was "business-like and frank." In fact, he kept insisting on calling Biden 'Frank,' and asking for Melania, which slowed things down a bit.

The UK is sending the Columbus Ka-band Terminal to the ISS, to provide faster communications.

10 minutes after it's installed, the Russians will hack it and send racist messages to all the other satellites in orbit.

• I could have been a doctor - I have the handwriting for it. I just can't stand the sight of blood.
• Maybe an aircraft crash investigator - I've seen 20 seasons of Aircraft Crash Investigation. I just can't stand pieces of bodies.
• Perhaps an accountant. I just can't stand the sight of numbers.

Today I identify as  a butt pimple. On Sandra Bullock.  [reach for the stars]

Chaos is good for you, says first 'state of chaos engineering' report

It sure has worked well here for years and years. In fact, I can't remember a time before chaos.

Chaos engineering is the practice of deliberately injecting faults into a service to test its resilience. AWS is introducing its own version of this, called Fault Injection Service...

Everybody in the house is a trained Fault Injection Service.

In fact, this probably explains the soup packet in the bathroom.

Today the president suggested quadruple-masking for greater protection against the Flying AIDS. He restated his vow to make the USPS fleet electric. When asked for comment, the USPS said, "He mailed us notice but we haven't received it yet."

• 66,000 users' data was left wide open by VIPGames
• nobody wants the data because they're all in their parents' basements, glued to their Gamer Handsets.

Samsung’s vice chairman and de facto boss Lee Jae-Yong has reportedly sent staff motivational messages from inside prison.…

• Work hard and you can get here too
• We have a culture of improvement: do what I did but don't get caught 
• I've set high bars for your success
• you will address your supervisors as Warden

Mainstream or Pr0n?: Assault Lily BOUQUET, Backstabbing for Beginners 

Marc Ginsberg, who oversees Coalition for a Safer Web (CIA), is suing Google for not kicking Telegram off the store. After all, it's a haven for extremists.

Do you see where this is going? If they can't get back doors to your encrypted apps, make the apps hard to find. Oh yeah, who defines extremist? 

• Honey, can you come here?
• As soon as I get done checking the tissue for what came out of my nose

Today the Russians put a ton of pr0n on my hard drive. Honey.

The My Pillow guy, Mike Lindell, has been suspended from Twitter for not marching with the party and saying the election was stolen. Lindell wants to run for public office. Thank God we'll still have the My Pillow commercials, with his mind-screwing Minnesota accent.  --- I'm not sure I'd be so comfy if I opened my bathroom cabinet to see Mike standing there. By the time the police left, he'd be banned from YouTube and Faceyspaces too, in addition to an operation to remove my toilet from his face.

Hi, I'm that My Pillow guy!

WTF are you doing in my bathroom?

I wanted to tell you about My Pillow.

Tell you what - you keep Your Pillow and I'll keep my pillow.

It's made in America.

Which means nothing if you can't sleep on it.

There's a 2 for 1 sale

Making them just ridiculously overpriced

It's got Head Memory!

I wish my wife did.

Has anybody told you about Jesus?

No 3-ways, sorry.

Can I sell you some sheets - they're 127% cotton.

Mine have to be 128%.

How about a tour of my plant?

How about you GTF out of my bathroom. Do you like looking at naked men? I'm no bible scholar, but I know Jesus didn't like that.

What can I sell you?

Come by for dinner a few nights, until I learn that ridiculous accent. Our treat.

Are you feelin good? I knew you would.

I'll feel a lot better when I know there's no one hiding in my medicine cabinet. Do you have any idea how many years of my wife's therapy you've undone? The dog needs tranquilizers. Although I might have you back the next time we have company... the shrieking will be worth it.

It has come to my attention that I have a problem. No, the other one.

I've noticed I can run a large network or go out into space, but filling out forms is beyond me... they always come back wrong. There is an old Far Side cartoon...

