This self-proclaimed dork (SighlentJ on Flickr)has wayyyyy too much time on his hands. I am digging his dorky do's though. Click the link to read about his misadventures in mane management. 
Edit to add: I just found another picture of his that I love, click here to see it and read what it's about... I think I might just have a new dork crush. Sorry Conan!
OK...so this is a little embarrassing, but I have a confession. My house and I have a battle going on now with a vermin known as FRUIT FLIES!!...Long deep music score.
Michigan has had a real problem with them this year, but thats no real consolation when your kids toss something in the trash bin...and they get kamakazeed by 150 of the lil bastards.....which ofcourse means I had to man up..
My 1st move was to simply move the trash outside, simple yes? No trash, lil bastards would die off. So that plan failed as I noticed that a single lemon rind could breed 300 a day.....
My 2nd...and I think my most brilliant move........was to go old school. I took the bold step and decided bug spray was bad, my mom never used it......my mom had a better solution......it was called.....Aqua Net...
My mom went through 5 cans of Aqua Net a week, cig in one hand and can in the other....we all lived...no bugs....surely.......this plan can not go wrong!!! I mean it's perfect........airborn glue sticking to their wings and your hair......they should and would drop like...well...flies!!
A trip to the store and some questions quickly led me to the realization that I could no longer buy Aquanet...and the 20 sumfin girl looked at me like I had clubbed a baby seal for even suggesting it. This was depressing.
I settled for a can of Suave, extra hold. Suave extra hold......is a hairspray that no only does not kill fruit flies, but gives them a natural gloss and shine. They seem to like it. Do not buy this hairspray to kill fruitflies!!!! They eat it!!!
I felt old....and grumpy when I admitted defeat, then went to ace hardware, bought a can of flying insect kill spray. My wife is still chuckling.........
I notice today as I sign in that today is Blogger's birthday.
More significantly, our own hysterical Survivalist Extraordinaire--Empress of Clinical Dysfunction, The Mayor, if you will, of Dorkbloggers, CRSE, has had a Birthday.
IF I had not spent the last year and a half snorting and laughing my way through her blog posts, I would still have to go read anyone who titled their Blog "Zamphir Panflutemaster."
Long live the Panflute.
Go send her some love.
You have now officially one-upped that Rozerum commercial with the beaver and Abe Lincoln (and an astronaut?).
I may need to bleach my frontal lobe to get out the image of Abe all nekkid and strapped up with a ball gag in his mouth.
I hope I do NOT see this in my dreams.
xoxo,
Jen
Friends, it's that time again.
The contest last time was exhausting, and frankly, this puppy snuck up on me. So we'll just call this a Dorkk Off. Share a dorky story, and leave a link to it in the linky box below. This time around, we'll automatically add you to our dorkroll in the sidebar for participating, and we don't care if it's fresh dork. Link to your favorite post about the time you walked into something or accidentally flashed your in-laws.
Have fun with it, and warn us if it's got adult content or your site is not safe for work, pleaase!
Um, one upsmanship is encouraged.
This stuff is so cool.
I am, unfortunately, too techno impaired to get a picture directly onto this blog to show you.
Story of my life...
*****This post is not for the faint of heart*****
It has been brought to my attention that Dork is an old whaler's term for this.
Zig, I thought you'd appreciate that fact.
There are also sites de-bunking this as an urban legend, but nobody said it was a scientific term.
If that thing is pre-hensile, I'm gonna be REALLY grossed out.
(I put up the Dorksignal for myself, because I just googled "dork, Whale Penis")
I love this list.
He may be right.
I tried to pick a favorite.
I think I know mine--what's yours?
If you've read my blog, you know that I will sometimes divulge a little TMI. It can't be helped, but just to warn you (as if the title of this post didn't), this post is about bodily functions... Proceed at your own risk. :D
Last night I went to bed after the hubs. I'm a night person, always have been. So after messing around with some new Photoshop Elements plugins, and deciding that I look too old to be without bangs unless I spend the necessary 20 minutes on my hair- and knowing that there was no way in heck I was about to do that every day when I have more important things to do, like blogging- I stayed up another 30 minutes debating over cutting my grown out bangs then finally doing it.
So basically, I was up another 45 minutes more than the hubs, and since I was standing so close to the bathroom mirror/light fixture, when I finally made my way to the bedroom I was pretty well blind in the darkness.
I felt around and got into bed. It was so windy last night (hahaha, you'll see why I'm laughing in a minute) that I had a hard time getting to sleep. When I did drift off to sleep, the rumbling in my belly- and eventually my butt area- woke me up.
Goodness, I thought, it's a good thing that John decided to sleep in Anna's room (because she has asked him to), and I thought about how I try to save my poor husband misery sometimes and just hold it in at bedtime. But, I was alone and I was uncomfortable, so I just kept letting the rumblies out.
