Fragmented Friday - Cinna-Man and Lavender Limp

The strangest thing happened the other day; several of my co-workers were bemoaning how horrible their allergies had been recently, how they were in constant discomfort, how it was worse than usual . . . and I was unable to join in on their complaining because I have had no problems whatsoever. Thank you, magical saline nasal rinse! Even if I do still have spurts of water come flying out of my nose at random time, it's still better than non-stop sinus headaches.

The other night a few of the guys went to Texas Roadhouse because Li'l Random hadn't been around the week before to celebrate Cap'n Shack-Fu's b-day, and wanted to take him out to dinner. When our waitress came by for the first round of refills, she looked at me and said "Dr. Pepper, right?" Groaning inside at the barrage I knew was about to come from the rest of my table, I very forcefully decried, "No, Coke!" mere instants before the others began cajoling her into giving me the dreaded drink. When she came back, she said "Okay, here's you Dr. Pepper," with a great big grin. Li'l Random tried to talk her into putting just a little dollop of DP in the next time she refilled it. Instead she came back with two glasses, put them behind her back, and said "Pick a hand." Li'l Random started chanting "Pick the right, it's always the right, pick the right!" Of course, knowing that the left hand is the sinister hand and could therefore hold nothing other than that vile concoction known as Dr. Pepper, I had already decided to pick the right hand; when I did so, the waitress cried out "Dang it!" and then handed over the Coke, leaving the Dr. Pepper for Shack-Fu

I'm trying really hard not to get my hopes up for Iron Man, but with all the rave reviews its getting from critics of both the geek and non-geek variety, it's getting hard to keep my expectations realistic.

During the meal at Texas Roadhouse, Shack-Fu commented that their cinnabutter wasn't as good as usual. "Too much butter, not enough cinna?" I asked, and he agreed, and as we continued the conversation about his desire for more cinna, Li'l Random lived up to his name and proclaimed "From now on, we'll call you Cinna, and I'll be Lavender." No, I don't know where he came up with that and, yes, at times I do worry about the long-term effects of sharing a brain with someone as unique as The Randomator. Anyway, while we were leaving, Li'l Random accidentally stepped in a hole and, rather, than twist his ankle, just let himself fall to the ground in a heap. "I just went limp!" he said, to which I replied "Lavender limp?"

It dawned on me a few days ago that this month marks the 15th anniversary of my high school graduation. That's just an odd thought; high school somehow feels like it was even longer ago than that in some ways, but then I stop to think about how that means I've known most of the Parkerites for almost that long, and then I can't believe how quickly time has flown.

The May picture on my Futurama wall calender is a parody of the poster for Pulp Fiction labeled Plump Friction, replacing Uma Thurman with Zapp Brannigan, which wouldn't be too bad, except Zapp is au naturel except for his boots, which has forced me to cover up the drawing of his naked behind with one of the many monkey pictures adorning my cubicle walls lest the disturbing sight be burned into my retinas. Not that a monkey-covered butt is much less disturbing, mind you, but it gets me through the day.