Let me set the scene. I work on the top floor of a three-story office building. There are about one hundred employees on this level and only one bathroom per gender. I can't comment on the accommodations of the ladies room but inside the men's room, there are two stalls and two urinals. Get the gist of it?
So, here's the lowdown on Friday. I was feeling a little queasy after lunch - when they say to keep Hot Pocket's refrigerated, I guess they really mean it! I rushed from my desk to the bathroom and when I entered, both stalls were full! One set of shoes I recognized as a claims guy who reads the paper, a known break dumper, but the one next to him was cranking out the jams! He had a new buddy!
I tried to wait my turn but couldn't... I rushed back out to my desk to grab my pass (admittedly, I know I should have be wearing it at all times but I'm a rebel) then rushed to the stairs and flew to the bathroom downstairs. You know in the movies, when the bomb's timer hits zero and the camera pans away to add the element of suspense? You don't know if the hero succeeded or if everyone died in a horrible mess... my situation was kind of like that. You can wait for the DVD release to find out the ending to this tale - personally, I'd wait for the directors cut because there'll be lots of boobies! (This goes out to all the Grey's fans - I wish Meredith was blown up. She would have made some nice pink mist. Thank you.)
So that was Friday, what happened today? Well, I didn't need to use the facilities. Innocently, I went in to wash my hands only to bear witness to dueling newspaper readers! I wonder, has anyone ever said - hey, do you have the first page of the sports section? I got a little tinkle on mine. Do they hand papers between the stalls? I don't get people. Also, I know you're supposed to wash your hands after you go... so, is it like a freebie to share a paper with someone else who is taking a dump and not have to worry about germs because you'll be washing anyway?
Honestly, I don't have a problem with spending your break on the john. Really, I don't! I just think when company moves in next door it's time to pack it up and head out. I'm not into spending upwards of twenty minutes basking in my co-worker's aroma.. but to each they're own, I guess.
Of course, I don't expect much sympathy from you ladies out there. From my years of observation, I've noticed you enjoy the group bathroom trips. I don't get any of it.
One time at Wal-Mart, I had to use the bathroom. The "regular" stalls are too small and close together for my comfort so, whenever they're available, I prefer to use the "handicap" stall. Well, at least I did before this happened to me.
I was finishing up and I heard a knock. "Occupied." I replied.
"Uh huh." The guy outside replied and hit the stall once more before leaving.
I finished up and went over to the sink to wash my hands. I glanced in the mirror and I saw a man in a wheel chair waiting by the urinals. Oh, crap!
As I was walking out, the man gave me an evil glare so I folded down a finger and said to him, "Sorry, the sign didn't specify the handicap." Then I ran the hell out of there. I think I'm going to hell.
Fin.
My room is comfortably small With rubber lining the walls And there's someone always calling my name He calls when I'm alone And he calls when I'm not home And he calls when I'm stuck out in the rain I'm insane
~They Might Be Giants
It was late summer or early fall in the year of 2000. I was sharing an apartment in Turners Falls with my buddy Lee and his cousin Jesse. (Lee and I were like Trey Parker and Matt Stone, we even look like them! If I had a picture of Lee I'd show you - I'm Trey and he's Matt except Lee's got the musical talent but we both share a perverse sense of humor. During the summer, we used my video camera and took a bunch of dumb videos. Had we not had a slight falling out and had he not moved away, we'd be famous. Believe it!) The apartment was a real dive - crack head neighbors that would yell and fight, a jackass of a landlord who we had to hide from as we were violating the lease, and we were above a bar that played loud music until 1am nearly every night. We had no cable and people may or may not have been stealing our electricity. Damn, that place was great!
One day after work, I returned home and found a pigeon in our apartment - yes, friends a pigeon and it was on my roommate Jesse's bed! How the hell did it get in? Jesse came in the door a few moments after I did. I let the bird walk around; I was more interested to find out how the dirty thing got in! Jesse helped me look, too but we could not find any openings or any way the bird could have entered. To this day it is a complete mystery but I think it had something to do with our crack head neighbors. (No, they really were crack heads - as in addicted to crack. We spent many a sleepless night listening to those people.)
I emptied one of my milk crates I used to hold my weights and dumbells. While I was doing that, Jesse grabbed some newspaper. He directed the bird, which oddly enough was not attempting to fly away, onto the paper. Quickly, I then put the milk crate over him. Together, Jesse and I turned the crate over, making sure the paper was covering the top and walked out the door and down the stairs. We were really careful not to hurt the bird.
When we got outside, we put the crate on the ground and flipped it over. The bird walked out to it's freedom.
"And stay out!" I added as Jesse and I started up the stairs.
It was not 30 seconds later and three cats, all from different directions, pounced on the poor bird. The creature was ripped to shreds in mere moments! A lone feather marked where the creature met its doom.
"Dude, did you see that?!" Jesse and I exclaimed at the same time.
Fin.
