Dodo Eggs

 ”Let’s see…”  Miss Nomar shuffles through her satchel as she approaches the Dead Rich Guy Memorial Community Center.  She pushes through two sets of filmy glass doors.  The entrance of the DRGMCC is a wide open atrium.  Colorful tiles on the floor and motivational posters line the walls.  In the distance Miss Nomar can hear the short, rapid squeaks of basketball shoes on hardwood.  Sweat scents the air alongside the pungent aroma of wholesale disinfectant. 

 The journalist pulls out a crumbled sheet of fax paper.  “Ok, I’m looking for Denis Holder – world famous for his bad ideas and creator of the original suggestion box.” 

 Miss Nomar steps to the wide check-in counter.  An older man, obviously bald except for a ridiculous looking comb-over, greets her with a friendly smile.  He wears a turtleneck shirt under his sweater vest.  “May I help you miss?”

 “Yes, I’m looking for Denis Holder.  He’s supposed to be the world famous developer of the suggestion box.  Does he still work here?”

 Still smiling the man responds.  “Why yes he does!  I’m Denis Holder.”

 “That’s odd.”  Miss Nomar replies.  “I thought this is just where you wanted to meet.  You work here?  You invented the suggestion box!  Shouldn’t you be rich or famous?”
  
 ”Well, I’ve been working for the parks and rec department here in Potsville for almost 45 years!  Does that count?”

   “Parks and Rec?”  Miss Nomar sounded a bit surprised.  “You’ve worked at a low end city job your entire life?  I’m sorry.  I had the wrong idea, maybe we should just skip the interview.”

 ”But I am smart!  And there are many good reasons to interview me!  Listen, have you ever heard of a city disappearing?  Working for the Parks & Rec department is what I like to call job security.  I may not make any money but it’s not like I’m trying to buy a house or something like that.  I just want enough money to buy an RV and then it’s PERMENANT VACATION TIME!!”

 ”You’ve worked your entire life just to buy an RV?”

 ”And Pop Tarts – the generic kind.  They’re cheap and make a great breakfast, lunch, or dinner…or all three!!  I’ve got all kinds of great ideas just like that one!”  He gestures to a common area with tables and chairs.  “Why don’t we go over there and I’ll tell you all about my greatest idea…the suggestion box.”

 Miss Nomar dryly responds, “You set this interview up….didn’t you?” 

 “Another great idea!”  Denis Holder steps around the wide counter and strolls to the nearest table with Miss Nomar closely following.  The journalist sits down first before pulling out a memo pad and pencil. “Fine then….Mr Holder what was your inspiration for the infamous suggestion box.”

 He sits.  “It all stems back to my family’s history of incredibly poor judgment.  Take my name for example.  My father thought it would be a good idea to cut out one of the Ns in Dennis so that I’d have an easier time writing my name.  Well, when you write Denis and add a little tale to bottom of the D you’ve got penis.  I went through elementary and middle school known as Penis Holder.  Ha!  It’s funny now that I stop to think about it!
 
 ”Anyway, since I never seem to be able to make the right decision so I decided to borrow them from others.  One day, I made a plywood box, painted it a subtle lavender, and hung it outside the a place I knew everyone went…the restrooms.”

 Miss Nomar took on a bit of enthusiasm. “Well, that was a good idea!  After all, suggestion boxes have found their way just about everywhere nowadays.  What kind of suggestions did you get.”

 ”Oh, mainly a lot of stuff like, ‘Take down this stupid box!’  and ‘Here’s a suggestion….GET BENT!’  not really sure what that one meant.  Once I sorted through all the trash, I found a good idea from time to time.  But my favorite was a tattoo recommendation that I’ll never forget.”

 Miss Nomar’s brow went sideways.  “A suggestion for a tattoo?  That’s the best you got?”

 “Of course, anyone with a truly good idea usually takes credit for it.  Anyway, it had to do with getting  neck tattoos.  It really made sense.  With a tattoo on your neck, people can enjoy it even though you have to wear a shirt and pants in most places!  I thought it was genius.”

 Mr. Holder pulled down his turtleneck to reveal an ugly rainbow of distorted colors that ended in column of clouds just under each ear.  “I got this years ago before rainbows were adopted to mean….well…something else.  Why did they have to take all the colors!  That seems a bit greedy to me!”

