Spook’s Playhouse

Posted on gaf.com for the humor of readers I have no clue who are.  Copy and pasted here for my family to know what hell they put me through.

Come here occassionally to laugh at your guys humor, post ever so rarely. Once again my good friend Zesty directs my attention to this thread with a simple “this thread was made for you lol”… Poop to me is hilarious so I was audibly laughing at both well described and detailed stories.

I have a story as well that can only be similar to the original thread poster.

A little info. I can’t eat onions. My family knows this. They USUALLY prepare a portion of whatever meal that they might be preparing sans onions for me, and the rest of the family gets to enjoy the delight of onions. To be honest tho I don’t really like onions so I’m not missing much. Well, regardless of whether or not I remove onions from whatever food I’m about to eat, even if it was improperly cooked with the onions that I asked to be removed, it’s littereally a crap shoot. I fight the odds to see if enough of the acids from the onion have been absorbed by the rest of the food that was cooked with said onions or do I get a hall pass.

One Thanksgiving I’m out in Madison, as my sister is hosting the family’s Thanksgiving Dinner that year. Well, in her preperations, she had forgotten the slight detail of my ever struggling gamble with the onion. Onions were litterally in everything. Me living in Milwaukee, which pending on how fast you drive, can be done in an hour or an hour and a half. Later that night on my return home, unknowingly I would test that time. After removing like a whole onion from my dinner, every bite that I took from that plate was just adding another bullet to the already overloaded gun. After dinner I was testing the waters so to speak. And amazingly I seemed fine. An hour past with no indication of anything to worry about. Then two hours. I had the feeling that I would be able to drive home with no incident. Wishing everyone a good evening I departed to take the one hour drive home.

Now for those of you not familiar with the Madison to Milwaukee drive, there are a couple stops. Usually 10-20 miles apart. Keep that in mind.

As I pull onto the freeway, I get the first indication that something is afoot. I pull on my seatbelt to relieve any pressure that might be placed on my intestines and then decide to fully unbuckle my seat belt as to not help things along. Unfortunately the intestines are to wide to hopefully block said passage ways from allowing whatever batter that was brewing to make it’s way further down the pipe work. To be honest with my system, any outside pressure pretty much assists anything to go down. So this move bought me some time, for when taking off my seat belt, the issue seemed to pass. An exit approaches… I guage the feelings in my gut and decide that I should be okay and not need any stop to vacate that which is brewing on the inside.

Two miles after the exit passes, it hits like the force of Comet Levy Schumacher 9 hits Jupiter. The bullet gets loaded into the chamber and the firing pin has met the primer… oh it’s coming now… and not much can stop it. I start wriggling in my car seat… hoping that some movement can buy me any amount of time, a second, a minute, a few minutes… anything… that prickly sensation starts to form on my neck knowing how screwed I would be if I unleash this hell that my sister has brought upon me. Sweat beads form on my forehead as I contemplate what to do… I pray for a Johnson’s Creek exit sign to appear in my headlights… I decide to do what any motorist would do at that time… as the pressure builds inside my bowels, my foot pushes down on the accelerator. At the time I’m driving a ‘94 Saturn SC2. I pray that the tiny engine’s dual over head cam system can get me to the light at the end of the tunnel. I’m doing 85 miles an hour on the freeway. Johnson’s Creek 2 miles ahead. I push the accelerator down a tad more… 87 miles an hour. I notice in my rear view mirror that a new set of head lights has appeared on the freeway out of no where. I dismiss it as maybe I passed someone not realizing it since I was concentrating with every fiber of my being to hold back that which was destined to destroy my car. Doing 90 now as I see the lights of the outlet mall on the Northside of the highway… holding back everything now as I don’t have much longer to last. I see heaven. The PDQ gas station which is about a half a mile away from the exit. I squirm a bit more… once again looking in my rearview mirror to see that the car behind me has caught up… and there’s something above its roof… “F**************ck…………” Well I ain’t stopping. As I get on the exit I’m about half way down the exit before I hit the brakes to slow down as to take the right turn ahead at a safe speed. And now the trooper is on the exit. He’s catching up fast and I start to think maybe I should just shit my pants right there so that he sees why I was speeding. However, duty calls and I need to make it to my planned destination which is a half mile away. Flying down the remaining state highway to the PDQ I park as close as I can to the front door and as I’m bolting to the rest room I see the trooper pulling in to the gas station. (This guy’s determined.) Now for the grand finale.

