Cereal (name) Killer

Posted on Feb 26, 2020 by headinablender

I have a packet of Weetabix on my desk which is drawing a lot of interest from my work colleagues, mostly because it’s not every colour of the rainbow, caked in sugar and more sugar, and isn’t represented by a cartoon tiger, captain, or fucking leprechaun.

What cereal ACTUALLY looks like

I’ve had comments like, “What the hell is THAT?”, “It looks like hay!”, “Is that rabbit food?”, and “It’s so weird!”; you know, all the encouraging and open minded thinking I’ve come to expect.

But my favourite was about 20 minutes ago when someone walking past my desk stopped, looked at the box, and read the name of it out loud to himself in the form of a question.

Naturally.

Now, us Brits know it’s pronounced ‘WEE-tabix’, with the emphasis on the ‘WEE’

(He he).

But he pronounced it with the emphasis on the ‘TA’ part, and dropped the ‘Wee’ to a ‘W’, so he said:

“wTA-bix?”

I nearly spat my cereal all over my laptop.

What a wn-KER

Innuendos, Double Entendres and Puns, Oh My! – Part 3

Posted on Feb 21, 2020 by headinablender

This morning at work, whilst making my morning coffee in our kitchen/break area, I was greeted by one of my colleagues.

“Good morning!” she said, as she strolled over to the collection of free fruit provided by the company.

“Good morning to you!”, I replied with the type of gusto I only reserve for Fridays, “And how are you this fine morning?”

“I’m great!”, she said innocently as she picked up a piece of fruit, “Just looking forward to my banana”.

Yeah she was.

Never say never.

Jamaican me too hot

Posted on Oct 28, 2019 by headinablender

During a recent work trip to Jamaica, I was faced with an issue I’ve struggled with in the USA, but in reverse.

Allow me to explain….

In the US, temperature is measured in Fahrenheit, whereas in the UK (and the rest of the known world) it’s measured in Celsius. This has been a pain in the arse [ass] over the last 4 years trying to manually figure out the temperature by removing 30 and then halving it.

No, really!

For example, if the temperature is 100 degrees Fahrenheit, I deduct 30 (making it 70 degrees), then I halve it, leaving me with 35(ish) degrees Celsius.

It’s not an exact science, but it gives me something to reference quickly so i’m not a clueless twat almost every day; I leave that to everyone else around me.

So what does this have to do with my trip to Jamaica?

Well, in my hotel room the air conditioning unit was in Celsius. You’d think this would be easy for a Brit, but I have only ever used A/C in the USA and therefore only ever adjusted temperatures in Fahrenheit because England is cold enough to adequately retract a scrotum. As a result, there has never been a need to have air conditioning in the UK. If you want to cool down your gaff [house], you simply open a window, or a door, or turn off the heating.

So with this in mind, you can imagine the irony of having to reverse engineer the mathematics so I could figure out the temperature in Fahrenheit so I knew which temperature to select in Celsius to cool the room down.

Seriously, I couldn’t make this up.

Being a Brit in America can still be a ballsache at times, retracted or otherwise.

The Eyelets Of The Tiger

Posted on Sep 23, 2019 by headinablender

This morning, as I was lacing my shoes for work, the song ‘Eye Of The Tiger’ came on the radio.

I won’t lie….In that moment I felt a rush of self confidence and awesomeness. I felt like I was in an 80’s ‘getting ready for the thing’ montage and actually tied those laces with more intensity and purpose than ever before.

It was a little bit like that scene from ‘Commando’.

let’s go to work

I should feel embarrassed that I actually did that, but I don’t. To be honest, we should all be able to do stuff with more vigor and intensity when that song comes on.

“Dun………dun, dun, dun………dun, dun, dun………dun dun DUUUUUUUUUN!”

Actually…..my shoes are a little bit too tight now.

Bone Appétit

Posted on Jul 25, 2018 by headinablender

Today at work I saw another opportunity to ‘edit’ something I saw on a colleagues desk.

And if you don’t know what I’m talking about, see:

https://headinablender.com/2018/05/03/a-sign-of-things-to-comma/

…and…

https://headinablender.com/2018/07/18/my-brain-filter-may-need-some-work/

Anyway, no fancy story here today.

No deep, insightful musings.

Just this.