 ”Mr. Holder, that looks awful!”  Miss Nomar was grimacing now.  “What makes you think yellow, orange, and the other colors would look right as a tattoo?”

 ”Why wouldn’t they?”  He replied.  “I’m supposed to be white, right?”

 Miss Nomar scribbled something on her notepad then tore it free.  Then she slid her notepad back into her satchel and stood.  “I’ve wasted enough time.  Mr. Holder, could you please point me to the suggestion box.   I’ve got directions on ‘getting bent’ that might come in useful.”

DodoEggs.com proudly announces the recall of its revolutionary, and popular baby monitor – The Ga-Ga Gabber!  Using space age materials, the Ga-Ga Gabber translates an infants cooing and crying into plainly understandable speech or English!  However, a translational “glitch” has raised the concern of  many caregivers and requires DodoEggs.com to publicize a recall. 

The Ga-Ga Gabber’s development team, a mix of intoxicated MIT drop-outs, engineered a product which computes the baby’s words AND calculates implied feelings as well.  The problem arises with a much too literal translational algorithm.  We at DodoEggs.com regret any embarrassing circumstances our product may have caused. 

All of our customers complaints have been throughly investigated and reviewed.  We now present a few of our favorites…

From Sally in Fort Smut, Ohio:  “I’m a nursing mother who had a friend over for lunch one day.  My twelve month old boy wanders over to her, grabs her knee, and coos.  We both thought it was adorable until the Ga-Ga Gabber blurts out, ‘Wow lady!  You’ve got a great rack!’  I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life!  How can you produce such a product!!!”

From Rachel in Travesty City, Utah:  “My infant girl was upstairs taking a nap.  She woke up and began goo-goo-gaaing with her teddy bear.  All of the sudden, there’s static and I hear my sweet Jessica mumbling, ‘Mr. Fuzz Butt, can you believe how tacky my outfit is!  My shirt says PRINCESS with a unicorn underneath.  Dang, is my mother colorblind!?”
 
Finally, here’s Joline from Busterville:  “I was fixing supper one night and trying to take care of my other two kids when my little Maxwell woke from his nap.  He must have had a poo poo diaper becasue suddenly I hear over the monitor, ‘Hey!!  How about a little help here!!  I’ve got a diaper full of crap here!!! I don’t see anyone else sitting in this stuff!!!”

We at DodoEggs.com apologize for any problems this “glitch” may have caused.  Please return your Go-Go Gabber to any DodoEggs.com office branch…conviently located in the Geographical Center of the Internet.

 I’m on the phone with my wife.  We start our conversation with recent developments, what the kids have broken lately, and conclude with a rundown on the dumb things our relatives are doing.  As the call winds down, I’m hoping to reach the obligatory “I love you” without any errands. 

This time – there’s no such luck.   “Matt, could you stop by the store on your way home and pick up…”

 What follows is never anything useful.  It’s never ice cream, a new football, potato chips, or ice cream.  It’s alway the worst stuff possible…if God wanted me to purchase feminine products, he would have made me a woman! It’s either that or diapers NIETHER OF WHICH improve my social status.  Making matters worse are the details you need to know in order to select the correct feminine product.  Finding the right one takes some time and concentration.  I look like I’m standing in front of the library’s reference section trying to find a banana.

 So here’s the story…I’m sitting in the aquatics office with a few of the other lifeguards.  I call Melissa and we quickly roll through developments, children, and relatives before she begins, “I need you to stop at the store and pick a couple things up.  I need a turkey baster and a hula hoop.”

 “What!?”  I protest.  I’m going to be home late as it is.  “You need a hula hoop and a turkey baster tonight?!”

 Both of the other guards lift their heads.  I can read the sly grins on their faces right away.  “Alright,”  I say into the phone.  “I’ll pick them up.  I love you…bye.”

 Immediately, Ashley pipes in, “Wow Mr. T!  What ARE you and Mrs. T doing tonight?”

 “Basting birds while hula hooping.  What does it sound like?”