Normally I’m sh*t shy. I can’t poop if there’s another person in the bathroom with me. But for the last 15-20 minutes I’ve been holding back the doodoo demons racking against my sphincter for release into the free world. I don’t care if the Pope himself is doing his evening glory in the stall next to me. This stuff is coming out and I don’t care what it does.

Pants around my ankles, ass against free air it all releases with that great nice peaceful sound of detonation after detonation of air, and fecal matter splattering the porcelain. In the middle of the third detonation I hear the bathroom door open and the sound of boots and keys. The distinguishable sound of a police officer walking into the restroom. I could care less… my ass isn’t done with the percussion part of the show and is still going on.

The trooper had his answer. He was waiting to say it as he witnessed me flying down the freeway. In all his glory, he got himself a speeder on Thanksgiving. All hell was going to come down on this motorist. I knew he was going to ask the question, “What’s the hurry, kid?” Well… at that moment… my ass was giving him the answer.

The rest of the drive home I did 64mph. Just to make sure.

Somedays when I’m working in hell, I get awesome displays of just how stupid people can be.  For instance… for some reason, one of our sales guys here is trying to buy some PCs.  Why? I dunno… not his job… maybe he’s trying to swing some deal for himself or something.  Seemed really excited when I was kind of vague and sounded like I might actually be considering buying them.  Any hoooo… I’m sitting down in a meeting with my director and we’re going over a few things.  The PC’s is one of them and there were some questions that needed to be answered.  Well… I don’t like to have multiple people call the same contact asking the same question, just have the original contact here continue all correspondence with the contact out there.

Well, one of the software titles that I needed to put on the PC’s would have been a PDF writer.  And my director had put Adobe Acrobat Writer… (It’s actually Adobe Acrobat Professional but that’s not what this is about… that’s a simple mistake…)  Well, this sales guy sees this and says, I think it comes with that…

Okay you think?

So in an email the sales person asking if he could confirm the belief that the software was infact on the PC.  I’m thinking no because Adobe doesn’t go throwing around $500.00 software programs on PCs for free.  Adobe Acrobat Reader yes… Adobe Acrobat Professional no… and I have this feeling… I dunno… maybe cuz I’ve been dealing with Computers in the professional arena for… oh 11 years or so… well… half way through the day… my “confirmation” came… and I’m going to copy and paste the text…

…ready?

“Bob says “Yes I believe it does” have the PDF writer…..”

You kidding me?  Yeah and I might believe that I thought you had an ounce of intelligence in that cranium of yours but pretty much lost that after I got this concrete evidence.

Morons… each and every one of them… Oh… Hi, Pops.  My dad reads my blog site now. lol  I tend to swear a tad when I write. Anyway… hope everyone’s doing well!

And it’s because of this that I go to websites like the US National Bikini Team… Now seriously I go here once like every two weeks or so when bored at work. Don’t even give me that “look”… I’m not as bad as some people in this office. I don’t have like 3 boxes full of magazines and two boxes full of video sitting in the warehouse because of the fact that I just moved in with my girlfriend and I don’t want her finding my stash. That’s the guy who works downstairs. So me going to the bikini team’s website pales in comparisson. What I have noticed tho is like every time I do go to the site that they’re congratulating some other girl for getting picked to do a photo spread in Playboy. That’s fucking asstastic. I commend Heff for probably doing the same thing. Tho I don’t wield as much power as he does. Maybe it’s that I lack a silk robe… or… maybe it’s cuz I’m in a dead end ass job that I can’t stand and he’s the editor and chief of one of the biggest men’s magazines on the planet. Oh well… I’ll just have to do what I do to get by…

Thank you google for your powerful websearch tool.

Yet on a sad note today.  Our little solor system just lost a rock that orbits the sun.  Pluto is no longer considered a planet.  What has the universe come to?  I guess My Very Excellent Mother Just Sold Us Nothing.  Cuz she originally sold us nine planets but we kinda lost the P in that sentance now.  hmmm… to come up with something creative on now how to remember the planets that make up our solar system…

Multiple Versitie Erotic Mechanisms Justifying Sexy Negligee

So after 6 hours of straight Bud Light pounding last night, watching Hitch, laughing my ass off for like two hours straight, setting my little sister right, ranting about a time most chersihed…

I came to the conclusion of one of the aspects of what love really is…

…where you can be your utmost nerdy/geeky self and have your significant other jump in and be able to just lose yourselves in laughter.  And here as I write this I’m listening to Heavy D & The Boyz “Now That We Found Love” because I love the ending of the movie Hitch and how all four are just acting all crazy like.

