The Daily Stain

Who Was That Phantom Protester?

I live on the east coast and at times need to drive west to my home state to visit my family. The primary road traveled is Route 80 and if any of you have been as lucky as I have, you have experienced construction hell zones where repairs, upgrades or even complete overhauls to large sections of Route 80 are supposedly "underway". I have several issues about these construction zones but in the end, I know there's always someone looking out for our best interests.

But there is something to be thankful for relative to highway construction zones. The Phantom Construction Zone Protester. I'm fairly sure you have never really thought much about this person who dares to stick his or her neck out in protest at all road construction zones. I've never actually seen this protester but I'm in awe thinking about the raw effort that is put out on our behalf. I often wonder what kind of person it takes to travel to each and every construction zone in America telling these idiots what we, the American drivers think of their obvious construction ruse. I envision this person storming into the construction zone, seeking out anyone who looks like they could use a reaming out. I see the furor and rage in the eyes as the following sign is slammed into the ground. The sign is appropriately addressed to those no good, lousy phantom construction workers....

Every time I drive by this sign I pump my fist out of my window and scream, "Right on, Phantom Construction Zone Protester, right on!"

So on behalf of drivers across all of America I send a big thank you to the Phantom Construction Zone Protester. Drive on, America! Freedom of speech is a beautiful thing!

ASAP!!

ASAP?
Who in the hell ever invented this acronym? Anyone who uses it regularly is neurotic and has an inferiority complex. I think it gives this moron a sense of being the boss if not for just a couple of seconds in an otherwise loser in life existence. "please send me a copy of the contract ASAP! Thanks!" Why all caps? The first part of your request seems lucid and reasonable but then all of a sudden you're SCREAMING at me to get a move on....and when you SCREAM, I retreat and ASAP suddenly becomes IGTIWIGARYFI (I'll Get To It When I'm Good And Ready You Freeking Idiot; and that's pronounced "ig ti wig uh ree'fee"). By the way, go take a hike if you think putting a :) after an ASAP helps soften the blow of your scream. So, for all of you boss for the day wanna be's, try fully typing out "as soon as possible. Thank you!" next time and who knows, you just may get what you're looking for ASAP :)!

Guts86

The Daily Stain

Realtor Signs

Now that we're in a bear market in real estate sector I can't help but notice all of the various real estate signs spiked into the ground in front of homes.

I must say, the real estate industry harbors some peculiar individuals. Why are real estate agents compelled to push their"nick names" on us? Isn't it common place that all Dorothy's are "Dot"? or all Charles' are "Chuck" or all John's are "Jack" and so on? You don't need to remind me and even if I did employ your services it would take a long time to feel comfortable calling you by your "nickname" anyway. And stop insulting my intelligence by listing your name as James followed by"Jim" Doe or Susan "Sue" Doe or Patricia "Pat" Smith, alright? I always default to your nick name at the onset so knock it off with thinking you need to remind me.

Note to Century 21...if you need to bury your 4X4 wooden sign posts 36 inches into the ground you may want to fore go messages that indicate "priced for a quick sale". A sign installed like that tells me you're hunkering down and in it for the long haul!

Ok, signs with pictures....who cares what you look like? I think I would have more trust buying a house through an ugly realtor anyway...if you're too pretty or too slick then you probably need to make a lot of money to keep up your apprearance, right? And for God's sake, cut it out with the husband/wife/partner combo pictures, would you already?!? I don't think I'd like my fellow neighbors seeing my wife all cozy'ed up next to some 50 something weirdo wearing a bad hair piece with a smile that makes a sorority composite picture look glum. I don't care how much you say "it's just business". It's just weird. What's more, that picture screams "WHAAAH, I JUST CAN'T DO THIS BY MYSELF! I NEED A PARTNER!" How does that work anyway? Do you only need to pass half of the real estate test?

BEST regards,

Guts "Gut" 86

The Daily Stain

Best Regards!

I receive a heap load of emails every day at work with about two thirds requiring some sort of action or response. What I find strange with many emails is the closing line, "Best Regards".

What does that mean? BEST regards? Best REGARDS? What are you really trying to say?

