planetdan

Wednesday, May 27, 2009 :::

Bastardos!

A few months back I had a mini-meltdown about how Subway places the cheese on their subs in a stupid overlapping fashion that defies all logic. But some clever internet sleuth with a camera has proven me wrong. There apparently is a logic applied to the madness!

You see?? It's all just a scam to promote orders of extra cheese! Bastards!

So today I got on my high horse and rode to the nearest Subway to order an Italian BMT, and when the Latina sandwich artist placed my pepperjack in the usual overlapping fashion, I said with just a tad of smug self-righteousness, "could you please make sure that the cheese doesn't overlap?"

When she replied, "What?", I wasn't sure if a) she had not heard me, b) she was caught off-guard by my stupid request, or c) I had misjudged her familiarity with the English language.

I repeated my stupid request and she queried, "you want extra cheese?"

"Aha!" I thought, preparing for the subsequent consumer-rights battle in my head. I said, "no, I just want you to flip that middle piece of cheese so that it covers all the bread."

I expected resistance, but she got the best of me by retaining total eye-contact with me as she flippantly flopped that middle piece of cheese, as requested, and pushed the sandwich into the waiting hands of the veggie expert down the line. Her vacant expression and cold stare were the only cues I needed to understand that this battle was not only beneath her, but that I had absolutely no chance of winning regardless.

I walk a little less tall today.

::: posted by dan at 8:27 PM :: [ link ] :: (2) comments

Monday, May 25, 2009 :::

Memorial Day

I think it's ironic (in that particular Alanis way) that I'm lacking much memory of our Memorial Day barbecue last night. I was looking through the photographic evidence of the event when I came upon these pictures:

I have a recollection of challenging Nico to a "forehead fight" but I can't remember why, or where the concept of forehead fighting even came from. I'm assuming this was post-jello-shots, but prior to the sparklers in the firepit? Does anyone have a theory?

Regardless, HAPPY MEMORIAL DAY EVERYONE!

::: posted by dan at 10:19 PM :: [ link ] :: (5) comments

Sunday, May 24, 2009 :::

This post unfortunately lacks the requried sound effects.

The other day I got a mysterious phone call where nobody seemed to be on the other line. But when I listened closely I could hear the distinctive *ticka ticka ticka* of furiously typing fingers. I figured somebody must have accidentally called me via speed dial, but I didn't recognize the number. I started to scream "Hello?!??!?" into my phone in order to get the typer's attention, but all I ever got in response was that incessant *ticka ticka ticka* sound.

Rather than hang up, I went through my online address book to try to identify the mystery typer, who was apparently writing an epic tome and had yet to offer even the slightest pause. *ticka ticka ticka*

Finally, I discovered the culprit: it was my project manager from work. All that *ticka ticka ticka* suddenly made sense because that girl can type like the wind. Conveniently we are always connected via Instant Messenger, and she was clearly sitting at her computer, so I patiently waited for my moment.

Suddenly the *ticka ticka ticka* stopped and on the other end of the line I heard *ACHOO* followed immediately by more *ticka ticka ticka*. "Gesundheit," I quickly typed into Instant Messenger and hit send.

I could hear the familiar *bing* noise of her receiving the message on the other end and the *ticka ticka ticka* suddenly stopped cold. After a moment of silence I heard a tiny feminine giggle followed by more *ticka ticka ticka* and then the distinctive sound of her hitting the Enter button. My own computer *bing*ed as I received the return message of: "Ha. What?" She giggled again, and the *ticka ticka ticka* returned.

I immediately replied, "Don't laugh at me. I can hear you giggling." Send. *bing*

Again, the *ticka ticka ticka* stopped cold. Paused for a tad longer than what was comfortable, and then started up again, ending in a *bing* on my end which was accompanied by the message:

"You're freaking me out."

At that point I had to come clean and explain that she must have mistakenly called me and that I could hear everything she was doing. She laughed, fumbled around for her phone, and confessed that she felt lucky she wasn't doing something more embarrassing.

I felt the urge to deepen the charade and tell her that I'd been listening for hours and that I had heard MORE than enough, but I thought I should just let it go. You gotta know when to let the joke die.

::: posted by dan at 9:46 AM :: [ link ] :: (1) comments

Friday, May 22, 2009 :::

Animated Friday (Close Calls Edition)!

I don't want to be considered "unadventurous," but I tend to avoid putting myself in certain perilous situations. Some groups of people apparently don't have the same concern for prudent caution as I do, and they should be thanking their lucky stars on a daily basis. In particular: gymnasts and rally race audiences.

Close Call Gymnast #1: Mere Millimeters From Certain Tragedy

Close Call Rally Race Audience #1: Mere Millimeters From Certain Tragedy

Close Call Gymnast #2: Timing is Everything

Close Call Rally Race Audience #2: Timing is Everything

::: posted by dan at 4:57 PM :: [ link ] :: (2) comments

Sunday, May 17, 2009 :::

Stuff I'm Doing; and Stuff I Shouldn't Be Doing

I know I haven't posted much lately, but it's not my fault. Blogger is being all stupid and work is being all busy. But I can assure you that I am still the same old dan.