Apparently this is a statue in Oslo, Norway and it represents everything I strive in life to be - except ideally I would be wearing pants... or would I? When I was last attacked by babies, I was bested in battle. After viewing this magnificent statue all I can say is, mothers hide your babies. Round two is about to begin!
The hypothesis
The procedure
Recorderable CDs of questionable content, now 'dem be purty!
After today's let down in Greenfield, my wife came home from work and proposed the idea of a trip to the mall.
The 
The journey started out bad. Normally, the trip from our home to the mall in Holyoke takes 30-40mins. We sat in traffic for 30 minutes before we even got out of Greenfield! It was due to road construction on the high-way that seems to be taking forever... who knows when they'll get it done - even when it is, I'm sure something will have been done half-assed. That’s neither here nor there at this point.
The day may have started out badly but I was determined to turn fortune in my direction. So I imagined that - I HAD WON THE 
My wife wanted to go to Christmas Tree Shops. I had to go to the bathroom, so I used the one there. Good fortune, again! I learned that God loved me! (That was actually there, I don't carry pens with me out of fear they'll puncture my scrotum.) 
I've done my fair share of window-shopping in my day, and I've also seen my fair share of naked mannequins... but this booty was spectacular! Was my wife modeling on the side? She has some 'splainin to do!
I couldn't resist, I just had to...
"Hey, baby, I just won a new car. Wanna go for a ride?"
With my spirits high and having just groped a fine mannequin ass (though the glass), it was time for food!
We went to Pizzeria Uno's for dinner. I hate this place, but my wife loves it. Every time I go this chain, something is screwed up. No exaggeration, believe it! I also don't care for the fact they serve Pepsi instead of Coke!
Damn it, I hate Pepsi! I've noticed that places that serve Pepsi instead of Coke also load their glasses with more ice - always trying to screw me!
Before the waiter came and asked for our order, I told my brother-in-law about the last experience I had with the restaurant up in Keene. I asked for no pesto on the pizza, I wanted the marina sauce. What did I get... some gross mix of pesto and marina - that pizza was free!
Having just told him of the story, as if on cue, the waiter comes over. I ordered a crispy chicken salad, we ordered my son spaghetti and my wife and her brother both ordered personal pizzas. My wife asked for no sauce, just the chicken, mushrooms and cheese. Her brother ordered a pepperoni and sausage.
Eventually our food came out to us. My son's pasta was great and he dove right in. My brother-in-law's pizza was great and he dove in. My salad came, it looked weird - I've never had a salad with cold spaghetti on top but it tasted ok. The cole slaw was a joke! It tasted great, I'll give them that, but it cost $1.29 and they only gave me four bites worth! My wife's pizza was totally screwed up!
"Why is there a tomato on this?"
"Ha! I told ya.."
"He did call it," my brother-in-law added.
At that very second the manager happened to be walking by! We explained the situation and ta da! We got a free pizza! It wasn't the server's fault, the manager checked and he did in fact put the order in correctly. The cook was simply following the habit, oh well. She also got a free cesar salad to hold her over until her new pizza came out.
After we were done eating, we piled back in the car and drove home. Along the way, my wife pointed out this little typo! I mean, come on! How could you miss that? Could it have been a fluke and this one box just misprinted? Nope! She had the messed up pizza and her corrected pizza boxed up! Its wrong on both boxes... muhahaha! The last laugh is all mine to be had.
I pulled over immediately and snapped a shot. I was in no place to hop out and talk to them, so I drove away, turned around and came back. In less than 5 minutes, they had picked up and left! In their defense, it was blistering cold and when the wind hit you... trust me, on that day, you did not want the wind to hit you!
When I got back to the office, I checked out the shot. Apparently, these folks were either teachers or supporters of the teachers in regards to the current contract situation. I don't have the specifics on it and I don't want to confuse it with Springfield's troubles but apparently Western Massachusetts governments aren't so good with contracts.
There aren’t many outlets for local news on the Web. Well, lets see... there are the 
With the three-day weekend coming up and the start to February vacation, I knew Monday would be a great day to pull out my paparazzi skills, there should be a ton of picketers on the town common!
Today was a total waste. I was hoping to see... something! There was no one on the Town Common or in front of the Town Hall. No one was in front of any school - there weren't any cars in the parking lots, either! What's more annoying than picketers? Fair weather picketers! You people have some real devotion to your cause! Thanks for wasting my day! Here I am, willing to take your story and give you exposure on the best blog ever written by a 
Michael Henry and you're nowhere to be found! I see how it is...
"We now go to Michael Henry, live on the scene."
[Camera shot of Mike with ambulance behind him.]
Chuck, off camera: "Mike, so whats the situation there?"
"Good evening, Chuck and Diane. What you see here is an Ambulance that sped past me as I was enroute to the laundromat to pick up my finished load. I was really close to the facility, so I stayed the course. Quickly, I unloaded the dryer, folded my laundry and loaded it in the car. The chase was then on, the trail was luke warm but my keen bloodhound skills lead the way..."
