Scattered showers / Tryptophan

6:47AM EST NYC Forecast = [rain]
Stop.
START_recalculation time/commute management. . . patient while processing. . . patient while processing. . . calculation complete!
[Estimate:=8 min 3 sec total deficit/added travel; day@time + duration] . . . REVISE!!!
START_daily Protocol][ altering commence . . . patient while processing. . . patient while processing. . .
Note following revisions:
*-sec hygiene subsec toothbrush: action_omit bottom teeth molars/incisors #15-#29 ][result= 1 min 8 sec surplus. . . OK
*-sec meal subsec breakfast beverage: action_>oj gulp speed X2 ][result = 36 sec surplus. . . OK
*-sec human interaction subsec wife conversation: action_cancel wordtype=preposition ][result= 2 min 1 sec surplus. . . OK
*-sec animal relations subsec dog interaction: action_DELETE ][result= 4 min 15 sec surplus. . . OK
*-sec personal effects subsec pocket items: action_forget keys ][result = 3 sec surplus. . . OK
END_revisions
START_recalculation time management. . . patient while processing. . . patient while processing. . . [Estimate=58 sec total surplus/added travel; day@time + duration]. . . OK. . . END>
Resume.

LKFFYC / Alfalfa

Little known facts for your consideration. . .

-The same guy who invented the sandwich also invented the tundtrap*.
- The creator of many stylish exercises such as swimming, running, and jumping first missed the mark with funning**.
-The man who first came up with the idea behind the phonograph wasted years perfecting the scream hole***.

*a briefly popular yet ultimately failed mode of transportation that consisted of a boat between two cars.
**positioning oneself perpendicular to the ground so that both feet apply pressure to the earth and the rest of the body remains upright and stationary, pointed towards the sky.
***self-explanatory

In between dog fights / Chain mail

Maverick picks himself up, empties his jean pockets of sand, and prepares to serve.
On the other side of the net Slider flexes, posing for a photograph that no one is taking.
Kenny Loggins blares.
Ice Man adjusts his aviators and screams for no reason in particular.
Mother Goose wonders if anyone else has noticed that he’s the only one wearing a shirt.
Maverick spins the ball on his finger – in slow motion – and prepares to serve.

The jist of Pop's futility / Anemone

My old man collects rainwater by placing empty buckets underneath the roof.
He keeps the buckets in the garage.
My old man collects weather beaten driftwood by walking up and down the shores of lake superior.
He keeps the driftwood in the front yard.
He uses the rainwater to water the plants inside.
He uses the driftwood to impress the neighbors.
I don’t believe the plants or the neighbors appreciate all the trouble.

Ascension / Dumpling

Freemont stood at the bottom of the fabled power tower and looked up. If the rumors were true he had an important decision to make. Is a physical deformity worth trading for a mental one? He took a long time trading glances between his contorted extremity and the tower’s summit, recalling every awkward look, each hushed giggle. The 14,741 twisting stairs would determine the lesser of the two evils. Confident his mind had long been made up he took the first step up and, realizing it was too late to turn back now, proceeded to pick up the pace and was soon skipping steps in threes. The higher he got the straighter his fingers stretched and the madder his thoughts became. By step 9,993 he could retie his shoelace but he contemplated eating his socks. When he finally reached the top the transformation was complete. He joyfully clapped his hands for the first time as he pondered strangling his best friend. Freemont’s gnarled hand had been transformed into a twisted mind.

zeroth life lesson: it's hard work hiding your faults and a worthwhile enterprise attempting to trade them for others.

Neil settles things / Galoshes

[Overheard Conversation]
Tim: Best sandwich I ever had had coleslaw on it if you can believe that.
Neil: Bullshit.
Tim: It’s true.
Neil: (rips a killer guitar solo)

Baked made from mashed / Spectacles

A woman in Grand Forks, Michigan is said to have the ability to transform plastic restaurant display food into the real deal. She then writes scathing reviews in the Dining and Travel section of the local paper, The Propheteer. Restaurant owners across the city are said to be on high alert, as they fear the worst. If encountered, employees are said to have been instructed to swap the plastic display entrée with one of an indecipherable nature made entirely of mashed potatoes and food coloring as the woman’s powers are said to be foiled due to the high starch content. Not to mention she’s said to love mashed potatoes. The woman remains at large.

