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the x-acto and I have always had a love hate relationship. her elegant beauty, sharp wit, and decisiveness have always intrigued me. i have always respected her, now more so than ever. we had not danced in a long time. friday night we danced. danced with percission and grace.
as the evening grew late, our dancing became less precise and more dangerous. i was holding her tight when she slipped. in slow motion i watched and knew disaster was eminent and unstoppable.
she slid through layers of tissue without slowing. it must have been the bone that stopped the forward motion. i felt nothing. the color red flowed from my finger and on to the floor. she also lay on the floor at my feet.
our dance was over. we had been using each other, and this was the price i had to pay. now i return to my true love, the sharpie.
i built the fort from pillows and blankets. i slid the cookies under the "secret entrance".
i am the world's greatest architect.
i can out run a cheeta.
i know everything.
i am the strongest muscle man.
i can fix any thing.
i make the best pop tarts.
i am the lego master.
i can draw batman better than anyone.
i can beat up the neighbor kid's dad.
none of this will be true in 7 years,
3 hours into a 7 hour meeting. 22 minutes into what should have been a 30 second conversation about pup up windows, i considered shoving my sharpie ultra fine tip pen deep into my eye socket. anything to brake the monotony of the meeting.
the potential for permanent blindness and potential brain damage seemed like an acceptable risk at the time.
hayden doppler is an insomniac. he does most of his shopping online in the wee hours. hayden is very curious. hayden is very confused. hayden often writes in non-sequiturs. hayden rarely wants to purchase items for their intended use, he usually has other uses in mind.
as a service to you the reader and a potential consumer, hayden will occasionally post email inquiries and the received response. the information is provided to help you as a consumer decide if the product is worthy. ultramicroscopic incorporated has negotiated an exclusive agreement with hayden. who said ultramicroscopic didn't look out for the little people?
the emails are real, the responses are real, hayden is not.
real emails to real companies from an not so real person. more about hayden doppler.
Hello,
I was wondering about the Pretzle head lamp (PHD).
This looks like a great idea. Quite often my miniature hand becomes quickly fatigued when holding my candle.
I wear a 7.5 hat will it fit?
Is there any danger of the electrical current flowing around my smart head? I have many fun time memories I would hate to lose.
Could multiple lights be mounted around the head band. Why would I want to look behind my head?
Is there a brand of battery you suggest?
Thank you for your time.
Your little friend,
Hayden Doppler
Dear Hayden;
Thank you for your interesting inquiry! The Petzl has an adjustable head
strap that will fit all sizes of heads and helmets. You could attach extra
lights but they would not be connected to the battery unit. There is no
danger from the electrical current since it is such a low voltage. If you are
interested in high-quality batteries, we have an excellent line of alkaline,
Nicad, and Nickel Metal Hydride batteries. If you have any further questions,
or would like to place an order, please let me know.
KW
Customer Support Specialist
CCRANECO
my wife just booked her annual trip to visit her parents sans kids. it reminded me that a new hoax must be planned.
last year she was very worried about me taking good care of the kids. to ease her mind i emailed a photo a day of the kids to show her how well we were doing without her.
the photos:
i fed them quite well...
we went to the zoo...
number 2 claimed a kangaroo ear as a souvenir...
i made sure they were dressed properly...
number one may have been allergic to the laundry soap...
now accepting ideas for this years hoax.
about once a quarter, a will call me and say something like; "hey griff, my is having a hard time figuring out what he wants to do for a living. he has his own web page and did all the graphics himself. he just finished a site for. I think he could be an awesome designer if someone just gave him a chance. Maybe you could provide him with a little career counseling."
being the kind gentle person i am, i say sure, i would love to talk to him. before the meeting i will spend a few minutes on his sites to get an idea of the talent level. the sites always suck, with gratuitous usage of
i waste time talking bout design, process, tools etc., then the big moment
arrives, guidance. the great pearl of wisdom i impart upon them could have gotten from, "a good place to start would be to ".
it is the hardest thing in the world to tell some one they and should consider another career.
