Whatever

Here at the Valve Store(TM) in the cafeteria we have an industrial sized ice maker/dispenser so everyone can fill up their cups, mugs and glasses. I get ice three different times, morning, lunch and afternoon break because I drink three different beverages throughout the day.

Because of the quanity of ice the machine produces and I fancy myself a sort of a smart-ass, whenever I get in line behind someone who is getting ice I always say, “Save me some.” Because it will never run out, most people ignore me.

Here is an ice machine conversation from yesterday:
Me Save me some.
Co-Worker Every time I get ice, I end up with ice on my arm.
Me Maybe you did something bad to the ice machine in a past life.
Co-Worker I don’t beleive in past lives.
Me Maybe the ice machine does.

Our Industrial Engineer Rob is an eating machine. But it seems like to him, if it is worth eating, it is worth eating with hot sauce on it. Consequentially, Rob runs out of hot sauce on occasion, so then he needs to borrow some from his coworkers.

Rob has been out of hot sauce for a while now and has found a favorite supply, a bottle our supervisor Keith keeps in his office. But Keith has noticed that the level in his sauce bottle seems to be dropping faster than it should be considering the amount he uses. Naturally all suspicion falls on Rob, but he has steadfastly denied any culpability in the missing sauce, but no one believes him. Turns out, with good reason.

In the last few seconds of this surveillance video is a small obscene hand gesture that may not be suitable for children, parental discretion is advised:

Yesterday was Donna and my wedding anniversary. This year we are celebrating the one that is right about halfway between major milestone and holy crap that long.

Because we are usually shopping together when it comes time to buy greeting cards for each other for Valentine’s Day and Anniversaries we take turns, one person shops for cards while the other loiters in the magazine section or an aisle over. Then we swap places.

This is a lot better than one couple we know, who never waste money on greeting cards, they both stand in the store/aisle and select a card they would like to give to the other and show it to them right in the store. Then instead of heading to the checkout counter, they put the cards right back in the slot where they found them.

This year because we were going away for the weekend we packed our cards separately to bring out on Sunday morning. Donna gave me my card first and as I opened it up she said, “I just love the picture on the front.” When I saw it, I instantly recognized it and said, “Well then, you’ll love my card.” That’s right, we has each chosen the exact same card. First time that has ever happened.

A whole bunch of years back, after I related the story of the bird that committed suicide by throwing itself into the grill of the Miata, my good buddy Mark asked if I’d ever seen a dead crow on the side of the road. When I said I hadn’t, he asked, “Do you want to know why?”

Now Mark is an avid outdoors man and the go-to-guy for any wildlife related questions (he was the one to identify the dead bird in the grill), so I knew if anyone knew why I hadn’t ever seen a dead crow on the side of the road it would be him.

“Because,” he said, “crows always travel in groups and there is always one crow designated as a lookout and when it sees a car coming it sounds off: caw, caw.” Now, I knew that crows are social birds and very smart, smart enough that they use tools, so it sounded reasonable.

Mark is also our go-to-guy for quick witted retorts and pranks, so when a couple years later I did actually see a crow as road kill, I got to thinking about his explanation…

Mark didn’t say, “caw, caw.” He said, “cahr, cahr.”

I’d been had.