Tuesday, October 17, 2006

W*rk. The Ultimate 4-letter Word.

I received some very disturbing news today. I was at work, just preparing to leave for the day, when FooDaddy came in for his shift. On time. Early, in fact. I was stunned, to say the least, but assumed this startling occurence was due to a faulty clock or some other innocuous explanation. It was not to be so.

"I've decided to become a productive member of society," FooDaddy announced, exhibiting an air of determination and mild grief.

"Well, then," I said, appalled, "this may be a good time to inform you that I can no longer be your friend."

He brightened. "Really? It would be that easy?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so. Your being productive would put me under a great deal of pressure."

I don't think he took my threat to de-friend him very seriously, though, because his mood was growing merrier by the moment. I tried to impress upon him the gravity of the situation by repeating my ultimatum.

"If you insist on becoming productive, we shall have to part ways. I have principles! A reputation!"

He responded by leaping into the air and clicking his heels together (not easy in sneakers), and then began working with an assiduousness that caused my already lethargic energy level to go AWOL. For those of you who lack a military background, AWOL stands for Absent Without Lemurs, a particularly serious offense on the battlefield where lemurs could make all the difference. (They're whizzes at operating heavy machinery.)

Since FooDaddy was obviously too interested in clowning around to understand the seriousness of the issue at hand, I decided his threat to become a productive human being must be only a witticism, meant to amuse and entertain. Ha! What a nut.


Stupid Woman Driver said...

He isnt the brightest, is he? O well, at least he's entertainment for the simple-minded. My advice: next time he does that throw saltines at him then skamper away in a "Richard Simmons" fashion. This will confuse him throughly and be quite amusing to you.

Jack W. Regan said...

That sounds good in theory, Giggles, but the last time I tried it, he simply said,

"Ooooh! Saltines!" and then proceeded to eat them with crumbly gusto, leaving me short a pack of saltines and self-respect.

I'm thinking the next he makes mention of becoming respectable, I may have to resort to a mild form of shock therapy. Heck, I'll just have him fired. I could do that, you know! Well, okay...maybe not.

Paul FooDaddy Brand said...

I have NEVER Simmons-ed in my life. Okay, maybe that one time when I got really happy about getting some ice cream, but that only lasted a few minutes, and I was severely punished by The Dad for it.

Jack W. Regan said...

I don't know, FooPappy, remember the time you were taking the florescent lights out to the trash and I was backing my car at the same time? I recall your maneuvers as being quite similar to a skamper.

Jack W. Regan said...

Let us not be smug, Peekle Wahsel. I have also seen YOU skamper hither and thither. Remember the time your shorts became suddenly too tight and you had to skamper into the garage in order to release some key short hairs? Now that was a skamper.

Anonymous said...

I just wanted to let Stupey B. know that I'm assigning Food-Addy some SJ Perelman just so he can appreciate some of the finer moments of the last two posts. I especially liked the little football (where do they come from? bigger, hairier, feral footballs, that's where) and the idea of lemurs as instruments of antifascism. Recently declassified documents reveal that the rare aye-aye is particularly adept at spotting persons who are about to become fascists, which has led to their endangered status and accusations of treason and ugliness by the extreme right-wing press.

Paul FooDaddy Brand said...

Oh, whoops. I misinterpreted the skamperage. Yes. If one is to perform a skamper in front of me, I'd go nuts. Probably fall down and mutter and everything. This makes me easy to rob.

Not that this should give any of you unscrupulites ideas.

I'm lookin' at you, Pweasel. If it's not Satan worship, then it's robbin' da orphans or punching the elderly. Shame on y'self.

Jack W. Regan said...

Look, Pookle Wisle! You DID skamper and don't try to deny it! It was at the parsonage on Bristol Ave. and we had just come home from church. Naturally, you and I had been the first to flee and were the only ones there at the moment. Suddenly, you got a strained and startled look on your face and SKAMPERED out to the adjoining garage to relieve the suffering by adjusting your briefs.

Do you not remember this? I most certainly do, because it was quite memorable. That, and the fact that I happen to be a genius at remembering the foibles of others so that I may whip them out at highly inappropriate moments during high-brow social occasions.

Jack W. Regan said...

For some inexplicable reason, that reminds of Pat McManus. I won't quote the entire story here, but Pat was saying that his family was so poor that when the Great Depression struck, it was an improvement on their standard of living. I remember his grandmother saying,

"Let the good times roll!"

I guess it ties in with the Vegas theme.

Stupid Woman Driver said...

all this man-skampering talk and all the images in my mind is making me exercise my up-chuck reflexes. the thought of foo in spandex is enough to give anyone a permanent twitch.

Jack W. Regan said...

I think Satan may be afraid of The Girlfriend, Weekee Pokee. If you're not careful, I will have you sedated and flown out here. And if that isn't bad enough, I will allow The Girlfriend to have free reign with her cosmetic skills and when you awake, you will bear a striking resemblance to Cher. Moohahahaaaaaa.

Besides, I found her profile to be refreshing. Why am I sticking up for her since I've never met her? Well, first off, last I knew, she is Foo's (or Foo is her's--not sure how that relationship works.) Secondly, she said I deserved cake. And I do. I think I'll go have some.

Paul FooDaddy Brand said...

...the thought of Foo in Spandex...

Oh, come on. That's a blatant double-standard. You girls can wear jeans so tight that you can read the mint dates on coins you have in your pockets, but as soon as I want to deck myself out in the latest fagwear, I cause twitches.

Fine. I shall no longer shake it for you, The Girlfriend. It shall remain sedentary.

Jack W. Regan said...

Whoa! Smack-talkin' The Girlfriend. This is gonna get ugly, folks.

Jack W. Regan said...

"Having the light," "the shining path," "well below the knees at all times." Hee. These would be funnier, but it's still too scary.