I managed to drift off to sleep until the next installment of natural effervescence, and managed to wake myself up again. This time I felt the bed move. Oh gawd, this is earth quake weather, and we have had one or two since moving to Iowa. The bed moved again, and I lay there very still waiting to see if it would get stronger and debating whether or not I should just go ahead and grab Emma out of her bed and stand in the door way.
Suddenly something touched my foot, I yelped... I look over and see my poor husband peeking at me through sleepy lids. It had been him moving the bed, not an earth quake... Oh frick, and I had been passing gas with reckless abandon for about a half an hour! I start to laugh.
I started to giggle now, and once I start I have a hard time stopping. My husband would drift off to sleep and I would start up again. "I'm sorry, I seem to be keeping you awake with all sorts of noises tonight, "I manged to get out through giggles.
"Not that I would know, " he chuckles,"I'm slowly being poisoned by methane over here."
Needless to say, that didn't help my giggle fits any. He was awake for another 15 minutes. After 18 yrs of marriage, I am embarrassed to be passing gas in front of the husband. Who would have thunk it.
I've already said how much I love the cult of Chuck. I think this is hysterical:
10 Reasons Johnny Cash OWNS Chuck Norris
Reason 1.Only one man who has ever lived has been bad enough to be called “The Man In Black” and it wasn’t Chuck Norris
Reason 2.Johnny didn’t have to fight to be a bad ass. He just had to pick up a beer bottle and a guitar.
Reason 3.Norris made a bunch of films where he killed folks. Johnny Cash went to Folsom Prison and did a concert. You tell me which one takes more balls.
Reason 4.Chuck wasn’t the first of his kind to kick ass. Johnny was the first rock star to set something on fire. While most artists only set their hotel rooms on fire, Johnny took it one step further and burned down half a national forest.
Reason 5.When Chuck was five, he was a normal five year old. Johnny had already earned man points by working in his dad’s cotton fields. That is a true bad ass. By the time he was six, Cash did more hard work than most men do in their whole life.
Reason 6.Chuck never got stabbed in the back by a woman. Johnny never stopped bleeding. Chuck may have gotten punched a few times, but Johnny knew what real pain was.
Reason 7.Chuck is a republican. Johnny was close with every president except for GWB. It was said he just didn’t trust that son of a bitch. When Johnny didn’t trust someone, you just knew something foul was going on.
Reason 8.Johnny was invited to play the at White House in 1972 for Richard Nixon. He was given a list of politically correct songs to sing. He instead metaphorically threw up his middle finger at the establishment, in true ShoutWire fashion, and sang a set full of left leaning, politically charged tunes. Chuck Norris has never told the president to fuck off in his own house.
Reason 9.Chuck Norris made a lot of crappy movies. Johnny Cash never touched anything that didn’t turn to gold. In the 80’s, he made a song called “Chicken in Black” to get himself out of a record deal. Even that became popular.
Reason 10.Johnny is the only man in history to decline painkillers after a double bypass heart surgery. He knew he liked drugs too god damn much and wouldn’t stop. That shows power over an addiction previously not seen before. Kicking a ninja's ass is easy compared to kicking a drug's ass.
Is it wrong to not just ponder...but actively partake in mischief??? Time I guess will tell:)
Being both Dork, geek, and perv....not to mention bad at math via this sentence, I had a mischievous dork moment today.
The geek in me is attempting to hardwire an old stereo preamp and turntable to my pc...we have alot of old records we want to digitize. I was all cool and proud of myself for killing time while out of town for hitting up the local radio crap store to buy the proper cables...yak with the sales clerk...and hit the road home.
I'm about an hour into my return trip and dork moment hit me, I had bought the wrong ass cables!! Granted they were proper on paper...that they were rca one end...1/8 inch stereo the other......but the damn things were RCA male.......grrr. What to do.....what to do...hey..there's an ABC Warehouse......lets go peek!!!
Sure enough..they had the female to female rca adapters I needed...and cheap too. I can sneak outta here for less than $4 bucks....thats cheaper and less funny than toilet paper stuck to your shoe...this is a good day!
Then as the pretty young gal is ringing up my purchase while we flirt...it comes...the spanish inquisition..aka...fbi profile moment. "First Name?" ( hate this crap.....always followed by zip code and phone number...info you don't need to have to sell me $4 dollars worth of anything!! )
I did the only thing that seemed proper my mood at the time. I gave the name, zipcode and direct phone number of the boss that let me go this feb. I'm sure he'll enjoy the special offers coming his way soon!! :)
So I wake up bright and early to pick up some hours at a brand new job. It's part time, it's grunt work....but hell it's work, and it gets me off my ass. To tell ya the truth, I've been dreading this job. Not because of the work, but because I know most of these guys...and well, long story...but my stomach was churning.
