Feedback Friday (#16)

Well, it's that time again . . .

Feedback Friday. Arguably the best day of the week . . . unless you aren't into feedback. I could see how that might ruin it for ya.

For those of you who do like to wax poetic - have I got a dandy for you. I was going to ask you to elaborate all about the best Christmas present you received this year. It was going to be all warm and fuzzy and pastel-tinted, but I've decided to go in a slightly different direction this week.

The stoic, bearded guru sitting cross-legged atop the mountain told me to zig instead of zag, and darn-it-all that is exactly what I shall do. Prepareth thyself.

The assignment for this week is actually pretty simple. In honor of Evil Twin Biff's (see previous post) arrival and subsequent promotion to the much-sought-after corner office here at Procrastination Station (and why shouldn't he get the corner office, he's been here all of 3 hours), I want to hear all about something mischievous that you would like to do if you could blame it on your "Evil Twin" and never, ever get caught. Maybe you have always wanted to streak naked through the streets of Columbus, Ohio or karate kick the candy bar machine in the office breakroom or possibly even hang up on a telemarketer. Oh the horror!

This is your chance to throw caution to the wind and live vicariously through your very own "Evil Twin". (Admittedly, it's sort of pathetic and internet-geeky, but at least it beats playing Dungeons & Dragons with your only two friends, Guido and "Slow-Francisco" again. Think about it.)

This should be fun.


Ben O.

BTW - if you want to tell us about your favorite Christmas present as well, that's cool too.

Evil Twin Biff's T-Shirt Logic

Okay . . . Christmas was great and everyone loves gettin' all sentimental, but in the illustrious words of the older brother on Home Alone - "Enough of this mushy sh . . . ow of affection."

***ALERT***

The State of Iowa in all their radiant brilliance has decided to release my evil twin Biff, much to the dismay of the owners of that diner he held hostage for three nights back in '88. Apparently he has paid his debt to society and is now no longer a threat to the pancake eating masses out there in the general public. (I personally disagree, but I don't get to vote on it.)

The important thing for you, the reading public, to know is that he has taken a part-time position here at Procrastination Station as an OpEd columnist. His piece "T-Shirt Logic" will be appearing from time to time . . . consider yourself warned. I recommend preparing yourself and your immediate household by taking a few simple steps. You might want to consider renewing the "temporary insanity" floater on your life insurance policy as well as re-upholstering the couch and/or chez lounge. It's totally up to you whether or not you want to install a Tornado Shelter out back . . . some do, some don't.

So, without further ado . . . here goes -


Biff

Still Here . . .

Well, believe it or not - the little people here at Procrastination Station are still alive. Christmas exploded into our no-space-having, I-want-that-even-though-I-don't-really-need-it lives just two days ago and already I'm starting to grow a tad bit tired of hearing "Grandma Got Runover by A Reindeer". Why the heck wasn't Santa watching where he was going anyway? I like Grandmas . . . come to think of it . . . who doesn't?

I digress.

I am typing this as I sit among the stacks of thrashed wrapping paper and partially picked-over chocolate variety packs in the downstairs living room of my childhood home nestled quaintly in a leaf-covered street somewhere in the wonderful state of Texas. Isn't Christmas great that way? I personally think Linus was dead on, but just slightly below that beautiful sentiment . . . Christmas is probably also all about Family.

Family - (n.) That belovedly interesting, if not slightly strange accumulation of people that you look forward to seeing each chance you get, even though everyone involved manages to drive each other just a lil' bit crazy sometimes.

(Don't blame me - that's Ole' Mr. Webster speaking there. Look it up.)

Truly, enjoying time with your family is the most important part of the Holiday Season, no matter what holiday you choose to celebrate. So, we here at The Station wanted to send out wishes of many happy family times for all during this holiday season.


Ben O.

The Recent Future

Okay, here's the deal . . .

It's almost Christmas and the management here at Procrastination Station has somehow had a change of heart and reluctantly retracted their previous "NO leaving the office for any reason whatsoever" policy. As you can imagine, the family is rather pleased about that.

So, the next week or so might get a little thin on content around here. I'll be checking in from the road and probably even posting, but admittedly the usual high-brow banter and overwhelmingly witty humor might not reach that award-winning plateau with quite as much gusto and consistency as you have all come to expect. (Who the heck am I kidding . . . we haven't won "Blog of the Week" in months.)