When someone sends a Best Regards to me are they implying that at times I should be prepared to receive a less than Best Regards from them? Do they really have less Regard to give? Interestingly it seems as if everyone only have Best Regards to give. If that's the case why don't they just end emails with simply "Regards"? But to be honest I have received some "Regards" only email endings as well. But when only a "Regards" is given I start to develop a serious inferiority complex. "Am I lower on the totem pole to this person? What did I do to not receive a BEST regards from them? WHY DOESN'T THIS PERSON LIKE ME? I MUST BE A TERRIBLE PERSON!

But I do retaliate to that low grade "Regard". My reply is always just a simple "Thank You" ending and as I hit the send button I telepathically push out "that'll teach you to not send your Best Regards to me you sasinfrasinfrusinmus!! karma along with it!

And what about "Kind Regards"...I'm not going to dig too deep into this one because most of the same issues come to mind. But if I ever get an email ending in "Unkind Regards" or an "I Hate You Regards", I'm calling the police and men in white coats on that person.

And just what qualifies as a Best Regard to offer up to another? Has anyone ever measured or quantified a Regard? Do we ever really know if we're sending our very best Regard to someone? You might think you're sending one of your Best Regards when in fact you have only been given the capability to send "Good" or perhaps "Better" Regard, tops, without ever knowing the difference. You'll probably only find this out while at the pearly gates of heaven, St. Peter informs you that God only gave you the ability to send low to medium grade Regards all of your email life. He'll probably tell you that only the likes of Donald Trump were ever able to truly provide the highest grade of Best Regards or perhaps even "The Most Fantastic Regards" to anyone. Or Martha Stewart was given the right to send a tier 1 "Most Scrumptious Regards". Now that would be enough to make me want to choke myself on a dirty doily.

And what about "Regards"? This is one of those out there, grey area words to me. One of the definitions of "regards" is to "judge someone or some thing" or "to have concern for someone". So if I'm given a "Best Regards" is the sender really saying "watch out because I'm judging you the best that I can mister "Email Almighty"? or, "Hey, dude, this is about all of the concern I can possibly muster up for you. So take it or leave it"? If that's the case, I'd rather see emails end in just a "Best" and end it there.

So, the next time you end an email or letter with "Best Regards", maybe think twice about it. What are you really trying to convey to this person? Do you really want to hand out so many of your hard earned Best Regards? I say reign it in a little. Mix it up. Try giving someone a "Mediocre Regards" or "Best Re.....Sincerely Yours" and see how it impacts your relationship.

All My Best to You and Yours! (Now that's a topic for whole 'nother Blog!)

Guts86

The Daily Stain

iSniglets

iNads:
The vision portrayed when two iPod headphone earbuds inadvertently hang out of a person's front pocket of their jeans. Otherwise known as Podsticles.

iHole:
Any person listening to an iPod who interacts with a non iPod listener and acts as if one of the two is invisible to the other. An airplane passenger who refuses to turn their iPod off prior to take off or landing

iDiot:
Nuff said.

Podcastration:
The sense of being cut off of your sole source of entertainment when you forget to bring your iPod with you for the day.

Podectomy:
Having your iPod stolen or taken away from you.

iZheimer's:
Behaving completely and utterly oblivious to one's surroundings while listening to an iPod. Symptoms are farting and burping in public places, cutting to the front of a long line of people at the movie theaters, leaving cash in the ATM dispenser, handing your New Jersey Devils tickets to a police offer when simply asked for license and registration and walking off with all three copies of a restaurant credit card receipt.

Downloafer:
iDiots who spend every waking moment downloading anything and everything possible onto their iPod. "I called Jeff to see if he wanted to go to the movies but all he wants to do is download free music. What a freeking Downloafer he is"

PeePod:
An iPod user in a bathroom. Also referred to as going to the Poddy.

PeaPodders:
Two iPod users sharing one iPod.

i-coli:
Germs or viruses caught by handling an iPod directly from a PeePodder.

The Daily Stain

Well, July 4th came and went but I'm still dealing with it. It was a rainy day, our traditional July 4th party at our friend's house relegated us to the garage. It always reminds me of my father in law who always held his barbeque's in his garage...we call it the barbecue on the oil spot because we all sat in the garage on lawn chairs with the oil spot on the floor from a leaky car in the middle of the circle of chairs. Now that's America!!

But I digress. Seems one of our friends had a brilliant idea to run out and grab a couple dozen or three White Castles. I guess he thought it would brighten up the otherwise dreary day we were dealing with in the oil spot...I mean garage.

