Tofu Wedding

Attending my sisters wedding reception, I found these little white finger squares and thought they were either cheesecake or tofu. Using my paranormal powers of deduction, abilities honed from hours at restaurant tables doing those little puzzles on the kids menu while waiting for our food to arrive, I was determined to quickly solve the quandary. The easy 3 step process below is exactly how I did it- for those of you who may want to replicate:

1. Looked over the surroundings and asked myself; where am I at right now? A wedding.
2. Added a follow-up question; how many vegetarians are likely to be at this wedding? Aside from that sideburn-less fellow nibbling on his cuticles, very few.
3. Asked a concluding question; considering these answers, what is Lindsay more likely to serve at her wedding reception, finger cheesecake squares or tofu cubes? Cheesecake, although she does have a “this will learn 'em” streak…no it’s gotta be cheesecake.

I then energetically reached down, plucked a square and confidently threw it down. Then happily grinned to myself as I looked around, cheeks swelling with creamy bliss, and watched everyone around me tinkering with the same morsels. Their uncertainty over the ambiguous snacks almost paralyzing them in place, I’m sure.

Thank you IHOP.

it's not just fraud...it's fraud with UPS

You know that UPS commercial with the guy drawing on the white erase board, brown marker in hand. What’s up with that? Is he actually drawing it? If so, he’s got a pretty steady Bob Ross-like hand. Personally, I think they use deceitful CGI graphics. If they are just bending my brain with George Lucas-esque special effects I will get mad and never use UPS again. Neither of us wants that to happen. Looks like a job for Sergeant Wikipedia!

Back…guess it is real. But the drawing guy’s hair is not. Thought my eye detected unnatural waiving movement and volume.

congrats mom!

I've been asked to post the video I showed. I hosted in on YouTube, so it's pretty choppy and low quality. Be sure to pause my blog music at the bottom of the page, before watching.

Thanks for all the great times, mom & dad. I'm crazy about you guys...

…as a three dollar bill

Clark and I are sitting at “Todd’s Barbershop”, an old fashioned hair cut place in Riverton that only gives haircuts to men. Surrounded by seven or eight old men, actually what looks like a platoon of bonafide war veterans, out of the blue Clark looks up and tells me loudly;

“Hey daddy, I love boys.”

“Umm. You mean action figures guys, right?”

“No, I just like boys.”

Then he looks back down at his coloring book, without a thought, and continues on with his artistic work. Leaving me to try and find a way to nonchalantly explain. So, flipping through a magazine, I utter to myself, loudly enough for everyone to hear, “Ha ha, little tike says the craziest things. Gotta love that phase when they hate everything about girls…”

I peered up, hoping they were laughing. Nope. Just that old timer look you always get, with a subtle head shake, when someone from the “Greatest Generation” thinks you’re raising a “Mary”.

So I just mumbled something about "them being the ones going to an all male barbershop"...but I don't think they heard me.

Little footed bathroom man

Let me lay out the scene. It was my first day with my new client, Morgan Stanley, and I’m at the office trying to build relationships, trust, impress everyone I meet, saying things I don’t mean, like, “How’s it going? My name is Todd, what’s your name? What department are you in?” Or some other nonsensical questions whose answers I have absolutely no interest in hearing.

Anyway, about half through the day I make a pit stop in the “mens” room. First thing I notice is how clean it is, leaving me with a really good first impression about the entire facility. In fact, as Ann will confirm, I always judge any restaurant we go to, not by the food, but by how clean the restroom is. It’s kinda like looking at a girl’s ankles when you’re dating. It tells you a lot about what the future holds. But again, I’m going down a proverbial rabbit trail, pulling me away from my story.

So, I’m impressed with the cleanliness, and even the smell of the bathroom. I’m thinking, “Man, this is a first class company, the bathrooms are like spring time, like the sunshine on my shoulders that John Denver is always going on and on about, I wonder if he works here…”

Then a noise! Scattering my thoughts, like little kittens scattering puffballs of…nevermind, that got away from me a bit. Outside of the everglade scented stall, I hear the pattering of little feet on the tile floor,

“pit pat pit pat pit pat”

I say to myself, in an Irish accent, of course, “Wow, self, he must be a wee little fellow, wearing wee little booties, ‘cause he sounds like an elf wearing ladies high heeeeeee…..oh, NO!”

I rush out of the stall, staring at me are the frightened eyes of a little Asian lady.

“Um, I think you’re in the wrong bathroom, sir.”

I couldn’t think of anything to stay, so I just stared stupidly at her, finally letting the words bumble out of my mouth,

“It’s my first day…my first day. I thought it looked funny in…ha ha. In the last place, this is where the men’s room was. Well, it wasn’t here, obviously their restroom couldn’t be here, but what I mean is it was on the left side of the hall, so I just assumed that…what department are you in? It’s my first…”

Then I tore off like a dejected Napoleon Dynamite.

Ever since that day, the memory still fresh with infamy, I’ve tried not to make eye contact with that lady. Thing is, I see her every single day as I walk out of the building. I imagine her telling everyone around her, after I leave for the day, about the “New perv guy” followed by a half snark sound that I can’t spell.

I’m looking for an opportunity to speak with her and beat down the palpable awkwardness, glaring off me like Bush at a State of the Union Address. I want to say something clever to cut through the weirdness, something like;

“Remember when you walked in and I was in the girl’s bathroom? Boy, did I ever think you were a funny, short, stubby legged man with wee little feet. Or a hoofed half man half goat, fawn type of creature, pit-pattering along. Remember that? Ha ha, good times…”

With just the right Irish brogue, I think it might help out, just a bit…or maybe I’ll just let it go.