the devil drives a chrysler k car.
scorpions danced on his dashboard to a tinty strain of tejano music. it was loud, really loud, and distorted. the factory stock speakers were blown long ago. several cracks in the windshield distorted incoming light causing his flesh to appear as if it was melting. the dub wheels protruded well beyond the side panels, and tripled the value of the car.
the passanger's massive head wounds were wrapped in stained and dirty strips of cloth. the unraveling cloth danced wildly outside the open window. his fully reclined seat provided easy access to a churning margarita machine that consumed what little space was left in the back seat. it pumped a cool blue slushy mixture into a tiki style glass.
he was not driving as fast as i assumed the devil would, in fact he drives only slightly faster than you. i was also surprised he did not have a toll tag, he stopped and each toll both but always had the correct change.
how do I know all this? we both were traveling south on the tollway last night.
how am I sure it was the devil? the old english style decals on the rear window spelled out "el diablo".
the cats in my mind move quickly
very agile in a small space
circling and leaping
never touching as they pass
constant motion
hey, did anyone notice mac os 9.04 rocks?!?! Sherlock 2 is awesome. i just intalled it this morning replacing 8.6.
ok, ok i know the trendy blog thing to do is rave about the latest up to the second release of your os or blogging tool. so i am a little behind, big deal.
my trusty blue and white g3 at work has been the most stable machine i have ever worked on til today. looking for assistance in trouble shooting, the first question everyone asks is what version os are you running. embarrassed i say 8.6, jaws drop followed by some smart ass comment about me living in the land that time forgot.
grandpappy said "if it aint broke, don't fix it". makes sense to me.
i hear mac os 9.2 really rocks, i can barely wait til next year!
my hair is red. well not really red, that is just what people call it. it actually is closer to an orange color but it sounds even more stange to say some one has orange hair. anyway, the hair on my arms is also orange. the result is sort of an orangatang like appearance. i bet there are over 3 thousand hairs on my left forearm alone. on rare occassion i may notice a single hair that it not orange. it is either black or white. freakishly black or white. black as night, or white as the lone ranger's hat.
i believe the black ones contain my evil powers and impulses. if i find a black one, it is important to search my body until a white one is found. white ones are good and nutralize the power of the black ones. it is a delicate balance, a single one hair advantage will determine if i am evil or good. harmony is imparitive.
today i put two quarters into the newspaper box but grabbed 2 newspapers. i can't explain why i did this. i have reviewed both papers and they are the same. word for word.
i think there is an imbalance of hairs.
i really want to enjoy watching the world cup thingy (tournament? championship? event? match? game? whatever). i have put some effort into watching. i really want to care, but i don't.
i think a few minor tweaks to the game may bolster u.s. interest in the sport. first, shorten the field quite a bit. cover the grass with a wood floor. the goal's are much too big, make them circular and suspend them about 10 feet in the air. kicking the ball should be illegal. make the players dribble with their hands. force them to shoot every 28 seconds. that should do it...oh, yea, the players need to be much taller and more tattoos.
word to your mutha, fifa.
would the creator of the wicked growler left behind in stall 3 please return to dispose of it properly?
i understand mans basic desire to create and the pride you must have for such a creation. i am impressed/horrified by it as i am sure most others are also, but this grandstanding behavior can not be encouraged.
the olfactory impression is quite impressive in itself, the visual aspect (although quite spectacular) is simply over the top.
it can only lead to a competitive shit fest. now none of us really want that do we?
the 24oz of 7-11 high octane coffee was supposed to pull me out of this haze and boost my energy. energy i desperately need to make an impending deadline.
instead the coffee has only boosted my energy to get up and pee every seven and a half minutes. soon the deadline will pass as i pass the coffee into the urinal.
no time to eat, if only i had some crackers.
the father's day booty alone makes fatherhood worth it!
props to amazon wish list for making sure i didn't get socks or an ugly tie.
