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Friday, February 24, 2006

CULTURE/SOCIETY and HUMOR: Two Stories Involving Me, My Daughter, Nazis, a Co-Worker and Anthrax

Well, here are two stories I put in my last mass emailing to my friends, but I figured casual readers might appreciate these stories too. - OlderMusicGeek.

My daughter was looking at my hand. I don’t know remember the whys or wherefores, but she was looking at it. And she asked me if I had been captured by Nazis.

I was, of course, startled and didn’t understand at first what she was talking about. “What?! Why are you asking me that?!”

“You have blue numbers on your hand!”

At work, I was doing a job that dealt with a lot of boxes, so I was writing the number of the boxes on my hand so I would have them handy (hey, I made a bad pun!). (And yes, they do have paper at my work! But my hand is closer and don’t have to keep grabbing it to get the box number!)

I shook my head at my daughter’s response. “Those numbers were put on the forearm, not the hand. And how do you know about those numbers?”

Turns out somebody came and talked at their school about the Holocaust, and that’s how she was able to make that joke. This kid is sometimes too smart for me!

At work, we open a bunch of mail. This lady who was working next to me asked me what we should do if we find some white powder in an envelope.

"Why?" I asked dragging the word out a little bit. After a pause - "Did you find some white powder?"

"No," she laughed, "I was just wondering."

Being a smart alec, I said, "I think you should smell it and taste it just be sure if it is anthrax." (A friend, after reading this, said he would suggest doing something with a straw!)

She laughed. "Seriously though, what would you do?"

"Well," I thought, "I guess I would jump out of my chair, wave my arms wildly in the air, and yell at the top of my lungs, 'Anthrax!!!'."

Then after a pause, "That's probably what I would do, though I'm not sure if that's what we're suppose to do. I guess we should find out."

So as we were going out, we talked to our supervisor who has the nickname of Baby Boss. This is because she's not the real boss, just something of a supervisor.

"Hey, Baby Boss..." Yes, I do call her Baby Boss. There are some advantages to being 20 years older than your immediate supervisor, and with a junk job like I got, I make sure to use those advantages!

"Hey, Baby Boss, what are we suppose to do if we find some white powder in an envelope?"

“Um, I don’t know. Run away screaming?”

Then I turned to the woman I had been talking to, and said, “See, I told you!”

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