At the Bar Mitzvah

It began with a needle pulling thread. Yesterday, a sea-monkey entered the conversation. And if you thought those were bad, you ain't read nothing yet.

Today's suggestion comes from my friend Brian, via Facebook:

A priest, a rabbi, and a hooker walk into a bar. The priest orders a virgin Bloody Mary, then joins the others at a booth. He finds the rabbi with a Hooker to his lips; the hooker is enjoying her first He'Brew.

"I must confess," he says, "This is highly unorthodox."

"You see, Jason," says the hooker, "I have this spiritual hole I need to fill. I figured you two could guide me, you know, biblically speaking. And rather than screw around, I thought I'd have you both at once."

The priest eyed his competition. "Well, Norah, if you come with me you might end up in a missionary position."

"Jesus Christ!" says the rabbi. "Quit pimping your religion. She's just looking for spiritual guidance."

"No need to be cross. It was just a proposition."

"Don't crucify me, I'm trying to help. Now, the Torah is kept in this thing called—"

"Hell no, not another one of your ark tangents. Like you said, David, she wants spiritual guidance."

The hooker bangs on the table. "Look," she says. "Stop whining about spirits. And remember, I'm a lay person. So drop the religious jargon, Jason. Quit being so priestly."

"For the love of God!"

"Oh, calm down. I was just trying to get a rise out of you." She takes one last swallow of He'Brew. "Ugh, I feel sick. I'm gonna find a john and pray to the porcelain god."

She heads for the exit instead. The rabbi goes to her and says, "We're just men, Norah. But hey, if you want to talk later, give me a call, girl." She brushes him off and leaves to walk the streets home.

He returns to the table. The priest shakes his head and says, "You're a star, David."

Not that it matters, but every single time I tried to type rabbi it initially came out as rabbit. If I'd kept it that way, it would've been cuter, but with lots more screwing.

Anyway, our next visitor to the bar will be a bowl of Rice Krispies. (And if you haven't yet made a suggestion, I'll leave the request lines open just a little while longer...)

Now Entering Bar Harbor

When I asked for suggestions on what to bring to the bar scene, I thought you'd lob some softballs my way, items with plenty of potential for puns. Instead, you hit me with things like sea-monkeys and tuberculosis. Oh sure, I've got tons of material for those. And hey, Joelle? Tuberculosis has no physicality. How can it walk into a bar? (Eh, I'll make it work.)¹

Anyway, because I'm lazy everything wouldn't enter the bar at once, I'm going to tackle these one at a time. First up: a sea-monkey, courtesy of Kellie @ Delightfully Ludicrous. Let us begin.

A sea-monkey walks into a bar...on its sea-legs, I suppose. He sits next to a capuchin, pats his stomach, and says to the bartender, "My tank's empty. Get me a water, on tap."

"Hold on, I'll be with you in an instant."

A can of Mountain Dew sits down on the other side of the sea-monkey and says, "Don't order water in a bar. It tastes like piss." It then tries to grab some pickled eggs off the bar, but they all tumble to the floor.

"Who are you to tell me what to do?" says the sea-monkey.

"My name's Brian, shrimp."

"Well, Brian, I don't like how you drop eggs, insult water."

The bartender comes back over. "Okay, what can I get ya?"

"I'll have—"

"Not you. I'll take your orders in the order you sat down: monkey, sea-monkey, Dew.

Well, that's it for day one. Next time you get a priest, a rabbi, and a hooker. (Oh, and by the way, if you haven't made a suggestion yet, the request lines are still open...)


¹ For the purposes of this series, the character of Tuberculosis will be played by Tommy "Two-Toed" Tuberculosis.

Raising the Bar

In my last post, my second footnote had a needle pulling thread walk into a bar. I then proceeded to riff on needles and sewing, churning out pun after glorious pun. It may well be my best footnote to date.¹

The love I got for that bit made me want to challenge myself further. And that's where you come in. What I need from each of you is something that might "walk" into a bar.

It could be another inanimate object, like the needle. Perhaps a profession or celebrity or fictional character. Maybe an animal, vegetable, or mineral. But whatever you give me, they'll soon be entering a bar. And hilarity (or at least vast amounts of punnery) will ensue.

So, what've you got for me?


¹ Mostly because it knows how to sew and can mix a stellar martini. But really, I wouldn't suggest dating any of my footnotes. They don't take anything seriously, and well, I know they say size doesn't matter, but...

And Then I Made a 10-Footer

I haven't blogged much lately.¹ So² I thought,³ to⁴ make it up⁵ to you⁶ (or at least those of you with a footnote fetish),⁷ I would put together an epic post.⁸ Instead, I wrote this. Sorry!⁹ That's Life.¹⁰

¹ Sure, I'm focusing more on my novel (progress is slow but steady), but I also have a nearly 11-month -old (assisted walking is fast but steady), and beneath the carpet in our dining room we discovered linoleum (removal is very slow but for the love of all that is holy, who puts linoleum on top of hardwood?!).