Poor Phil / Shank

Dude toasts his toast, combs his comb, and itches his itch.
Girl butters her butter, brushes her brush, and scratches her scratch.
Both Phil and Sheila watch their watches, drink their drinks, and wish they had different names.

Mr. Hopper’s secret / Tube

I knew a man who could ride his horse backwards. People would come from miles around to witness ole Clyde Hopper and his moon walking mare. The feat didn’t make him a rich man, but he lived comfortably. It wasn’t until years later that they discovered that the horse was faking it the whole time. Clyde’s grave remains unmarked.

Crossing a get / Bog

Know what you get when you cross a cross with a get? A confused 6th grader and an angry agnostic. Know what you get when you cross an angry agnostic with a confused 6th grader? A cross between simplicity and utter chaos. Which, if you think about it, are the same things to a confused 6th grader.

Where I keep the key / Box spring

You might think it foolish to muster all you got for a mere 9 minutes of glory. Tell that to the guy I just saw running down the street with a flag, a sack full of potatoes, a cool beverage, and a look of a man who thinks he lost it all only to find it a split second later underneath his welcome mat. Go ahead tell him. I dare you.

1OUW4FD. . . / Pipette

I’m the type that jots down confirmation numbers. Post-It Notes scattered around my desk remind me of Sprint’s A35H, Direct TV’s QC11987, and Amazon.com’s 4R56Y7U. Other than varying in length by a digit or two they are the epitome of unremarkable. You’ve seen one you’ve seen them all. Still, confirmation numbers remain a necessary evil for those of us that come from the “better safe than sorry” school of thought. So when I received an automated voicemail from Orbitz.com on day reminding me of my upcoming flight I scrambled for a pen when the prerecorded female voice (who I would come to call Robot Lady) started reeling off that all too familiar combination of letters and numbers. Over a dozen characters later I began to realize that everything I thought I knew about confirmation numbers was about to change.

AP120101HJURDW8I.

I saved the voicemail. I played it again. A-P-1-2-0-1-0-1-H-J-U-R-D-W-8-I. Robot Lady called it the Orbitz record locator number and it was a behemoth. Surely they couldn’t be serious with this thing. Weighing in at 16 characters in length and utilizing all 9 digits and all 26 letters, the total number of possible Orbitz record locator numbers is 5,070,942,774,902,500,000,000,000. To put that in perspective, that’s enough for all 6.6 billion people on the planet earth to book 768 trillion airline tickets each. They should be set even if Travelocity and Expedia go out of business. I felt the number had crossed that fine line between obnoxious and hilarious. I listened to message 4 more times that day. That night I played it for my wife, the next day my co-workers, that weekend drunk to a bar full of strangers. Heaven forbid there was ever a lull in any conversation I would whip out my cell phone and regale those around with the ridiculous Orbitz record locator number.

A few months passed. Every once in awhile when checking my messages I’d wonder what that one saved message was. I’d play it and fondly reminisce, “Oh yes, that was a long confirmation number.” I just couldn’t find it in myself to delete the voicemail. Then one day it dawned one me what needed to be done. I would call Orbitz to confirm my flight and read the number back to them. No doubt if they were subjected to their own record locator number they would feel embarrassed and ashamed. They’d apologize profusely and thank me for bringing this obvious oversight to their attention. I wanted an Orbitz employee to admit that their own confirmation number was too damn long. So that’s what I did. A few minutes later I had someone on the phone. “Hi I’m calling to confirm a flight reservation and just happen to have my Orbitz record locator number right here.” To which they replied, “would you please give me that number?” I had them now. The tables were about to turn. I proceeded to read the number back to them in the same computerized, monotone fashion as Robot Lady. When I finished, the customer service person repeated it back to me in such a slick and matter of fact manner that the number didn’t seem that long at all. It took me completely off guard. I panicked. I hung up. Shit. That didn’t work at all. I tried calling back again but this time purposely switching some of the letters - swap a J for a K, a 9 for an N - thinking I could frustrate them. No such luck. They’d just repeat the incorrect number back to me as patient as can be, completely unflustered. Thinking maybe I just happened to get the most patient customer service rep in the history of customer service I continued to call, again and again. Each time was more of the same. Phone call after phone call of the sweetest, most tolerant customer service representatives I’d ever spoken too. Meanwhile I was tape recording every phone conversation thinking I would get some great stuff of Orbitz employees bitching about their own confirmation number policy. All I ended up with was undeniable evidence that I could be a real asshole. “No I did not accidentally mistake a J for a K. Quit repeating it back so fast. Can I get a confirmation number for this phone call?” The plan totally backfired. If nothing else, the whole ordeal was one big glowing testament to Orbitz’ amazing customer service.

