Category Archives: Quick Hits

Quick Hits are short posts where I highlight must-read blogs elsewhere on the web, briefly discuss random things on my mind, and talk about other awesome things. It’s like Twitter, but without the 140-character limitation.

Rock star

As I’m listening to the Christmas-themed musical stylings of Scott Weiland on my iPod, a thought occurred to me:

I would be a horrible rock star.

Seriously, touring the world and playing on stage every night for a capacity crowd? No thank you. I’ll travel the world, but I want to see the sights and sip coffee all day long.

Now, if my fans don’t mind keeping quiet and following me around all day, that might work. In between sips of coffee, I might pick up my guitar and sing a few tunes. Of course, after a few minutes of this I would want to get up and go somewhere else. When I get to my next destination, wherever that may be, I might sing a few more songs.

If I feel like it.

And if my fans aren’t cool with this arrangement, I’ll just cancel the tour. I’ll go on a vacation.

And by “vacation” I mean I’ll tour the world and sip on coffee all day long.

I’d swim an ocean for you

I’ve heard it said that a man would swim the ocean just to be with the one he loves.

Perhaps I’m missing the basic point of the message, but why can’t the guy just rent a boat?

Is he too poor?

How can he expect to raise a family if he can’t even round up enough money to rent a boat?

You’d think the guy could at least sneak onto someone else’s boat and hitch a ride.

Of course, the girl he loves would probably just dump him for the guy who had the boat.

Dance, Forrest! Dance!

Did you know Tom Hanks snagged the lead role in Forrest Gump only because John Travolta turned it down?

It’s difficult to believe, but according to some entertainment slide show on Yahoo it’s 100% true.

Personally, I’m sad it didn’t happen.

Every time I watch Forrest Gump I have the same thought:

“There’s just not enough dancing in this movie.”

I’d climb a mountain for you

I’ve heard it said that a man would climb a mountain just to be with the one he loves.

Perhaps I’m missing the basic point of the message, but why can’t the girl meet the guy half way?

That would seem like the logical thing to do.

Plus, unless they were going to live on top of the mountain, the girl would have to hike down eventually anyway, right?

Am I missing something?

Scissor monopoly

If monopolies are supposed to be bad, why isn’t there uproar regarding the monopoly scissors have in the workplace?

Staplers have paperclips to keep them in line and vice versa.

As far as writing utensils go, there are pencils, pens of numerous colors and sharpies.

My office phone appears to be a commanding presence at first glance, but two feet away sits my cell phone.

The tape dispenser has thumbtacks and glue sticks to make sure it behaves.

Even post-it notes have “scrap sheets of paper and tape” to worry about.

And then you have scissors.

Scissors have no rival.

I wouldn’t mind, but they’re just so smug about it.

Yes, please put your nose all up in my stuff

To the girl at the checkout counter:

No, of course I don’t mind that you opened my bottle of Old Spice Fiji Body Wash and smelled it without my permission. Seems like a perfectly appropriate thing to do.

But, why stop there? Surely there are more items of mine you would like to sniff.

Want to open this bag of baby spinach and stick your head inside? I won’t mind.

Have you smelled my blueberry yogurt yet? You really should.

What about this container of Vanilla Almond Milk? Does it smell like vanilla? Does it smell like almonds? There’s only one way to find out: Open’er up!

Oh goodness. Where are my manners? I haven’t asked if you’d like to smell ME yet? Let me bend down so you can get your nose all up in my hair.

What’s that? Why yes, that IS shampoo you smell.

The biggest tombstone in history

“Here lies the body of Kevin. He drove himself insane checking mortgage rates every 10 seconds. He had until November 24 to lock in his rate, so he waited – waited for the 3.5% he had been quoted during the pre-approval process to return. He passed on 3.625%. He passed on 3.875%. He passed on 4%. Then, when the rate went back to 3.875%, he again passed. As the rate began to go higher again, he snapped and ran into oncoming traffic while shouting ‘three and a half percent!’ He is survived by his hopes and dreams and a very reasonable mortgage.”

Potluck Roulette

Even though it was the Tuesday BEFORE the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, my work had our annual Thanksgiving Potluck Party today.

I love potlucks. Where else can a regular guy get to experience what it’s like to play a game of Russian Roulette?

“One of these dishes will have me praying for the sweet release of death in an hour,” you’ll say to yourself.

“But which one?”

That’s the mystery, my friends. That’s the thrill.

It’s why we play Potluck Roulette year after year.

Awesomely good comments I tried to leave, but could not

One of the blogs I frequent, the wonderful I’m Having a Thought Here (owned by the equally-wonderful Jenny), hasn’t allowed me to post comments for several days now. However, others have been able to leave comments, so it’s obviously an issue with my Internet filter at work. (That, or Jenny is part of a conspiracy to keep my witty thoughts from ever being read by anyone!)

So, I have decided to publish the comments I tried to leave there, here. Doesn’t that sound exciting? No. Well, I’m doing it anyway.

On Sunday, Jenny wrote about a strange dream she had. Among the oddities in this dream: She had a tattoo. On her face. On Monday, I tried, in vain, to leave the following comment:

As an expert dream interpreter, which I am for the purpose of this comment, I think it is quite clear what your brain is trying to tell you: Get a huge tattoo! On your face!!

On Monday, Jenny posted photos of some excitable dogs she met at Waffle House. On Tuesday, I attempted to leave the following comment:

This is a test comment. Had this been an actual comment, I would have written something dry or witty. For example: “What’s the deal with cucumbers? If they’re not going to be turned into pickles, what’s the point?” This has been only a test.

Also on Monday, Jenny wrote a post about her weekend trip to Hopeland Gardens in South Carolina. This morning, I tried to leave the following comment:

Well, I tried leaving comments Monday and Tuesday, but I kept getting errors. I bet this comment will have an error, too. Oh well. Since no one will read this, I might as well take the opportunity to get some things off my chest.

I am D.B. Cooper. It was I who, on November 24, 1971, hijacked that Boeing 727 aircraft and escaped with $200k in ransom money. I feel really bad about it. I also feel bad about losing all that money. I invested it, in cattle, but all their teeth fell out. At least that’s what I was told, I never really did get a clear answer.

Boy, I feel much better now. So glad no one will read this.

Thus endeth a blog post about literally nothing.

Challenge Accepted!

Scene: I sit down to eat lunch at my desk. I brought in sushi. My co-worker, seeing my meal selection, decides to offer some advice.

Co-worker: “Go easy on the wasabi.”

Me: “What?”

Co-worker: “Don’t eat too much. It’s hot.”

Me: “Challenge accepted!”

Co-worker: “Challenge? What challenge?”

Me: “Your wasabi challenge. I’ve accepted it. I’m going to eat an entire spoonful of the stuff.”

Co-worker: “I didn’t challenge you.”

Me: “Yes you did. ”

Co-worker: “No, I did not. Quite the opposite, in fact. I told you not to eat too much wasabi.”

Me: “Exactly, you dared me. Don’t dare someone not to do something if you don’t want them to do it. ”

Co-worker: “I didn’t dare you!”

Me: “Yes you did.”

Co-worker: “Fine. Eat the wasabi. It’ll be your funeral.”

Me: “Reverse psychology doesn’t work on me. Now, prepare to be amazed.”

[I eat a sizable helping of wasabi. Steam, more or less, comes out of my ears.]

Co-worker: “Well?”

Me: “I can’t believe you dared me to do that.”

Co-worker: “Serves you right. At least you’ve learned your lesson and won’t be doing that again.”

Me: “Challenge accepted.”