I was driving into work this morning listening to the news. Because I am sophisticated. They were talking about this oil leak down in the Gulf of Mexico. This thing has been going on for a long time now. I know this because I remember, from several weeks back, my well wishes to my buddy, Bull, right before he and his family were about to head out on vacation at the beach: “I hope you don’t end up like Zach Morris’s duck.” Do yall remember Becky? That was sad. Curse that oil tycoon who insisted on putting derricks on Bayside’s football field. Curse him and his bolo tie.
Anyway, my point is oil has been spewing out into the gulf for way too long. It seems as if they've had ample to to fix it already. I’ve only thought about it for about three minutes and I think I’ve already come up with a solution. I’m no engineer or anything, but I do have some recent experience with flushing too many Mexican paper towels down the toilet, so I think I am at least somewhat qualified to attempt fixing a problem related to plumbing. My solution: they should get Jack from LOST to plug it with that rock thing he corked The Hole of Light with near the end of the finale.
I admit this is not a perfect fix, but for as long as this mystery has been drawn out and with all the anticipation surrounding it, is there such a thing as a perfect ending? There would be some people disappointed with this resolution, sure. They would demand more answers. What is the origin of this oil? Why is it special? How does it cause infertility in women, yet restore Korean men’s ability to father children? Yet at the same time, there will be those people perfectly content with this conclusion. They will feel completion in knowing the spilling oil had a beautiful story and its narrative is now over. They will be ok with filling in blanks themselves, with not knowing answers to all the mysteries surrounding the oil.
In time, I think the division between these two groups will slowly fade because, ultimately, they’ve spent hours upon hours discussing, debating, and scratching their heads over all the mysteries taking place in the middle of the ocean. This fosters a strong sense of community. For example, say you are at a gathering forced to small talk with strangers, all you have to do is broach the subject. Everyone within ear shot will have an opinion, even if it is only how they watched the coverage in the beginning but quit because they thought the whole thing was stupid.
Those people, are the opposite of sophisticated.
The Archived Post Relevant The Office Quote:
Dwight: Remember on LOST, when they met the others?
I Can Fix the Oil Leak
Pizza Hut Phil
It seems that I've discovered another one of my superpowers, this one induces young ethnic prepubescent men to engage me in eclectic conversations. Remember the Extremely Chubby 6-8ish Year Old Vietnamese Kid? Well, I had a similar experience this past week. My apparent gift can make for awkward real life scenarios, but I think I've learned to harness it when I'm struggling for stuff to post about.
Last week, LB did one of her posts where she lists out what we are having for dinner throughout the week. I really enjoy when she does that because it takes me back to the days of my youth when I was but a little tyke stealing my mom’s Saturday edition of the Advertising Gleam to search for the section with the elementary school cafeteria’s menu hoping to see both chicken nuggets and square pizza listed. Have I mentioned that I was a chubby kid?
Anyway, on LB’s menu I saw that we were supposed to have pork roast that night and became very excited. Then, I got home and found out that the menu LB had published online was nothing but an entanglement of fabricated lies and mistruths she had used to lure me into a false sense of anticipation only to slam the door on my dreams of consuming the other white meat as soon as I arrived home. I knew it was part of a secret ploy to show me that she is always in charge and she can manipulate even my salivary glands is she so desires. Or, Kroger was out of pork. One of those. Either way, she sent Ada and me to Pizza Hut to take advantage of the $10 pizza deal they have running right now.
On my way to Pizza Hut, I came up with an idea about how to exhort my revenge. I decided to get a Supreme rather than only pepperoni as LB had requested before I left the house. I did this for a couple reasons 1) To prove that I am my own man and not a puppet on a string. 2) It is a far superior value. We can get just pepperoni or pepperoni plus every topping they have to offer for the exact same price, it just makes financial sense. Plus, LB can take everything but the pepperonis off if she wants, but I cannot add anything if we order it the way she wanted. So, if I had ordered just pepperoni it would mean LB was being extremely selfish and I didn’t want her feeling guilty about all of this later. Obviously, I was looking out for her best interests.
While the wonderful culinary artists at Pizza Hut began work on our dinner, Ada and I sat down in the little lobby area. To our right, there was a young African American male that began talking to Ada:
Phil: (to Ada): I’m Phil. I’m eight. What’s your name?
Ada: Ada.
Phil: (to me with a confused look) Her name Aaaay-dah?
Me: Yes.
Phil: That’s weird. (back to Ada) How old are you?
Phil’s mom while on cell phone: Shut up Phil! You always bothering everybody!
Ada: (proudly holding up two fingers, clearly not bothered) I two.
Phil: What’s your favorite Michael Jackson song? Mines is “Don’t Stop til You Get Enough.”
Ada laughs hysterically. I'm not sure why.
Phil: … (Again, looks at me confused)
Me: (to Phil) She’s two. She doesn’t know Michael Jackson. (To Ada) Ada, can you tell Phil your favorite song.
Ada: ABCs
Phil: Oh….(singing and snapping his fingers to a beat) A-B-C easy as 1-2-3…
Phil’s Mom (still on cell phone): Phil! Shut up!
Ada: NoooooOOO…like this…(now singing)ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ next time sing with me.
Phil: Oh, that’s easy. (To me) Do you know Michael Jackson?
Me: Yes.
Phil: Did you know he had a skin condition?
Me: Yes, I did know that.