Fully roosted coffee

Posted on Jul 19, 2018 by headinablender

At work, we have a dedicated private Facebook page in which employees can sell stuff.

It’s pretty good if you want baby clothes, a kitchen gadget they’ve ‘only used a couple [of] times’, and other shit and detritus they don’t want anymore.

Well, I decided to have a peruse through today’s offerings over my morning coffee, and happened upon this item.

You know this is going to be fowl

Usually stuff like this wouldn’t make it onto my blog, but I couldn’t resist with a description like this:

Extra large Cock – FREE to a good home

My first instinct was to look up from my desk and check around me to make sure I wasn’t having my leg pulled.

No, she really wrote that…and it was intended to be sincere.¹

What made it even better is that someone commented:

That is a turkey.

To which she replied:

It’s a rooster. A huge cock

Ah, I love the smell of innuendos in the morning.

(slurps coffee)

1 – I know this because a) it’s on a public work Facebook channel, and b) innuendos aren’t her thing….believe me!

My brain filter may need some work.

Posted on Jul 18, 2018 by headinablender

Being a Brit living in America is, mostly, pretty easy.

The main issue I have (other than the stupid way they format their dates, their driving, their TV, their….well, you get my point) is filtering my disgusting and yet hilarious brain from reacting when I find something funny that others REALLY won’t.

After all, offending someone over here is as difficult as fist fighting a baby.

These moments of internal hilarity involve things like growlers, double-fisting and, more recently, this sign I saw on a colleagues desk that was clearly meant to be heartwarming…

You know what’s coming…

It took all my willpower not to put a note on it that reads:

“So are your wife’s tits”.

Does that make me a bad person?

The chronicles of Squid-dick

Posted on Jun 13, 2018 by headinablender

I know, I know….I haven’t posted anything recently and I’m sorry. Although, weirdly, I’ve had more email subscriptions in the last few weeks than a Nigerian prince has in a year.

Hmm.

Anyway, not one to complain, I thought I’d share a conversation I literally overheard at work about 10 minutes ago.

The names have been changed to protect the innocent.¹

Dumbelina – “Hey, Tarquin! What’s the name of the ramen place we’re going to later?”

Tarquin popped his head up from behind his computer, clearly preoccupied with something he was watching or masturbating to.

“What?”

“The ramen place.”, she continued.

Tarquin stopped for a beat and blinked twice; “What ramen place?”

“The one we’re going to at lunch.”

Tarquin paused again, desperately tring to cling to a conversation he was clearly not understanding.

“What about it?”, he replied, rapidly losing wood.

“What’s the name of it?”

“Oh…”, he said, finally getting a grasp of the conversation, now that he no longer had anything substantial to grasp, “…I think it’s called [insert the name of the ramen place here because I can’t remember it for the life of me!]”

“OK, thanks T-Dog²; I just wanted to have a look at the menu.”

“Uh huh”, he mumbled as he went back to whatever it was he was doing to himself.

There was a brief silence, punctuated only with the tapping of keys and the faint clicking of a mouse button.

“Ah, here it is”, muttered Thumbelina as she found the website.

> click <

Pause

> click <

A longer pause (Jesus, some people surf the internet slower than a sloth wearing a heavy backpack, trekking through deep snow, wearing flippers)

“What the hell is this?”, she half said to herself, but I suspected was intended for those around her (including me) to ask, ‘What’s that?’.

No-one did.

She continued clicking.

“Deep fried octopus balls??”

I choked on my coffee.

“Ha ha ha…er, excuse me; sorry!”, I said through caffeinated coughing.

Now having an audience, she attempted to engage me in conversation, “Right?? Octopus balls!”

“Ha, yeah right”, I said wryly as I continued checking Facebook – er, I mean continued working – realising I had a blog post happening right now….live! I smiled to myself as I wondered what she would say next. Would that be it? Would that be the only amusing thing she’d say about the menu from ‘that ramen place’?

Nope.

She continued down the list muttering the occasional ‘Oh’, and ‘Eeuw’ before exclaiming, “Ooh, french fries!”.

Maybe the ramen place is called McDonalds?

“Tarquin, they have french fries! Oh wow, they have french fries with gravy!”