² A needle pulling thread... walks into a bar. The bartender says, "You can't drag all that in here. I'm gonna have to cut you off."
"Darn it!" says the needle. "Quit hemming and hawing. Just give me a beer."
"Oh, you come bobbin in here and want me to tailor my business to your needs? Go lose yourself in a haystack."
"Mother of Pearl! Did you just...? Look me in the eye and say that again."
The bartender smiled pointedly. "Hey, no need to come unraveled."
"You think this is funny?"
"Well, you've got me in stitches."
The needle stalked out. "Cross my heart, I hope you die."
"Prick."

³ A dangerous proposition. The more I think, the more confused everyone else gets.

⁴ A dangerous preposition. I mean, it's involved in all sorts of horrifying things (e.g. death to infidels, a license to kill, From Justin to Kelly).

⁵ I like making things up. Stories, characters, excuses, lists of demands, tests, counters, you name it. Pretty much everything except my mind. Oh, and the bed. I don't see the point.

⁶ And when I say "make it up to you," of course I mean "make me feel less guilty about blogging less. What, you thought this was about you? Get over yourself. It's about me.

⁷ For they are the most susceptible to the advanced stages of blogoscopic footnotosis (formerly acute footnote withdrawal and wheelfiritis). Additional symptoms include stink eye, needle nose, pencil neck, cold shoulder, stiff arm, dead man's hand, wooden chest, flash back, bottom line, peg leg, and chicken foot.

⁸ You know, an exceptionally grandiose blog entry that will change the world. Or a 20-foot-high fence stake intricately carved to tell the entire story of the Iliad. Or an appointment as Über-Delegate to the Grand Poobah of Everything. One of those.

⁹ A game for 2-4 players.

¹⁰ A game for 2-6 players. In which, just like real life, you get a free car before your first job and get to drive it without a license. Of course, if you combine the game with Sorry!, you could end up back at the start, and become a polygamist working multiple jobs to make ends meet. (You might think this is a lame end to the post, but again, it's not all about you. It's about me. As long as I entertain one person, I'm happy. And Mikey, he likes it.)

The Professor Returns

I haven't shared much about The Professor (age: 10½ months) since the beginning of the semester, so I thought now would be the perfect time to recap the last few months. I'll do my best to be concise, though, so you can focus on more important things. Like the photos.

The Professor basically has three moods. In order of descending frequency:

1. Happy — characterized by laughing, smiling, clapping, waving, cooing, babbling, drumming, and high-fiving¹
2. Exploratory — he takes things in visually, tactilely, and of course, orally
3. Fussy — brought on solely by hunger, illness, or tiredness²

He seemingly has a fourth mood, wherein he appears to be over-serious. If he stays that way for any length of time, however, invariably he is sucking on a tiny pine cone.³

Although he can't walk on his own yet, he has mastered the art of the double dribble. No, not like a basketball player. Like a soccer-playing baby.⁴

The Professor has also been diagnosed with Schadenfreude Katzenartig, a condition so rare I had to name it myself. He's expected to overcome it eventually, but basically it means this: Although otherwise empathetic to others' misfortune, he laughs his head off when our cat Schrödinger has a hairball.

And there, once you've take a look at the full set of The Professor's pictures (with the 37 newest photos at the bottom), you'll be all ready for the final exam.

I'm kidding, of course; there's no way you'll be ready, not after missing so many classes. You're going to fail miserably. But, if you still want to give it the ol' college try, The Professor put together this study guide just for you.


¹ His three favorite things, in order of descending hilarity: 1) swift shifts in vantage point (e.g. swooping, spinning, baby lifts); 2) tickle tickle tickle time!; 3) whatever the cat is doing.
² Extremely Put Out is technically an extension of Fussy. It is caused by minor injury, extreme over-tiredness, and extreme Daddy taking too long to give him more Cheerios.
³ This has now happened twice, but two out of two is still "invariably." The dog tracks these things into the house on occasion, and the little Professor — the proud owner of two teeth, I might add — keeps at it, working it around in his mouth, hoping the thing will dissolve like everything else he eats so he can swallow it. Last week, when this first occurred, it took my wife a half hour to figure out what was "wrong."
⁴ No, not like a footballer who drops to the turf whining about his ankle every time someone gets within a yard of him. I'm talking about two succinct dribbles at the same time: one from his mouth, one with his feet.

Robot Haiku Contest Winners

First of all, thank you to everyone who entered this year's contest! Because of you — and especially Tara and Tyrean, who also spread the word on their blogs — my job as judge was that much harder. Yet, I went into the judging like a well-oiled machine. Too well oiled, in fact. My mind kept slipping, and at the end I was drained.

Anyway, onto the awards. As usual, the mechanisms of my judging were guided by extreme prejudice and no logic whatsoever. And if you haven't already done so, make sure to read all of the entries.

Dishonorable Mention

Once again, my father (BCFN) insulted both haiku and the prize in 17 syllables. I won't be reprinting his schlock here.

