2005-02-25
"THAT. That won't always be there."
WHY TO COVER YOUR MOUTH WHEN YOU COUGH, by Dr. Tschahn
My friend Dr. Tscahn is a computer God, and at one point in his career he actually had to train people. Dr. Tschahn has the patience of a tripped smoke alarm, and even less patience with people not as smart as him, which is basically everyone, so he found this particular aspect of his job... difficult.
To make up for the pain he smoked about 40 gajillion cigarettes a day.
In the middle of a training session he had a little cough, as smokers often do, usually without even enough warning to cover one's mouth (a-hem), but this one had some "legs" to it and he projectiled one of those nasty lung loogies directly on the "off line" key, which Tschahn was in the middle of explaining the purpose of.
He pointed to it, looked at the now horrified woman he was training, raised one eyebrow and said:
"THAT. THAT will not always be there."
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THE BOOGER STORY, by PChick (edited by Babz)
My friend PChick was with her fiance DDude shopping for engagement rings. They were with DDude's sister and her boyfriend.
They were in AnyMall, U.S.A., and ended up at The Jewelry Store, where there are miles of glassed counters containing every imaginable size and type of engagement ring, ranging from the rather garish "This One Gets Me A Blow Job a Week, Bitch" to the more discrete "This One Means We Hire A Maid and Don't be Jammin' on Me for No BJ, Sucka".
DDude and PChick realized that they were at different ends of the spectrum on this so they asked the friendly Jewelry Technician, Blane, for assistance.
I can't help but picture Blane as Eddy Murphy in Beverly Hills Cop when he's trying to worm his way into the fancy restaurant to talk to the mob guy -- doing that big eye "his shit's gonna fall OFF if I don't talk to him NOW" thing -- basically a screamingly gay black man who does the "big eyes" thing for emphasis. Pristenely dressed, manicured nails, CK wafting from his perfectly quoiffed shortly cropped fro.
Blane is behind the counter, pointing to various rings DD and PC might find acceptable, doing the "big eyes" thing on several stops with no reaction, and finally happens on which he thinks would be "PERFECT", eyes so wide open they almost fell out of their sockets.
He pointed to it under the counter, and looked up at DD, who was rubbing his chin thoughfully, as guys about to drop 2 months' salary on a piece of glass tend to do, and DD said:
"HMMMMmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm", which translates into "How much is it?"
Unfortunately, unknown to DD, there was a teeny tiny bugger right on the inside of his nose which had lost it's grip and the force of DD "Hmmmmm-ing" caused it to fly out of his schnoz, onto the counter, right above Blane's hand.
Blane pulled his hand out from under the counter so fast he almost gave himself whiplash, because even though we KNOW there is glass there our first reaction is "Shit! Bugger on me!" (not unlike why we cringe when we close the garage door on the roof of our car cuz we shut it too soon -- kinda like that -- you've done that, right? what?)
DDude then tries to "whisk" the bugger off the glass, praying it is of the Dry, Flaky Bugger Family, but alas, it turns out to be of the Mostly Dry, One Wet Leg Remaining Bugger Family, and all he really managed was to sort of streak it across the glass, leaving a buggerlicious nasty snail-trail.
Needless to say, DD looked at Blane and mumbled something unintelligible about "gotta go.. maybe not today", and the four of them went back into the Mall, where they all proceeded to tumble into a hysterical mosh pit, bending over at the waist clutching their stomachs, laughing so hard one of them almost threw up and I think PChick did tinkle a little.
DDude glanced into the store to see what Blane was up to and whether or not his eyeballs were still in his sockets anymore, if he had fainted, or what, and he was no where to be found.
Was he in the back, picking up Windex and cleaning supplies? Had he, in fact, fainted?
Hell no. Turns out even guys like Blane think buggers are funny and he was on the floor behind the counter in his own private mosh pit, lying on the ground, kicking his feet up, hand over his mouth trying not to bray like a donkey.
They concluded this because they could HEAR him.
And every now and then, a Gucci loafer would appear behind the counter -- flailing about -- kicking up and down -- as if the owner had no control over his limbs.
I don't think they ended up getting the ring there....
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We all know the moral of these stories, don't we? Gather 'round, girls and boys.
The moral is:
Cover your mouth when you cough and blow your nose before shopping for engagement rings.
or
Cover your mouth when you cough and just mail order the Blow Job ring on line. (No, Cubic Zarconia, I don't care HOW "perfect" it looks, does not count. She'll know....)
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An etiquette tip for my friends.
Friend got a bugger? Wanna tell him/her? Too embarassed?
Learn and use the following secret-squirrel code:
LBIN = Left bugger in nose
RBIN = Right bugger in nose
You have to get things organized first, as in, MY right? or YOUR right?, but either way, the person will cover their nose and fuss around for a kleenex or a semi-dry bar napkin as soon as they hear the secret words. Try it -- it works.
I must.... to go
xoxoxoxo
xquzme at sometime today