 Things took a frustrating turn at Wal-Mart.  All of the hula hoops were pretty colors like hot pink, fuchsia, or neon pink. (By the way, there’s no good way to hide the fact you’re carrying a pink hula hoop – under the arm, between the legs, nothing works.)  The self-checkout was the only thing open so I stepped in behind a Latino couple.  When I reached the screen, I expected an option to switch back to English- I didn’t get one.

 “No problemo.”  I mumble.  “It’s not like I can’t figure it out.”

 What I couldn’t figure out was how to scan a hula hoop on a flat scanner.  The attendant had to come over and type in the UPC code quatro times for it to go in.  When she finished, she handed me the toy and walked off but my problems weren’t solved.  I wound up on a screen that offered me one option  which, of course, took me no where.  (I’m not positive but I think the machine was using some vulgar Spanish – just a hunch.)  The attendant eventually returned and the pink hula hoop and I made our way to the door.

 As I passed the greeter, he reached out and took my arm.  I’m guessing he’d watched my whole ordeal and wanted a parting shot.  “Hey son, how about a demonstration?”

  Addendum:  The hula hoop Melissa wanted for a little exercise / the baster was to take cream off the top of the raw milk we get every week.

 Bedtime…Saul’s feet seem to drag across the floor.  It isn’t because he’s tired.  He doesn’t want to go to bed.  When your primary preoccupation is play, why expedite the process?  Every kid seems programmed to think that bedtime is some sort of punishment. 

 “We are all going to bed.”  I swear to him.  “No one is going to have ANY fun while you’re stuck in that soft, warm, blanket clad prison up there.”

 I’m lying of course, when the small children finally go to bed is when parents of these intensive little projects can finally enjoy themselves but he doesn’t need to know that.  About five minutes in and he’s usually asleep.

 Let’s back up…Bedtime…After brushing Saul’s teeth and changing him into his pajamas I take a seat in the living room chair and tell him to put his toys back into his box.  Saul picks up the nearest toy and dinks around with it.  I watch as he sloooooowly makes his way to toward putting it away.  He’s in no rush because he knows dad has patience to spare. 

 Melissa is sitting at the table plinking away at the computer.  A timer goes off in her head and she stands up.  Saul’s eyes widen they connect with Melissa’s glare.  Suddenly he moves as if someone lit a firecracker under his rear.  My wife begins walking toward the kitchen and Saul almost leaps out of her way (think Indiana Jones and the massive stone ball). 

 I can’t help myself – I laugh out loud.  Saul knew he was playing the stall game and with a simple look – Melissa ended it.  To see my little boy suddenly and hurriedly switch from reverse to fourth gear was the highlight of my day.  It was perfect theater.

 Melissa hears me laugh and stops.  “You see that’s how you get a little one to do what he’s told.  He knows I’m on to him.  It’s classic good cop / bad cop.”

 “No,” I reply.  “If you remember, there was a day last month when I was stuck with Saul the whole time.  And yes, by bedtime, I was the bad cop.  What you’re seeing here is the difference between someone who’s been dealing with little boy games all day and someone who’s been at work and is just enjoying spending time with the little man.”

Then I added, “I knew he was playing the stall game.  When I’m done playing, he will be too.  I’m just more interested in spending time with him than I am being a parent.  It’s called the grandparent syndrome.”

Melissa shakes her head, “Matt, my dear, you’re not a grandparent.”

According to the Centers for Disease Control, nearly a billion American college students become sick each year. Sudden bouts of sickness seem especially common among those enrolled in Speech 101. Studies have found an amazing correlation between high absenteeism for assigned speeches and Collegiate Hypersensitive Identity Konditionary Numbness  or CHIKN.

College professors have been uncharacteristically callous to those dealing with CHIKN. They have successfully kept Collegiate Hypersensitive Identity Konditionary Numbness out of any mental illness journal including the authoritative MAD magazine. Some Speech 101 instructors have been so unreasonable in their expectations they have begun employing their most severe punishment, a C-.

This harsh indifference comes as a surprise to most college freshmen. Many struggle with the idea of speaking coherently and staying on topic. “Yea, I was totally surprised.” says Mark Drippy, student at Disloyal University. “I mean, I’ve probably plagiarized like a dozen papers, I mean, that’s what the Internet is for right?”