Technically it doesn't have anything to do with IQ. It's ADHD or ADD or VD or something. Women have Blonde Moments. Old people have Senior Moments. I have Adderall Moments<tm>.

My paranoid schizophrenic neighbor is moving. We'll definitely miss him.

I'll have no one to stand outside with me and yell when the black helicopters hover over our houses.

No one to bitch that the motorcycles are running down the street on purpose.

No one to tell me the police captain is a nazi and has it in for him.

No one to ask if that dent was there yesterday.

(It wasn't. You're not paranoid if they are out to get you.)

No one for Mrs lefty to share the voices with.

He's a really good guy who served his country. I hope they're taking care of him.

Sure is gonna be boring around here.

We're discussing what disorder the new neighbor should have...

• Depression is downright boring.
• Bipolar is downright boring and downright exhausting.
• If they're multiple, they'll have someone to play with...

I'm here for you, warts and all....

I saw some flakes on my shirt, just like that stupid commercial.

Asked Wife, who told me it wasn't head dandruff, it was Beard Dandruff.

Beard Dandruff?

Beard Dandruff.

There is such a thing?

Yes there is.

Don't tell me there's a special shampoo.

No, you have to moisturize it.

I have to moisturize my beard?

Yup. And it gets better: you have to moisturize several times a day.

This is all too much. I'm lucky if I eat several times a day. I've spent my entire life being a wash and wear guy.  Do I look like I have breasts? Do I look like the kind of guy who has the time and the patience to moisturize my beard skin? Maybe I can pluck my eyebrows and check out different kinds of makeup too. The thing is, I don't have a beard. I shave and it grows quickly. Is this a disease I picked up? I never had this before.  And unless I do something about it, it will look like it's snowing on my shirt. Decisions decisions...

I'm starting to appreciate that Wife spends so much time in the bathroom, moisturizing and stuff.

The (alleged) problem with not watching mass media is that I miss stuff. Twitter has been having a blast, suggesting wearing 4 to 12 masks. Only this morning, on the news, do I see an interview with a local surgeon, saying that people should wear 2 masks. I have to remember that social media is half arguing and half parody. I suggest 10 masks. You'll be 100% protected against the Flying AIDS, largely because you can't breathe.

Have we gone way past silly by this point?

I've got it - I'll just check ThermionicEmissions

Pickled Cinderblocks as a Light Snack

We are told to expect many more storms this season.
As a result, President Trump has passed an executive order called the No Stupid Hurricane Names Order. As an example, the most recent storm, Isaias, is obviously just silly, so it will be renamed by a brand new government department to be named later. They will use real-world names, like Shaquanda, VeMona, DeSam, and Mordecai.



Lawmakers are asking California how it makes $50 million a year selling drivers' data.  Do not trust them to protect one of your toenails.



Your love is like  appendicitis



Atten: those w A.D.D.

• It is helpful to read more than a bit of the first sentence of a paragraph.
• Pay specific attention (sorry) to the word 'not'.
• Read labels carefully or instead of strawberry lemonade, you'll get motoroilberry lemonade. Ask how I know.
• The word DIET on soda should always be taken seriously, lest you discover you bought it. 
• While working from home, seriously try to avoid doing stuff that's more interesting during virtual meetings. And by more interesting, I mean anything.

You didn't read anything more than the first few words, did you.


Dear lefty

• Are you a Jimi Hendrix fan?
• Does your mother wear bladder leak underwear?  

Best Corporate Justification

Charter Communications claimed to the FCC that broadband users enjoy having internet plans with data caps.  They also enjoy chocolate in very minimal quantities and clothing that shrinks when they put it on.



Speaking of socks, all of our dogs loved coffee. We have no idea why.
Today I arrived to see Mommy offering Penny some pumpkin coffee with coconut creamer. I stopped this before the SPCA showed up with animal cruelty charges.



Major League Baseball is exploring using facial recognition to identify fans not wearing masks. In addition to existing facial recognition. One usually must go to football games for this kind of shenanigans.