Mistake one.....gorging on Pizza the night before.
Mistake two.....Gulping down a 16oz of cherry juice before leaving.
Mistake three...Mistaking the churning in my stomach for a need to sip my coffee while driving to the new job.
As I'm wiping the vomit off the dashboard with an old flannel shirt, pondering the texture and pretty colours, it occours to me to call the shop.
So I was late my 1st day, they were actually amused.....and I'm now very suspect of cherry juice!! :)
Yesterday we picked the MIL up from the airport- she was returning from a 5 day visit with the SIL- we were all over joyed to see her. ;) While we were waiting for her plane to land John (the Male Income Support Unit and beloved husband) mentioned that he was surprised that I had decided to come.
"I'm just here to eat, " I winked, "Don't tell her I said that, though." I knew the MIL would offer to buy us dinner, so taking an hour drive to and an hour drive back was worth it.
About 15 minutes later the MIL came strolling past security, and hugs were given all around.
"I'm so happy you all came!" she exclaimed... and just seconds later Anna (my 6 yr old) says, while thumbing in my general direction," She's just here to eat."
Oh really, the MIL says while I try to pretend like it's no big deal that my daughter is getting a kick out of watching me turn red. "Why did you tell her that? " I whispered.
"Because I thought it would be funny."
Oh dear. What . Have . I . Done. My daughter, having always been wise (and sarcastic) beyond her years, has gleaned at this tender age that there is enormous entertainment value in humiliating your gene pool. I have no idea where she got that from.
"Yup," I try to say casually," I'm just here for the food." I wink at the MIL, and then hiss at Anna that she wasn't supposed to share that little tidbit.
Fast forward about an hour, while we sit enjoying our various forms of cooked meat. A BeeGee's song comes on and John and I exchange snickers because while I was in the shower I had told him that I want a BeeGee's Cd, then we heard one of their songs in the car on the way over. My MIL looks up at me, of course and gives me a questioning look.
"Well," I gulp down a piece of prime rib,"I was just telling John today that for Mother's Day I would like a BeeJay-"
Oh God. Why must I insist on opening my mouth? I sit there trying to hide behind my hands, with my mouth open, turning every shade of red. I really should take up sign language... but then there is always the possibility that I will tell someone that "it's very nice to mate" them, or some such thing.
My MIL doesn't skip a beat, and shrugs," I thought that that was a traditional Father's Day present, but OK." I'm guessing she is holding a grudge for the "just here to eat" comment.
If you know me, I tend to say the most ridiculous things when under stress and at times of extreme embarrassment, sometimes to bring the focus off of me. And sometimes just because I'm and idiot. " Uhh, well... I read on the net that a guy invented a holiday just for guys. It's called Steak and BJ Day."
Why. WHY? Why do I do it?
"Well, you've got your steak. My part is done," my MIL says matter of factly, pointing at John with her steak knife, with a smirk. She's known me 19 years, I guess nothing shocks her anymore.
I bet you can't guess what happened next? Yup, I opened my mouth again. I have a problem.
"I'm guessing that moms aren't usually part of the equation on Steak and BJ Day," I manage, wanting to stick my fork in an appendage to make it all stop. Bad mental image. BAD!
The MISU, not being very fond of discussing the possible goings on of his nether regions becomes very rigid and motionless. Of course I try to explain about wanting a BeeGee's CD not a BeeJay, but I am stammering and laughing nervously at the same time, John just shakes his head- as he is accustomed to doing- and a barely perceptible smile passed his lips after I stare in his direction for a seconds on end... for signs of life and a hint that he isn't thinking about killing me at that moment.
A few minutes of me wanting to die later, he says, "Beejays on Mother's Day? YES! I'm in."
I'm thinking my husband is considering hog tying and tranquilizing me brefore he lets me out of the house the next time.
Happy Mother's day to me.
Fire.....not always the dorks best friend........but lets admit it...pretty fun to watch though eh? :)
This post is inspired by events that happend last night. The odd event that will forever be known...as the "Kitchen Fire".
Now friends, don't over react, the Zig household is no stranger to kitchen fires....infact, we've gotten pretty good at them....practice makes perfect and all..:)
Last night was different...things were mello....lovely wife and I were yakking, she decides to warm up some left over chicken. I love my wife...really I do, but she refuses to use the microwave for these types of things. Her stance...microwave makes it soggy....I didn't buy soggy fried chicken...granted she has a point.
So the chicken is in the oven.....and then the smell of smoke, Agrah runs into the kitchen and I hear..."ZIG!". This is never a good signal. Quick run to the kitchen, open the oven.....we are running a chicken creamatorium. My best edited version of what I said...WOW!! Thats a F***ing lot of flames......then I closed the oven door.