Even graduate students found discussing CHIKN difficult. Matt Teply of Nashville choked up a bit when asked about his bout with CHIKN. “Well, my wife fixes it all the time but she’s more interested in health than taste. Darn it woman! Quit baking and boiling that stupid bird! Fry it then cover it with cheese for Pete’s sake!!”

Besides the intense stresses, those who suffer from CHIKN also deal with other side effects. Frank Tescher of Salt Lick, Utah is a retired teacher who fought the effects of CHIKN for years. “I would often be speaking in front of an entire room of seventh graders when, (shudders) I would accidentally spit on one. I don’t know what to say! It would just come out – I blame my CHIKN.”

Mr. Tescher mysteriously continues, “Sometimes I’d be teaching some grammar and I’d somehow blow a bubble! Yea, I’d have to stop and direct the class’s attention to the little bubble. Most of them couldn’t see it but the folks up front thought it was funny.”

 Fraternity and sorority advocacy groups have lobbied for medical marijuana rights to be extended to those suffering from CHIKN.

Researchers from around the world are now applying for grants to study the ill effects of CHIKN. Preliminary tests indicate it may have something to do with what scientists are calling the “wimp” gene. The gene also controls underarm sweat glands, overused phrases, and hurried speaking. If a cure for CHIKN is found, society may one day be free of cowardice toward public speaking.

I picked up a People magazine and on the cover was a couple named the Duggins.  I don’t know anything about these folks other than they could use a little more sun and they have nineteen children.  Nineteen children?!  Are they assembling an army to conquer Luxembourg or planning to start their own circus?

After thinking about it for a while, I now realize there are A LOT of great reasons for having nineteen kids.  You can get by with a ton of unthinkable things and with nineteen kids people would understand.   
 - Accidentally leaving a kid at the zoo.  Instead of calling DHS, zoo employees would say, “Hey, it’s OK!  Eighteen out of nineteen isn’t bad!”

 - You always have leftover birthday cake in the house.  That’s a big plus…sign me up for a couple of extra kids!

 - Everyone should know how to use an outhouse.  With nineteen kids you’ll have a good reason to dig several.

 - Kids today are told they are special without having to prove it.  When your drowning in people that look just like you…well…you get to prove it!

So having nineteen kids makes perfect sense but what I don’t understand is how you can show each child the personal attention that they need.  I have one son and one daughter – I could shower them with constant attention and they wouldn’t get enough.  There is no limit to the investment I could make in each of them. 

How do you love a child individually when there are so many?  Some may argue that it depends on the parents.  I disagree.  Some parents are more enthusiastic than others, but all parents – good or bad – have to deal with this fact….there are only twenty four hours in a day.  Once you carve out the necessities of life, there may be five hours (or less!) to plug into your children.  Now that I have two children it’s hard for me to imagine having four and still having time to focus on each one.

A friend of mine grew up in a family of nine.  He told me that when you grow up in a large family you really don’t connect with your parents as much as you do with your older siblings.  The older children become something like surrogate parents.  Even when you get older, you talk to your parents when you can but it’s those older siblings that shape your childhood.

That’s not my idea of being a parent.  Opinions are worth the vapor their made from but here’s mine – I have a hard time seeing a parent of more than five (six?) children without handing over some of the responsibilities to others be they extended family or older children.  It’s my desire that Saul, Olivia, and whoever else has memories built from time not only with the entire family – but alone with me…you know…their father.

Dear Dr. Pokorny,

My wife has taken to wearing sweatpants and sweatshirts everywhere.  You know, I’m OK with the sweatshirts as long as she’s rocking a well-fitting pair of jeans but the sweatpants HAVE TO GO!!!  Yesterday I caught her with a fanny pack filled with M&Ms.  At this point, she looks homeless.

I can’t honestly think of a single good reason for women to wear sweatpants.  They say they’re comfortable.  Oh really?!  Well you know what else is comfortable…SILK NIGHTGOWNS!!  Yea, you want comfort, honey?!  If you find anything silk, I’ll buy it for you!

My daughter has even started wearing sweatpants!!!  I’ll never marry her off and get her out of the house!  Look…she’s not very bright.  Yesterday I asked her if she had ever used a cookbook.  “Sure!”  She excitedly replies.  Then she brought me the phone book with all the delivery places dog eared.  Put her in a pair of sweatpants and she’ll need to find a boyfriend online.  