Tarquin didn’t care. He was laid back in his chair, sweating, and smoking a cigarette.³

We’ve all been there

1 – Stupid
2 – OK, maybe I’m embellishing here a little bit.
3 – See 2

A sign of things to comma

Posted on May 3, 2018 by headinablender

Yes, yes, I know it’s been a while since I posted something.

Work has been really busy lately as I was recently promoted (small smattering of applause can be heard somewhere at the back, followed by a hacking dry cough and a murmuring to just ‘get on with it’), so I haven’t had a lot of time to put fingers on keyboard.

However, I can find 5 minutes to share this little moment of sheer joy.

So I arrived at the office this morning and noticed this small sign on someone’s desk.

Some of you can probably see where this is going

Now, for clarity, this ‘someone’ is the head of a department. Like, he’s WAY up there in the echelons of senior management, and this sign is clearly a visual aid to encourage energy, teamwork and whatever he feels necessitates this sign.

But….

Being the Grammar-Nazi I am, couldn’t help myself!

Ah, the humble comma; how we miss you.

In this context, it’s not so much a visual aid than a visual impairment, depending on your aim.

But I’m sure he’ll see the funny side of this and will be fine with me mocking his grammatical oversight, plus….

…I don’t want to rub it in.

Aaaahthankyou!

Stupid on both sides

Posted on Feb 21, 2018 by headinablender

It’s really quiet in the office this morning.

All that can be heard is the tapping of keyboards and that angry/sleepy silence that can only be brought on by being at work at 6-fucking-30 in the morning.

The soothing silence was eventually broken by one of my colleagues asking a question to anyone who was listening…..or awake.

“Does ‘two sided’ mean ‘on both sides’?”

If it was at all possible, the silence got even quieter. You could hear a pin drop…..in London.

I replied (naturally), “Hmm, well, let’s think about it. Does two sided mean both sides? Whew, that’s a tough one…”

“I realize¹ now, that was a stupid question.”, he replied.

Yes, yes it was.

¹ Not a typo; he’s American.

The Farce is strong with this one.

Posted on Oct 1, 2017 by headinablender

Today at work, the subject of Star Wars came up.

Actually, every day at work and at home and at the supermarket and in the car and sat on the toilet pushing out a Jar Jar, the subject of Star Wars comes up.

Why? Because I fucking LOVE Star Wars.

The Scruffy Nerf Herder has a point.

Anyway, today’s Star Wars conversation started when I saw a trailer for the new Blade Runner 2049 trailer (Squeeeeeee!). I asked my work colleagues if they’re as pant-wettingly excited to see it as I am.

This question was met with was a lot of blank expressions.

My heart sank.

“Wait, who here has seen the original Blade Runner?”, I asked, with slight desperation in my voice.

Only one hand went up.

One.

It was at this point that the girl who sits next to me – let’s call her Cluelessa – said, “There’s one reason why I want to see that movie”.

I sighed. “It’s because of Ryan Gosling isn’t it?”

She beamed excitedly, “Of course!”

I held my shit together and smiled. “So let me get this straight”, I said incredulously, “You went with Ryan Gosling and not Harrison Ford?”

She nodded enthusiastically.

“But he’s a legend!”. (Harrison, not Ryan)

She paused for a moment as she redirected brain power from her mouth to her brain, “I liked him in Air Force One” she replied proudly.

I had to take a moment to compose myself and remember it’s not deemed socially acceptable to choke the shit out of a co-worker.

For some reason it’s frowned upon.

“So, let me understand this right….you didn’t go with Indiana Jones or Han Solo….instead you went with ‘Air Force One’?”

Thus began the conversation about the cultural phenomenon that is Star Wars^[1]

It soon became evident that most of the people I work with haven’t actually seen Star Wars, unless it was the one with the “racing thingy” (Pod Race) or “Anakin” (probably a prequel).

I wanted to scream like a Wookie.

The conversation, as dumbfounding as it was, came to a head when Cluelessa asked, “Wait, Darth Vader….is that Star Wars?”

I had to take a moment.

Trembling with rage, I picked up the concrete paperweight on my desk and pushed it towards her face.

“That’s no moon”

“Pop quiz; what’s this?”

She beamed blankly as she looked at it, then at me, then back at the paperweight.

She didn’t know the answer.

SHE DIDN’T KNOW THE ANSWER!