See....this is when I thought I was being sly, thinking the flames would get bored and run away.....run out of air...etc. I'm a guy..got this under control. I was wrong!! :)
I got curious...opened the oven door, which gave it more air, and *WOOF*...we still had chicken creamation in progress....this is when I decided to man up and do super cool man in control stuff.
I run to the fireplace and grab my super heat of steel mill foundry mit (rated at 600f) and open the stove....wife is holding the front door open by now and daughter is asking things like "mommy.....whats that smell", from her room.
I proudly walk through the dining room bearing a cookie sheet full of flaming chicken out the front door, to the sidewalk....and sigh. Keep in mind, I'm in PJ bottoms...no shirt...and a steel mill iron workers mit..
I think we scare our nieghbors.....the lovely wife wasn't hungry after that...house still smells like smoke....:)
This is me as a little baby 'tween dork, ain't I cute?
I don't know if you guys have heard about the Blogger's Choice Awards, but they have all sorts of categories... EXCEPT Best Dork Blog/Blogger.
There is something seriously wrong in the world when they don't recognize dorks but have a category for Best Geek Blog. ;)
Anywhoo, I emailed the nice folks at the BCA:
I am one of many who are dorks, and a blogger, and belong to a blog called Dork Bloggers.I was very pleased and surprised that I received a response the very same day!
Will you include a Dorkiest blog/blogger in the future? I have a few friends who would nominate me for sure. :D
Thanks, Mary mert
Almost Somewhat Positive
So, if you are interested in the BCA's having a Dork category for next year, please email them atHello, Mary! Thanks for getting in touch with us here at Blogger's Choice Awards. We certainly appreciate the input!Hmmm, "Best Dork Blog." That's an interesting one! I think we're pretty much locked-and-loaded for this year, but I'll definitely keep this one in mind for next year, if we get demand for it! (If we keep adding new blogs everyday we'll have a 5-hour awards show at PostieCon! Ha ha!)Again, thanks for the feedback! Have a great weekend!Best,Ashley K. EdwardsBlogger's Choice Awards
Zigzagman! Im leaving the poll up so you can add the results yourselves but it was pretty much a landslide. Congratulations ZZM and the rest of you? You are all dorkblogging royalty in my eyes!
The Results from the last 24 hours are below the poll....
Two more days....who will be the dorkblogging prince/princess
Did You Ever Get The Feeling... 0% (0 votes)
A Shot in the Dark 0% (0 votes)
Mail Call 13% (2 votes)
Car Park 0% (0 votes)
Ash In Wonderland 0% (0 votes)
Kellyology 6% (1 votes)
Mish Mash 0% (0 votes)
Ramblings of Maggie 0% (0 votes)
Sports Princess 0% (0 votes)
Zig's Rants 63% (10 votes)
Zamphir Panflutemaster 13% (2 votes)
Deep In The Forrest 0% (0 votes)
A Sideways Look at Womanhood 0% (0 votes)
Me Myself and Eye 0% (0 votes)
Tales of a Rockdog In Training 0% (0 votes)
Not So Anonymous Confessions 0% (0 votes)
The Knut Hut 0% (0 votes)
Coo Coo 0% (0 votes)
Middle Aged Princess 0% (0 votes)
The Sirmarco Letters 0% (0 votes)
Mannerly Mutts 6% (1 votes)
A Little Night Music 0% (0 votes)
A Crazy Quilt Life/Sorting the Pieces 0% (0 votes)
Total voters for this poll: 16
Hey folks, Im sorry for the alarm about your counts being back to zero. I thought I explained it in the one post, but looking back, I realized I wrote that in an aborted draft. Here is the deal. For you to be able to vote every day, we have to shut the poll down and create a new poll. Otherwise, you only get to vote one time all week. Mert experimented with this at length to find a better way, but this is all we could come up with. What I will try to do tonight when I make the new poll is to post everyone's total vote count for the past two days next to their blognames. I completely apologize for the confusion. But before you string me up? Remember where you are. What would dorkbloggers be if the folks that ran the site were not dorks?
we are currently experiencing technical difficulties. Voting will resume presently. Please check back soon for the update.
Okay, seriously?
The poll has apparently failed or been hopelessly corrupted.
We'll start over with a new poll every day. You will get one vote per IP address per day. We will provide stats at the end of each day for updates.
Since today is essentially over for our English friends, the new dates and rules are as follows:
1. Vote for yourself or your best friend or your kid or your dogwalker on the poll provided.
2. Voting will be extended until April 23rd, so we get a nice full week in.
3. If you are bitter and unhappy about the votes lost, well, so are we, kind of. Suck it up.
4. We DO want to reward faithfulness, so you may vote once a day every day.
5. There will be no dangling chads, no sniveling about the winner, or I will send you to your room--got it?
POLL MOVED TO TOP OF BLOG DUE TO FACTORS OF CHRONIC DORKINESS-------GO VOTE HERE. Poll will not change locations but subject line will indicate new poll with dates after the updates.