When both of them are sitting on the couch they look like a couple of plush toys!  ( Panic Level 1)  When we’re in the grocery store, I go hang out in the snack food isle so I won’t have to walk with them!! (Panic Level 2)  Now a couple of my friends are asking if we’re expecting again!!! (Panic Level 3)

Can you help me?

Sincerely,  Bob McCormick
Dear Bob,

What your wife doesn’t realize is that she is transmitting an Attractiveness < Convenience ratio that is NOT healthy.  Let’s face it, for women it takes a lot more work (make up, form fitting clothes, plastic surgery) to look alluring than it does for men.  To which, all men collectively say, “That’s too bad.”

Some women figure this out on their own.  The others must NOT be told – we’ve lost a few good men that way.
 
While some females can look nice in sweatpants, it is generally understood that sweatpants are a NET LOSS.  If you take Woman A, who looks nice in sweatpants, you can guarantee she looks blistering in anything else.  It bears repeating…sweatpants are a NET LOSS.  There are always better options.

So what’s a man to do?  Since most men are too scared to broach this subject with the women in their lives drastic actions must be employed.  Take all the sweatpants in your house (Yours too – you don’t look so hot in them either.) to the back yard and burn them.  Then offer the women in your life gift certificates to any popular clothing store.  If they come home with more sweatpants, burn them too.    

Yours Truly,

Dr. Pokorny Esq.

My four year old son, Saul James, suffers from a schizophrenic type of courage.  He has locked himself in darkened closets and waited patiently until I realized we’re playing hide & seek.  I usually find this out after hearing his taunting, impatient calls.  Saul will follow me under the house in search of a tool I’ve stashed in that light-less realm.  When swimming, he’ll boldly tread water that laps at the top of his neck making his head into a little blond bobber.

 And yet, animals send him running for the hills.  Horses, dogs, frogs, earthworms all become instruments of torture.  For Halloween or if he’s just bad, we drag him through a petting zoo.  If only DHS understood what we were doing!!! 

 Lately, we’ve come to realize that Saul’s boldness now extends to falling.  The other day, Saul was leaping off the arm of the couch and plummeting to the hardwood floor.  A fall of four feet or more depending on how high Saul decides to jump. 
 
 The concussion of his landing bringing Melissa to attention.  She found him on his belly staring at the shoe molding.  “Saul, what are you doing?!  You can hurt yourself.”

 ”Don’t worry mom!”  Saul says from the floor.  “I don’t break.”

 Later as Melissa shares the story with me, she quips, “What will his attitude be when he’s seventeen.  He won’t need tattoos – he’ll be covered in scars.” 

*****

Look up the word “sophistication” in the dictionary.  The antonym is Grape Soda.

*****

 I discovered something the other day that I thought every dutiful reader of DodoEggs.com needed to know.  You’re welcome in advance…

 What would you do if you needed an alias?  John Doe has been used and any name you’d make up yourself would sound stupid.  This could be a real hindrance if the CIA ever came calling or Hollywood wanted you to create a screen name.  I mean you can’t star in a blockbuster spy movie with a name like Pauline Morris!

 A spy friend of mine recently shared the formula with me…Step One: Take your middle name and make it your first name.  Step Two:  Take the street name you live on and make it your last name.  It’s that simple. 

 Hmmm…Say hello to Allen Wrench.  (The street is actually Wrenchwright.)

*****

Every now and then I’ll make up my own math worksheets.  We’d been studying probability and I decided to create an assignment titled…”If Mr. Teply presses SHUFFLE on his Ipod, what is the probability of…”  I then offered the following list of musicians and how many songs from each I supposedly had.  Of course I followed this with questions regarding the chances of getting a hip-hop song or a country song etc. 

15 songs by The Country Hicks-Ups  (I thought this was funny.  They didn’t.)

40 songs by YeeeHaaa Surprise (If you read it with an exaggerated accent, it’s funny.)
  
22 songs by The Saddle Sours (I meant to type Saddle Sores – this is spell check’s fault!)
  
90 songs by Ka-Thump-Bump (This is the sound I hear every time I walk Wal-Mart’s parking lot.)

55 songs by Lil’ Bling (When I came up with the name, I figured there was a fifty-fifty chance there was an actual artist by that name.)  