I miss them times.  Granted I act like a crazy ass most of the time, regardless… It’s so much more fun in the presence of someone you love to the end of time and back.  I just have to look forward to the tnext time then that I get to find myself travelling down that path.

The phrase… the key phrase… that can either strike fear in a small child or provoke so much humor between two adults. As long as the phrase wasn’t “Watch what I do to you…” you knew your were somewhat safe. It became a competition that I think I finally won because there were several times that this happened:

Spook: What … don’t think I won’t?

Dink: Oh I know you will… I have no doubt in my mind that you will.

Yes the owner of this phrase is our lovely and funny Dink. Before I went to bed last night a lot hit me. Yesterday was one strange Monday.

First I woke up staring out at my neighborhood wondering what the hell was going on. No clue what day it was… no clue what I had to do or even if I was in my own bed… wondering if it was a dream or reality.

At work I came up with a real brain teaser… Why is it that a man can fondle another man’s nipple and it be seen as a joke or humor… yet the second a man were to fondle a woman’s nipple… humor’s out the window… I’m sure the dude would get slapped, lawyers would get involved and that dude’s going to sensitivity training. I bring this to one of my female friend’s attention. This is where the gears skipped again. In the first like minute of the conversation I somehow scored permission to publicy rub her nipples without getting kicked in the nuts by her… as opposed to some stranger that would get kicked in the nuts. And I think if the XY Chromosone factor in her life found out I publically rubbed her nipple, I think I’d have to be looking over my shoulder. So no nipple rubbin there… maybe… for a bit… hah…

But ladies and gents… I came to a conclusion yesterday. I’m more like my dad than I ever thougth I was. Anyone who knows me, that I’m a fucking crazy nut. The shit that comes out of my mouth will have you wondering what I’m on and how I’ve survived this long. Let’s look at some of my crazy antics.

Depantsed a woman in front of 1000 people letting the world see the lovely thong that she was wearing. Laughing the whole time while her date/escort/whoknowswhathewas stumbled back and forth wondering if he should enjoy the view or help out.

Blown up oranges in the Marines.

Asked a brand new mom if her baby’s actually feeding or sucking on her boobs while my mom was sitting there.

Acted like a german science fiction pilot in the Bimmer while driving to a concert.

Just to name a few. Wait till you see the hat that I wanna buy… that will stamp it on my forehead.
Well… I was supposed to go to my mom’s house last night. Didn’t quite make it since my dad decided to stop by. So called my mom let her know that I wasn’t going to be making it and entertained my dad for the evening. Well… my dad’s a fucking nut too. I now know accept the fact that it’s where I get my zaniness. Well… my dad did a “Watch what I do…”

Last month I told him I wanted to buy a house. Told him that I wanted to buy a house,  and that a few things were preventing me from buying a house. Umm… come to find out last night that my Dad was on the verge of buying me a house last month after I told him this.

Excuse me I beg your pardon what the hell did you just say?

Well… I told him that I was being sarcastic and not serious. My Dad… he’d have done it. No doubt in my mind. This is the man that left a piece of cake on my fucking mail box on Sunday night. I know he cares and that he loves me. And we have to accept how people choose to love us since it might be the only way that he knows.  So he tried to show me on Sunday by bringing me a piece of cake… I didn’t hear the doorbell because I was watching Saving Private Ryan… so he left it there on my mailbox… Ain’t he sweet? >.>

You don’t expect these words out of a 72 year old man’s mouth. But there we were sitting on my couch and there he sat as he said it:

Papa Spook: When I was younger there were three things that had to happen before I would consider marrying a woman…

Spook: (chuckling) …this I gotta hear…

Papa Spook: One, she had to be thin, no gordas… Two, I had to meet her mother so that I knew she wasn’t going to be gorda when she grew up… (it was at this point I just fell over laughing… my father… Mr. High Almighty Priest of the Catholic Church… was telling me how he didn’t want a fat chick…)

I never got to hear three because of how hard I was laughing. That and my Dad talks about having sex a lot.  Like wanting it now… that’s TMI but still funny at the same time… Needless to say tho, yes I am my father’s son. No I’m not my mother’s son. I love my parents dearly. And it’s with age that I’ve come to realize just how much. There’s nothing wrong with having the more endearing qualities of both of my parents. Just so long as I’ve changed the things that are in myself that I learned from them. And I think I got there. Last night in one of the few conversations that I had with my Dad, I think he realized that I came out on top of life. And with the wisdom that I have… I’m ready for the next 50 years of my life.
Tuesday fucked up blah blah blah session over. I hope today is as interesting as it was yesterday. Off to the DOT.

