Oct 6 2012

“Are you the Good Jimmy or the Bad Jimmy?”

The customer asked me this seriously, without the slightest bit of irony.

“My name’s Dan,” I replied.

The whole thing was rather curious. Jimmy was our lead tech at the time, and he is legitimately one of the nicest guys ever. For some reason the customer had gotten it into her head that 1) Jimmy was not nice, 2) I was also named Jimmy, and that 3), I actually was nice.

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Nov 23 2011

Dumpster Divin’

Way back in the day the 9-530 crew at work was awesome. It consisted of me, Kaleb, Jimmy, and Timmy.

One night close to Christmas we clocked out together and headed to the shuttle. On the way we passed a certain department. The custodians had left a dumpster outside the department, and they had discarded a large, gold box of chocolates.

Before I continue, let me quantify the word ‘large.’ One thing that drives me crazy is when I go to the store to pick something up for my wife and she says she needs something, like say, ‘a large can of green beans.’

“How big is large? 10 oz? 14 oz? 28 oz?”

“You know, one of the big ones.”

“No, I don’t know. That’s why I asked .”

“Just get me two big ones.”

So when I say they discarded a large box of chocolates, what I mean is that the box was something like 1.5 x 2.5 feet.

But it had the look of that cheap, waxy, off-brand chocolate they market around the holidays to poor saps in search of a last-minute gift for someone they barely know but don’t want to appear cheap or rude.

We all stared at it with a mixture of piqued curiosity, disdain, and then, suddenly, a wee bit of peckishness.

The box was just sitting there, completely sealed and unopened.

We all decided to try it, making a pact never to reveal that we had eaten chocolate that was found in a dumpster (and we never did). We quickly looked around, grabbed one piece apiece, and hopped on the shuttle to try our newly acquired waxy candy.

As we all agreed later, that was probably the best chocolate we had had in our entire lives. But then we were in a dilemma: how to drive back up to work, go past the security checkpoint, surreptitiously remove the world’s biggest gold box of chocolate and transport it back to the car (or cars).

Now every time it gets close to Christmas and I walk past that department, I long for dumpster chocolate.

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Jul 29 2010

So I Watched a Boring Movie

Before my wife met me she had gone on a date with some dude, no doubt neither as smart or handsome as me, and they went to see Mike Myers’s So I Married an Axe Murderer. She said it was so boring that she fell asleep.

Years later when I started my current job, Jimmy talked incessantly about how hilarious this movie was. I never could find it to rent it, and was so close to buying it a couple of times. Anyway, now that we have Netflix, we watched it. More accurately, we watched the first 20 minutes and then decided to watch something else.

Now I can see why Heather fell asleep the first time she saw it.

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Jun 17 2009

Timmy’s cough

Warning: this story is not for the squeamish.

My friend Timmy was driving down the road. He was also just getting over a cold, and he had to cough. When he coughed, he coughed up some phlegm. While he would have normally just spat it out the window, he hesitated, as he had just washed his car.

“I’ll just hold it in my mouth until I get to the light, then spit it out,” he thought.

But the thought of the phlegm on his tongue grossed him out and made him gag. When he gagged, he coughed again, and accidentally spat  the phlegm onto his pants. He reached down to get something to wipe his pants off, and when he did, hit the curb and blew out his tire.

The first time Jimmy told me this, I laughed so hard I could hardly walk; I even LOL’d again as I was writing this.

I don’t usually try to moralize any of the stories I post here; I just record them. However, I can think of two quotes that apply really well here. The first, from Uncle Remus (pulled completely out context):

“Big man, little man, spit where you please.”

And the second and more applicable, from Mel Brooks:

“Tragedy is when I cut my finger. Comedy is when you walk into an open sewer and die.”

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Jun 9 2009


Several years ago Jimmy, Timmy, and I were discussing profanity. Jimmy, who almost never uses profanity, mentioned this:

“I don’t like to swear; however, I really like the word ‘#$@*!‘ It just sounds cool.”

Later in the day while we were getting ready to leave for lunch, Jimmy was taking a long time and we were standing around waiting for him.

“Man, he’s taking forever,” I said.

“Yeah,” said our mutual friend Timmy. “He’s a #$@*!


Note: names have been changed to protect the guilty.

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