While getting ready to go, I was talking with a co-worker here and a conversation not unlike any other conversation I’ve had ensued:

Mike: I’m outta here. You leaving? Travis: In a few minutes. I have stuff to finish up. Mike: It’ll be here next week when you come back. Travis: Yeah, but I’m in training Monday through Wednesday, so it will still be here, but accompanied by more work than when I left.

Pretty cut and dried, right? Well, this got me thinking. Work is a commodity that accumulates faster than you’d like it to, and regardless of the amount you do, there’s always more. Work “interest” accumulates faster than any interest on any bank account I can imagine.

Wouldn’t it be cool if you could invest in the amount of work that piles up?

So, like, you could go out to NASDAQ and invest in Work Futures, or more likely in a stock “WORK.” Then, based on the amount of work that gets done during the day versus the amount of new work you get, your WORK value goes up or down. Unemployed? Sorry, you’d best sell off your shares of WORK because you ain’t doin’ nothin’.

You could also attribute sort of a “popularity” or “work value” factor to the value of your WORK stock. Kind of like the idea of whuffie, but based on how much people value the work you do.

I figure if I bought 100 shares of WORK at $1 in the morning, I’d be a millionaire by 5:00p.

Then again, I could name you off a few people who’d be dead broke, too. Ah, the economy of WORK.

People seem to be pretty wowed and disgusted at the whole poop knife thing. But if it’s as common as all that, then maybe there’s a market for them. I mean, you go to the local supermarket, hit the housewares section, and pick yourself up a PoopKnife^TM or three. Give them as gifts! Be the hit of the next bridal shower you go to.

Speaking of showers…

Jenn went to a baby shower this weekend, and since she’s broke, guess who got to buy the gift.

This got me to thinking, and what I’ve arrived at is this:

Anything called a shower that doesn’t involve bathing is a scam.

I mean, think about it. Starting with marriage, you’ve got your bridal shower, where you get the bride a gift. Then you’ve got the wedding proper, where you get… another gift. After that you’ve got your housewarming, where it requires the purchase of more gifts, then the baby shower (sometimes both pre-and-post-birth) - more gifts - and finally the baby gets born and you’re supposed to get more goddamn gifts.

Look at that! And I’m sure I’m missing some sort of fucking shower of some nature in there, but if you tally it up, that’s a few more gift-requiring opportunities than is really necessary.

I think maybe I should have a shower the next time I buy any home electronics. Like have a Playstation 3 shower (when that comes out). Then people can come over and bring me gifts that I can use with my Playstation 3. And it won’t even have to be my birthday! I almost wish I’d thought of this earlier, I’d have had a Game Boy Advance shower, and maybe a Brand New DVD Player shower, too.

Here’s how it works in Travis World: You get married, you get a gift. You have a baby, maybe you get a gift. It’s your birthday? Here’s a gift. Christmas? Gift-o-rama. But that’s pretty much it. I’m all over the Spirit of Giving, and sure, sometimes there will be a fun little gift for no reason. But these planned scam attempts at gift retrieval known as “showers” are not on the “accepted reasons for getting gifts” list.

Anyone else having a shower is just getting a PoopKnife^TM.

I had planned a nice evening at home last night but instead got sucked into going to Denny’s to eat with Jenn and her Job’s Daughters group. I can’t say it was a complete loss, though. I’m never one to scorn cheese fries.

Plus, Brittany, the Laura San Giacomo look-alike, was there, which was cool ‘cuz she’s hot. Not that anything’s going on there, but she’s a good looking girl and that never hurts. So there’s that.

While we were sitting there I realized that all of my good party stories are not family-appropriate. That is, I could tell them, but they’re sort of anti-climactic and unfunny if I don’t throw a “shit” or a “fuck” in there. Drew Carey’s mentioned a similar issue regarding jokes in his book. Which meant I was unnaturally quiet and way less entertaining than normal. Maybe I should learn some clean jokes. (Except that they’re usually not funny.)

Yesterday was Jenn’s last day of working for free at the VA Hospital, which means I got to sleep in until 6:15a this morning. That extra half hour does make a difference, believe it or not.