Hey, I guess if you can't live without some rapid-fire postings and don't really care all that much about substance, you might try firing up the ole' mouse and surfing on over to Dangthisdudepostsalot.com or Hello-thisguyreallychurnsouttheposts.com or possibly even Icheckbackeveryhourandthereisanewpost.com. I hear they are all really, really verbose.

What I am trying to say is that I won't be checking attendance for the next few days, so if you want to slip out for a quick game or two of dodgeball . . . nobody is going to know.

Merry Christmas!


Ben O.

5 Random Facts That Most People Don't Know About Me

Yowza - tagged again . . .

The ever-popular Mysterious in Blue over at Laughter is Essential applied the tag this time.

I must have let my guard down momentarily.

:)

5 Random Facts that Most People Don't Know About Me (and in keeping with our cutting edge, fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants philosophy here at Procrastination Station . . . we're gonna go in reverse order. Try and keep up.)

5. I 'm not left handed, even though I prefer to wear my watch on my right wrist. I don't know why, but it just feels better over there.

4. I only recently started liking salad dressing. As strange as it may sound, I ate my salads totally dry up until a few months ago.

3. I sometimes switch 2's and 6's in my head and end up writing a 2 when I wanted to write a 6 or vice versa. Explain that one to me all you wanna-be Sigmund Freuds out there in I-have-a-theory-about-that-and-I'm-gonna-tell-you-about-it-whether-you-want-me-to-or-not-land.

2. I would rather be sitting all the way up in the nose-bleed section at an Ice Hockey game than next to the players' bench at a Basketball game. Sorry, Shaquille.

And finally . . . in keeping with the Christmas Theme -

1. I have never seen the movie "It's a Wonderful Life" all the way through. Not once.

I was going to tag a few of the regulars here at the Station, but I decided to cut you all some slack for the Holidays. If you feel the spirit move ya, please feel free to go with it.

It's been fun -


Ben O.

Feedback Saturday (#15)

Okay, here's one for ya . . .

I 'm not quite sure if it has something to do with the season or what, but I sure have been hearing alot about sleeping kids that have visions of candy dancing around in there heads as well as this fat, fashionably challenged old geezer who, for some reason, has taken it upon himself to slide down people's chimneys so that he can distribute candy and gifts while they are asleep, and while we are at it . . . what the heck is a sugar-plumb fairy anyway? Wait, I just decided that I don't really want to know. Some things are better left "un-figured-out" . . . as it were.

Now, everybody knows that Christmas is one of the biggies when it comes to candy. You practically have to exile yourself to a cave for three months if you don't want to gain 25 lbs. of somewhat-less-than-beautiful fat over the Holiday Season. Did I hear someone say "24 Hour Fitness"? So many goodies just laying about that most party tables look like a display case at the Hershey Factory in Pennsylvania on "Chocolate Overstock" Day.

Now I'm no expert, but I would just bet that every single breathing human-being out there has themselves a favorite type or brand of candy. It could be an oldie, but goodie from the long-distant past or one that is so hot off the assembly line that even Paris Hilton hasn't ruined it yet by applying her own style of overexposure to it. Maybe it's a two pack of Peanut Butter Cups or a nice crisp Red & White Candy Cane or possibly even an entire sleeve of Pez gracefully shot out of Darth Vader's mechanical mouth. It don't matter to me . . . I just want to hear about it.

So, pull up a keyboard, turn on the ole' memory banks and tell us all about your favorite candy. I want to know every last detail pertaining to when the first time you tasted it was and why you can't go 3 hours without having it. (You can leave out that part about when you ate 14 bags of it and threw up in the front-yard next to your Mother's roses . . . please.)

This really should be fun.


Ben O.

Man-Purses For Everyone

Okay people, I'm not gonna go over this but once - sometimes the best thing to say is nothing at all . . .

or, in extreme cases you can always try saying "I'm truly sorry Captain, but I have never actually been to India. You must be thinking of my evil twin, Biff." (That usually works for me.)

Now, here are a few other helpful hints that I've managed to glean from my many exciting adventures . . .

- If you ever get the chance to play goalie for the Brazilian National Soccer Team, do not . . . repeat . . . do not wave at your mother in the stands. The crowd doesn't like that for some reason.

