The Man-Child Chronicles, Vol. 1
2/6/08 by Caspar Fine-Burger
We sit in “megacubes” here, four desks to a megacube with small dividers between desks. In the next megacube, a coworker just said, “I saw you eating Hazel’s nuts.” I laughed out loud. They got quiet. I couldn’t help it, any more than I could stop my own heart from beating. I don’t care how old or responsible I get, I will always laugh at something like that.
I called my wife from a conference room recently. There was a white board in there with all sorts of notes and a big admonition “DON’T ERASE!” Among the notes was a list of steps, and #8 on the list was “Part-to-Part Conversion.” So I moistened a finger and changed it to “Fart-to-Fart Conversion.” Again – I simply couldn’t help myself. I envision a bunch of managers sitting down in there next week for a meeting, harrumphing and bellowing and trying to one-up each other, and seeing “Fart-to-Fart Conversion”. It was too appealing to pass up.
Fart-to-Fart Conversion
What would a good shrink say about me?
A Schleprock Christmas
12/27/2000 by Schleprock
So, here’s a little story that is oh so typical of my life. I thought you might enjoy it.
Christmas Day I had to go to my Dad’s house to exchange gifts. I talk to my Dad twice a year – Father’s Day and Christmas – so it’s always incredibly uncomfortable. My Dad encouraged me to bring my evil devil dog Ruby, because he has a dog, and thought they might get along. Remember – my dog is evil.
Increasing the level of tension – Alicia came with me for the first time this year. She’s only met my Dad and stepmom once before, and vowed to never meet them again because it was so uncomfortable.
But, for some reason, I talked her into going.
First five minutes: so we arrive at my Dad’s house, go inside, exchange greetings and then we all endure one of the worst uncomfortable silences I’ve felt in years. Meanwhile, my giant dog had begun playfully chasing my Dad’s tiny terrier around the house. We all pretended to be amused, to hide our anxiety. So then Sammy (my Dad’s dog) walked up to Alicia. Alicia kneeled down to pet it, and Ruby (my evil, big black dog), viciously attacked Sammy – going for the jugular, barking like a demon, clawing and gnashing teeth. I dove down on the floor and tackled my stupid dog, and Sammy ran off.
Next five minutes: we all calm down, shaken a bit by the near dog death experience we all had. I continued to beat and yell at Ruby. Some nervous laughter broke out, realizing that it was all over. And then we moved back to the tense, uncomfortable small talk about what we’d been doing for the last year.
Next 25 minutes: I went to the bathroom to blow my nose. And noticed to my horror that blood began spurting out. Because of the stupid Ohio winter dry air, I get occasional nose bleeds throughout the year (always at the most inopportune time). So I sat down in the bathroom to try to stop it (usually stops within a few seconds). But this time the blood didn’t stop. Probably because of my anxiety from the dog experience, my heart was pumping out blood enough to fill the sink. It still wouldn’t stop. I grabbed Kleenex after Kleenex in order to try to stop it – no luck. By this time I was sitting on the toilet, with a puddle of blood forming beneath my feet. Every time I took the Kleenex away to see if the bleeding had stopped, blood literally spurted all over my face and the wall – as if from some horror movie. I’ve never actually seen blood spurt – it’s not pretty.
Keep in mind that I’ve been sitting in this small bathroom for about 10 minutes now, just 5 feet from where everyone is standing. I was still bleeding profusely, and starting to panic. At this point I’ve lost enough blood that I start to feel dizzy. So I consider going out and asking my Dad (who I haven’t spoken to in 6 months) to drive me to the hospital. I cancel that idea, and sit for another few minutes as blood pours onto the floor. Did I mention this whole time that my demon dog was clawing at the bathroom door, trying to get in (making my anxiety even worse)?
Finally after 25 minutes of bleeding, it stopped – but I had to leave the disgusting blood clot that had formed dangling from my nose, so it wouldn’t start again. I walked out of the bathroom, and everyone looked stunned and horrified as they saw my face covered with blood. I tried to explain that it was simply the dry air, but my Dad probably assumes I’m a coke head.
The rest of the evening went pretty much like that, with Ruby attacking Sammy 2 more times, and then we went home. God I hate Christmas.