***Mert edit*** Due to some sort freaky dork-eaky poll mishaps, we have to start the poll over... We are sorry for the inconvenience. You will find a new poll and the edited rules above, click here. We thank you for your patience, not to worry- some lucky dork will win this thing... now go vote again! Scoot! :D ***
I realize I'm a week early, but there is Dorkxiety and stress about getting the posts up and the whole cursed day of doom thing.
Plus perhaps reading other people's tales of Dorkdom will inspire our reluctant Blogging friends.
Four simple rules, really.
1. Write a post on your blog, or provide a link to your dorkiest moment, if it has been previously blogged.
2. Top it with the fabulous Banners designed by Mert, or include a link to this post.
3. Enter your name and link in the linky box provided.
4. Go read other people's Dorkfessions, and vote anytime during the week of April 14-21.
The winner of the popular vote will get a $20 Amazon.com giftcard, and the custom winner button designed by Mert (the winner will get a button without the MERT watermark, of course.). And possibly some cheesy Dorkbloggers swag. Begging friends and family memebers to vote for you is encouraged.
Here are the entries:
1. Jen Factor 10
2. gretty
3. Kathi
4. Carrie Parker
5. Ash
6. Kellyology, a.k.a. Queen of Dork
7. Amy
8. amy
9. Maggie
10. Sports Princess
11. ZigZagMan
12. Crse
13. Jackie Wood (AuntJackie)
14. Miss Understood
15. rn_buffoon
16. RockDog
17. Michelle
18. Pippajo
19. Jill
20. winterskiprincess
21. middleagedprincess
22. Frank Sirmarco
23. mannerlymutts
24. Andrea
25. Cynthia
26. Jill of all Trades
Hey y'all... I don't know if you saw my post over at ASP, but my blogging bud Karianne is having a Birthday prom to raise money for the adoption agency she got her son Becken from. I encourage Karianne to make a donate button through Paypal, and I got a Virtual Prom ticket by donating!
Anywhoo, Our Grand Dork Mistress Factor 10 came up the awesome idea:
Seriously. I love that notion, Maybe we can put up our favorite faux prom dress pics? This is what I would wear as the dork at the prom kind of thing?
Keeping with our new theme song- BTW... Are we even worthy enough to use a Weird Al song? He makes my dorky heart go squeeee!- and with the Dork Side, I bring you these!
I am in loooooove with Squee.
I want to marry it.
Don't stop, baby!
I only just found squee. I haven't even had a chance to make my kids sick of it.
I am also very fond of the phrase "butt-hurt" for that sensation of being wounded by a good friend. I KNOW I am taking it wrong, and I KNOW I'll pull my thumb out and get over it, but you know what? Right now I'm still a little butt-hurt.
I shudder to think of the origins of that phrase, but it is so very appropriate for that third-grader gut reaction to an unthinking comment or act.
I posted this on my blog too! :D
When I look back at my life, and all it's dorkfulness, I have no doubt of where my dork genes originate. That's right folks I said genes, plural. I think we all know by now that I am above average in the dork department.
I believe what they say is true to some degree... that we are a product of our environment, and I wonder to myself if the fact that my mother (whom I refer to most times as the "egg donor" because I hate calling her mom, because she sucked and doesn't deserve to be called that) is NUTS. Seriously, she has papers.
Anyway, I probably could keep you here all day reading about my dork origins, but I will tell you about the ones that are most prominent in my mind.
When I was about 15, my parents had decided that we kids needed a little culture and took us away from the redneck town we lived in to Annapolis. Annapolis is a beautiful city on the Chesapeake Bay that is famous for its quaint cobbled and bricked streets lined with town houses (for Yuppies), it's inner harbor with elegant restaurants and bay side views of the sail boats going by (owned by Yuppies), and the Naval Academy (which often housed of the spawn of Yuppies).
Being poor and unrefined, my mother (who had a nose for sniffing out bargains and freebies) thought that the best place for used to get a little taste of culture would an art gallery in downtown Annapolis. This art gallery just happened to be serving free wine and cheese! Well, imagine that. Me and my older brother were allowed to have a sip of free wine with our free cheese and crackers. Meanwhile, the egg donor enjoyed quite a bit of free wine with her free cheese and crackers.
My mother, always appreciative of a good piece of art, pointed to a painting of the Annapolis inner harbor and said, "Wook at da pwee-wee wah-wah!"
Roughly translated to : "Look at the pretty water!"