“It’s the Death Star!”, I said, holding back tears and throat punches.

“OK, here’s another question for you”, I said with a new hope (see what I did there?), “What do Darth Vader and Anakin Skywalker have in common?”.

There was a long pause.

In fact, there shouldn’t have even been a short pause.

It went very quiet and I could hear my own heart breaking.

One of the other girls piped up, “Isn’t he, like, his dad or something?”

Oh my god!

Then Cluelessa said, “Wait, isn’t Anakin, Luke? Wait, no….hold on, so who is Luke?”

Unbelievable.

But, as I write this from prison, I have to say it has become evident over the last few years that Star Wars is slowly slipping off the radar with the ‘young folk’ of today. It’s for this reason that I am so thankful that Disney now own the rights to a galaxy far, far away. All the time there is love for the franchise – and tons of cash coming in – Disney will continue to bring Star Wars to the big screen.

Despite one of the girls saying they’ve only seen ‘The Force Awakens’ (eye twitch), it is still keeping the legacy alive….and ‘The Force Awakens’ is still a great film even though its plot is effectively ‘A New Hope’, but without enough R2D2.

I live and breathe Star Wars. I love everything about it^[2] and it breaks my heart to think that one day, in the dystopian future of…say…2049, it’s possible that no-one will look at Rick Deckard and say “Hey, you look a lot like Han Solo”.

[1] Not including the prequels.

[2] Except Jar Jar Binks^[3] and any unnecessary or comedic CGI special effects added to the original trilogy.

[3] Especially Jar Jar Binks!

Feeling Cranleigh*

Posted on Sep 25, 2017 by headinablender

I’m having a bad day.

It’s not the kind of bad day that simply makes you want the hours to fly by, but the kind of bad day that makes you want to to punch others indiscriminately in the face as hard and as often as possible.

Maybe a swift kick in the dick too; gender permitting.

I can’t put my finger on why it’s a bad day, it just is and I can’t shake it, no matter how many times I’ve gone to the toilets for a poo.

Now, for clarity, I don’t actually need to poo as often as I’ve been to the toilets today – because I would need some serious medical attention if I did – but it’s the only place in the building I can guarantee I won’t be disturbed as I sit on my porcelain throne, trousers and lacy thong around my ankles, playing ‘Flow Free’ on my phone. To add a little more joy to the proceedings, the toilets have music piped in.

Perfect splash concealment.

Thanks Ed Sheeran.

I look around at the fresh faced people I work with (at my desk, not in the toilets), buzzing away like bees in a hive, happy to simply go through their day like any other and I realise it’s the sort of attitude I usually have pretty much every day, except for today. Today I feel the overwhelming urge to yank people’s hair as I walk past them, dish out the occasional – yet unnecessarily brutal – Chinese/Indian burn (depending on whichever outdated, oddly racial description of this cruel childhood torture is your preference) and kick away office chairs just as people trustingly begin to sit down.

Actually, let’s be honest here….kicking away a chair is always funny, bad mood or not.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I don’t have depression nor do I crave sympathy or attention like so many baited Facebook posts.

#grammarpolice

Nope, I’m just simply in a shitty mood. This might be because it’s Monday, or maybe it’s because I’ve had too much/not enough coffee [delete as appropriate] or maybe…just maybe…it’s because I’ve only had 4 hours sleep the last two nights.

Yeah, it might be that.

Does it diminish my desire to choke passers by, just for passing by?

Nope.

So here I sit, marinating in my deep seeded desire to push over children and people on crutches, using this post as an outlet for the pent up rage bubbling somewhere in the depths of my soul.

I think I’ll go for another poo….and maybe a nap.

Zzzzzzz…..

Thrrrppp!

Excuse me.

*Look it up in ‘The Meaning Of Liff’.

Shhhhhhh………………….it!

Posted on May 28, 2017 by headinablender

I won’t lie, I get overwhelmed with a massive sense of smugness whenever I have to poo at work. I don’t know if it’s because it takes me away from work for a few minutes, or the fact that I’m on the clock when I sit down to pinch one off.

Either way, I’m getting paid to give a shit.

(groan)

So, today I took my smug self into the toilets [restrooms] on our floor, chose an empty cubicle (which was ANY of them…..result!) and dropped my kecks in readiness for the mass exodus.

