Saturday, April 20, 2013

Check, please!


The Spoon.

Last week, we took some friends to a new restaurant and noticed that the waiter who took our order carried a spoon in his shirt pocket.  It seemed a little strange.

When the busboy brought our water and utensils, I observed that he also had a spoon in his shirt pocket.  Then I looked around and saw that all the staff had spoons in their pockets. When the waiter came back to serve our soup I inquired, 'Why the spoon?'

“Well,” he explained, “the restaurant's owner hired Andersen Consulting to revamp all of our processes.  After several months of analysis, they concluded that the spoon was the most frequently dropped utensil.  

It represents a drop frequency of approximately 3 spoons per table per hour.  If our personnel are better prepared, we can reduce the number of trips back to the kitchen and save 15 man-hours per shift.”

As luck would have it, I dropped my spoon and he replaced it with his spare. “I'll get another spoon next time I go to the kitchen instead of making an extra trip to get it right now.”  I was impressed.

I also noticed that there was a string hanging out of the waiter's fly.

Looking around, I saw that all of the waiters had the same string hanging from their flies. So, before he walked off, I asked the waiter, “Excuse me, but can you tell me why you have that string right there?”

"Oh, certainly!”  Then he lowered his voice. “Not everyone is so observantThat consulting firm I mentioned also learned that we could save time in the restroom.  By tying this string to the tip of our you-know-what, we can pull it out without touching it and eliminate the need to wash our hands, shortening the time spent in the restroom by 76.39%.”

I asked quietly, “After you get it out, how do you put it back?”

'Well,' he whispered, 'I don't know about the others, but I use the spoon.'       



Saturday, April 13, 2013

Wait... is this a sales call?


Me: Ava... put on your shoes, we are going to be late.

Ava: I can't right now, I have to dress my Barbies…and Ken.

Me: Just do what I say, Im your father.

Ava: Fine.

Me: And listen, I recognize that you have a choice when you talk to your parents, and I thank you for choosing your father. Please think of me again when you need to talk to your parents.

Ava: What?



Sunday, March 10, 2013

More Human Than Human is our motto...


Im sitting at my desk answering email.

Ava walks over and places a very sticky strip of tape on my arm.
Just as suddenly, she rips it off.

Me: "Ow! What did you do that for?"

Ava: "I need a sample of your DNA."

Me: "Wait…why? What are you going to do with it?"

Ava: "Hair Robots"

Me: "Hairy Robots?"

Ava: *she looks at me as if Im stupid*  "No…Robots powered by your hair."

Me: "Of course they are."



Sunday, February 24, 2013

Special orders don't upset us...


We just finished watching the TV show Touch. In the show a young boy, Jake, is afflicted with something similar to Asperger's Syndrome.

At the end of the show, Ava is asking if there are real life children like Jake.

Me: Jake is just a character on the show. He is supposed to be a child who has something called Asperger's Syndrome".

Ava: "Assburgers!…what are Assburgers"?

Me: No… not AssBurgers… Aspergers…ASPERGERS.
Im trying to pronuce the "p" more clearly but it still sounds like Assburgers to me too.

Ava: Assburgers?

Me: Yes…it's when you take a ball of chopped meat, put it between your butt cheeks and then clench real tight. Thats how you make Assburgers.

Ava: Ewwww.



Saturday, February 2, 2013

Gonna need to see some ID...




Mr. Burns: Ah, these minstrels will soothe my jangled nerves. 

Joey Ramone: I'd just like to say this gig sucks! 

Johnny Ramone: Up yours, Springfield! 

Joey Ramone: One, two, three, four! (singing a punk version of "Happy Birthday") 
Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you! 
Happy birthday, Burnsie, happy birthday to you! 

C.J. Ramone: Go to hell, you old bastard! 

Marky Ramone: Hey, I think they liked us! 

Mr. Burns: Have the Rolling Stones killed. 

Smithers: But, sir, those weren't the... 

Mr. Burns: Do as I say! 



Sunday, January 20, 2013

Quick! Dial 9-1...uhhhh whats the rest?


We are waiting to make a turn into a parking lot
We are waiting because the emergency rescue truck is passing in front of us.

It parks.

A man who appears to be a minimum of 137 years old, creaks his way out of the truck's front seat and hobbles towards the store.

Me: That can't be someone who works for the emergency rescue unit.

Wife: Why not?

Me: Because that guy is so old, he was born before there were emergencies.