Archive for September 22nd, 2006

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Broken Urinal at Work

September 22, 2006


One of the urinals in our office men’s room has been broken since around the time Agnew pardoned Nixon. Eventually, somebody put up a sign reading “WARNING: TOILET WILL NOT FLUSH. DO NOT USE”, because so many lazy guys were still peeing in it despite its clearly non-functioning status. I felt that the warning was insufficient, and replaced it with a more appropriate, if less plausible one.

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Dad’s Excuse to go to Disneyland

September 22, 2006

My wife won’t eat at restaurants alone.  Ever.  She claims that people will look at her, thinking “that poor, poor woman, look how she has no one to eat lunch with her”.  She’s counting the days until Emerson is old enough to qualify as a dining companion on whatever internal metric her eating alone neurosis uses to gauge such things. I tease her, but, like most things I make fun of, I end up doing the same thing…

So, I started thinking about Disneyland when a co-worker recently went there, and today online I found these two Disneyland official operators manuals to the Pirates of the Carribean & Haunted Mansion rides, from when each ride first launched.  While they’re interesting, they both lacked what I was halfheartedly hoping to find, namely a guide for park employees as to what to do if someone gets horribly mangled in full view of the guests.  I’m not sure why, but I just figured they’d have planned for such an eventuality, even going so far as to have standard issue cartoony ray guns that erased the short term memory of any witnesses.  Sadly, they just feature the standard claptrap about “making sure guests exit vehicles safely in case of trouble, blah, blah.”

Despite my feelings about crowds (I’m again’ ‘em!) & the outdoors (bears!), I could totally stand to go to Disneyland at least once every couple years, if not more. Sadly, the missus is a Disneyland hater, so it’s up to the Little Baby Cupcake to be dad’s tiny walking excuse for a visit to the happiest place on Earth.  I only hope she doesn’t get her mom’s height, I don’t want to have to wait 14 more years before she’s tall enough to ride Space Mountain with me.  Also, and I just thought of this now, what if the LBC only wants to go to Disney’s California Adventure.  I don’t know what I’d do.  It’s probably illegal for me to drive to Anaheim and then split up in the parking lot & rendevous later in the day.  Man, I’ll have to start indoctrinating her early about the one true wonderland.

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