- I would think twice before eating anything stored in a container made out of a human skull.

- There can't (and shouldn't) be more than three cardboard cut-outs of Donald Trump at any one time on top of the Alamo.

- Always leave a tip for the guy who packs and prepares your parachute.

- If, when hunting for cape buffalo, you get close enough to smell what they ate for dinner . . . you've maybe gotten a tad too close. No problem, simply maintain a calm demeanor and slowly move in the direction of the nearest available Dodge Caravan.

- Contrary to popular belief, there is never a good time to deliver a ten-second kiss to anyone referred to as "El Matador". (That one proved to be especially painful . . . let me tell ya.)

- Porcupines (and vampire bats, strangely enough) respond poorly to having their nails clipped.

Well, that's it. I sure hope these lil' nuggets come in handy for you the next time you're in Cleveland.


Ben O.

The First Annual Procrastination Station Lurker Appreciation Day

Okay people, today I thought we would try something a little bit different . . .

I happen to know that there are at least a handful of people out there who log on to the Station each day, spend a little time, get their fix and then quickly scurry away to some other site . . . without leaving so much as whiff of perfume to indicate their having been here. I believe said people are commonly known as "lurkers".

Let me be the first to say that every single person is welcome here regardless of what you feel your comfortable contribution level may in fact be. But, if you happen to fall into the afore-mentioned "look, but don't touch" category, then today is your day to shine.

I am hereby officially designating today as the "First Annual Procrastination Station Lurker Appreciation Day". (Please excuse our pomp and circumstance, but this is important stuff we are dealing with here.)

Now . . . the details are as follows -

- If you happen to find yourself reading this, please leave a comment. This request is only for today. I simply want to give everyone out there the chance to say "Hello" without having to feel any added pressure whatsoever. We are celebrating you and want to let you know about it.

- Please leave a comment, it can totally be anonymous and all you need to say is hello or something similar (or whatever you want).

- Regular commenters are welcome to participate as well. I am hoping to generate an insane amount of that "warm & fuzzy, blog's are great" kinda feeling out there.

I can't really think of anything else to say (I know it has been an incredibly "wit & humor-free" zone tonight), except that it has been great knowing you all are out there and I really look forward to a little contact with ya . . . if only for one day.

This should be fun.


Ben O.

Would You Like Chestnuts With Your Backlash?

Okay, here's one for ya . . .

What the hey is going on out there, people? The last time I looked (and believe it or not, I look even more frequently than I care to mention) the ever popular complaint line at the Official Department of Everything Christmas was longer than the amount of red-tape required to get a special tax exemption for your invisible friend as a dependent, all stretched out from end to end.

Now that's a lot of tape.

I've seen less disturbing pictures painted by Salvador Dali during his "really freakish" period.

The point here is that neither Santa nor God ever intended the whole Christmas thing to get quite as cookie as it currently is. I'm pretty sure that a couple of angels actually lose their wings each and every time Mariah Carey hits that really high note in her runaway holiday hit "All I Want for Christmas is You".

You and I both know that there are entire zip-codes full of suit-wearing scrooges out there right now scurrying to position their company's newest toy or electronic device as this year's "must have" item of the season. Before the Thanksgiving cranberries are even allowed to settle, every single person in suburban America is already waiting frantically in line at the mall and more than ready to trample over his neighbor's face in order to get the last Nintendo Super-Duper Mp3 Gamebox-a-Rama. Little Johnny has to have it, for cryin' out loud.

For my money, I would personally like to see us ease up and relax back into a Christmas celebration that is focused a little bit less on . . . money. Don't get me wrong - I would never complain about something as spendable as money. Maybe I'm just old-fashioned that way.

Although, I don't think I have ever even seen a chestnut roasting. Have you?

So, then . . . what do you get when you take something that is completely wonderful in just about every way and loved by practically everyone, their grandma and their grandma's dog and then mercilessly squeeze every last drop of what everyone enjoys out of it?

No, not extra-virgin prune juice.

I think the word you're looking for is "Backlash".

Now I'm no expert, but can't we all just try and get along . . . at least in public.

We here at Procrastination Station are always looking for new ways to selflessly and humbly serve the public. This Christmas season, with so many people looking for a way to express themselves, we have decided to offer something you will truly be proud to wear no matter where you are.