25 songs by The Bleeding Ears (Well if I had a rock band that would be our name but no one wanted to form a band around a kazoo.) 

*****

Look at the title of this post again.  I once started an email to my fellow teachers with this title.  Curse you spell check!!

From the Classified Section of the DodoCoop Gazette…

I’ve tried the bar scene, singles groups, on-line chats,
double dates, blind dates, and dates who were blind.
I’m now desperate enough for the classifieds!
Not as needy as I sound.  CALL ME! 

Siamese twin (male, 24) looking for single female.
I enjoy time w/ family and specialty clothing stores.
I share a stomach and intestine w/ brother but nothing else.

SWF – I’m a deluxe swimsuit model with $$$$$.
I love sports and seek a man to make happy.
Whirlwind romance my dream / Pre-nup OK.
Seeking SWM that will believe anything.

Get 2 men for the price of one!
On-line character is Level 80 Necromancer!
Dashing, rich, able to cast enchantment spell on you!
Real self (5′2, 246 lbs.) available as well.

Single white female will take any slightly used man.
Money is more important than looks or charm.
I lie about my age – now forgotten my real age.
Like to gamble?  Call me 123-4560.

Single Male Beagle seeking last foray.
My romantic skills keen – 6 unexpected litters!
Master displeased \ will soon neuter.
Seeking SFB and something to howl about.

SWM seeking good maid / hot girlfriend.
Excellent pay but the benefits are only average.
Promotions opportunity – as future spouse!
My socks are waiting for you!  Call 434-2344!

Attention all Super Heroes and Wannabes!  It’s time for the Semi-Century, Blow-Out Sale at Super Power Emporium!  Ever wanted a super power but felt like they were too expensive or difficult to operate?  Come to Super Power Emporium where our highly trained staff of retired super heroes and villains will show you everything you need to know about buying and using your own Super Power!

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Check out this week’s list of amazing deals…

Stoplight Power – Imagine how quickly you can stop the bank robbers from detonating a nuclear device if you didn’t have to stop at reds?!?!  Or better yet, imagine how quick your commute to work would be?!?   Now you can change the color of a light or extend greens with Tele-Kenetic-Microbial Brain Waves!  All it takes is $19.95 at Super Power Emporium and a bite from a radioactive traffic cop!

Jumping Out of Pools – Perhaps you’ve never thought about jumping out of the pool’s shallow end onto the deck…but why not?  There’s nothing more inglorious for supper heroes than pulling oneself out of a pool.  Frog-Man is now selling the secret to his amazing ability.  You just need $12.95 and to eat sixteen radioactive flies.  Leaping out of water can also be useful for barrels of acid or any other dangerous liquid a villain may drop you in. 

Touching Your Toes -  Remember being able to do this?  Experience the thrill again with Plastic Man’s “Let’s get Plastic.” video.  (Note:  This has nothing to do with cosmetic surgery.)  This super power helps you dodge bullets AND get the most out of your spandex super suit – only $2.34 + the cost of the video.

Golden Touch – Your butt may itch but don’t scratch!  With this power, you’ll be able to change anything you touch into pure gold.  You’ll have trusty sidekicks knocking down your door!!  (Note:  This is a used super power – returned by its aristocratic first owner due to user error.  We guarantee it will work for you.)  The cost ($31.99) is only a small initial investment!!!

Pulling Quarters Out of Children’s Ears – One of the Super Power Emporium’s best sellers is now on sale!  With only $14.99, that’s only 60 quarters, you can waltz down the halls of daycares and elementary schools pulling money from the yellow-orange gunk of their unwashed ears!  Be advised, this trick turns brain cells into money.  Too many pulls from their ears will result in a fascination for hip-hop music, lottery tickets, and cable television.  Also, 99% of children don’t let you keep the quarter.

Donut Power- MoochMan is now offering the general public the keys to his most spectacular power.    It’s the ability to locate, within a twelve mile radius, any box or bag of FREE donuts!   People are constantly bringing these delectable goodies to conferences, hospitality rooms, church meetings, and the office work room all the time!  Be there faster than instant coffee after only six hours in a radioactive oven and $144.99 to Super Power Emporium.

Super Power Emporium – Where Selling Super Powers at Amazing Prices is Our Super Power!!