Plain Old Mention

I appreciated Laurie Peel's entry: A haiku praising my haiku about how to write haiku. But it had nothing to do with robots, so she's out.

Honorababble Mentions

These two would have been in the running, if not for one pesky extra syllababble. It's too bad; I enjoyed them both. First, from Tyrean Martinson, life comes to the lifeless:

lights switch on displays
after the science fair closes
a mind awakens

And Budd harkens the dawning of a new age:

Rise my Bretheren
let us strike down our oppressors
Enter the steel age

Honorable Mentions

Thanks to Owen, we learned the fate of someone long since forgotten:

Out of a soundless
wasteland sticks the bold head of
Mister Roboto

Zongrik showed us we're not so far off from the Jetsons after all:

digital housemaid
room disinfection robot
it's the modern age

And Tara Tyler tells us what we pretty much already know:

laziness is doom
robots do all and faster
humans obsolete

First Place — Traditional

I find this category the toughest to choose every year. This one was very close, but in the end, I called in the super-secret tie-breaking judge (my wife), who coaxed me into choosing a haiku by someone I had to coax into participating. From Lynda R Young:

A rusted robot
Its mechanics whirs and purs
Needs oil and falls down

First Place — Humorous / Creative

Humor was a little harder to come by this year than in past contests — apparently ninjas and pirates are funnier subjects than robots — but it didn't stop Mooderino. He takes home the prize with this little number:

As R2D2
Exclaimed to C3PO
"Brr wee ping woo woo!"

First Place — Robopocalypse

I knew I'd be awarding a third prize, but I only decided on the category after I chose the third winner. Budd claims this one with some sage advice on how we can survive the uprising:

How can we survive?
the machines have risen up.
Divide by zero

And that'll do it. Lynda, Moody, and Budd, send me an email and let me know your gift card preference (Amazon, iTunes, etc).

Congratulations to all the winners, and thanks again to everyone who entered!

A to Z: The Final Word

Before I get to the good stuff, let me tell you about the even better stuff. Today's the last day to enter my Robot Haiku Contest. Deadline's at 5pm, Eastern Time.

Letters. That was the final word of my Blogging from A to Z April Challenge.¹

Of course, if that was all I had for you today, this would be a short post. Yet, as many of you know, I'm no good at writing short posts.

I expected this year's A to Z to be tougher than last year's. With a 9-month-old at home and things getting mighty busy at work, I knew I'd have much less time to participate. So, I did what any sane person would do: I chose a theme that took even more time.²

And I fell behind quickly. Starting on D-Day, every single post was written the night before. And I only really had the chance to visit the bloggers who commented on my posts. Still, I got to discover some fun blogs, and loved the small cadre of loyal visitors who kept coming back to The Wheel for more.

I learned a few things during the Challenge, too:

• Some people appreciate being introduced to new things, but in general, people much prefer commenting on things they already know.
• I will always be a perfectionist. And a procrastinator. These things do not go well together.
• Sleep is for the weak.³

Creatively, what I enjoyed most about this year's Challenge was creating the letter graphics from my own photos. My favorites, in no particular order, are the ones ED LUVZ. Here are the whole bunch, in case you want to see 'em all in one place:

(click to embiggen)

A close second was coming up with the title for each letter. Here's a recap of all 26, for easy access:

1. Like the Fonz Always Said (with anagrammed hosts' names)
2. That Buzz in Your Ear
3. A Body Off the Coast (Seven C's Edition)
4. The End of the World
5. The Gad Preceder
6. Stop With the Camera
7. The Most Common Willikers
8. Jesus, Initially
9. The Window to the Soul (I Spy With My Little I Edition)
10. A Way of Walking
11. It's Alright, I Guess
12. The Train in Chicago (Double Hockey Stick Edition)
13. A Kansas Auntie (Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmm Edition)
14. The Center of Attention
15. A Surprised Utterance
16. A Small Green Orb (P's in a Pod Edition)
17. A British Line
18. The Call of the Pirate
19. The Start of Something (Super-Sized Saturday Edition)
20. Something You Put Balls On (T for 2 Edition)
21. A Ram's Better Half
22. Southbound Geese
23. The P.O.T.U.S. (#43)
24. A Former Flame
25. The Age-Old Question
26. The End of All That Jazz

But the best thing to come out of this Challenge? I began writing nearly every day. And I plan to keep up the pace, too. Just not here.

After over two years' hiatus from my novel, I'm finally back at it. Five chapters to go in the first draft. 87.5% done. I'll get this thing finished yet.

Right after I read some robot haiku. (Hint hint.)


¹ Unless you're of the mind that the footnotes came last, since they appear lower on the page. Then the final word was V. Which I'll pretend meant Victory.
² I didn't realize that when I chose it, of course. I'm a master at self-delusion. You might not think I'm a master, but that's because I'm only good at deluding myself, not you.
³ I'm weak. Sleep is gooood.