I think I ate about four and a half White Castle Rectum Rockets as we fondly refer to them. (My youngest couldn't finish hers so I naturally took the rest and woofed it down in one bite). Even though I was stuffed, I could have eaten more but they all were eaten within minutes of arriving. Probably best that they were!!

I have a love hate relationship with White Castles. I love to eat them, that's for sure. I'd love to know what the mystery meat really is, that's for sure. And I'd love to know what in the hell the tasteless, odorless and seemingly invisible sauce is that they put on a burger that gives my innards a mind of its own.

Every time after eating Colon Castles my stomach will make noises that no other food can make it do and I'm convinced it's that covertly added secret sauce on those square fartferters. Even my dog sits up and looks at me with a cocked head in wonderment of just what is coming out of a place on my body that doesn't have a hole that he can sniff (belly button isn't an official hole). One would think that the noises would eventually end up with a good fart. Not so. Seems like the Gullet Grouches like to play a trick on me. The noises are nothing more than a tease of what's to come the next day.

So, on Thursday, the hate part of the Butt Bomb relationship begins. I went to work and immediately upon arriving the games began. I think if it were a real party the song "Let's get this flatuation party started" would have been the theme song aux morning. I must have had six false alarms, six "this is no drill" events and a couple of what seemed to be false alarms that ended up being the real deal in the men's room. And if you haven't learned this one single Murphy's Law by now, listen up...If you choose to fart in your office, you are guaranteed that someone is on their way to see you within the next seven seconds. Just enough time for hang time to waff out wall to wall. So, think twice before farting in your office. I was exhausted at the end of the day. I had to go home and take a long shower, where I sat in a fetal position and cried about the horrible things that were happening to me throughout the day while the remnants of the Burger Bombs washed down the shower drain.

I can't wait for the next round of White Castles!! YUM!!

The Daily Stain

The Silly Season

I refer to the weeks at the end of May and first few weeks of June as the 'The Silly Season". It's akin to pro golf during the months of December and January before the PGA tour season begins. During that time frame there's all sorts of funky golf tournaments going on. There's the Skins tourney, usually some sort of mixed doubles tourney that features the top men and women golfers yucking it up for the camera as they play some golf course in a climate 50 degrees warmer than where I am. It has no bearing on their tour ranking, it's just a bunch of silly tourneys to give these guys a chance to puff up their already bloated bank accounts through obnoxious appearance fees.

Well, my silly season is all about the end of the school year for my kids. Because this is the time where the "last school meeting for this that and the other thing; the spring vocal and band concerts; the field trips where we have to fork over $25 to $30 or more a clip PLUS provide a bag lunch; the playoffs for softball and the after softball season party, the final school project that requires the full square footage of my SUV to haul to and from the school. And for some reason it all seems to take place on a Wednesday night starting at 6:30 p.m. requiring both my wife and I to be in two places at the same time.

But, as quickly as it started, we hear that famous melody played and sung by a true American icon of the Arts, Alice Cooper; "school's out for the summer!!!..." and the Silly Season comes to an end. Thank God because it always makes me grumpy.

So to all parents with school aged children, I wish you a happy end of the silly season and here's to a summer full of ....day camp. I'm beginning to think that I just live in a perpetual Silly Season.

The Daily Stain

Several years ago I use to send an email a day to my friends called "The Daily Stain". The title comes from a long standing joke I have had with my wife starting when we first got married. I worked at a bank where we had to wear suits and ties. I always wore either an all white or all blue pin-point oxford shirt and they were always starched to the gills. I would start the day with a clean shirt, but somehow, somewhere during my work day I managed to get a stain on it. Pens, pencils, tomato sauce, mustard, my own drool, you name it and it would find a way onto my shirt.



At first my wife would get a bit upset if with my daily stains because sometimes they were hard to get out. But after years of my slobish behavior, it just became a joke as I came home with some sort of lunch produced blob smushed down the front of or on the sleeve of my shirt. So, when I came home from work the first comments from my wife typically went like this; "How was your day? Let's see the stain."



So, The Daily Stain is intended for just that...a daily laugh at something. Some times it will be a joke, sometimes it will be something around what's going on in my life, current events etc. Some will be funnier than others, I'm sure but the bottom line is that I enjoy good humor more than anything else.