In Which I Start a Pun War (with Myself)

Me:  What do you think about a law firm named "Mahi-Mahi and Ahi"?
Myself:  Sounds fishy to me.
I:  I thought lawyers were supposed to be sharks.

If it Doesn't Fit, You Must Not Sit

I parked next to a Fiat this past weekend.  I always think of Fiat as one of the tiny cars during the chase scene in The Pink Panther.  I learned this weekend that, although the movie is over 50 years old, the Fiat is just as tiny now as it was then.

The roof of the car is higher than my waist.  This sounds good at first, although I learned in college that I could fit in a friend's Fiero and stretch my legs all the way out, and that car didn't make it up to my waist.  I don't think I could stretch my legs out in a Fiat.  This car has an alleged back seat.  Looking through the window, though, I saw that it was big enough for only a baby's car seat up to a child whose legs barely extend over the edge of the seat.  There is no way for a human to fit his/her legs between the back of the front seat and the front edge of the back seat, unless they are really tiny.

One of my rules of buying a car is that someone of average or better size must be able to sit in the seat behind me while I'm in the driver's seat, so the Fiat is out.  How about a Mini Cooper?

G'night, Everybody!

When I leave work, I say, "Have a good evening."  Usually, only the office manager and my boss are left in the building.  Yesterday, though, when I misspoke, there were plenty of witnesses.  I said, "Have a good weekend."  It was Monday.  I don't know where my brain was, but I know where it apparently wanted to be.

Do as I Say, Not as I... Oops

I see some interesting things when I visit a website to look for construction projects in our area, which need a landscaping contractor.  Both public & private entities can post opportunities, and they're not always for construction.  City governments, for example, can post bid requests for office supplies.  Today, I saw one for a city requesting bids for "Drug and Alcohol Testing".  Boy, I bet they'll be swamped by applications from people who want to test alcohol or other drugs for them!

That's probably not what they meant, but why, then, didn't they choose the correct words to express their point?  That brings to mind the time when a former supervisor alerted the employees about an upcoming "Sexual Harassment Training".  "No," I pointed out, "You mean sexual harassment prevention training.  They probably don't need any help harassing people."

I think the most enjoyment I've gotten out of misunderstood words was a sign I passed during my weekly cheesesteak pilgrimage in the Noog.  It announced the location of the "Pregnancy Help Center".  I always drove by after working hours, but they must had a line of guys out the door during the day, hoping to help a woman get pregnant.

In Which I Get Struck by Lightning

Twice this week, I have heard the story of a nun who is credited with a religious college's basketball team proceeding through the annual NCAA tournament.  (Proceed with sarcasm.)  How heart-warming.  How inspirational.  How unbelievable.

1) Does anyone truly believe that the nun's prayers are responsible for the team's successes?

2) Why is she praying for something so trivial as a basketball team when she could be praying for a sustainable peace in the Middle East?

3) If her prayers have been so successful, why doesn't the team win every year?

My Name Is Cap'n, and I'm a Junk-food-aholic

My story starts, as so many often do, in childhood.  I discovered that I like snacks, but there was something about Pringles that made me crave more, more, more.  (This got me into trouble once.)

In adulthood (it took them a couple of decades to invent this variation), although I had known for years that I was fond of Cheetos (anybody besides me remember the bacon flavor from the early 1980's?), I discovered that, if I start on a bag of the jalapeno variety, I could easily eat the entire bagful.

To be fair, I'm not hooked on just junk food.  Costco sells an in-house chicken alfredo entrée that is nummy, and which I have not been able to resist a second helping.

My latest weakness is crunchy pretzel "pillows" stuffed with peanut butter.  I will eat them until my stomach tells my brain, "Shut your mouth, if you know what's good for you."

Out of all the foods in the world, why am I so attracted to just four?  I suppose I should be grateful that I'm not addicted to more!

On that note, I'll leave you with this performance of "Junk Food Junkie" by Larry Groce.

I'm Just an Old Fogey

As I left my hair-cutting place yesterday, I overheard a woman tell the stylist that her son wanted a "bogey".

He wants his hair cut like Humphrey Bogart?  Most of the movie clips I've seen of him show him in a hat (either as Sam Spade, Rick Blaine, or Charlie Allnut), but, from what I recall, he had a flat haircut parted on one side, like mine.  In my day, that was called a standard haircut for boys.

Even more obscurely, I can't imagine how one's hair could be cut to resemble a score of one over par in golf.

I probably should've stuck around to learn what the boy wanted.