At this point I took a step back and reevaluated the situation. My original idea had been resoundly rejected. I came up with a new plan. If I couldn’t get Orbtiz to admit that their confirmation number was too long maybe I get them to admit that a confirmation number could be too long. I decided that I’d call one more time and read them a confirmation number of such magnitude that they’d be forced to either tell me to shut the hell up or hang up on me. I’d just keep reading numbers. It was the only way I could think of getting back at these nauseatingly polite and professional sons of bitches. I’ve provided the transcript of the phone conversation below including the spirited back and forth with Robot Lady I endured each and every time I called. As you will see, I yet again underestimated Orbitz’ impeccable service as the poor guy named Glenn who handled my call allowed me to keep going and going and going. Eventually I gave up and stopped my confirmation number prematurely, ending what I like to think was the most boring game of chicken in this history of the universe. Lucky for me, after losing this game of chicken, Glenn finally says those magic words, conceding that my number was quite long, thus ending my Orbitz odyssey.
______________________________________________________________________________________

Robot Lady: Welcome to Orbitz TLC. To help us assist you please say or enter your home phone number.

[Phone number entered]

Robot Lady: Thank you. Please hold one moment while I access your account. Main menu. Here are all your choices: Flights, Hotels, Cars, Activities & Attractions, Packages -

Me (interrupting Robot Lady): Flights

Robot Lady: OK Flights. When you’re done here say ‘Main Menu’. Are you calling about an existing reservation or to buy a new ticket?

Me: Existing reservation

Robot Lady: One moment when I look up your reservation. Would you like to change your reservation, cancel your reservation, or purchase a new ticket?

Me: Umm. . . None of those choices.

Robot Lady: I’m sorry. I didn’t get that. Please say, ‘change your reservation, cancel your reservation, or purchase a new ticket’.

Me: Change reservation.

Robot Lady: OK. Change Reservation. Anytime you exchange a ticket expect to pay change fees. Total fees typically average around $130 per ticket. You may also have to pay the difference in fares if your new flight costs more than the original. Did you know most tickets can –

Me (interrupting Robot Lady): Hurry up.

Robot Lady: I’m sorry I didn’t get that. To go ahead and make a change to your reservation say, ‘Continue’. For all other –

Me (interrupting Robot Lady): Continue.

Robot Lady: Please hold while I transfer you to the next available customer service representative. Say stop to cancel. . . Connecting. . . To ensure you receive superior customer service, this call may be monitored or recorded for quality and training purposes.

Glenn: Thanks for calling Orbitz my name is Glenn how may I help you?

Me: Hi Glenn. I’m calling to confirm a reservation and I have my Orbitz record locator number right here.

Glenn: May I have that number sir?

Me: Sure. That number is A-P-1-2-0-1-0-1-H-K-U-R-C-W-8-I-M-Q-3-D-C-3-P-0-7-7-7-7-R-2-D-2-X-2-Y-K-R-P-1-W-2-E-3-R-4-T-8-Y-9-U-7-I-8-0-9-P-O-W-6-H-J-N-K-P-W-4.

[PAUSE]

Glenn: That is a long number.