Just as I relaxed to let my people go, someone walked in. Now, this isn’t usually an issue for me, but the toilets at work are tiled floor to ceiling and appear to block out any sound beyond the door…so basically it’s a large, reverberating echo chamber.

Great.

To make matters worse, I knew this poo wasn’t a run-of-the mill affair. No, this one felt like it had an air pocket the size of my head behind it. That meant that any attempt to free the prisoners was going to result in a shotgun style blast that would startle the most war-torn veteran due to the amplification provided by the resonance chamber we were both inhabiting. Also, I had eaten Mexican food the night before with plenty of beans, meaning the smell would likely bring literal tears to our eyes.

Well, it would bring tears to HIS eyes; we can all tolerate our own, right?

Right?

Anyway, my new friend entered the cubicle next to mine – naturally – and took a seat of his own.

Sigh….really?

Now we were two strangers, sat two feet apart in total silence with our pants around our ankles. This was not at all uncomfortable as I sat there, legs quivering in the air, as I desperately held back a cataclysmic shit that would have emergency crews later looking for the epicenter of the blast that leveled the building.

After what felt like 3 hours, my new friend got up, flushed whatever he had pooped out with ninja-like stealth, washed his hands for an hour, and left.

At last!

I finally relaxed……and chipped the inside of the bowl.

A queer insult.

Posted on Feb 27, 2017 by headinablender

Sometimes the difference in culture between the UK and the USA rears its ugly, and usually amusing, head. Today was one of those times.

At work we have some internal instant messaging software which is great for employees to communicate when they:

A) Can’t call.

B) Won’t call.

C) Have the social skills of a gibbon with its scrotum in a jar of fire ants.

As my department is like a central hub for any questions or issues from our call centre, we get a lot of instant messages to help out with all kinds of weird and wonderful situations.

Here is a conversation I literally just had:

Fran: Hi, I need some help

Me: Hey Fran, it’s Daniel, your favorite Brit 😉

Fran: Hey Daniel! How’s it going?

Me: Pretty good. Busy! So what’s up?

(For security reasons, this part of the conversation is omitted as it’s work related. Needless to say, I fixed the problem like a boss!)

Me: Done!

Fran: Great! Thanks.

Me: No problem 😉

Fran: Have a great day!

Me: You have a great day too 🙂

Fran: Poof

Now, she meant to imply that she magically and dramatically vanished from the conversation in a puff of smoke, like a genie….or Batman.

To me she ended that conversation with ‘Faggot‘.

I laughed like a drain for at least a minute, solidly.

It was one of the funniest insults I’ve received since living in America, particularly because it was unintentional and from a person who wouldn’t even say boo to a goose (with or without their nuts in a jar of fire ants).

This is also the word we use for an ‘Ottoman’. England is a weird place.

You want beef?

Posted on Feb 19, 2017 by headinablender

It’s Sunday and I’m at work. It’s actually my scheduled day to work, so this isn’t a ranty post about having to work weekends and the world can lick my sweaty bumhole.

Sorry.

Instead, this is a post about the baffling and idiotic mindset of one of my friends and colleagues who is also here today.

So, for context, we have a large bistro on campus here at work which offers all sorts of foods, drinks and dubious stains and spills on the floor. Usually, when I take my lunch, I head down to the bistro and then text my colleague (let’s call her Numpty) and let her know what free soups they have on offer that day. She then replies and lets me know which she’d like and I take one back to her.

I’m simply awesome like that.

Well, being a Sunday, there was only one choice of soup instead of the usual three. Today’s soup was beef chilli. Yes, I know it’s not technically a soup, but it resembles a soup more than a barrel of squashed frogs.

Actually, squashed frog soup sounds pretty good.

Anyway, when I got down there I sent her a text. In fact, here is the ACTUAL conversation we had (my comments are in yellow).

There’s a lot of love between us

I deserved it.

But then again, so did she. I mean, all she had to do was type ‘Yes’ or ‘No’. In fact a simple ‘Y’ or ‘N’ would have sufficed.

This is why she’s a twat.

I Crastinate like a Pro

Posted on Feb 7, 2017 by headinablender

I hate my days off.

