Consumer warning: Beware of dangerous superheated pickles

image (It’s Flashback Sunday — but DON’T PANIC! Just because this post isn’t even remotely familiar is no indication you are experiencing the beginning signs of dementia! Actually, the fact that you read this blog at all is probably the best indication. Regardless, posts for Flashback Sunday are chosen because they 1) Have appeared as a newspaper column but not on my blog, or 2) were posted here long ago, back when all of my followers could fit into a two-door Mini Cooper — and did, often for no apparent reason…)

It wasn’t long ago that I found myself driving down the road with an 800-degree onion ring searing my flesh. I had just left a Burger King drive-through and, after exchanging pleasantries at the window and maintaining my composure long enough to exit the parking lot, pounced on my combo meal sack like a hyena at a gazelle feed — laughing and eating, laughing and eating. Continue reading

Called for jury duty? Don’t forget your tinfoil hat

ap_amish_beard_cutting_trial_nt_120827_wmain There comes a time when we, as U.S. citizens, are called to step forward and — just as Americans have been doing for more than 200 years — devise a lame excuse to get out of jury duty. This time-honored tradition dates back to the very first jury pool, which John Handcock was excused from from jury duty after complaining of “hand cramps of the severest nature.”

As it stands, I’ve been excused from jury duty twice, despite expressing my willingness to serve. For as long as it took. Even if it meant contacting the Mother Ship to ask for more time.

So when my latest summons came in the mail, my first instinct was to make a tinfoil hat with the words, Hello: My Name Is Quandar written across the front which, along with my silver jump suit, can usually get me dismissed in less than 30 minutes (depending on how quickly my tinfoil hat clears security). Continue reading

‘Bathroom rage’ could soon by clogging court systems

My new 'Rodeo Commode' could solve the growing bathroom rage problem.

My new ‘Rodeo Commode’ could solve the growing bathroom rage problem.

Several years ago I came up with an idea while standing in line for the rest room, which, in this case, was actually a row of six portable toilets set up to meet the needs of approximately 8,000 men, women and children, each of whom had apparently consumed two or more 128-ounce Big Gulps in the previous 20 minutes.

Necessity is the mother of invention. Which is why, as I stood waiting next to a continually running water fountain that was broadcasting every splash over the PA system, I found it necessary to occupy my thoughts with a way to speed up the public commode-using process. This was like trying to take your mind off of having surgery by watching The Medical Channel.

Regardless, it led to a revolutionary idea I call the “Rodeo Commode.” Continue reading