Best Copy of the Day

Among other things I do at work, I sometimes have to do stuff with loss reports. These are pretty much lists of injuries that happen in the workplace that are covered by workers' compensation insurance policies. Depending on the workplace (mental institutions are always a good bet), the short injury descriptions are always good.

Today I was looking over a loss report for a sporting goods store. Imagine the guy who received a "lump on the head -- cause: struck by stuffed elk head."

He probably won't live that one down for a while. Poor guy probably got hurt pretty bad, too -- the claim was for more than $15,000.

Now what?

So now that both Chris and I have a bit more free time, we've been able to discuss what it is we'll be doing with it.  I know I've got plenty of pent-up knitting that I'm going to be getting back to, but I'll save that for when Chris is at school.  

Thanks to our friends, Shannon and Stu, we've discovered the wonderful world of homebrewing.  See, it combines all of my favorite stuff -- beer, following instructions, and having a smug sense of superiority over other people who don't make things with their two hands.  YAY!  

We won't go out and buy the necessary equipment until we have a closet cleaned out to put everything in.  Until then, the first step is to collect enough empty beer bottles to accommodate a whole batch of beer -- that's about 50 bottles.  Rough work, but someone's got to do it.

Happy third birthday, Funundrum.

 The big day was back on May 12, but whatever.  And to both of you still reading, thank you.  (This number may increase, now that my dad plugged Funundrum during his toast at my wedding.  No joke.)

Remind me to get y'all pictures of the socks and bikini that I've knit recently (not intended to be worn at the same time, mind you).

What does a girl have to do to get a cold Fat Tire around here?

I found this when clearing out the CrapCam -- and I had completely forgotten about it.  One of the perks of my job is Beer Friday.  Every Friday at 3pm we all gather in the lunchroom for a beer, some popcorn, and gossip.  It's a great way to celebrate the anguished death of another work week, especially because whoever orders the beer knows what time it is and always makes sure there's a great selection of brews.  I usually reach for local favorite Fat Tire (if you're lucky, it's distributed to a liquor store near you -- if not, God does not love you).  Oftentimes, though, the Fat Tire is mysteriously less than cold.  I can't call it warm, as it's below room temperature, but it's never as cold as the Corona and Michelob Ultra that it shares a shelf with.  This makes for a gut-wrenching decision most Fridays -- do I sacrifice flavor and personal pride in favor of cold beer, or do I suck down warmer-than-optimal Fat Tire so I can still look like I have standards?  (Hint:  microbreweries are #23 on the list of Stuff White People Like) 
This was my ingenious solution on that particular day that I couldn't bear to part with my need to support a wind-powered, employee-owned Colorado microbrewery.  My coworkers all thought I was 1) a genius or 2) retarded.  You can tell which group contains fellow beer drinkers.  

Our IT guys are not getting beaten down hard enough.

One afternoon at work, about a week ago, I walked through the IT department and saw... this.  It's an honest-to-goodness stuffed gazelle head, which quickly became adorned with plastic nerd glasses.  Since I took this picture, it has acquired two or three different neckties, which get changed frequently and mysteriously.  The best part is that it's still up.  I hope it stays that way, because it's a little visual reminder that I work at an insurance brokerage that's a little less uptight than others.

I also love that it reminds me of my dog.

Funundrum recommends

Today Funundrum would like to recommend two websites that have been creating boundless joy for me and my friends.  The first is Stuff White People Like, which is essentially a list of stuff that white people like.  Other types of people may like this stuff, but this stuff, when considered as a group, seems to define white people and everything they stand for.  When I say white people, by the way, I mean (generally) young, upwardly mobile, slightly-left-leaning hipsters.  Like you and me, and millions of others in this great country of ours.  What kind of stuff, you ask?  Well, stuff like sushi, having bilingual children, Barack Obama, traveling, high-performance clothes, 80's night, and breakfast places.  If you do not intensely identify with at least four things off of that seven-item list, you are either not white or you're lying to yourself.  Even if you don't fall into the demographic of white hipster, it's a very entertaining read.  They're up to 100 things that white people like, with no signs of stopping.

The second is a fantastic little site called Graph Jam, which offers up crappy Excel-based charts, graphs, and diagrams illustrating concepts that really don't need illustration, but are 100% more amusing for having been so illustrated.  Here, just look at these examples.

The first one, if you need a hint, is a graphical representation of whether or not we will let him go, as sung by Queen in "Bohemian Rhapsody."  The second one?  I just gave you that so you'd have the Jeffersons theme song stuck in your head for the rest of the day.  My point is this:  Graph Jam is full of teh win.

Bad Copy of the Day -- Best of 2008 Award

Yes, it's only May, but I doubt I'll see copy this bad for the remainder of the year.

Chris and I were mulling over the thoroughly terrible neighborhood newspaper this morning, and I was half-heartedly scanning a story about some beekeepers here in the area  ("I wanna KEEP BEES...").  I had already had a small seizure over the use of the word "anti-venom" (hint:  not a word.  Try "antivenin") when I came across the small but brightly-shining gem below:

In March, their products graced the shelves of only three stores; that number has already grown to 20, and most shop owners are selling out of Busy Bee honey.  The Lechners' tireless efforts could easily be compared to the honeybees themselves, which work for 45 days straight before succumbing to exhaustion and dying.

WHAT??? That's the worst comparison I've ever HEARD!  Needless to say, I'll be making a concerted effort to send this to Jay Leno.  I have to go lie down now.

Wellness makes the difference.

For the last month or so, my company has focused on employee wellness and health. They put together a really compelling little program that has weekly fitness goals and prizes, and they've handed out a few goodies like pedometers. Normally this is something I would participate in and kick ass at, but it came right in the middle of Hurricane Wedding. So I've been watching the festivities bemusedly while I shake my pedometer so it looks like I've been racking up the miles. Not really. That would take effort.

One of the things they gave everyone was a bright orange Nalgene-type water bottle, emblazoned with the company logo and the enigmatic phrase "Wellness makes the difference." Since I drink out of a much bigger Nalgene-type bottle that was given to me when I failed to give blood*, I didn't use this new one.

We got an email yesterday saying, "Please discard the orange water bottle that was placed on your desk last week. We have identified a flaw in the process used to manufacture the water bottles. We have contacted our supplier to discuss the issue and as expected, they are correcting the problem and will be supplying different bottles in the near future. " I guess the orange dye was leaking into the water. Super awesome!

So these Wellness makes the Difference water bottles will kill you. It's just another example of "healthy stuff isn't all that great, actually," stories, which alternate with "sometimes crappy food is good for you" items.

The moral of the story is I'm going to keep eating red meat and drinking booze. Really not related to the water bottle thing at all, but one has to take a stand on these things, doesn't one?

HOLY CRAP I'M BACK!!!

Really, now. The wedding was wonderful, the honeymoon even better, but boy am I glad that's over. I'm no longer a bride, just me. Yay! Now I can get back to my complicated and somewhat exotic world of knitting, blogging, and baking. And mocking. Let's not forget mocking. I have a couple of stories in that arena, so I'll go ahead and make them separate posts.