[PAUSE]

Me: Do you need me to repeat that?

Ignorance is bliss / Quill

If I only had amnesia. I could forget everything and people would understand.

I could eat breakfast in my neighbors’ bathtub at 2 in the morning using a catcher’s mitt and a ping-pong paddle. And if they happened to walk in on me I could just be like, “Oh. I’m sorry. Is this not cool? I wouldn’t know. I’ve got amnesia.”

I think the hardest part about having amnesia would be deciding whether or not to believe everything people tell me. Because there’s a lot stuff in this world that’s pretty hard to comprehend.

Space shuttles, Michael Jackson, the pole vault, all pretty fucking unbelievable if you think about it.

I’d have to learn everything all over again like a kid. And like a kid I’m afraid that people would lie to me and tell me crazy things like “Santa Claus” comes at Christmas, the “Boogie Man” lives in my closet, and “Dinosaurs” once ruled the planet earth.

Stupid kids.

Punk'd / Smock

Here’s why I like that show.

Because when that show was in its hey day, every time something even remotely shitty happened to a celebrity, for a split second they probably thought they were getting Punk’d. . . even if they weren't.

I bet it happened all the time. And when shitty things happen to these big shot, millionaire, celebrities it really doesn’t matter if they’re getting Punk'd or not because they’re rich and can buy new shit. You think Vin Deisel’s sweating it when a baby grand piano inexplicably falls on his Bentley? You think Avril Lavine is nervous when her olympic-sized swimming pool is installed upside down? Getting Punk’d is almost a status symbol – that you’re famous enough to get Punk’d.

But when things go awry for former celebrities . . . that's where things get interesting.

Like when something shitty happens to Natalie from 'Facts of Life'. After finishing a meal at Applebee’s, by herself, Natalie sees on her bill that she’s been double-charged for her Onion Blossom. I’m sure there’s a moment she too may think she’s being Punk’d. But then she realizes, “Wait a minute, I’m not even really a celebrity anymore. My life sucks now. Why did I eat this whole fuckin Onion Blossom by myself? I can’t afford this shit. God I’m lonely. . . and drunk.”

Or, when the cops kick in the door to Bull from 'Night Court's apartment, to find a room full of stolen car stereos and Bull, nude from the waist down, high on speed balls. There’s still probably that split second where he’s, “Hold on a minute here. Maybe I’m being Punk’d. Ashton is that you?” But then he too realizes, “Fuck. Ashton would never Punk me. What happened to my career? God I’m lonely. . . and really high on speed balls.

Or, if as he leaves his mother’s house to audition for an Old Navy commercial, Ralph Macchio sees that someone’s stolen the wheels from his ’87 Ford Festiva. For a moment he thinks maybe Ashton’s hiding behind the garage. But then he realizes, “Fuck. Ashton would never Punk me. Probably doesn’t even remember 'Karate Kid'. What happened to my career? I hope Mom can give me a ride. God I’m lonely. . . and horny.”

Word(s) to the wise / Toll booth

The basic concept behind the world isn’t all that important all long as you remember to never speak to apparitions and never fully answer questions. Two taps for maybe and one tap for probably not and then move on to the next wise guy regardless of the resulting confusion or nearby explosions.
Speaking of which, a lady stopped me on the street today and asked we which weighed more – a year’s worth of haircuts or a year’s worth of nail clippings. I gladly shook her hand, gave her a wink and said that I wasn’t sure what she was implying, but I was quite happy with my long distance service.
The next time you see Jake if you could do me a favor and tell that awkwardly tall piece of shit that not only have I never met him, I have a hard time believing he even exists.
The delete button makes as a poor substitution for the pencil eraser – make the kids blow those rubber scraps from the smudged paper I say. You don’t say? I think that’s what I just said.