For a limited time, we are selling these attractive "Just Say Merry Christmas" bracelets. In a time when the most cherished holiday of the year is being taken hostage by big business, strike a blow for tradition and the true essence of Christmas.

Get yours now - just $23.95 each (plus S&H).

Makes a great stocking stuffer.


Ben O.

Feedback Saturday (#14)

Here's the deal . . .

Yet again Feedback Friday has inexplicably become Feedback Saturday. Where does the time go? I'm trying here people . . . I really am. This blog thing might sound good on paper, but then you realize that you actually have to sit down at the computer, turn the brain on and write the sucker. I'm not complaining or anything. I mean, I guess it could be a whole lot worse. I could decide to change the format of Procrastination Station to one of those ever popular "News and Politics Blogs".

That sound you hear is me shuddering at the thought.

Anyway -

This week were gonna stick with the musical theme (see previous post . . . please) and find out just how many of you are willing to step up to the plate and bare your souls about which particular Christmas song decks your halls and rings your silver bells.

That's it - I want to know what your favorite Christmas song is. I also want to know what version you like . . . as in who you prefer singing your chosen song. It might be Nat King Cole, it might be The Bare Naked Ladies or it might be Alvin, Simon and Theodore. I don't care, I just want to read about it in my tidy little comments section tomorrow when I finally wake up and log back on.

As mentioned last week - I don't want to see the words "Barry" or "Manilow" . . . come to think of it, I also don't want to see the words "Backstreet" or "Boys" anywhere near the comments section. Undr - behave yourself. You don't have any points left for me to dock.

This should be fun.


Ben O.

What Does A Guy Have To Do To Get A Little Global Warming Already?

Okay people, here's one for ya . . .

I was reading through my new copy of "Interesting Things to Talk About on Your Blog Weekly" this morning and apparently 17,928 first year graduate students at the Devry School of Vacuum Cleaner Repair were polled recently concerning which they thought would freeze, die and fall off first in extreme cold - a finger or a toe. Well, I have no doubt whatsoever that they would be the ones to ask, but I wasn't able to read far enough to learn the answer because I had to pick all of my fingers and toes up off of the floor.

Can I just say that it is way too freakin' cold here in beautiful Colorado.

In keeping with the festive theme I've been noticing around the Internet these days, I thought I would propose a new (and I think exciting) version of an old familiar Christmas Song. Feel free to introduce this soon-to-be-classic to your friends and family at your next holiday get-together. It is all but guaranteed to delight the masses and deliver a virtual cornucopia of Christmas cheer to anyone who is fortunate enough to hear it this season.

Brown Christmas (to be sung to the tune of White Christmas)

I'm dreaming of a Brown Christmas
Just like the ones when I had toes
Where its warm and cozy
With intact nosies
'Cause every inch of skin has done got froze

I'm dreaming of a Brown Christmas
With every finger that falls off
May a ray of sunshine please shine down
and could just one Christmas please be brown


Ben O. (Wating for the mercury to rise)

BTW - As a follow up to the last post . . . The ever-popular and exceedingly personable Sadie Lou has written up a very nice "Shout Out" about the Station. This one really is worth surfing over and checking out.

Thanks, Sadie.

Never Read Your Own Press

Here's something sort of interesting for ya . . .

Apparently our little blog has been "reviewed" by a site called I Talk Too Much.

Right out of the box, I got ripped apart for making use of the free and readily available blogspot templates (Hello . . . they're FREE and READILY AVAILABLE. As in no extra effort or money.) Anyway, they do give the Station three out of five hand smacks overall. I'm pretty sure the individual actually performing the review must have gotten a kick out of some of my posts, because they wrote this -

"I can’t put my finger on why, but I actually quite enjoyed this blog."

I guess that's something . . . right?


Ben O.

BTW - If you have some free time (and I know you do) surf on over there and leave a comment telling them just how much you love and adore the Procrastination Station and how your life simply couldn't go on with out it. Or not.)