• Penny does not have any buttocks and I can see that it upsets her.

The reviews are in for Shia LaBeouf's new movie, The Tax Collector

‘atrocious’, ‘dreadful’, ‘barely coherent’, "One of the most atrocious viewing experiences of the year", “madly illogical plot”, "bloody, barely coherent and about as fun as having your face dragged across asphalt from a moving SUV”

I don't think they liked it.

Mrs lefty, breaking with stereotype, controls the tv remote.
I now have the choice of housework or an Untouchables marathon.
She's a wily one.

But any relationship is give and take.
Yesterday I got yelled at for putting something back in its place.
IF YOU PUT IT BACK, HOW AM I GOING TO FIND IT?

Apologies  

Ryan Reynolds apologized for marrying Blake Lively on a plantation, saying, "it's something we'll always be deeply and unreservedly sorry for."  Reynolds didn't realize the mic was still on when he turned to his wife and asked if she wanted to play a game of slave and slave-owner.

Zoe Saldana apologized for playing Nina Simone because her skin tone was lighter.  It's not right to judge by the color of one's skin.

“Midsommar” star Florence Pugh issued a thousand-word Instagram apology for having once worn cornrows at a party when she was 17.

The LA Times apologized for ‘Blatantly Sexist’ Headline Comparing Biden Veep Pick to ‘The Bachelor."

• is The Bachelor sexist? Is it sexist when Biden says he's going to pick a woman as running mate? Has anybody told him to pee today?

The biggest apology of all:

I've been playing the black man's music for most of my life.

My Hair Hurts

Theresa May has announced she'll be stepping down as Prime Minister of England. Insiders say that she was unable to get the country to stand by its own vote.

A likely candidate is Boris Johnson. This guy is a shoe-in because his hair looks like he was attacked by a lawnmower: it will bring the UK and the US closer in follicles.

• Trump allows Barr to declassify surveillance documents around the Russia investigation. Perhaps if we send postcards, he'll declassify ufo documents.

Dear lefty:

• Why do I have trouble with relationships?
• You're too clingy. That and your micro-penis.

Making dietary changes is hard. We shouldn't have to do it... it lowers quality of life. Candy and CocaCola is a perfectly nutritious breakfast, but nooooo..... After that special diet most of my life, I had to make sacrifices. People used to tell me that sugar is poison. They don't tell me that anymore because they're afraid of getting hit. Again. They don't understand the sacrifices I've made... Morning coffee is sacred to everyone. I went from three tablespoons of sugar to two teaspoons. I'm still shaking, after a year. Don't let anyone tell you it's easy.

• In Australia, a man was fined at the airport for not declaring his nuts. Perhaps he identifies as female. Regardless - be proud.. show your nuts!

A man allegedly hiding drugs in his rectum accidentally shot himself in the testicles. That's the ugliest case of gender confusion ever.

• Florida (YAY!) banned 'childlike' sex dolls. 
• Florida is God's Waiting Room - what would they do with.... ewwww

The Georgia Supreme Court ruled that the state has no obligation to protect personal information. They did, however, restate that they have an obligation to take your money and fritter it away on any old thing, then raise your taxes.  Privacy - from the people who brought you the DMV.

• ThermionicEmissions applauds Gillette for inclusiveness, in its commercial about a father teaching his trans son to shave. Inclusiveness: what we all want to see.

Through the mid 80s, there were scheduled burns of garbage at Area 51. These were toxic materials from the Stealth program. Employees started developing cancer and demanded information. (Mr.) President Clinton signed an order stating that Area 51 was off-limits for investigations, on national security grounds. People continue to die, but it's a patriotic death - for national security. 

• If you live with someone who has ADD and you're bored, buy a house fan. While putting it together, put the front on upside down, so the logo is upside down. THIS is why I'm going to hell.

I Love the Smell of Peanut Butter in the Morning

One of the symptoms of ADD/ADHD is when there is too much input at one time, one gets cranky, in an explosive kind of way.