Oh, and I also got my copy of the Buffy Season 4 DVD set from Amazon, but the case was sort of munched due to poor packaging and the second disc was “floating” (not attached to the spindle in the case, just sliding around), which resulted in some minor abrasions on the surface. I downloaded a utility to verify it can still be read properly, and it seems to check out okay, so I guess I’ll call it good. I’m really not ready to watch six hours of TV just to check.

Looks like the poop knife thing isn’t uncommon. That’s messed up. I wonder why people think that’s necessary.

I just got an email from my mom regarding a story my sister was telling her. This is just too much.

A little background: My sister is currently rooming with a friend of hers, a girl with Down Syndrome, and a girl who is taking care of the girl with Down Syndrome (that’s a total of four girls). Part of the deal my sister and her friend get is that they take part in helping out with the Down Syndrome girl.

An example of one of the things they’ve dealt with: The girl with Down Syndrome has four ice cube trays in the freezer, laid out side-by-side. My sister’s friend moved them to make room for food in the freezer, and Down Syndrome girl went berzerk because you can’t stack the ice trays. That problem has since been solved.

Now I get word there’s a new problem to deal with.

My sister’s friend went into the bathroom and on the back of the toilet sits a basket. In the basket she noticed there was a table knife. She took the knife out of the basket and put it in the dishwasher, thinking nothing of it. Nobody really knew why it was there or said anything about it. Regardless, the knife went to the dishwasher. (The dishwasher wasn’t full, though, so it wasn’t run.)

Then a while later (a day or two?), the Down Syndrome girl comes out and asks, “Where is my POOP KNIFE?”

Yeah. You’re thinking the same thing right about now that I was when I heard this story.

Apparently, the Down Syndrome girl cuts her poop before she flushes so it will go down easier. She’s been doing this forever, and normally she puts the knife in the dishwasher but this time she forgot.

Oh. My. God.

My sister and her friend have been spreading butter on their toast with a poop knife for a couple of months now.

I’m taking my own silverware if I ever visit.

Jenn and I got off our collective lazy ass last night and went to an open house at a technical contracting firm that I work with.

After quite the fight with traffic, we kicked and scratched our way into a parking spot downtown and moved to the party.

Got there and saw my friends Kristen and Sharon (who work at the firm) and chowed down on the fairly decent spread of food.

Sharon had her s/o there who had written “Shaft!” on his name tag. I laughed about that and popped out a “Shut yo mouth!” at him, but now that I look back on the whole situation, I never really got the guy’s name. I guess I’ll just call him Shaft from now on.

Kristen’s mom and sister were also at this shindig. Her sister was generally quiet, but her mom is quite the character. I don’t think I can count on all my protruding appendages the number of times she mentioned that Kristen needs a boyfriend. Ah, parents. Ever the source of embarrassment.

Anyway, we hung out there for a while talking to Kristen, Sharon, and Shaft, then packed up and went home.

That whole story admittedly sounds pretty lame, but you have to understand - I wasn’t at home, I was out socializing, so you have to give me points for that.

Actually I’m not too bad with the social thing, but it’s difficult for me to mix business and pleasure. It may be a “party at work,” but I’m still sort of thinking, “Hey, I’m at work” rather than, “Paaaaaartaaaaay!” Maybe that’s just me. I think if Jenn, Sharon, Shaft, Kristen, and myself were in some other [more socially-oriented] setting, I might think less of the work aspect of things. After all, we were in their office.

I got the impression while talking with them all that “their group” (i.e., everyone not Jenn or myself) was into the social/clubbing sort of scene. I was sort of into that “social thing” for a while, but I think I may just be getting bitter in my old age or something. Large quantities of people I don’t know + cigarette smoke clouds + expensive cover charge = irritated Travis. I suppose if my group of friends did that stuff I’d be into it, too, just to hang out with them. Maybe. Either way, interesting to see how the “other side” lives sometimes.

Jenn’s out at her niece’s pre-school (or is it kindergarten?) graduation tonight so I’m popping my new Mr. Bean collection in the DVD player and kicking back. Jenn doesn’t like Mr. Bean, so… more fun for me.

Yeah, that’s a lame Friday night. But it’s cheap, which fits my budget, and it’s stress-free, which is even better. Oh, yeah.