Phil: He look white.
Me: . . . .
Phil (looking at Ada): Hey, she got vampire teeth! (NOTE: Ada does have very sharp K9 teeth.)
Phil’s mom: Phil!
Phil (to me): She a vampire?
Me: Yes, but she won’t bite you.
Phil: Hey you got vampire teeth, too! (NOTE: Ada inherited her unusually sharp K9 teeth from me.) Are you a vampire, too?
Me: Yes, but I won’t bite you either. I’m the one who taught her not to bite people, so you should be pretty safe.
Phil: Does your wife have vampire teeth too?
Me: Yes, they are even longer and sharper than mine.
Phil: Do yall drink blood?
Me: We try not too. We are trying to replace our instinctual thirst for blood with tomato sauce. That’s why we’re here.
Phil: That makes sense.
Me: You don’t know how many lives Pizza Hut is saving by offering these pizzas at such affordable prices. You should be thankful they are running this deal right now.
Phil: I am now.
Me: Good.
The Archived Post Relevant The Office Quote:
Dwight Schrute: I don't have a lot experience with vampires, but I have hunted warewolves. I shot one once. But by the time I got to it, it had turned back into my neighbor's dog.
Ada Tee-tees in the Mexican Restaurant Potty.
Ada finally conquered the fear of going onsie in the potty. That is good and I am glad and excited for her. However, this has introduced a whole new set of dilemmas into our lives. Mainly, public bathrooms.
This past Saturday afternoon our little family was having lunch at our favorite Mexican restaurant when Ada looked up at me with her cheese dip stained face and announced “I have to go potty.” I panicked. I looked over at LB. She had John securely fastened to her chest in this hippy-like wrap thing that takes her about 17min to weave around her body, but is totally worth it because when she is done we can just slip John in there and he loves it because it is like he is back in the womb, apparently. So, I looked back down at Ada hoping maybe she would just drink some cheese dip off of another chip and forget about the whole thing……..“Let’s go, daddy! Let’s go!” I wasn’t getting out of this. We rose from our chairs and with her hand in mine, began our walk down the Green Mile.
I was more nervous than she was. I know this because as the beads of sweat were racing down my forehead, Ada was holding tightly to my hand and leaping into the air to see how many of the black tiles on the floor she could jump in a single bound. Three. Three was her record. She might have been able to beat that, but we had already reached the door. I was somewhat relieved to see that it was a unisex bathroom (or, multisex? It was a single bathroom for men and women, whatever that is called.) I was relieved for two reasons: 1) I wasn’t sure which bathroom to take Ada in. I am a male, but she is a female. She was the one who would be going, but I am the adult. I don’t think other women would appreciate a man in their bathroom. There may even be laws against that, I’m not sure. Note to self: look this up for next time. These are the types of things that should be covered in parenting guides 2) Most men’s bathrooms are pretty disgusting. If women use this one half the time, it shouldn’t be that bad.
I was right, it wasn’t that bad. Of course, that probably had something to do with the big grate covered drainage hole in the middle of the floor which allowed for excess floor liquids to flow away. Pointing at the floor Ada asked, “What’s that, daddy?” Before I answered, I looked down at the hole and for a second thought about just letting her squat over it instead of sitting her up on the toilet, “Nothing, Pumpkin.” Then I thought if I were going to design a bathroom with a drainage hole in it, I would have positioned it near the toilet. Putting it in the middle of the floor seems to defeat the purpose of the drainage hole itself.
I knew Ada’s legs were too short to allow her to perform the ‘hover maneuver’, plus she had only been tee-teeing in the potty for less than 36hrs, thus I doubt she was even privy to its existence anyway, so I began to prep the area. I layered that seat so thick it was like we had sat her booster seat on the toilet. I turned around when I finally deemed the seat sanitary enough for my little girl only to see that she had already stripped down and was ready to go. If I had taken the time to add another layer, she might have used the drainage hole without me even suggesting it to her. I sat her up on the seat and what took about 10 minutes of preparation was over in less than thirty seconds.
We commemorated the event by chanting “Tee-tee in the potty! Tee-tee in the potty!” as we jumped up and down circling the ceremonial drainage hole. During our celebration, the booster seat of sanitation I had made for Ada fell into the toilet. I went ahead and flushed and we began washing hands. I hadn’t noticed it earlier, but as I reached for a paper towel to dry Ada’s hands off I saw the sign written in BIG BOLD BLACK lettering that was duct taped onto the paper towel dispenser: NO FLUSH PAPER TOWELS, POR FAVOR. I looked in the toilet and there it was, my sanitary booster seat refusing to let go and an alarmingly high water level that was still rising. My bad.
I grabbed Ada and we left the crime scene. Luckily the check was already at the table when we got back. I told LB to hurry and we were in the car making our get away in record time. I had just experienced the most adrenaline fueled bathroom visit of my life. I do feel bad about any possible defilement I may have caused, especially since that was their only bathroom, and for the next few weeks I will be scanning the local papers for any Mexican restaurants closings due to unrecoverable water damages. But like I told LB right after it happened, I care more about the health of my daughter than I do the plumbing of Padre’s.
I did leave a 27% tip, I hope that helps.
Archived Post Relevant The Office Quote:
Michael: Someone complained that the men's room is "whites only". Stanley, you know that's not true.
Stanley: I didn't say that.
Creed: Then why is there a picture of a white man on the door?