While I'm doing some VIBW (Very Important Blog Work), my parents call. I know this because their ringtone is Zappa's Jewish Princess. It is their ringtone because they're neither Jewish nor princess. Suffice it to say that I can not discuss whose ringtone is Fat Bottom Girls, for my well being.

Since this is during working hours, nobody is supposed to call me, unless something is on fire. My sixth and seventh senses tell me nothing's on fire and my Special Training on Shitty New Software sold by the Boss' Daughter is about  to begin, I don't answer.

So I'm home from work, working. I'm talking to my workmate about something that was supposed to be clarified last week that is due tomorrow. My boss, bless him, is the nicest person I know. He does fourteen jobs at once. He asks for something, like a few slides on working environment, and we deliver. Before we deliver, we always have to nail him to his chair for five minutes to clarify that 'a few slides on working environment' means 'two full color PowerPoint slides for a presentation to a number of groups, on the topic of workflow in our specific little group.' He's truly the nicest person I know. Takes his kids to church three times a week. To synagogue twice a week. Every other week to a mosque.

My boss is not answering my workmate's pleas to clarify the last project, which has been going on for months, so we're less than optimistic about the project for tomorrow. We discuss this on our call, after working hours (which, as we know, may become illegal in New York). While we're talking, Marshall barks. He can always tell when there's work involved and it goes right to his bladder. So he barks and I start to growl.

Back on the phone, Workmate continues to talk, oblivious to the fact that I put the phone down 2 minutes ago. I get a few words in, when I hear silverware rattling. As I'm the only human home and Marshall can't open the door by himself, this is not good news. This is a rodent.

I'm horrified to admit this. But it's not my friggin fault. We're clean, don't leave food out, and wash dishes frequently. In the winter, they arrive all over the neighborhood, even in the antiseptic conditions of the (non-crazy) neighbor's house. If there's no food, what the hell attracts the little fuckers bastards? Warmth, probably. Apparently they like wires too. Aside from iron, I'm not sure why. We spent time over the winter mouse-proofing the house. Finally we found a hole and patched it. No more mice. Until today.

My growl is growing in volume and is starting to concern my workmate, who mentions it in an offhand way. I become aware of my overload just as I'm reaching through the phone to strangle him. No, I tell myself, that will have to wait til after the presentation tomorrow.

Back to our discussion, we're coming up with ideas and someone is knocking on the door. The schizophrenic with the guns knocks in morse code, so 'they' won't know he's here. This was a more defined, whimsical knock. It's a shame that the door doesn't have individual ringtones. Because of the whimsy, it could only be the wife. Last I heard, she had house keys, although the way things have been going lately, they're with everything else she lost. I say to myself CANT I GET A SIMPLE PHONE CALL DONE WITHOUT A FLYING TRAPEZE ACT SUDDENLY MATERIALIZING in the living room?

My wife does not simply walk into a room. Fran Drescher (more likely Joan Rivers') autobiography is called Enter Laughing. My wife's is called Enter Talking, Loudly. She does precisely this and it takes all sorts of hand signals and screaming to let her know I'm on a WORK CALL. Oh, sorry.

Back to my call. Three words in, Wife stands in front of me with a bag, like there's a tremendous surprise in it. She tries to hand it to me while I'm still taking. For some reason, I get REALLY MAD and try to convey, in hand signals, that I'M WORKING. STILL. NOTHING HAS CHANGED SINCE TWO MINUTES AGO, WHEN YOU WALKED THROUGH THE DOOR that I had to open because your keys fell into some sort of multi-dimensional vortex. Or you just think it's cute that I'll open the door for you.

There are all sorts of mouse traps. Glue (inhumane), regular old (not effective), variation on regular old, with a fake cheese-like step, and these White Things. The White Things are ferocious-looking beasts, with huge, pointy teeth, but all plastic. I have no idea how a mouse could get bait out of this thing, because it closes on my finger whenever I try to bait it. It's hair bloody triggered. Wife will not go within a ten foot radius of it when it's armed.