Ho, Ho, Ho

Dude, what the heckola is up with Blogger? It repeatedly told me that my blog didn't exist last night. I was about to resign myself to a life without the precious little joys of posting to my blog, but fortunately everything is back up and running tonight (much to the fevered disappointment of those sniveling weasels out there who write their frantic "letters to the editor" each and every day trying to get me and those of my ilk removed permanently from the internet. Let me just say once and for all - I know who you are and as soon as my ship comes in, I will hunt you down like the dogs that you are. Procrastination Station has a crack team of hard-nosed private investigators out there right now scouring suburbia for the all of the usual suspects.)

Okay, now that I got that particular tidbit of paranoia off my chest . . .

How is the Christmas Season treating everyone out there? The Procrastination Station Management Team finally got around to distributing our Christmas Bonuses yesterday, and I was pleasantly surprised to discover that they took my request to heart and added a $5 Taco Bell coupon to each six pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon handed out this year.

Hey, every little bit counts.

Now I'm certainly no expert, but wouldn't it be much safer for everyone involved if we just put an end to all the shenanigans once and for all and simply outlawed Christmas parties at work in the lower 48 states? The last time I checked, exactly 0 people marked the "I would like to hang out with the weirdos I work with more" box on their yearly Employee Psychological Adjustment Questionnaire.

How can anyone ever forget singing "Grandma Got Runover By a Reindeer" 29 times before someone finally smashed the radio with a stapler. At least the creepy part-time mail-room guy will be there with his special homemade raisin-artichoke tarts. They were such a hit with the kiddies last year.

The problem here, at least as far as I can tell, is that no matter how many CDs of "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree" and no matter how much red and green tinsel you throw throw in there, the conference room will always be the same drab, lifeless vortex of melancholy and boredom that it always is . . . completely capable of sucking out little bits of your soul each and every time you go in there . . . and it sure seems like you have to go in there an awful lot.

So, here's wishing everyone a very Merry Christmas as you slave away out there this year.


Ben O.

Feedback Saturday (#13)

Well, we went to our first Christmas Party of the season last night and upon returning home, I quickly fell fast asleep. Hence the absence of Feedback Friday and the make-shift addition of the ever-popular Feedback Saturday.

Why do I even bother trying to explain these things? Is anyone even out there?

Okay, enough of them there hors d'ouvres, here's the main course for ya . . .

The anything-if-not-excessively-persistent Procrastination Station Management Team called me collect this morning from their quarterly golf retreat in Honolulu (to which I have as yet never been fortunate to receive an invitation), and said they wanted to know something about the live music tastes of each and every reader out there. At least those who have still managed to avoid indictment.

So, I came up with a simple, yet informative question for this week's feedback-fest . . .

What was your favorite concert of all time?

That's it. That's the question. I want to know all about the best live music performance you've ever experienced. Feel free to fill us all in on how close you were to the stage, how crazy you were when the bass player winked at you or how drunk you were when you fell asleep in your car in the parking lot and totally missed the entire show.

There is just one stipulation to this week's edition - I don't want to see the words "Barry" or "Manilow" anywhere near the comment section. The penalty for this will be swift and harsh. It might even result in a complete loss of points. Hey, we have to have rules, here people.

As per usual . . . this should be fun.

Ben O.

Go Out There And Win One For The Kiffer

The truth is that aliens landed years ago and have already managed to infiltrate most, if not all of the places we frequent on a daily basis. Every single person out there knows someone who just doesn't get it or might not seem to fit in completely. That man or woman who has always been just a tad bit strange. They say the most bizarre things at the most inexplicable times.

Your gut feeling on this was right on . . . 100%, grade A no if's-and's-or-but's about it alien.

That freak who lives below you in your apartment complex and always decides to invite 37 of his best friends over and play his stereo way too loud every Tuesday night at 2:00 AM . . . alien.

That moron who winks at you as you hurriedly and uncomfortably try to get on the elevator every morning before allowing him the opportunity to wink at you yet again . . . alien.

The lilac haired checkout woman at the grocery store who can somehow chew gum, ask you disinterestedly how your day was and whistle the theme to The Dukes of Hazzard simultaneously while calling Ethel over the loudspeaker for another price check on jiffy pop popcorn . . . alien.

That dude who just cut you off in traffic . . . alien.

Heck, while we're at it, why not just zap the whole lot of 'em? Their all freakin' aliens afterall.

Right?


Ben O. (Two feet firmly planted on tera firma - for the time being, at least.)