Wa wa waaaaa

My 2-year-old son is being potty trained. 

Today his mom noticed he'd let loose in his pull ups and asked him what happened. He got a real sad face and said "Wa, waaa, waaaaa."

You know, that trombone sound that you hear when a joke doesn't fly? Yes, that "waa, waa, waaaaa." Where does he get this stuff?

I personally think you shouldn't be that cool until after you've learned not to pee yourself.

The Mike S. shuffle

My chair at work does not face the door. Yes, I'm saying that when someone enters the room, I must swivel around to see who it is. 

I realize not only is this poor feng shui, but it also makes me very nervous ever since reading The Autobiography of Malcom X: As Told To Alex Haley in high school (wouldn't Mr. Root's authorship of the book technically make it a biography? Shrug.)

I have worked at my current place of employment long enough, however, that I now recognize who is approaching my desk by the sound of his or her shuffle. It's true. Each person's legs, arms and clothing rub against each other in such a distinct rhythmic pattern that long before someone darkens my door, I know if it's Jared or Josh, James or Jim.

Now if I could just determine a way to keep the whole damn lot of them from ever coming into my office, I'd be set.

No, I don't remember my home phone number

Is that so strange? I don't ever have to dial it (that's what speed dial's for, fool).

And I'm only slightly embarrassed when someone asks me for it and I tell them I'm going to have to look it up. So it looks like the situation isn't going to change anytime soon.

On a side note, I do have my street address memorized.