Friday, November 9, 2007

Marketing Snafu

Yahoo! made the mistake of sending me this cute button that says "Yahhooooo" when you press it.  It wasn't really a marketing snafu until I noticed the programming header on the bottom of the button...




Friends, fellow mourners, today we bid a final adieu to Lawnmower.  Lawnmower was proud of the work that it did, performing for the past 12 years with only a single oil change.  Last season was nearly Lawnmower's last, however it was able to faithfully groom our estate this Summer as well...despite the grass protruding from the cracks around the top of the deck.  The final undoing of Lawnmower was not complete deck failure, as we thought it might be.  It was not an engine seizure.  The final failure was in the mounts for the fuel tank.  While we considered repairing it, there still remains the worrisome threat of complete deck failure.

Lawnmower, we wish you well, trimming the gated community in the sky.

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Wednesday, November 7, 2007

Naughty Boy

This morning, I was a rebel.  A punk rocker.  Like other punk rockers, driving to work in their Cadillacs, listening to their punk rock on premium satellite radio, commuting to their desk jobs, wearing slacks and sweaters, I was a punk. 

The only problem was that I didn't feel very punk.  In order to really be a punk one must be angry, one must be a rebel.  The I was hit with a stroke of genius!  Thanks to the politically correct age we live in, I had the perfect way to express my rebelliousness!  I would throw off my shackles of fuel economy!  When the next stop light turned green, I let my accelerator foot sink all the way to floor.

The car was stunned.  It paused in disbelief.  It probably wondered if I had completely lost my composure.  I had.  After reflecting on the oddity of the moment for a few seconds, the car roared into compliance.  Well, it roared as much as a twelve year old family sedan can roar.

As we accelerated, I stared in disbelief at the fuel gauge.  It was mobile!  My wallet started to ache in my back pocket.  All too soon, I reached the speed limit of 35 miles per hour and let my foot slacken.  No use in getting a speeding ticket.  I'm not that punk.