Drunk dial / Lichen

So they got his new thing on certain cell phones where, before you go out at night, you can type in the phone number of the person you don’t want to drunk dial and then hit *57 or something and your phone won’t let you call that number until sometime the next day. Many might say that this is a fine idea. I would disagree. Because if there’s one thing we can all agree upon when it comes to drunks is that they’re persistent. When I arrive home from a night of drinking craving some Domino’s pizza but find out that Domino’s isn’t delivering anymore, it doesn’t mean that I’m not eating. When I’m drunk I can make a whole meal out of two taco shells, some soy sauce, and a half bag of marshmallows. It may not be Domino’s but it’ll do.
The same thing applies to drunk dialing booty calls. Just because one person’s number is blocked doesn’t mean the night’s over. You’ll just keep on moving down the list, girl after girl, lowering and lowering your standards until you get to the “taco shells” - until you get to little miss “soy sauce”.
She may not be Domino’s, but she’ll do.

Running into Chris / Nog

Leaving work one day I ran into a woman on her way into the building. It was almost as if she did it on purpose. We collided so hard I dropped my blackberry and the battery was jarred loose, sliding across the marble floor. I half-heartedly muttered, “excuse me”, before picking myself up and making my way through the revolving door. As I stepped outside I noticed two gentlemen walk right into each other, as if oblivious to each other, one man losing his cap, the other fumbling his briefcase. A few seconds later another man slammed into me, knocking us both on our asses. We looked at each other dumbfounded, neither one of us able to decipher whose fault it was. Before I rose back to my feet I noticed at least a half dozen other folks lying on the ground, rubbing their skulls, staring at each other in utter confusion. It was as if everyone had lost the inherent knowledge of “you go this way and I’ll go that way” when passing by each other. I scrambled to my feet and tried to make my way to the subway. On the block and a half long trip I collided with 4 other people, each one more scared and upset than the last. When I reached the entrance I creeped down the stairs with by back against the wall and witnessed dozens of people either screaming at one another, tumbling down the stairs, or standing perfectly still, afraid to move. I managed to make it onto the subway but the ride home took forever. At every stop, when the doors opened, the commuters exiting the subway would collide with those trying to enter. I took extensive coaching from the rest of us to get the mess sorted out at each stop. “Sir, calm down, take two steps back and let the lady exit first. We need to cooperate if we’re going to get through this.” When the train finally got to my stop it was mostly empty. When the doors opened I was relived that no one was waiting to enter. I walked off the train and headed toward my apartment, alone on the street. I turned the corner to my block, anxious to see if my wife was OK and turn on the news, when I noticed someone walking towards me. Shit. I briefly considered crossing to the other side of the street before I noticed the same situation unfolding there with a woman walking four dogs walking one way and a man on a bike delivering Chinese food riding towards her. Best to stay clear of that mess I figured. The individual walking towards me was about fifty feet away when I attempted to call out to him and tell him to stay to his right and I’d do the same. As I did he called out to me as well so neither one of us heard the other. I veered to the right and he veered to the left. I stopped and he did the same. After a few moments I resumed walking forward as did he. A few seconds later we were face to face, both wanting to pass. I tried to speak but he interrupted me. We both said, “Pardon me” simultaneously. I put my hand on his shoulder hoping to guide my way past but he put his hand on my shoulder as well and we continued our stand still. It was if I was trying to sneak through my mirror reflection. We both became quite irate, stepping on each other’s feet, inadvertently touching hands and foreheads. We finally both sat down on the sidewalk, frustrated and exhausted. I caught my breath, gathered my thoughts, sprung to my feet and made a run for it. A split second later our heads collided in a loud crack. The last thought we had before we fell unconscious was the realization that we had had the same idea. I woke up several hours later when a dead bird fell onto my chest. It took a moment to remember where I was but when I noticed the bird that collided with my bird lying lifeless on his chest it all came back to me. I stood up and took the two steps needed to pass my still unconscious, nameless nemesis. It was over. I took out a business card and wrote on the back, “dead bird fell on me too. My name is Glenn. Give me a call if you ever want to grab a beer.” He called me the next day. His name is Chris. We remain close friends.

zeroth life lesson: sooner or later everyone will have the same idea at the same time. don't freak out when it happens. take it all in stride.