[Cut back to the studio.]
Diane: "Fascinating, Mike. By chance, what was the laundromat's name?"
[Cut back to live shot of amublance.]
Mike, with finger to right ear: "Diane, the facility is called 
1 box of Macaroni and cheese dinner.
Pride Gas Station 
If I had a way to test, I’d get a sample from all local gas stations. I’d like to know the actual percentages they’ve added, not what they tell us they've added – personally, I think it’s all a crock and they’re just lining their pockets. Massachusetts isn’t a state required to add an oxygenate but every pump I’ve been to has said “Contains Ethanol.”
What say you, dear reader?
As for that spelling error in the sign, maybe they've read that "Aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer inwaht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoetnt tihng istahtthe frist and lsat ltteer be at the rghit pclae. The rset can be a total mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit porbelm.Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, butthe wrod as a wlohe." Or maybe, they're just idiots.
Palmer Gas Station
Near Newton St & Mohawk Trl intersection, Greenfield, Massachusetts.
Like our furnace? Its an old American Standard Arcoliner. The thing works pretty decent, operating at about 84% as stated on the last inspection/cleaning in 2004.
When I was doing the home inspection with my agent and the seller's agent, one of them stated that the furnace was converted from coal. The pipes for the radiators we previously insulated with asbestos, which has since been removed but they left the pipes bare. Lots of heat loss there, I know but this year we'll use as our base to compare with the results of the improvements.
Over the spring and summer, I will be playing with lots of stuff all over the house. This is on my list. All the hot water pipes will be insulated and the furnace will be wrapped in one of those blankets. I've been reluctant about wrapping the water pipes because I'm not exactly sure what I'm going to need to replace when I redo the shower.
Anyway, here is the point: since we moved here, we've run the furnace out of water a few times. The most recent time was this past weekend. I filled it like I was showed how, but suddenly the pressure shot to 30psi and the system stopped.
I forget now exactly which Realtor told us how to fill it up or, in all honestly, if I even remembered correctly - my wife thought she was told the same way, so I'll blame them.On the side of the furnace are a set of knobs with a water tube - that's not how I was told how. There is a supply line that comes into the, I guess, return line of the radiators. They said to turn that knob and leave on until the low level light goes out.
On Sunday, after a long night spent in a brisk 60-degree house, I discovered the proper way to level off the water. Basically, open the bottom knob on the side of the furnace. Then open the top one. The water level in the glass tube should moved. Leave about two inches on top and you're all set. If it doesn't fill up THEN use the supply line. I think I've got it now.
The device is simple enough to understand. There are sensors that say either "I'm comfy, comback later," or "Hey, losing the buzz - crank it up!" Then basically it boils water which is either stored for home use, like the shower or washing dishes or keeps boiling and creates the steam to heat the house.
Too much water in the system, sure it boils, but the steam doesn't get enough pressure to go through the system. That's what happened on Sunday. Hot water - oh boy, plenty of hot water - but no room for the steam to be created and move around. I was stumped at first but then bled the system for thirty minutes and now its working great again.
It only took about 3 months to figure out the system myself. Sheesh. One of the previous owners of the house must have lost the real manual because they only left us with a little sheet with general information on what to due if it won't start.
Heat is the kind of thing you don't miss until it's gone.
This goes out to all my fellow computer technicians. You see the problem, right? You have to see the problem! If you can't, don't feel too bad - a group of "techies" with their fancy "bachelor's degrees" and button down shirts couldn't see the folly of their way's either.
It's days like this I'm glad I carry my camera with me like Paris carries that animal thing of her's. If I lived in California I'd be a paparazzi or, as my boy 
It's tough being right all the time, believe it! I usually try to play down my inability to be wrong but I'm sorry true believers, today I was unable to keep up the ruse.
I arrived to work at 9:25 and everyone was parked wrong – sure there MAY have been a dusting of snow that previously had melted and it MAY have covered the painted lines, but give me a break.
"Dad, can I sit on the washin' machine?" my adorable two year old asks. It was an innocent enough request. I had just started a load and he wanted to feel the shaking.
"Sure, bud. I have to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back." I lift him up and I leave him sitting on the cover, banging his heels on the front of the machine. The water is still filling.
La dee dah... I head off to the bathroom.
He is laughing and giggling in the kitchen. But then - silence. I figure its because the aggitator just kicked in.
"Ryan, hows it going out there?" Nothing, no response. "Ryan?" Still silence.
I finish up and walk back to the kitcken. POOF - I am hit with flour.
Maine-ly Smallmouth & Record Quest Guides Smallmouth fishing on the Kennebec and Penobscot Rivers.Chuck Duggins is a U. S. Coast Guard certified Captain and Maine Master GuideContact: Chuck or Jack Duggins at:Phone: 207-586-6565
Near Burnham Road, Turners Falls, Massachusetts. 
Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life. Just take my word for it, ok?