it was really hot. my yard work attire consisted of an old concert t-shirt and ragged blue jean shorts. both saturated with a combination of sweat, dirt, and lunch. after mowing the backyard i wheeled the mower around to the front. upon surveying the yard and the heat of the summer i lost all interest in mowing the front. i left the mower where it stood and fetched a beer from the fridge.
i returned to the yard and sat in one of my 2 mismatched lawn chairs.
because i had been working in the garage, the car was parked out front. my 3 year old was giving the car an impromptu washing, no time for a swim suit, just his diaper.
i decided my hair was getting to be a hassle, so i went inside and found my electric hair clippers. back outside, i sat down and shaved my head. i let the hair fall to the grass.
i took a swig of beer and realized how this scene might appear to a neighbor.
lawn chairs, beer, naked kid, car wash, an idle mower parked in overgrown grass, and a self given hair cut. the whole scene must have appeared very redneck. the only thing missing were chickens wandering about the yard.
wearing a shirt was the only thing that stood between me an my debut on COPS.
after a 3 year hiatus, rightfulness is restored and all is good on this beautiful planet.
i did this for a t-shirt design competition about 6 months ago. i lost.
now that jakob and macromedia are buds, perhaps a cheesy romance novel cover would be more appropriate.
today marks 9 years of wedded bliss with my wife.
more amazing, is that the 9 years are consecutive and with the same person.
in celebration of this event i have grown a zit on my nose. it has it's own zip code. the extra weight of my head is straining my neck. wifey greeted me this morning with the pet name of rudolph.
the median duration of marriages is 7.2 years, now we are well past that, it might be a safe time to consider having an affair now. or maybe not.
i slide 3 well balanced meals under the dungeon door a day. sometimes with little parsley snips.
ring, ring
her on cell phone: hi
me at work: hey, what's going on?
her: i just spent a hundred dollars on underwear.
me: huh? what?
her: gotta go.
click.
i am left with many questions.
why did that warrant a phone call? has the price of underwear gone through the roof? was it one really hot pair from victoria's secret or 30 pairs of grannie grundies from wal-mart? is she planning to resell them on e-bay as worn and slightly soiled? are they for my son and i when we play intergalactic butt heads and run around wearing underwear helmets? are these replacement skivies for those marred by skid marks? edible? glow in the dark? crotchless?
ahhhhh, i still remember, years ago, early on in our relationship when her panties matched her bras.
one day i will cease to exist. i am not sure which day that will be, but i have been thinking about the cause of death. i have identified a few below and included the current odds provided by my vegas bookie.
1. struck in head by grapefruit size hail and/or swept up by a tornado. of all the options, spinning around a tornado vortex with cows, chickens and trailer homes would be the coolest! odds 500 to 1. highly unlikely since said big weather is rare in itself, but if there is even a 10% chance of this weather, there is a 100% chance i will be standing in the yard watching it.
2. a gruesome and violent mishap with my ryobi weed wacker (which I commonly refer to as the "angry bitch"). the angry bitch is easily the most powerful and violent machine i have ever operated. odds 30 - 1. more likely to grotesquely disfigure myself, death would be a pretty good trick.
3. starring up through the moon roof of my car while driving. stupid yes, but it's so dang fun. odds 20 - 1. more likely on a clear and starry night.
4. stepping on a lego (or happy meal toy) and doing a face plant into the night stand. odds 10 - 1. a distinct possibility that increases with the birth of each additional offspring.
5. severe brain damage inflicted by a post shower q-tip ear cleaning session. odds 5 - 1. i know, i know, but it feels so good and usually results in pleasurable eargasms.
6. natural causes. odds 1 billion - 1. just not gonna to happen. less likely to happen than monkeys flying from my butt.
my wife has her money on number 1. i say, never underestimate the addictive relationship between the johnson and johnson q-tip and my ears.
her recent giddiness is entertaining.
she is in the midst of a 3 day streak. pro athletes like to call it "the zone" or "the groove". when your hot, your hot.
