Gustav Is Causing Mass Hysteria...In Reverse

Man, it's Katrina all over again, only this time in reverse. Sort of. Instead of mass hysteria occurring after the storm, we're experiencing it right now. Before the storm even hits. Everyone is already so stressed out over the possibility (probability) of the Katrina situation repeating itself with Gustav, they're running around from store to store, eyes glazed over, pained expressions on their faces, talking to themselves.

We had one nice distraction today, though. Our National Champion LSU Tigers opened the football season by lowering the boom on poor ol' Appalachian State. What a great time we had getting severely sunburned and flirting with heat stroke while screaming ourselves hoarse. Unfortunately, the game finally ended, the crowds dissolved, and we all settled back into reality. The reality of Gustav.

Reality in Baton Rouge: Every gas station is packed, all hours of the day and night, five and six cars deep per pump. Want regular unleaded? Sorry; all that's left is mid-grade and super. Want a loaf of bread? Tough; no bread anywhere. Want some D batteries for your flashlight? Too bad; they're all gone. How 'bout some propane so you can at least grill some burgers after the electricity goes out? Not a chance; no propane anywhere in the city.

The one item that seems to be in plentiful supply is bottled water. Our neighborhood Target had dozens and dozens of pallets of bottled water seemingly scattered randomly throughout the store. I now have over 100 bottles of water chilling in my refrigerator. Just in case, right?

Anyway, if you are reading this from somewhere outside the "Cone of Uncertainty", please pray for us here in Louisiana as we prepare to go through this hurricane thing. Again.

See you guys on the other side of Gustav...

Mumbles Is Going to the Doctor...

Um... I'm not sure how I should begin. But, I suppose it's best to just start at the beginning and unload it all.

I was at my desk, working away like the little drone I am, when Mumbles came into my office, walked right up next to me, and informed me that he was about to leave to go to the doctor's office. Big deal, right? That's all my boss needs to tell me, right?

Wrong.

Mumbles then begins to describe what, exactly, he is going to the doctor for. In Mumbles' primitive dialect, it came out sounding like, "Ahma gun git er test whirthuh puttuh hose enmuh penis in runnit allthuhwaytuhmuh colon..."

Translation: "I'm going to have my colon examined and the doctor will run a tube from my penis to my colon." Blech... Why, God? Why? Why did he have to tell me that? And why did he have to graphically gesture with his hands while he was telling me?!?!?

After he was through talking, I lowered my head and said, "Too much information...", to which he chuckled and replied, "Ahma gone take a shire..."

Translation: "I'm going to take a shower." Again, blech!!

I was just about to eat lunch, too...

Escape from The Mall of America...

Okay, so I had to spend a week in Minneapolis for work. The flight up to Minnesota wasn't bad except for missing my connection in Dallas. I got over all of the running, sweating and breathing hard...for nothing. Having the extra time at the airport was actually nice. I got to have an expensive, disgusting lunch at the airport TGI Friday's. The beer was good, though... *reminiscing*

Anyway, the week in Minneapolis was pleasant, especially the weather! High temps in the mid-70's and low temps in the low 60's was a great alternative to the steamy upper 90's here in south Louisiana. The food was...uh...well, it wasn't horrible.

What was horrible was the Mall of America. What a torture pit! I got lost so fast in that place it made my head spin. It's like a roach motel for tourists; you check in, but you never check out! How could I, a self-respecting grown man, get lost in a frigging mall, you ask?

Well, aside from the sheer immensity of the place, there are multiple locations for just about every major store. So you may pass two locations of the same store, causing you to think you've passed the same place twice, which causes you to think you need to change directions, which causes you to wander even deeper into the seemingly endless maze of retail hell that is the Mall of America.

By the time I finally escaped, my feet were somewhere between on fire and numb, my back and shoulders were killing me, and I had a migraine.

But, hey, I guess that's what being a 21st-Century American is all about, right? Shop 'til you die. But I didn't go into the place looking to "shop". I don't know any guys who do that. I just wanted to see it, but the Mall had another plan, and that plan was to trap me, spin me around in circles until I was dazed and confused, and not let me go until I bought something.

Guys, if you're ever in Minneapolis, don't- I repeat, do not- let a woman trick you into going to the Mall of America. If you do find yourself there, just head for the amusement park in the center, wait for her, and whatever you do, don't move!

Hyena?!?!?

So, you're likely familiar with my boss, Mumbles, by now. I've already put up one post listing some of his mispronunciations of words that...well, aren't that difficult to pronounce. So, since that point, I've tried to be extra attentive to what he says because his syntax is so bad it's all too easy to make an incorrect assumption.

For example, he might be saying, "I've tried to explain it to that guy before", but it sounds as if he's saying, "Fly tide is painful if you're a gay whore."

So I've learned to listen extra hard when he's speaking since his poor syntax makes it hard to determine if he's really mispronouncing a word or if you just can't understand what the bloody hell he's saying.

Well...this afternoon he schleps into my office, sits down at the unoccupied desk next to me, crosses his legs, folds his Popeye arms behind his head and begins to tell me about his wife's health scare the week before.

The doctors can't seem to figure out what's wrong with her. Her symptoms are severe chest pains, shortness of breath and heartburn. Sounds like a heart attack, right? Wrong. The doctors have ruled that out.

Then Mumbles uttered the one sentence that motivated me to write this blog today. He said, "I think it might be a hyena."

What?!?!? The?!?!?!? Frick?!?!?!?

And, before I could say, "What the frick", my brain translated the word from Mumblesese to English: Hyena = Hernia. Hernia!

Then came the almost uncontrollable urge to guffaw in his face. Luckily, I had to pee, so I jumped up out of my chair and ran to the bathroom laughing.

I can't believe it. Mumbles' wife has a hyena...