After my call, I go into the kitchen, where there is no mouse. This worked out well, as I don't like mice. I checked the trap. I'll give you one guess what I saw. Yes, the little #*@&er ate the peanut butter.  HA, I thought. I am going to win this war. I put fresh peanut butter in the trap, feeling like MacArthur. I love the smell of peanut butter in the morning.

On the way out of the kitchen, Wife wants to know where she put that bag, because she lost it.  It's now been fifteen minutes since she entered the house, and in that time, she has already misplaced the bag she carried in. Maybe it's in the car.... no, Dear, it's not in the car. I know this because you tried to give it to me repeatedly while I was on the phone. Oh. Did I?  I'm already through for the day and have given up rage, work, and looking for Stuff.

Apparently I had not given up grief, though.
My parents make a phone call and if no one answers, go right into Panic Mode<tm>. Because I didn't answer, they called Wife. Why hasn't she called in weeks? Does she no longer love them? [insert Charlie Brown teacher noises - wah wha wah wah.] When the first person fails to answer, they call the spouse, the kids, the landline, then the hospitals and police.

While she is regaling me with Tales of the Parents, I listen to their voicemail to me. "We were wondering what happened to Wife. She hasn't called in WEEKS and we thought something was wrong."

It's a good thing I didn't answer the phone.
'Weeks' actually means 'a few days'.
None of Wife's behavior, or for that matter, mine, is new.  So why is it a surprise every time? The parents are not 90 years old and they have their wits about them, or at least keep them in the trunk at all times.

Wife goes upstairs, probably to look for the previous item she lost, and I immediately find the bag she just lost. Friend texts from vacation, in Bangkok. I don't care how old you are, Bangkok is FUNNY. Try it with me: BANGKOK. BANGKOK. heh heh... he said Bangkok. I advised him that if he goes on any dates, he should check the plumbing first.

It is unnaturally quiet as I type this. I brace for imminent arrival of a train, in the living room, next to the Flying Trapeze Act, which is still packing up before going home.

What the Hell Just Happened?

It's a recent Saturday, on which I've scheduled my exam for the Security+ certificate. For those of you who don't know, Security+ is a certification that one knows Important Stuff<tm> in the IT security realm. It mostly certifies that you test well.  Employers like certifications but I have something better; years of IT experience, which counts for something.  In addition to certifications, I don't have a college degree (because I couldn't pass the drinking exams to get into college).

If you've never tried to get a certification before, it's a very interesting (read: tedious) process. First you have to figure out who gives the test. Then at what location. Then if you have the proper identification (drivers license, something else with your signature and the proper arrangement of blood vessels in your retina).  All of this pales in comparison with Paying for It.  Yes, folks, this cert was going to cost me three hundred dollars, pass or fail.  And this is the cheap cert.

In addition to the rigamarole surrounding signing up, you have an actual Code of Conduct, which largely states that you'll show up, not blow raspberries at other test-takers or make fart noises with your underarm.  Oh yeah, you have to show up at least fifteen minutes early for the test.

For locations, I had the choice of a Korean church and an airport.  Hmmm.... this was going to be tough.  Let's see, a church (I don't go into churches because I always set off the Anti-Christ Detector) or an airport (the classic scenario of the guy with A.D.D. trying to take a test at an airport with planes taking off and landing).  Perhaps because I like a challenge, I chose the airport.  Have I mentioned that I haven't taken a test since.... well... let's call it the eighties.

Stay with me here.... it was my wife's birthday so I told her I'd be getting the certification as a small present.  Off we went, way too early, to the airport.  It was a small airport, which I suppose was a good thing and we watched a few planes land and take off.  It was kind of a nice morning, watching planes. One landed with the insignia of another country on it.  Turns out it belonged to a doctor, who had two.