My dad quickly grabbed her by the hand and dragged her out of the art gallery, and we kids followed closely behind with our eyes on the floor. My dad- having had considerable experience with free alcohol and it's affects- decided that mommy dearest should probably walk it off. My parents came up with yet another brilliant idea... why not take the whole family- including more than a little tipsy and inappropriate mommy- to the actual inner harbor? The place where the affluent strolled, and maybe even enjoyed a few quiet moments on their sailboat or yacht, and where Naval Academy plebes and midshipman sauntered in groups or with dates.
Sure, why not.
We went to a nautical store. This store had in its window a brass door knocker that my mother had been eying, in the shape of and anchor. My dad dragged her to the register, and my mother - the drunken egg donor- was elated and very pleased with herself for finally being able to afford the thing she had coveted for over a year.
As we walked by our station wagon on our way to a hat store called The Belfry- which I assure you, stuck out like... well a semi-redneck family trying to pretend that they were well off enough to even be there mingling with Maryland's upper crust- and just as a group of really cute midshipman walked by, mother loudly slurred that she needed to "put her knockers in the car".
The whole of Annapolis stopped to stare, and a hush fell over the city- but only after a collective gasp that was heard around the world. I looked over to the midshipman, who were all decked out in their dress whites and plainly said,
"I do not know that woman."
I did an about face and walked into another shop.
AND FINALLY, a story that I recant with fondness and light heart... well because it involves my dad...
Lets travel back in time to when I was about 12. My step-dad- who raised me from the age of 6, so I really consider him my dad, and was a geek computer programmer in the Air Force- was outside building his new fabulous tool shed. This shed was not just a shed, and in actuality it was probably at least 1/2 the size of the main floor of our house. With some help from friends, we had a foundation of cinder blocks and plywood over the support beams of the floor. My dad was happily working away outside on a sweltering morning as I brought his steaming cup of coffee out to him, because you see- my dad was a proud Okie, and drank coffee all year round.
While I was walking out to him, I noticed he was waving a hand around violently. I handed him his cup and giggled when I asked what he was doing. Evidently there was a big, ugly horsefly whizzing around him, stopping occasionally to light on his body and bite him. Oh, I said, well here's your coffee, dad.
I walked back inside, and a few minutes later we heard a yell come from outside. We ran outside to see if dad was hurt. It turns out that dear old dad had been fighting that horsefly for about a half an hour, and my dad had gotten so annoyed that he had even taken a couple of swings at the horsefly with the hammer in his hand. He whacked at the coarse and ugly bug with the hammer and missed several times.
"I finally got it, though, " My dad smiled and chuckled, thrusting his mighty hammer in the air in triumph with one hand and cradling his leg with the other, "But unfortunately it had landed on my shin."
The scene:
1980 VW Rabbit, 2 door, thank you.
Four adults and a future Dork child, plus one full grown chocolate lab.
Two day trip from Northern California to Washington State.
The catch:
Three cassette tapes. Count 'em, THREE.
1) The soundtrack from the movie "The Sting"
2) Beach Boys Greatest Hits or something...
3) The 1812 Overture with Live (!) Cannons.
It's raining, and the dog has gas. My father is convinced he'll find a great radio station if he just keeps searching. and searching. Father also convinced that we can save money on hotels by just driving in shifts through the night. By three a.m. my reserved, dignified mother is punchy as hell and begins the lifelong odyssey known as Tongue-ducting. Can you picture it? Yes, it is exactly what you're thinking.
The 1812 Overture, conducted with our tongues.
The rest of the trip, whenever the dog would stop farting, we would tongue-duct. We were giving my brother's best friend's girlfriend a ride to Portland to see him, and I am sure she was never so happy to escape a car ride.
But what a sight we would have made, barrelling up I-5.
Good Times.
*See Factor 10's info for the contest below please*
I don't know about you guys, but I'm pretty excited about Friday the Dorkteenth. The Grand Dork Mistress, Factor 10 asked me to make a banner from an awesome pic she found. Factor 10's idea was that if we have a classy banner, more people will want to participate. Here they are, please be sure to post one on your blog when inviting others to join in with Friday the Dorkteenth . (I plan to totally pimp Dorkteenth on my blog with a banner, quoting the rules, and linking back here.) Let me know if they are too HUGE for your blog and I will resize them (or you can edit the size in the html mode, see below).
Just right click and "save as" a banner you like. There are more to choose from here and here, but the one above is the one that Factor 10 really liked.
I really like these too!
If you would like something different to post on your blog when Friday the Dorkteenth rolls around, you can find some Space ball banners here.
The page you will see is thumbnails so to save one in it's original larger size, please click on the thumbnail then
right click/save as.
Also, when uploading to your blog, the image might be automatically resized by your blog. You can edit the size of the banner in the "edit html" tab of your post. In html mode, look for width:400px.
Change 400px to 550px for the banners with the shadow, and from 400px to 516px for the banners without the shadow. That way the banner is showing up in it's true size and it wont look weird.