Up until a month ago my wife and I had the same days off work; Tuesdays and Wednesdays. However, her shift changed and now she has the traditional Saturday and Sunday off.

To many, the thought of having time off work without their significant other is a dream come true, but there’s only so much I enjoy doing alone…and it’s getting really sore.

Now, I hate to be sickly sweet here, but my wife and I have an awesome marriage. Spending time without her is like watching anything with the Kardashians in it; a pointless waste of time. In addition, Tuesday is the day I Skype my family back in England so my wife is missing out on that too.

I would love to say something hilariously sarcastic and biting about in-laws and how she’s dodged a bullet, but alas…she really does love my family and vice versa.

I’m telling you, anyone looking in on our marriage from the outside is usually reaching for a bucket.

So, today is Tuesday, my wife left early for work, and I Skyped my family at the normal prearranged times. Due to the eight hour time difference, the Skype calls are very early in the morning so, historically (well, for the last month at least), I go back to sleep afterwards. However, instead of having a nap for a couple of hours, I usually end up sleeping for ages and missing most of the day.

Either that or I end up down a YouTube rabbit hole and still end up doing none of the things I had planned to do.

Yet I always seem to end up sore.

This is all made worse by a fuzzy head usually brought on by oversleeping or concentrating on a screen without blinking.

Well, today was going to be different. Today I was going to do some washing [laundry], tidy up, go to the gym and get my hair cut. So today I set myself an alarm to only sleep for an hour.

Genius, right?

Wrong.

Instead of only sleeping for an hour, I decided to snooze button my way through four hours of sleep.

It’s become another typical Tuesday…or, should I say ‘Snoozeday’? Huh? Get it? Snoozeday? Anyone?

(holds up hand for a high five he will never get, and all that can be heard is the sound of crickets as a lone tumbleweed rolls by)

I don’t even have the time or the energy to get my hair cut. This is an activity that involves me sitting down on the way to the Barber, sitting down while they do all the work, and then sitting down all the way home…and I still can’t be bothered.

Instead I’m slouched in bed, looking at the clock and justifying to myself that I simply don’t have the time to do anything.

Well, except write this post.

Priorities.

Now, where’s that box of tissues?

An ASSinine moment.

Posted on Feb 3, 2017 by headinablender

“There’s a bum fight outside”

I have literally just heard this across the office from one of my work mates.

I stood bolt upright.

“What did you just say???”

“There’s a bum fight happening outside”, he repeated.

Halfway through my Olympic record sprint to the window I realised he was talking about this:

Whereas I imagined this:

Damn you America…..damn you.

Bogey or Booger? You pick.

Posted on Jan 15, 2017 by headinablender

During a conversation with colleagues at work today, the subject moved to bogies [boogers].

This is indicative of the level of maturity we share.

It strikes me as odd that of all the things in the world to have a different word attributed to it, solidified nasal discharge would never have been on my list. Now, for a change, I’m not saying the UK word is better than the US word. In fact, they’re both a bit strange.

The UK word. ‘bogey‘ is also another word for one stroke over par in golf, or an enemy in an aerial dogfight. Having “a bogey on your tail” means an enemy is coming up behind you and you’re in trouble…or a toddler got a bit too close to the family dog.

The US word ‘booger‘ is another word for…well, nothing actually. Booger isn’t anything else, so by definition this word should be THE word for our beloved congealed snot balls.

I think that’s the one we should pick (groan).

Now, since living in Las Vegas I’ve noticed a distinct difference in the quality of my nose candy. In the UK they were slimier, wetter and more malleable. In Las Vegas they come out like a large piece of tree bark and can be used to saw logs in half. This is useful when you’re shy a bread knife.

Obviously this is due to the lack of humidity in the Nevadan air compared to Blighty, but I do miss rolling them up and flicking them at people.

Now I just use them as a shiv.

2017 is already a crazy ride!

Posted on Jan 1, 2017 by headinablender

Before I start……Happy New Year!!!!!

It’s New Year’s day and I’m working.

My shift started at 4am, so I had to leave the house around 3am. This meant driving through post-New Year crowds and traffic….in Las Vegas.

This is what I encountered:

A mere 45 seconds into my drive an oncoming car veered into my lane for about 10 seconds before realising they were on the wrong side of the road. I had to stop the car otherwise I would have hit them!