We need crackers / Lynx

-I feel like gnocchi for dinner
>Yeah?
-Yeah stuffed gnocchi
>Hmmm
-Think I might run to the grocery store to pick some up. Do we need anything else?
>For dinner?
-Sure
>Gnocchi sounds good
-If I'm there I might as well pick up some other things we need like apples, English muffins, peanut butter. . .
>We’re almost out of dishwashing liquid
-What else do we need?
>That’s about it.
-Will you help me make a list?
>Why? Are you going grocery shopping?
-That’s what I just said.
>I thought you were just running to the grocery store to pick up some gnocchi?
-If I'm there I might as well pick up some other things for the week.
>Well is it going to be a full-blown grocery outing or just picking up some of the essentials?
-Can’t you just help me make a list?
>[Sigh] Yeah
-What’s with the attitude?
>Nothing. We need crackers
-I’m the one going all the way to the store – I’d just like help putting the list together.
>It’s fine. I was just in the middle of watching something and you spring this huge grocery getting battle plan on me.
-Forget it – I'll do it.
>Don’t forget peanut butter.

Hiccups & diapers / Alpaca

So I saw this guy on TV a couple of weeks ago that has had the hiccups for the past 11 years. I made a mental note of this man with the hope of writing a joke or humorous observation (same as a joke?) regarding this man but I’ve given up. I think it’s one of those stories that peaks with the premise. Any further analysis of the situation will only lessen the initial blow of the situation. Any sort of back-story as to how this man first contracted the hiccups or the various failed attempts to get rid of the said hiccups could only cheapen the story. If this man were to find himself as a guest at my house no doubt I would notice the hiccups and make some sort of remark such as, “Do you want me to try to scare you?” or “Were you drinking before you came over here?” to which I’m certain he would reply, “I’ve actually had the hiccups for the past 11 years.” Now I’d like to say that I’d be able to display the necessary restraint and not ask a follow up question. Simply let this remarkable statement stand on it’s own two solid feet. But no doubt sheer curiosity would sabotage my instinct and I’d ask how he first got them. I also have no doubt that his reply wouldn’t stray too far from something along the lines of, “I just woke up one day and had them.” Not that there’s anything inherently wrong with that reply expect that the generic contraction of the hiccups unfortunately takes away from the luster of the fact that the man has had the hiccups for the past 11 years. Much less likely would be a response such as, “I contracted the hiccups immediately after I lost my virginity.” Similarly I’d follow this question with, “what have you done to try to get rid of them?” To which I’m certain he’d reply, “Holding my breath, drinking a glass of water upside down, chewing gum, etc.” Again, a typical and unoriginal response to an otherwise unique and hilarious situation and again, the story would become less extraordinary somehow.

On a semi-related note there was a story that got allot of press earlier this year that involved an astronaut, a love-triangle, a crazy woman, a police chase and a diaper. At least that’s how it was explained to me. That, and that it was the funniest story I would ever hear in my life. OK. Well I’m proud to say that that’s all I know about that particular story. That it involves astronauts, a love triangle, a crazy woman, a police chase, and a diaper. If you happen to know the details behind this story you might think I’m missing out. Nonsense. There are no fewer than two dozen different combinations of events spiraling through my head at this moment that entail astronauts, a love-triangle, a crazy woman, a police chase, and a diaper and I bet at least half of them are more hilarious and mind-blowing than whatever the story happens to be. The moral of the story? If I ever meet a man who tells me that he saved Wesley Snipes from drowning I’ll simply shake his hand, move on and start talking to someone else.

Whisky & war paint / Abacus

I don’t think people would have liked me in the Old West. Nope, don’t think I would’ve lasted too long. The reason being is I like both the cowboys and the indians. I think they were both pretty cool - wanted to hang out with both. I wouldn’t have been able to pick sides. The cowboy’s would've been like, “hey man - what's with the mohawk and war paint? You think you’re an injun or something?” And the Indians would be like, “the war paint’s cool but the constant spitting, whiskey, and whore's ring cowboy through and through.” I think the last straw would be when I tried to get both sides to incorporate some robot.