Also, I made Dork Blogger Space ball buttons for your side bar, you can get them here.
Enjoy!
IT's coming...
A little competitive Dork Off.
Start thinking of your dorkiest moment (yes, you have to choose ONE).
The biggest Dorkfessional Friday happens on
There will be fierce competition.
There will be stories galore.
There will be prizes.
There will be dork glory.
Start prepping your loyal readers now, because they will be able to vote for you, and bring you to greater dorky heights!
Friday, April 13th.
Get your Dork on.
Static, all day, no one told me, why me
cute doctor, barfed, how much will it cost to replace his shoes
boss, why me, let one rip, monster.com
stains out, blender, no lid
I think it's an established fact that being a dork is inherent. It's not something you learn, or become, it's something you are, no?
I observed something the other day that confirmed it for me: dorkism is genetic and, as such, there is very little hope for my children.
Mom and Dad took me and the kids out to Friendly's (The Viking stayed home, sick). Ice cream and pleasant chatter was enjoyed by all, we got to get out of the house, grandparents got to see their grandchildren, all was merry and bright.
As we were leaving, things took a weird turn. Friendly's has one of those wretched toy machines in the vestibule. You know, those ones that for only $2 provide you with the joy and amusement of using a joystick to steer a metal claw around a plexiglass cage to snatch a cheap, ugly, useless toy and drop it down a chute? I don't know what it is about them, but my children are powerless against their charms. Every time we're there, they beg for money for it and every time I say no and roll my eyes.
This time, my mother took pity on them. My Boy offered to pay her back out of his own birthday money and that was too much for her. She coughed up the $2 which Red Headed Snippet stuffed into the slot. That's when the magic began, beautifully executed in tandem by my mother and father.
Mom barked out the orders. The target was carefully selected. Mom manned the joystick. My Boy manned the "drop" button. Dad and Red Headed Snippet were placed strategically in order to pinpoint the exact location of the target, "No, a little more left...no toward you...no back..."
Mom practically quivered with anticipation as she gave the command to My Boy, "NOW!" He hit the drop button forcefully. They all watched, breathless as the claw hit the target dead-on and then, with a slight swish of metal, closed lamely on itself and slid over to the chute, empty.
A gasp settled over the team, but their spirits were undaunted. Again, working together like a well-oiled machine, they aimed at the target. Again the drop was made. Again the claw failed to snag the treasure.
After the fourth attempt, Mom turned to get the manager, "This toy is stuck. He wants this little brown dog and it's stuck." The manager looked at her sideways for a second then said, "I'm sorry, we don't own that machine. I don't even have the key," before turning back to her work of watching ice cream melt.
Peeved, but undeterred, Mom turned to Dad and gave the order, "Shake it loose." Dad, still a beefy guy despite his age and pasta gut, grabbed the machine in a bear hug and rocked it back and forth. I threw my arms over my eyes, anticipating flying sparks and shards of glass, but nothing happened, outside or inside the machine. Brown toy dog was unmoved. I had a vision of a bear shaking a hiker out of a porta-potty as Dad grabbed that machine again.
This time he rocked it so hard it banged against the wall, then the floor, then shimmied forward a few inches. It made quite a racket. I looked over my shoulder to see that all noise and activity in the entire restaurant had ceased. All eyes were on the nutjobs who were trying to break open the vending machine. And the manager looked pissed!
All I can figure is the manager ducked back into the kitchen with a throbbing vein in her forehead and hissed, "SOMEONE get those people out of here before I throw hot oil at them!" because a very nice and calm waitress came presently to assess the situation. Somehow she and I managed to persuade my rabid parents to allow My Boy to just pick another toy. He had been saying, "It's okay, I'll take the blue bunny instead," but they wouldn't hear of it. The bunny proved to be much more accessible than the dog and we finally slinked out of the Friendly's with what little dignity we could scrape off the sides of the toy machine.
It was with the first blast of cold air hitting my face outside that the previously mysterious origins of my dorkiness became obvious. Only a dork would mobilize an entire team with military precision in order to obtain a cheap stuffed toy for her grandson. Only a dork would pick up a vending machine to shake said toy out of it. It all became crystal clear at that moment and I was never more aware of who I am and where I come from.
So, thanks, Mom and Dad. You've made me what I am today.
(Following my muppet theme)
Feel free to chime in here, guys!
I bake. I enjoy baking and baked goods. My scale tells me I should lay off on the baked goods. But baked is better than fried, right?
My first solo baking job was chocolate cupcakes. I was very proud of them, but man, were they wierd. And hey, why were those eggs sitting on the counter? What did I get those out fo-- oh. Well, I'll just frost them and no one will know. Hmmm...buttercream frosting--well, I have butter, and I have sugar, and--what do they mean confectioner's sugar? Sugar is sugar, man.
Yeah. Kinda gritty.