A multitude of cars were drifting between lanes without any indicators [turn signals] or awareness of others around them.

A few cars straddling lanes for extended periods of time.

Lots and lots of red lights. Seriously, I was at a set of red lights for almost 5 minutes, with no other cars going through the green lights on the cross street!

A truck stopped in the middle of the road, blocking everyone. No reason that I could see. Also, no driver that I could see.

Lots and lots of cars cutting each other up/off. One driver was so impatient at a red light that he moved into the ‘Right Turn Only‘ lane and then when the lights went green he went straight, cutting up the driver to his left just to get in front. He pulled over and parked 100 yards later.

Lots of loud, drunk people teetering on the edge of the pavement [sidewalk] threatening to walk out in front of my car.

Now, this was the first time I had EVER had to drive to work on New Year’s day in Las Vegas. I couldn’t believe the experience compared to my normal commute…..

It was no different.

It’s all good fun until someone loses an eye.

Posted on Nov 20, 2016 by headinablender

So this happened a couple of days ago at work.

One of my close friends at work came up to our department to say hi, bringing along with her a girlfriend she was showing around. Her friend had her young son in tow; I’d say he was about 5 or 6 years old.

Now, for context, everyone in our department owns a Nerf gun for any impromptu gun fights that break out.

It happens.

It’s brutal.

It’s also possible you can see where this post is going.

Anyway, they walked into our department, said hi and then handed the 5/6 year old a Nerf gun and he started firing at us, indiscriminately. He was loving it; shooting and laughing like a boy possessed. Hey, as long as there’s no nudity or swearing, some mindless and unprovoked gun violence is always welcomed here in America.

(ooh, controversial)

A few of my colleagues pulled out their guns (he he) and retaliated with friendly fire; it was a fun moment.

Then in came me.

I pulled out my massive weapon (sorry, couldn’t resist), cocked it (seriously, I can’t stop) and aimed at the child (OK, I’m going to get arrested).

Now, I’m a terrible shot with these things so I wasn’t worried. I couldn’t hit a cow’s arse with a banjo. So I aimed at his general head area and fired. The dart hit him full on in the face; his left eye to be precise.

There was a pause in time and everyone held their breath. We were all thinking the same thing. Will he:

A) Laugh and fire back more enthusiastically

….or…..

B) Cry.

He went with B.

Great.

He put down the gun and buried his face in his mother’s embrace, sobbing profusely while everyone turned to me and said things like “Nice one Dan!” or “What were you thinking?”. It was all slightly tongue in cheek, but the kid didn’t know that. If only someone had said something like “Right, he’s going to get you now!” and boosted his primal urge to retaliate, he wouldn’t have felt so embarrassed and may not have cried.

Alas, that wasn’t the case.

I genuinely felt bad for injuring this poor kid, and because he was now weeping in front of all these adults (loose term), but I was undergoing an internal conflict between my brain and my mouth.

Mouth – “Oh my god, I am SO sorry!”

Brain – “Ha ha, YES! In the face! IN. THE. FACE!!! Boom! Did you see that? Right in the fucking eye. Crack shot! (self high five)”

Mouth – “I really didn’t mean to hit him in the face!”

Brain – “I TOTALLY aimed for the face and I can’t believe I hit him! I am the Nerf master!”

In an attempt to explain my actions, I tried to explain to his mum that I was usually such a bad shot and that I wasn’t aiming anywhere near him. Then, to prove my lack of accuracy, I fired in her general direction.

As the dart bounced off her head with the most satisfying ‘Doink!’, my brain went into overdrive, but my mouth (thankfully) took over the situation.

Mouth – “Oh my god, I am SO sorry!”

Brain – “Ha ha ha, straight off the noggin! Did anyone see that? Bam!”

Mouth – “I don’t know what’s wrong with me! I’m going to put down the gun now.”

Brain – “I TOTALLY aimed at your head and hit it! I really thought I’d miss this time, but I didn’t! I’m putting the gun down now as I’m two for two! Booyah!! (air grab)”

She looked at me with a mix of angry surprise and ‘WTF!?’. She literally couldn’t believe I shot her a mere 10 seconds after blinding her son.

Maybe this is why guns aren’t legal in Britain; it appears we’re TOO good, by Jove!