3 days ago, someone whistled at her. 2 days ago a cat call was directed at her (while driving the saturn with kid seat, no less). yesterday the grocery bagger was flirtatious.
the streak is making her feel giddy, young, and sexy. as her husband, i like to see her feel that way (although not sure how to feel about the advances).
so, if you see my wife, let her know what a hot little hoochie mamma she truly is.
dang it.
should i feel frustrated with rock stars for living and dying tired cliches?
should i feel sad about the human condition and the power of addiction?
should i feel happy thinking about the difference he made?
should i feel angry that a difference maker was snatched away?
one thing is for sure, dee dee rocked my ass.
go out to the mailbox in my underwear. if it is cold i will don some dark socks.
the first time i ever heard my dad say the f word.
two weeks after getting my drivers license i took my friend to get his. on the way home i decided to show off my lack of driving skills. i was either really good at fish-tialing or really bad. mailboxes were no match for the mustang. except for the last one mounted on a 4 inch steel pipe cemented a good 3 feet into the ground. why the hell would someone install a mailbox to survive nuclear holocaust? the car came to a stop rocking on the pole like a teeter totter.
i had to call dad to come and pick us up. that's when he should have used the f word but didn't.
saturday my dad and i went to fix what I had done. it was the hottest day in august. i was 16 and completely useless with a hammer, shovel or any other tool necessary to make the repairs. i ended up standing around watching my dad dig a hole for the new mailbox. he stopped digging for a moment to rest. leaning on the shovel he slowly looked up at me.
"it's really fucking hot out here, ... isn't it?"
uuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh, i never felt so useless in my life. the guilt of my dad fixing my mistake was overwhelming. he could have dog cussed me for a week and it wouldn't have had half the impact. i still wonder if that was by design.
the first time i heard my mom use the f word.
my sister and i were at the breakfast table, eating slowly and starring out the window. it was the first spring day warm enough to open the kitchen windows and enjoy a little of the outdoors indoors. Outside rabbits, squirrels, and birds were also enjoying the morning. it was a syrupy sweet disney scene. the forest animals playfully chased and wrestled each other.
mom was doing everything she could to get us out the door to catch the school bus. she was working maniacally at the kitchen counter, oblivious to the debut of spring.
she did notice the birds. hundreds in the cotton wood tree. the chirping was nearly deafening. mom seemed a little stressed.
"i wish those little fuckers would shut up!"
i sat quietly wondering if my ears were functioning correctly. my sister's face was verification enough. i was amazed mom could even pronounce the word correctly. i had waited 17 years to hear that and it was well worth it.
my son and i had a very lively debate this morning. he told be it was duck season. i corrected him and told him it was actually rabbit season. he insisted it was duck season. i again told him it was rabbit season.
the debate continued for some time till finally he was able to convince me it was duck season by telling me it was rabbit season.
that sneaky little bastard.
in the second grade i was pulled from my class to attend a "special" class for an hour a day. even at that tender age i realized my "special" classmates were an assortment of nose picking, pant wetting misfit freaks. after only a few days they stopped making me attend the "special" class. to this day i do not know what that was all about.
whatever it was about, it scarred me with a life long conspiracy paranoia.
i am fairly sure my mother had a visit with my 2nd grade teacher. i assume she said something like "we appreciate your efforts with our son, but we realize what he is and we accept that. there is only so much you can do, so we believe there is no reason to continue with the special class. we do not expect much of him, and we have come to terms with that. instead we would like you to just let him believe he is like the others."
i am also fairly sure that same conversation has taken place with many of my teachers, coaches, employers, and even friends (if i can call them that). in fact, i am fairly sure my mother has spoken to you, and is probably paying you to read this.
it is the season for birthdays it seems. today my son's friend christopher turned three. it took place at a kids gym. the party was very tightly choreographed to the background music. planned activities like the rope swing happened as george of the jungle music played.
over the course of an hour the kids had been worked into a frenzy. jacked up on hard core birthday cake frosting and adrenaline. soon the party would be over.
the party was about to climax. i recognized the music immediately, it was the vapors, turning japanese. i giggled to myself. I wondered if any other parents saw the strangeness in the party climaxing with a song about a man masturbating as a machine spewed thousands of bubbles raining down on the kids.