So it was getting kind of late and the doors were locked.  Another poor slob showed up and we waited together for our test.  Our fifteen minute window came and went.  Then our test time came and went.  We stared quizzically at each other.

Unfortunately,  the test-giver apparently did not have to show up fifteen minutes early.  Or at all.  We didn't entirely know what to do so we did what came naturally; we sat there.  It quickly became an emergency, as my wife was out of coffee (do not pass Dunkin Donuts coffee, do not collect $200).

All of the sudden, we heard a thundering sound.  Looking toward the airfield, we saw nothing.  Then we turned to the parking lot and a humongous vehicle approached, with all the thunder of a 747, and squealed mightily into a parking spot.  If this was Test Guy, he sure knew how to make an entrance. He very slowly got out of the leviathan and it became obvious he had a small problem with one of his legs. I loved that on the back of the truck was a bumper sticker that said, "Don't you feel silly about your Obama sticker now?"

And he was Test Guy.

He let us in, apologized, then started explaining why he was late, what kind of trouble he was having with his leg, which vertebrae were out in his back, how long he has suffered, how he got that way and that one nostril was physically larger than the other.  Not to mention how much of a dick his boss was.

I know this was going to be an interesting test experience.

We all gave up our first-born and blood vessels and marched quietly into the test area.  The test area was replete with some magnificent wood paneling, reminiscent of the 1970's.  In fact, the entire shack looked like my parents' house in 1970.  But it had cable.

There were about six test stations.  The first thing I noticed, superior Security Dood that I am, was that the computers were all running Windows XP.  I decided the better of explaining why this was not a good idea and Test Guy finished logging in.  The other guy taking a test was taking a financial test, which prompted a question from Test Guy about what we should do when the economic system falls in on itself.  The answer, of course, was guns and precious metals (I knew that, securing myself a friend for life).  Unfortunately, finance test-taker just stood there, dumbfounded.

So the test started and informed me I had some ridiculously large amount of time to complete it.  I allowed myself a virtual sneer, as I blew through all of my practice tests in minutes.  In fact, I took practice tests until my eyeballs fell out and threatened to phone the Eyeball Abuse Agency.  There was no way I was not going to pass that test.

Off I went to the first question.  Oddly enough, it was a strange question, both in subject matter and in the fact that I had to 'wire' and complete a wireless system for maximum security.  Also oddly was the fact that neither of these appeared in my study materials.  It was all multiple-choice.

The second question surprised me by also being something that didn't appear in my studies.  It was about this time that I started getting nervous.  Perhaps, I thought, it was just these two questions and I could blast through the other ones quickly.

Nope.

Nervous was the order of the day.  As it turned out, very few, if any of the questions were in my study materials.  It appeared as if they had given me the wrong test (but I was hesitant to argue with Test Guy) and I figured I would see the test through and deal with the results later.

My many years in IT served me well, as there were things on the test of which I've never heard, as well as things I could answer.

I finished nervously but firm.  The test asked me if I wanted to review any of my answers.  Hell no - if I didn't have any idea the first time, what would be the point of proving that I didn't know it a second time?

I have to admit how difficult it was not to make fart noises with my underarms on the way out of the test area.  I may be an experienced IT guy but we're all still children when it comes to farts.

Test guy was very difficult to find.  I looked everywhere, including behind the paneling, yet he was not there.  Spotting an open door, I launched myself through it.  I wound up in a plane hangar and there was Test Guy.   In an accurate metaphor for the entire experience, he was smoking a cigarette under the NO SMOKING sign whilst examining a fire extinguisher for compliance.  I desperately wanted to take a picture but didn't think it was a good time.

I told him that the stuff on the test was not the stuff I studied.  He laughed and told me that nine out of ten test-takers said the same thing to him.

Alrighty then.

Test Guy performed whatever magic necessary to print out forms, make some copies, then complain about the government.  I watched the ancient printer eat up some paper and my heart sank.  Finally he gave me my results.  I wished him the best of health and left.