For instance, today I went to the Home Depot to pick up some acoustic ceiling tiles to replace a couple damaged ones in my basement. I wheel them out to my car and push the remote unlock button on my keys, but I don't hear the mechanisms click. I try it again, but still no luck. Finally, I give up on modern conveniences and go in to unlock it manually, but to my surprise the back door is already unlocked. I silently chastise myself for being so absent minded as to forget to lock my own car.

With some difficulty, I maneuver one ceiling tile into the back seat. The things are fragile, so when they hit a hard edge or a car part, they burst into dust. It's kind of a mess, and so I silently chastise myself for not planning ahead enough to bring some blankets to protect my car seats from the obnoxious white powder.

That's when I hear: "Excuse me?" I turn around. A lady is standing by me with her own cart.

She says, "That's my car."

I turn back, and indeed I've shoved my acoustic ceiling tile into the back of someone else's Hyundai. Somehow I had failed to notice the unfamiliar air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror or the copy of Oprah Magazine in the passenger seat. I apologize profusely, and thankfully she thinks it's funny and has a good laugh at my expense while I try desperately to wipe up the dusty mess I've made all over her back seat. I silently chastise myself for being dan.

I wonder how she's going to tell that story to her friends. I wonder if she still laughs as she remembers the sight of my ass hanging out of her back seat, swearing under my breath while I awkwardly shove a ceiling tile against her upholstery.

This is some other stuff I've been up to:

Ice

Dice

Entice

::: posted by dan at 9:05 PM :: [ link ] :: (6) comments

Friday, May 15, 2009 :::

Animated Friday (Back to the Gym Edition)!

I'm back at the gym. Turns out Tony Horton's 10 Minute Trainer only works if you actually do at least 30 minutes of it a day. Screw that.

In order to not get bored with the routine of the gym again, I've started trying all new machines and exercises. Turns out nothing sucks anything less than anything else when you are at the gym. Double goes for those big stupid exercise balls, which I can't stay balanced on no matter how hard I try.

Some guys are really good at it.

Some guys are really not.

I'm really not, but I'm not stupid enough to try anything like that, either.

::: posted by dan at 8:56 AM :: [ link ] :: (1) comments

Monday, May 04, 2009 :::

Planetdan: Destroying Childhood Innocence Since 1981

Note: This post is not suitable for young innocent children, as it contains what some may consider to be some pretty major SPOILERS.

A few weeks ago my friend Stacy and I were talking about what the Easter Bunny would be bringing her six-year-old son this year. She tends to go overboard a tad (she thinks the Tooth Fairy's going rate for a cuspid these days should hover around the twenty dollar level), so I was curious to learn what kind of exorbitant bounty would be found in her son's Easter basket this year.

Also out of curiosity, I asked her how long she would be participating in the whole Easter Bunny charade with her child. She said she wasn't sure, but that she actually did feel a little funny perpetuating the myth that a human sized rabbit was hiding eggs around their house once a year - especially to her own child who seems to be a little ahead of the curve, intelligence-wise. I randomly advised her that if he actually ever asked her about the legitimacy of the Easter Bunny - or any other similarly preposterous holiday invention - that she should just be honest and come clean. Those lies can only hold up for so long anyway. She half-heartedly agreed, with a little apprehension, probably pre-mourning the inevitable loss of her only son's childhood innocence.

In an attempt to convince her, I told her about the vivid memory I have of the summer of my own sixth year in 1981. I don't recall what sparked it, but one day I had the sudden realization that Santa was a sham. I walked up to my mother, who was ironing my father's work shirts at the time, and asked her flat out: "Is Santa real?" She replied, "no." I don't even believe she averted her eyes from her task at hand to shatter my childhood illusions. It really was that simple.

From that point on I always felt sorry for the kids in my class who still believed in Santa. They seemed naive and foolish to me. Those judgments even stuck with me throughout high school. I remember one girl in particular - whose name I will withhold out of privacy - who chastised me vehemently for being a nonbeliever. We were in the third grade, and at that point it seemed absolutely absurd to me that she was so convinced of Santa's existence. I don't know when she finally caved, but when we approached high school graduation nine years later I was surprised she had made it through school that far - having always judged her solely on her abnormally late acceptance of the Santa fallacy. I often wonder what conspiracy theories she is buying into today.

But back to the story at hand, it was only a couple fateful days later when Stacy's son questioned her about the Easter Bunny. Apparently an older childhood friend had clued him into the reality of the situation, and he ran back to his mother hoping she would not validate his older friend's shocking revelation. But remembering our recent conversation, she decided to keep it real and told him that the Easter Bunny was an invention for children, and that only big kids like him got to know the fun secret of the Easter Bunny. It was a nice spin on things, I suppose, trying to make him feel special. He seemed to take it okay, but knowing Stacy she probably felt like she was slaughtering his innocence.

Then a couple days later, his teacher asked his class to write a personal Easter story, and this is what he shared with the entire class:

To translate: "I don't believe in the Easter Bunny!! I mean, the Easter Bunny is not real. Your mom and dad hide the eggs. Not the Easter Bunny."

Notice the crossed-out bunnies around the peripheral.

I feel slightly responsible.

Stacy was a bit upset with me. I'm not sure why she ever listens to me anyway. I have little experience in anything whatsoever except making a fool out of myself.

::: posted by dan at 12:12 PM :: [ link ] :: (16) comments