Category: silly

Wanted: Three Pips, Immediate Hire, Reasonable Rates

This morning my eyes fluttered open around 6am. My alarm wasn’t due to go off for another hour and a half. I had a raging headache and my body decided I should get the full experience of the pain instead of sleeping through it all.

Since sleep was no longer within my grasp, but in no way did I want to get out of bed, I grabbed my trusty old iPod that I keep by the bed, clapped on the headphones and set my Pod for shuffle.

An Elton John and a couple Merle Haggards went by. A Harry Connick crooner about nightingales and London-town was certainly relaxing.

Then the opening strains of Midnight Train To Georgia filled my ears. Ah Gladys. Such a powerful voice. It’s been a while since this one made it’s way to the top of my shuffle list, and it was like visiting with an old friend.

I turned up the sound to hear every word, every note.

And that’s when I made a decision. I need some Pips.

They provide such great affirmation.

Gladys: He’s leaving/On that midnight train to Georgia
Pips: …leaving on that midnight train….whoot whoo!

Or

Gladys: And I’m gonna be with him/On that midnight train to Georgia
Pips: I know you will….leaving on that midnight train to Georgia…whoot whoo!

The Pips provide emphatic punctuation to what Gladys is saying. She’s tormented. Her man is heading out of town. But her Pips back her play. They underscore her words. They give her power.

I need this. I need Pips. Three of ’em. Right away.

Can you imagine how empowering this would be?

Karen: Hey boss, we need to chat
Pips: bossMAN…gotta have a chat…

Karen: I think I need a raise
Pip: You *know* she needs that cash…whoot wooo!

Yeah, I mean how could I get a no to my request with the power of the Pips behind me?

Or in a very important negotiation:

Karen: So Supplier, your pricing is too high, we need to cut 20% out of the quote
Pips: You know that quote’s to high…twenty percent…oh no!

Or employee relations:

Karen: So, I noticed you’ve been missing deadlines lately
Pips: …Missing them deadlines…
Karen: That’s not good
Pips: …Not good!…

See what I’m saying? I think you do.

So now, next steps. Where does one go to hire a set of Pips?

Monster? LinkedIn? Maybe Craigslist.

Wanted: Three Pips. Must enthusiastically support everything I say. In harmony. Multiple woot wooos acceptable. Must provide own wide lapel leisure suits. Please apply via email. Provide references.





Photo found on this blog without attribution. If this image belongs to you, please contact me and I will gladly remove image or add proper attribution.


Warm Weather Tip From Your Friend Karen

On a beautiful, clear, cool July morning as you are commuting to work with the windows down, please refrain from loudly singing along with Lady Gaga.

Your fellow windows down commuters aren’t interested in your misguided fantasies of playing before a sold out Madison Square Garden.

They have their windows open too.

Auric littering, I suppose is the kindest name for what I did.

To the gentleman in the silver Honda Civic. I’m terribly sorry.
.
.
.
.
“…whooooooaohaoooooohaooooooo…caught in a bad romance….”





Image is of Latvian mezzo-soprano Elina Garanca and a pretty extensive web search could not net me the attribution on this photo. I found photos from that same event on the European Commission page which allows for the use of photos with attribution.



No Substitute for Sense

As I’ve been fighting the demon of lactose intolerance, lately I’ve been sampling several different milk alternatives.

Soy, hemp, almond, grain, etc. All of ’em.

The one thing they have in common in the strongly worded admonition on the side of the container that the product shouldn’t be used as a substitute for baby formula.

All because of that one couple who fed only soy milk and apple juice to their baby, and the baby died.

So I’d been thinking about just this very topic recently when lo and behold, my friend NewMexiKen posted this today (from a 1956 Life Magazine):



Via The Consumerist, click image for full story.


From the ad copy: “For a fact, you can even give this sparkling drink to babies—and without any qualms. Lots of mothers do just that!”

Faboo! Sort of reminds me of the old family scrapbook I have where my grandparents wrote down the formula to feed their first baby. The recipe is Karo syrup and milk. My Aunt turned out fine, so I guess it was ok.


Plumbing the Depths of the Thesaurus

This week’s Theme Thursday is: soft

Sometimes I see the weekly theme word and think “yeah baby! I know just what to write about.”

Sometimes I go. “meh.”

This week is a meh week.

Soft. What can one say about soft? Pillows, babies, marshmallows, fat ladies, feathers, skin, hair, blah blah blah.

So then I try my bag of tricks, Google the word. Check the dictionary. Check the thesaurus.

Soft. Synonyms: Yielding, squashy (didn’t know that was a word, but it is), spongy, supple, pliable, elastic, malleable, flexible.

Now really? Soft = Flexible?

I don’t think so.

The list goes on: bendable, ductile, limp

What in the sam hell is ductile? Per the dictionary “Malleable enough to be worked, readily shaped, readily influenced.”

That gets us a long, long way from soft. To me soft is a tactile experience not someone susceptible to being pushed around. I guess the main definition of soft has evolved to being too easily influenced.

Not sure I like that.

Soft is one of those words that by saying it you feel it. Soooo sooooft. What you do think of? Your pillow? Your pet? Your favorite broke in pair of jeans?

Yeah. Me too. What I don’t think of is ductile.



Image from T-shirt guru.


Thursday is the Right Day for SPAM

Over the course of the last week, my favorite Theme Thursday word of the week and creative idea fueling site was down.

They’d fallen victim to an especially tenacious comment spam-bot, so they shut ‘er down to get it sorted.

And so of course, with that in mind, this week’s theme is, you guessed it, SPAM.

SPAM, SPAM, SPAM…lovely spam! Wonderful SPAM!

Well…where can one go with SPAM? It’s either nuisance email or it’s shivering pink gelatinous goo in a square can. One I ignore and the other I fry up nice in a pan and gobble with a touch of mustard.

So I took to the waters of Google to find something different and was rewarded for my journey.

SPAM-ku. Like haiku, only SPAMmier.

Select bits from the MIT (yes, MIT) website:

This was filed under the “addiction” category…


Desire overwhelms.
“SPAM, I must have more of it!”
Freud would be enthralled.


and


Gave up cigarettes
No more drinking, and drug-free
Hidden stash of SPAM


Wow…such SPAM angst. I never knew one could have such delicious agony over luncheon meat.

Let’s see…what do we find under the “sex” category (cuz you knew it was going to go there)?


In regards to SPAM:
Sexual hangups aside,
It makes me feel strange.


or


Autoerotic!
Open can, insert member:
Wham, bam, thank you SPAM!


and then there is


Beneath the armpits

SPAM gives one a manly scent

Drives all women wild


Um…ok. : looks around nerviously : That’s just…odd.

And I like odd, but wow. There are literally pages and pages of SPAM-ku on that site. I believe they have over 5,000 bits of verse devoted to SPAM.

I’ve been known to take my OCD too far, but even I’m unsure about this.

But then I read a verse that speaks to me:


SPAM, too, needs a wife.
What consort for my Pork Prince?
Ah! The Velveeta!


Whoa. I do love the Velveeta and I’m not ashamed to own it. Maybe I am starting to understand these strange SPAM poets.

Then I read the SPAM verse that seems to sum it all up:


SPAM: the perfect food
For people who study Zen–
Meat, and yet not meat.

Ponder that for a while, why don’tcha?

Meanwhile, I think I’ll just have a salad and a walk for lunch. My cholesterol went up twenty points just reading about lovely, wiggly SPAM.





SPAM art found at Strategic Public Relations blog.