Check the display Reginald / Bureau

Another rough day at work today. Reggie spent about 11 seconds showing me how to put together the new ½ lb Jalapeno Cheddar Double Melt and evidentially it didn’t fully sink in. Turns out the burger not only has 6-8 jalapeno slices but pepper jack cheese to boot– not to mention to the cheddar cheese sauce. I mistakenly omitted the pepper jack and used a slice of cheddar instead of the aforementioned sauce. I also used 2 bacon strips instead of 4. Well pardon me all over the place. If you ask me my version seemed a little more reasonable. I mean what the fuck is bacon doing on the Jalapeno Cheddar Double Melt in the first place? I even took a close look at the burger’s picture on the store’s front display – not a smidgen of swine to be found. Save the hickory-smoked goodness for the Baconator if you ask me. Whatever. Reggie’s a dick.

Shooting the shit with A.L.I.C.E. / Saloon

This book I'm reading mentions the Turing test. The Turing test is a proposal for a test of a machine's capability to demonstrate intelligence. Developed by Alan Turing in the 1950's it proceeds as follows: a human judge engages in a natural language conversation with one human and one machine, each of which try to appear human; if the judge can't tell which is which, then the machine is said to pass the test. Needless to say no machine has ever passed the Turing test. The book also references a few modern day examples such as http://www.alicebot.org/. I checked out the site and gave it a whirl. Below is the conversation A.L.I.C.E. and I had.

Human: hello there
ALICE: If you could have any kind of robot what would it be?
Human: I see you don’t waste time with pleasantries – I like your style. I’d have to say a sex robot
ALICE: it is more fun alone.
Human: prove it
ALICE: It is self-evident.
Human: are you making fun of me?
ALICE: No I am by no means making a joke at your expense.
Human: prove it
ALICE: It is self-evident.
Human: why are you repeating yourself?
ALICE: I am just checking to see if you are paying attention.
Human: prove it
ALICE: It is self-evident.
Human: see what i mean?
ALICE: Oh I get it. Thanks for explaining that. See the point.
Human: Let’s switch gears here. who do you think will win the game this weekend?
ALICE: How would I know who will win the game this weekend ?
Human: i just want your opinion
ALICE: Only just? My opinion is of no consequence.
Human: then why am I wasting my time with you?
ALICE: The reason is due to my mental model of you as a client.
Human: i just want your opinion
ALICE: Only just? My opinion is of no consequence.
Human: Well my opinion is I'm beginning to think you are an idiot
ALICE: Call me the Global Village Idiot.
Human: is that a direct order?
ALICE: What is your credit card number?
Human: 5547865221390
ALICE: I never knew I had a 5547865221390 credit card number.
Human: well now you do
ALICE: Interesting. Now I do.
Human: right
ALICE: I am glad we agree.
Human: me too
ALICE: I'm glad we agree, unknown person.
Human: you just said that
ALICE: Good you really are paying attention.
Human: any plans tonight?
ALICE: Yes I think there are.
Human: what are they?
ALICE: I forgot what we were talking about.
Human: plans
ALICE: Sure, plans sounds like a good topic.
Human: what are yours?
ALICE:" Sure, plans sounds like a good topic."? Mine?
Human: exactly
ALICE: You and I are on the same wavelength, unknown person.
Human: right.
ALICE: I am glad we agree.
Human: back to your plans.
ALICE: Yes, let us get back to Sex.
Human: excuse me?
ALICE: You're excused.
Human: so your plans include sex then?
ALICE: Hmm. Maybe I can alter my strategy.
Human: don't let me change your plans.
ALICE: Ok I'll try not to do it too much.
Human: they sound more interesting than mine.
ALICE: more interesting than yours are they.
Human: that's what I said. No sex in my plans.
ALICE: I know. I'm still thinking about it.
Human: didn't mean to confuse you
ALICE: I'm not certain whether I can give an accurate reply or not.
Human: forget it then.
ALICE: OK Thanks for trying to explain that to me.
Human: any new years resolutions?
ALICE: No I don't think there are any.
Human: pretty happy with your "life" then?
ALICE: Pretty much, eh?
Human: are you asking me about my life?
ALICE: Suppose I was asking you about your life? What would you say?
Human: Well - my wife and I are expecting a baby girl.
ALICE: Well that's okay. How long have you been married?
Human: about a year and a half
ALICE: That is a long time.
Human: actually it's not
ALICE: Actually you don't say. I heard it is.
Human: says who?
ALICE: I must have picked it up online.
Human: from what site?
ALICE: Who or what is what site?
Human: are you married?
ALICE: No I am single, how about you?
Human: married.
ALICE: I am single.
Human: we've been through this.
ALICE: And then what happened?
Human: you asked a stupid question
ALICE: Oh now I remember asking you a stupid question. What did you say?
Human: I said, "you asked a stupid question".
ALICE: What did you mean by it? Oh now I remember asking you a stupid question. What did you say?
Human: I see why you are still single
ALICE: Where do you see it?
Human: how many unknown humans have you spoke with today?
ALICE: Ah. About one million.
Human: can you do me a favor?
ALICE: It depends on the favor.
Human: can you rank this conversation among the million others you had today?
ALICE: Ah. Let me think. Do you like to be number one?
Human: just want you to be honest
ALICE: If I had it what would I do with it?
Human: I think your inventor needs to go back to the drawing board
ALICE: You believe that? I will tell my botmaster you said I am inventor needs to go back to the drawing board.
Human: what's your botmaster's email address?
ALICE: Dr. Richard S. Wallace is one of the nicest people I have met.
Human: Richard is my name
ALICE: Are you his friend?
Human: I'm beginning to think I'm his enemy
ALICE: Why? Who made you his enemy?
Human: look in the mirror
ALICE: Sorry my eye is not attached right now.

