Grocery Bags

I ain’t going out like that.

Grocery shopping has never been a manly experience.  Other than knocking on a couple melons, there’s very little to a supermarket trip that preserves any masculine mystique.

My city has banned plastic grocery bags.  We want to befriend the environment.  Either pay $0.10 to pack up deodorant and beef jerky in paper bags guaranteed to tear apart halfway toward the front door, or pony up $3.00 for an eco-friendly reusable burlap sack.

I’m pro Earth and all…but…



I will strangle a dolphin with plastic six-pack soda rings before I’m caught dead putting my Rogaine in a baby blue tote that waves bye to tummy aches.  I will eat that stork before I prance in public holding that damn maternity grocery bag.  Jesus, I  just want to be a man once in a while.

Stop decorating in man repellant.  I thought you wanted me to contribute more with the household chores.  As a real man, I honestly don’t mind picking up your two-ply, super absorbent, extra-strength tampons and coincidental sack of Hershey’s kisses.  It doesn’t bother me in the least.  I’ll do anything for you as long as I can still be a man.

How about you give me a man-bag?

Give me a bag made from kevlar.  Stitch the seams with barbed wire and top it off with brass-knuckle handles.  Hell, throw in some carbon fiber for some extra horsepower.  Just make sure it’s the size of a public school garbage bag because I’m only making one trip carrying the loot into the house.

Why Do Women Talk Through the Bathroom Door?

Honestly. I want to know. I’ve grown up with three women and no father my entire life, and I still don’t understand. Why do all women like to talk while I’m shitting behind the bathroom door?


Honestly.  I want to know.  I’ve grown up with three women and no father my entire life, and I still don’t understand.  Why do all women like to talk while I’m shitting behind the bathroom door?

The bathroom door is closed.  I’d like some privacy.  We can talk later.  The bedroom door is closed.  I need some silence.  Let’s discuss later.  The car doors are closed.  For the love of God, you can yell at me later.

It’s a mystery that I’ve pondered my entire life.  The only time my college bros spoke into a closed bathroom door was to confirm if shit was being shat on the shitter.

If it were mere chatter, a man could try to zone it out.  But it’s always an onslaught of questions.

“Honey, what do you feel like for dinner?”
“When you’re done, can you take out the trash?”
“Babe…did you want the last macaron?”

I don’t understand, and I don’t know if I ever will.  Women will talk through a bathroom door.  The only way to get privacy back is to leave the door wide open and shit with your ankles behind your ears.  Trust me.  She won’t stick around for the show.

Printer is Offline

A user called about not being able to print documents. I added paper to the empty printer tray. Problem solved.

A user called about not being able to print documents.  I added paper to the empty printer tray.  Problem solved.

A user called about not being able to print because their computer keeps indicating that the printer was offline.  I pressed the power button on the printer.  Issue resolved.

A user called about print jobs being sent to the printer, but the printer not responding.  I plugged the USB cable into the printer.  Tested and confirmed with desired results.

A user called about their phone not functioning.  The phone was plugged into the printer.

Corporate IT plays by hierarchy.  The higher your position in the food chain, the more immediate IT responds.  An executive assistant’s request for help because her beautiful empty face is sending print jobs across the hall…to the OTHER SIDE OF THE BUILDING…always gets emergency IT response – sirens optional.

Colleagues advised that I should have everything prepared before visiting an executive level employee.  Executives want IT to be in and out with minimal downtime.  I setup a new executive printer today.  And, I brought them the f@#$ing box.

I borrowed scissors from the pretty puffin of an executive assistant and unboxed their 60lb printer like a first year Youtuber…in their office.  While lifting the printer to the top of their credenza, my spine shook like an unmedicated Michael J. Fox as sweat streamed down to my “dry-clean only equals always dirty” shirt.  Other executives smirked as I politely acknowledged passerby’s with crumbs of packing foam attached to my forehead.  If I had prepared in advance, the entire visit could have lasted 5 minutes.  I was in their office for 20.


Watch me work hard.  I couldn’t care less if my peasant presence inconveniences you.  Hard work deserves to be seen.  If everyone took a seat to see how their house was built, maybe everyone would appreciate living in it more.

I was loud unboxing the printer.  I interrupted each executive assistant’s work in order to complete setting up the new printer.  I sat at their desk and phoned team members to configure print servers.  I did all of the work in the face of some of the industry’s prestige.

No one complained.  Not one person questioned me.  If I needed something, they complied with my requests.  When I left, they thanked me.  Witnessing a small man lift boxes twice his size hopefully instilled an appreciation for hard work requested.

If we could see the rehearsal, maybe we’d love the show more.  If we watched all that IT suffers for a user’s sake, maybe we’d all check to see if our affairs were in order before pulling IT team members away from important tasks just to put paper in empty printer trays.  Above all, IT are people too.  We can be busy for you, or too busy for you.  Treating us nice is all the difference.

Playlist #1: Genesis

Welcome to the inaugural Uncle John’s Playlist Game!

Boomshakalaka.  Today marks the inaugural Uncle John’s $5 Pastrami Playlist Game, brought to you by“Where women go to date his friends.”

How to play:

I provide various links. Some may be images. Others may be videos.  But certainly, one link is a lie…the rest are true. Once in a while, I will include a mystery [Bonus] link. You click the links and enjoy a journey through truth and deceit.

The internet is a dangerous place.  Do you dare play?  Or, are you chicken, McFly?

Thank you for playing! Leave a comment and the winner will be announced in the following Playlist Game. Prizes to be determined, but guaranteed to disappoint and provide little to no value.