I think I was ten? Can you say latchkey kid?
My girlfriend in high school had a very controlling Korean mother, and Lena was never allowed in the kitchen. When her parents went away for the weekend, Lena's big rebellion was that she was going to bake a batch of cookies. She decided on snickerdoodles, and was fine until she got to the cream of tartaar. She couldn't find anything that said cream of tartar, but she did find something creamy that SAID tartar. Tartar Sauce. ack.
*Can I say that my typos almost make them BETTER posts, but I don't want you guys to think I spell that badly!
Why? Because Mert has joined les grand Dorks.
Okay, this is not an actual photo of Mert, but I couldn't resist it.
Mert is the kind of Dork that KNOWS things. Dark, arcane things like CODE and java stuff, and yeah, that other stuff that CRSE and I sort of mumble and look away when people blog about.
If you are feeling blue that you weren't invited, BREATHE! (ha ha)
Then drop us an Email at the Gmail. That's what it's for, baby!
Mount Dorkus?
Dorkadia?
I dunno, but I think the Slack is there with Conan.
Why do I think that Casual Slack belongs in our Dork Pantheon of Gods?
Because people send her sites like THIS.
Ok Ive kind of dropped the ball on this because i dont have a decent photoshop program. I was feeling a bit guilty? Until i ran across Our own dork jill here. This is beyond description. Just go there and thank me later.
It was my first grown-up having another couple over for dinner type evening. I had tons of fresh spinach, and decided to make a cream of spinach soup as the first course. The time to puree the hot spinach came, and it went flawlessly, but it was a little runny--I decided I'd use my mom's gravy trick, and thicken it up with a little flour. I knew that the best way to get the lumps out was to shake up a little of your hot stuff with the flour in a tupperware container.
Hmmm, shake shake shake.
fwomp!
The molten hot green puree, mixed with the self-rising flour, had exploded all over me and my formerly clean kitchen. It was one of those Lucy moments. You know the ones, where you take your glasses off and have two white spots in the green face, and just stare at the green dripping from the light fixture. sigh. We went out to mexican.
Have a suggestion for a dorksignal? Something to lure rescue unsuspecting Dorks doing hapless google searches?
Email it to us at Dorkbloggers@gmail.com!
1) Forcing other people into guessing games, regardless of whether or not you are the guesser. As annoying as it is to the other person? Its so worth the challenge!
2) Scripting to movies. Autistic kids do it and we give them treatment plans. We do it? And we consider ourselves entertaining as hell! Give yourself an extra point if you script Sci-fi movies.
3) Sharpening pencils. Sure we all have our preferences, manual, electric etc. But show me one dork out there that does not secretly LOVE the experience of sharpening that pencil. It makes a person feel VIRILE.
4) Playing video games on your cell-phone. Surprisingly, I did not realize this pleasure was dork related. I had to be told. Well mocked.
5) Peeling the apple without breaking the skin. I know that is sooo sleepless in seattle but still, like the pencil sharpeners, I defy any dork who peels to tell me that they dont feel a slight sense of challenge when starting that apple. I have ZERO hand eye coordination and I still feel that inner stir...
6) Having the remote control for the television in a room full of people and savoring the power. This can also be extended to changing the thermostat or air conditioner surreptitiously...
7) Waiting for the mail carrier just in case they are delivering something delightful for you. Even though you are 36 years old and all indications point to another box full of collection notices and bills....
8) Choosing the cell phone ring. Ask yourself? are you the dork that has to play every single ring when you get a new cell phone? Just finding that right one that appeals to your senses but does not communicate "im a loser". (tell me im not the only dork that does this)
9) Pippajo's Harry Potter Countdown Header I LOVE you Pippa! You are class dork baby!
10) Opening a new product. Does everything in the world not seem fresher when you rip open a new box of long coveted cereal?
11) Being more excited about kid's toys at Christmas than the kids who get them. Especially if you try to hog the toy from the kid.
12) New small appliances. Picking them out. Purchasing them. Engaging the cashier in clearly unwelcome dialogue about your excitement. Trying out the product for the first time....
13) I cant even believe I came up with 12! I call my dorks out for number 13
1. I think it was our second valentine's day together that my husband mistook "dont get me anything" for "im not even gonna make you a crappy card on a napkin". Needless to say a fight ensued. The next day he got me a card that said "my heart is with you, on easter...and always".
2. This little gem just came back to me: years ago sitting at a kitchen table with a not mentioned by name fellow dorkblogger (hehehe) sorting through candy hearts so she only had suggestive and hot ones to give out at the bar later.
Come on people, dorky valentine moments?
Quick call out for subjects for the tt! If not i have a back up idea no worries! (thirteen dorky reasons I never got my crap together this week!) In the meantime, stay tuned for a few dorky valentine memories.....