Pulling out of Starbucks this morning I got to hear that new track by Christina Aguilera and after really enjoying the song I remembered a conversation that I had with Stim down in Florida.  We started listing our top 10 hottest celebertiy womenz… heh.. but Stim kept on stating mine were white trash… LoL Like two of them he didn’t think were slutty/trashy.  So in no particular order:

Stim’s comment in parenthesis

Brittany Murphy (Not White Trash)

Brittany Daniels (White Trash)

Jessica Simpson (Whte Trash)

Jamie-Lynn DiScala (Not White Trash)

Christina Aguilera (White Trash)

Emmanuelle Vaugier (He wasn’t sure who this was… And if you don’t… she was in 40 Days and 40 Nights… Saw II…)

Wow pasting the links to these womenz and I’m seeing a pattern…

Kiera Knightley (Not White Trash)

Jordana Brewster (Not White Trash)

Ashley Judd (White Trash) lol…

and as long as we’ve touched upon the 40 and older club..

Gina Gershon (Not White Trash)

And that last pic reminded me of another topic.  I have a feeling… a pretty good one… that as long as the new women’s fashion has these bug type sunglasses out… I’m going to be single.  I see them… I just laugh… uncontrolably… lil petit women wear them… these glasses cover like half their faces… and it just looks… ridiculous… lol… Everything in the world went smaller… jeans went smaller… tops went smaller… underwear went smaller… they were on a good trend.  Then all of a sudden sunglasses went huge.  And most of the womens be wearing them… yich… reminds me of this japanese soccer commercial… granted in the video all the girls be shouting their lungs out… but the guy goes for the chick who’s not lost her voice…

For some reason all these things seem to be coming together.  even as simple as getting up in the morning.  That right there used to be a chore.  Do the “couple more minute roll” and not to be confused with the death roll…  Slap the alarm clock… roll over… alarm goes off…roll back over to slap the alarm clock again…  For some reason motivation is coming out of my ass.  I don’t get it.  I picked up the controller yesterday for like 20 minutes.  My PS2 is getting lonely.  Oh well…

Today’s a fucked up day.  I get to do a site survey… then drive to Madison to drop off some plastic things and turn around and come back to Milwaukee and call it a day.  Hope for good weather today… and tomorrow… and Sunday too… got like these picnic parties to goto.  Should be good times.

So… story time… too damn early to start thinking of humor to write about so I’ll just give you guys a story time:

When I was in my baby twenties… ( fuck that was like 10 years ago…) I did sales at Computer City.  Hah… making good monies tho since it was commissioned sales.  Well… what made it a little more enjoyable is whenever some guy at the store had a birthday and was older than 21 we’d go to a Gentleman’s Club for festivites.  When I turned 22 we got to go to my favorite… yes I actually used to have a favorite strip club… Tho I’ve not been to one since my Computer City days, for some reason when I was bouncing down on Water St, when people from out of town would ask what Strip Club to go to, I still to this day recommend Heart Breakers.  Tho… I’ve not been there in like 8 years and their dancers have probably most definitely have changed… and it could be a whale squad… no one has ever come back demanding monies in disappointment of my recommendation so I’m guessing high quality talent still exists.  Anyway… back then… Heart Breakers had Playboy quality talent.  I guess when Zesty comes back up again we’ll have to go check it out… anyway, my birthday that year came and a couple of us went down to HB.  This night it was just giong to be three of us since my buddy Dan at the time felt he had to make up for the disappointing 21st brithday… Well, I wasn’t allowed to drive for obvious reasons.  Tho… what happened that night was not expected at all.  When we got there we sat at south bar which had a lot more light and a lot more room for the dancers to do their things.  Every single girl that was dancing that night envoked our eyeballs to pop slightly out from their sockets… First round of shots came that night.  Rumplemintz was the drink of choice…  down the hatch they went and right after one of the hottest girls of the night came by for my first lap dance.  Few women that I know now possess the hawtness that this dancer had.  That and I remember her having a really exotic perfume on as well that just made her whole “package” come together.  Those two dances disappeared before I even knew the first one started…  Went back to my two buddies and based on my complete satisfaction of that dance, lol… Dan had to go get one as well.  So off Dan, went.  After Dan came back the next round of shots came… more Rumplemintz… as those shots did their magic and the taste was gone came the next dancer.  Top 5 hottest women that I know… she was like number 3.  The previous girl could have taken the number 4 spot but can’t count because of the fact that we didn’t know one another.  Anyway…  Molly was gorgeous… did her thing on the stage and then came around.  I think in the beginning of my drunken state I probably blurted something out that Dan acted upon.  When she came around she took me by my hand and off for more lap dances.  This time I got 4 songs.  Yippie!  Well after the dances were done she came back and sat by us.  We had conversations and she would bring her friends over and Dan and Mike got to talk to girls and all of us were having a grand time.  Every single time Molly always came back and we’d talk and drink.  The following 12 shots I had that night were all from Molly.  There was a fifteenth shot in their from the bar tender as well.  And amazingly I was still very much coherent.  Molly and I had lots in common and my seat changed from sitting next to Dan and Mike by the stage to a stool at the Bar with Molly and the Bartender.  I will say that in the past many men have probably given numbers out to dancers and taken numbers down.  In a slight hope for some reason as being able to actually date one.  Why? I dunno… Molly asked for my number that night and I gave it to her.  Success… lol… an Exotic Dancer asked me for my number.  I guess I was given bragging nights that night… As the bar closed, Dan, Mike and I headed out.

Okay for those of you who REALLY know me, you’ll know my Birthday falls in a month that can be really fucking cold.  And if you drink in a really warm bar and then head out in the cold you know what it can do to you.  15 shots… who knows how many drinks…

(Still inside the bar…)

Dan: Think she’ll call?

Spook: Hope so…

Dan: You okay?

Spook: For some reason I feel completely sober.  Am I walking or talking funny?

Dan: Oddly… no.

Spook: Guess I’m okay!

Door opens.  Fresh 22° air slaps me straight in the face.  Two steps outside… all the alcohol in my body decided to say, “Hi!!!” right at that second.

Spook: ….ooff… I retract my last statement.

Dan: (laughing…) Okay… fuck… dude… no paybacks for what I did to your car.

Spook: I can’t promise that.

Dan: Just let me know if you’re going to puke.

Spook: I can promise that.

Halfway home on the freeway…

Spook: Dude pull over…

Dan screeches to a halt in the emergency lane on the freeway.  Spook hops out of the SUV into knee deep snow.

Nothing happens.  Spook climbs back in.

Spook: False alarm.

Dan: You sure?

Spook: Yup… go… almost home.

I think we did 95mph the rest of the way.  Molly and I swapped a couple phone calls back and forth and a month later I went to LA to model.  So not much ever came from the conversations.  Oh well.  Haven’t lost sleep on that one…

Have a great Memorial Day people!  I got a meeting and then most likely off to Madison.

So Florida brought me something more than I thought it could. And I find myself once again wanting to say, “Thank you so very much…” to The Stim. I look back down the road that I’ve come, (hind sight being 20/20 and what not…) and I have to shake my head at many things that I’ve done. Staying my hand so many times when I should have acted at so many things. Standing in the shadows not to be noticed… But I know that there was still a tiny tender part inside that really caused stress and emotional pain inside when I would start to care for someone or when someone of my past came back into my life who I really cared for. It was as if there’s this hook on the back of my inner body cavity that I would literally hang my heart on so that it wouldn’t act the way it should have and the pain inside made me stop what I wanted to do. I think I left my hook in a trash can down somewhere in Florida.

Two more things that have confirmed that I’m done with whatever it is that I’ve been dealing with over the past 4~5 years.

1. The other day I went to go drop by someone… and a part of me was really nervous. Nervous to see them… and nervous to see if the hook would come back. The door opened and there they were. A rush of excitement came over me as I was really happy to see them. I guess it was pretty well advertised on my face too because when talking to this person later that day, yeah… they kinda could tell I was really happy to see them. But that right there is like defeating something that’s been lurking deep inside.