Wife was sitting there, watching planes and smoking like a chimney.  I was amazed that the airport didn't ask her to stop smoking, as she was violating local pollution ordinances. I walked out with lowered head and slow gait.  She looked concerned.  She asked.  I didn't meet her gaze but handed her the results.

Passing was 750 out of 900.  I got an 810.  I can now refer to myself as leftystrat, Sec+. I couldn't believe it and was numb.  IT Dood still has it after all these years!  Wife screamed and admitted she thought I blew it when she saw me.

I am such a total bastard.


Speaking of people who aren't bastards, Test Guy went outside for a ciggie and started talking to my wife about pain.  Wife gave him her Complete Course on pain control and some valuable tips.  I felt great that she reached out to him and hopefully he took some of it home with him.  It was a good day all around.

=============================================

Since it was the wife's birthday, I had a short (and cheap) ride planned.  She knew not where; I just gave her directions.

Halfway there, I got a call from a coworker.  There was a serious problem with one of the systems and it needed to be shut down.  Many calls and emails later, I was no longer needed (thankfully).  I was not relishing having to work on my wife's birthday, although I would have.  We work 24/7/365 on our team. Gotta keep the railways moving.

As we got closer, I had to find ways to block signs advertising our destination.  This consisted of physicallly putting myself between her (she drove) and the signs, as well as distracting her with conversation.  Somehow I succeded.

As we pulled off at the exit and came around the corner, there was much screaming.  There on the left was a Waffle House.

Before you laugh hysterically at me and call me names (other than the normal ones), I beg your indulgence.  We tend to hit a hamfest (electronics flea market for radio) in Maryland a few times per year.  On the way down are three Waffle Houses.  In Philthydelphia, there are no Waffle Houses.  We discovered Waffle House on a trip to Arizona, so it has sentimental value.  It takes about three hours to make it to Waffle House in Maryland.

I went online and discovered a Waffle House about ninety minutes away, which is where I took her.  She was incredibly impressed at my efforts at personalizing her gift. The internal children were screaming WAFFLE HOUSE, WAFFLE HOUSE and everyone was excited.  They love to watch the hustle and bustle of Waffle House operations.

Waffle House has some famous hash browns that you can order with several toppings.  I order ham, onions and cheese but Waffle House has a different designation for this, along the lines of slashed, hashed and mashed (which, coincidentally, is how I like my women).

As things go in large chains, the food was absolutely predictable, whether or not you like it.

Our waitress was a really nice older lady.  The folks sitting next to us, however, were from New Yawk and just a little weird, in that old, retired person way.  Mrs. New Yawk had some meds to take, which started the couple and the waitress talking about people in their families who had died recently from heart attacks.

You're probably wondering how it is that I come upon this Neat Shit every time I leave the house. I can't even begin to explain it to you, largely as I don't understand it myself.  Let it just be my pain and your joy.

Mrs. Yawk was going on about how her relative died at fawty, bless him.  Waitress talked about her uncle, who died at sixty-six; way too young, bless him.  Husband complained that wife spent all of the money, as one would expect.

At this point I can't decide whether to show them my pre-digested breakfast or just laugh.  I decided on the latter, with special consideration as to how I was going to describe it on the blog.  These are the things I do for you, loyal readers.

Eventually the waitress got the Yawkers out of their seats and lavished us with her attention.  As it turned out, there wasn't a single word spoken about death, heart attacks or industrial food.  She was polite, gracious and one of the best waitresses we've ever had.  We tipped generously, as anyone should for this level of service.

People are different outside of Philthydelphia.  On the way out, after our gourmet meal, we noticed a lady starting at us.  Getting into the car, she ran after us and asked if the wife lost a ring.  She figured it was the wife, as the ring was Indian and the wife has rather a large collection of it on her person at all times (she's a lot of fun at airport checkpoints).  I was dumbfounded.

===================================================

So it was a beautiful Saturday.  And my timing has to be applauded: when I went to work on Monday, I got laid off.