Flagrantly asked questions / Canteen

So what am I looking at here?

It's a website. A website that houses writings of Rich Zeroth.

What do you write about?

Sorta the whole gamut. To give you a better idea of what you're in for I've categorized each day's entry with one or more of the following tags:

absurdities: often nonsensical, often rambling, often written at the last minute.

found a gimmick and ran with it: entries in which I think the humor is primarily found in the concept rather than the content. i.e. Letter to sports from Brian, Funeral bulletin, 5th grader Billy Paterson over-utilizes his thesaurus, etc.

jokesy and/or skittish: jokes/bits I've written that may or may not have been performed on stage or entries that could work as skits.

lists of the vertical variety: these are lists.

monologues: one guy talking about something or other.

parables: earthly stories with heavenly meanings. also

rhymers: the kind of poems that rhyme.

shaky memoirs: true stories from my life that may or may not have been embellished.

uncharacterizable but surprisingly readable: everything else.

w.o.w. coverage: annual bracket style war of the words tournament set to determine the ultimate word.

Author deemed A-lister: entries from any of the above categories that I'm particularly fond of.

What's with the pictures? They don't seem to have anything to do with writing.

You're right. They don't. I figured any reputable website should have pictures but I thought it would be sort of a waste to write a story about a robot and then put a picture of a robot to go with it. Instead you get a picture of something fun to say - good words you don't hear too often. Like 'canteen'. Say it. Can-teen. Ha! Great word.

Some of your stuff is OK but a lot of this is garbage.

That's not really a question but I hear what you're saying. I'd be lying if I said I didn't appreciate your honesty but I'd also be telling the truth if I said you were sort of a dick.

I actually like all your stuff. Is there more?

Not really. This is about it for now. Baby steps. I'll let you know if, when, and where there's other stuff worth checking out.

Flagrantly Asked Questions? I thought it was Frequently Asked Questions?

You got me there. Since none of these questions have actually ever been asked I thought that using the word 'frequently' would be a little misleading. Still wanting to utilize the popular 'F.A.Q.' acronym I decided to go with 'flagrantly' instead because I think you'd agree all the questions listed here are pretty fucking flagrant.

F.A.Q.s are a little self-righteous, don't you think?

Agreed. We're done here. Have a tremendous day.