Re-gifting Etiquette

Dear Mr Miller,

My husband thinks it would be okay to re-gift an item we received from my great-aunt Ruth.  I, on the other-hand, feel it would be improper and cause some alarm to the recipient of the gift.  Could you please settle this argument for us?

PS, if it’s not too much trouble, I would like a reply before Christmas…

Thank you,

Mrs Mary Giver.


Okay, first of all, let me go on record and say that I am shocked that you would actually ask if it’s considered okay to re-gift… Continue reading

The Disappearing Art Of Lame Jokes

You may not realize it, but Lame Jokes and their “Tellers”, are disappearing at an alarming rate… My first impulse is to suggest filtering some of our government’s vast supply of surplus money to the full investigation of this problem. (See what I did there?) This could possibly be classified as a lame joke. Lets check the criteria to see if all the characteristics of a lame joke  are present: “First of all, is it lame?” That was pretty easy to answer: “Yes it is.” So now –  is it short enough to eliminate the need for the hearer to have a clear grasp of reality, or an elastic attention span? Answer: Continue reading

The Squeaky Wheel

Have you ever felt like every single time you get a cart at a store it is the one that has a bad squeak?  Or maybe it has a severe flat spot on one of the wheels and it goes “bumpbumpbumpbumpbump” as you wander throughout the store.  I have on occasion, found a cart that did not show any of the usual negative tendencies and gotten it half filled before it started protesting with a shrill whine and a propensity to veer off to the right.  It was not unlike trying to break a wild pony.  (Not that I have ever attempted this in any way, outside of my imagination).  It had a mind of its own and obviously it had no intention of giving up without a fight.  I would wrestle it past other shoppers who were looking on Continue reading

“Don’t touch my knob!”

So, have you ever wondered what really goes on at an ISP headquarters?  I have, because I am currently experiencing some issues with my connection, and I am happy to inform you that I have spent some time looking into this matter and can now divulge the fruits of my labors.  If you remember correctly, my research consists mainly of grabbing a good cup of coffee, and finding a spot I can sit and stare off into spacelet my imagination run wild do some very intense research. After many hours of such strenuous activities, I have, over the years, come up with a multitude of solutions for many problems.  (Unfortunately for me, they never seem to be my own problems and when I try to share the vast wealth of knowledge to those I think could benefit, most of them are uninterested at best, downright mean at worst.)  Anyway, we are heading way off topic so lets regroup and get back to the issue at hand:  ISP misconduct.

ISP is usually accepted as the acronym for Internet Service Provider but I put forth the suggestion that it actually signifies: Internet Supply Prevention.  I do not come to this conclusion lightly, it has not yet been a year since I was in love with, and hailed the greatness of my personal ISP but over time, my affection has cooled somewhat. Here is my theory of how they work and what actually goes on behind the scenes. Continue reading


I glance over my shoulder and can just make out my base camp in the gloom.  I gauge the distance I have come and compare it with the distance to my objective.  Almost halfway.  I had started out on foot when I had left but after some time deduced that with the strong headwind I should try to minimize my profile.  I went down to all fours and continued this way for a while.  I then further deduced that if dropping to my hands and knees had helped even a little then moving forward on my stomach would cut out even more resistance.  I pictured the maneuver as is seen in some kids cartoons where one is suspended between ones toes and fingertips, and can scurry about with quite some agility.  In reality however, it was more of a digging in of the toes and simultaneously  pushing back and down with my hands hobbling forward inch by inch. I’m sure that visually  it was not unlike a full bodied bull elephant seal lumbering along a rocky beach with some urgency.   

I look back again at the warm comfort of my starting point (my bed) and then again locate my objective (stool).  I decide to take a break. As I am laying half in and half out of the bathroom, I realize that when one is sick the surrounding noises and actions are amplified to an amazing level.  For instance, I can hear that my wife has issued child-sized but giant-volumed bullhorns to the kids.  This is a shock to me because we have recently discussed the volume level of our children and unanimously decided that they were quite loud enough with just their God given voices.  

As I lay there with my ear pressed firmly to the cold bathroom tile, I notice a small spider banging aimlessly along.  The poor little fellow seems to have become detached from his family (a traveling group of cloggers) but they soon find him and scurry off, the sounds of clogged spider feet finally dying down in the distance.    

As if on cue the tiny guy who has been remodeling the inside of my skull all morning comes off his lunch break.  It is immediately apparent to me that he has forgone his rock hammer and pickax from this morning and has upgraded to a 250 pound jackhammer.  If I’m not mistaken, he has even invited a few of his buddies over to help him.  I guess the positive side is that maybe they will finish quicker?…

Rest time is over, I need to take action.  With one last look at my original goal, I half crawl half roll back to the safety and warmth of my bed.  Hopefully someway, somehow, I can survive until tomorrow.

Just Wondering…

The kids are watching a movie, my wife has retired to our bedroom with complaints of a migraine (possibly brought on by the aforementioned kids), and I am left sitting alone in the living room on my favorite chair to contemplate some of life’s greatest and most elusive questions.  As I consider some of these questions, a few keep resurfacing to the top and I can’t seem to get a conclusive answer from my vast and thorough research.  (This research consists mainly of me staring slack jawed at the ceiling for long periods of time.)  

So, what are these questions? Well here is one: why do cola companies insist on sticking with the round soda can even though I’m sure they have noticed that 98% of the coolers and refrigerators on the market are square or rectangle?  Do young mosquitoes know that they come from a long line of hated, disease-carrying, good-for-nothing, blood suckers?  Then of course there is the age-old debate that has been provoking many to strong argument and even a few, under the right circumstances, to an all-out fight.  This dispute has been around since that fateful day long ago when Daniel Charmin forgot to bring a “wipe” with him on a visit to the outhouse, and was consequently forced to use one of the corn cobs that was so thoughtfully provided by the outhouse owner.  He immediately saw the need and market for a soft, disposable wipe.  He contacted his good friend David Scott and they started a company to produce and sell toilet paper.  The first few trial runs were very course and brittle. Daniel felt that in texture, they were not unlike the corn cob that had inspired this whole thing. (Note: some of these early rolls are still around today and can usually be found in use in many public restrooms.)  Before they could strike it rich off their new venture, the friends had a falling out and parted company on less than great terms.  Charmin went on to perfect his idea and still has a healthy business to this day.  Scott on the other hand took the original TP recipe and developed a very effective and useful product we know today as wax paper.  What was the argument that drove these two friends apart?  Only one of the most controversial issues of the modern world, the same one that has plagued me for the last 10 minutes: should TP be placed on the holder in an “over” or “under” orientation?