2. Last night when I was at Shep’s one of the bartenders is going through a really tough time in her life and she’s not sure what she should do. After telling me her story she told me what her current options were. Her issue stems around from her other job and how unhappy she is with it. Well she really loves jewelry and said that one of the local shops where she shops a lot at would hire her if she wanted. I started talking to her no my view opint of sales and how one can be really successful at it. How many times someone would tell me after selling them a computer system that they were thankful that I wasn’t selling them a car. It reminded me of a time where I was very sure of who I was and what I could do. And the bartender even said it herself as I was telling her about this how the difference between her and I was, my level of confidence in myself. Something I forgot a long time ago that I once had.

I keep telling people here that the Winds of Change have hit our company’s sails as my manager has quit and that we now have a new Director of Operations. And with what has been going on here at work, I actually enjoy coming here now. There’s a new challenge that is involved. And it’s me climbing this new mountain of responsibility. And making things happen. It’s the logs and coals that I get to shove into my coal engine to power my locomotive. If things keep going the way they are here, I might just have to upgrade to them diesel powered engines… and then design and engineer me a nuclear powered locomotive.

I wake up recently with a fresh breath of air in my lungs. Yeah that might be because I’ve not had a cigarette since December, but I think it’s because my attitude is back. And I’m excited and curious to see where I go from here.

Love you guys and see you soon! Party at Bacardi Boy’s this Sunday… time to see how many shots of tequilla I can do again and see if I start dive rolling under trucks like I did so many years ago.  Or not because I remember building the deck the day after and having one of the worst hang overs I can remember since my 22nd Birthday… hah… that was a glorious night.  I’ll save that story for another day tho.

When we first came to this continent, we delivered a message via horsey mail.  You wanted to get something over to some person in the next town over or what not… you hired the pony express!  “Giddy up! Just watch out for them bandits along the way that want my recipie for roogabah stew!”

After a while came mail and the telegraph… followed by telephones… UPS and FedEx came into view sometime as well… (You can tell at this point in time I really don’t care about time lines and actually what came first… cuz it’s not my point… I’m building up to my point…) Then came fax machines… send documents instantly over phone lines!!! But no one really told you how bad it was going to come out.  Then came email!!  Woooo!!! Technology is grand!!

Well… not only can you send your friend over in a completely different city on a different content some video of a woman taking on a baseball bat… (and no I’m not talking about fighting one) in the same time it would take for you to write down your name on a piece of paper… but we’ve also decreased the amount of time it takes for some marketing place to send you crap that you never wanted to see.

Spam.  Everyone loves it!  Comes in so many different shapes and sizes.  First, it came in your mail box and in your newspapers… then with the introduction of fax machines… companies started having their fax machines pick up incoming faxes from who knows where about some person in Tibet, who just moved down the street and is selling hot dogs for 10 cents less than the guy you used to go to.  Do you care? No.  And what ends up usually happening is that piece of paper gets a line drawn through Habib’s ad, and is put back in the fax machine to use the other side of paper for the next piece of useless trash to be faxed to you.  Today my mail server pooped out on me.  Why? Because my webmaster failed to tell me that there’s no spam filter on our server… AND… for some reason the stupid thing collects ALL improperly sent email.  Why? I dunno… but every single bit of spam mail for viagra or credit reports or penis enlargement programs… breast enhancement ads… real estate propaganda and everything else under the sun of spam mail sits there.  Eating up my freaking space.  So today my boss comes up to me and says:

Boss: Spook… my email bin is full.

Spook: …eh? (checks free space on server… 120GB free…) ummm…

Boss: Someone sent me this on my other email address.

Spook: Oh… that email… lemme look.

1400 unread emails eating up 50 megs of space just sitting there collecting e dust.

The best part is when my other boss was disgusted because it took her an hour to receive an email… (gurgle…)

Pray for rain!!! It’s an e-drought!! It took one hour for me to receive an email

I weep for our future and feel sorry for IT people in the future:

Future End User(FEU): I have a problem with my email…

Future IT Person(FIP): …oh? And what did you fuck up today?

FEU:  I sent myself an email today and I didn’t get it yesterday…

FIP:  Oh… well did you forget to reset the time delivery date on the tachion that was going to be encoded with your message?

FEU: Oh I have to do that?