Friday, October 19, 2012

Super Daddy

D1 called me yesterday and told me that she just had internet hooked up in her new house.  She said SiL1 and her have been trying to get the wireless network working for a couple of hours.  She wanted to know if I would come over and fix it for them.

When I got there D1 had to leave for work.  It took me less than two minutes to get it fixed then I played with the grand kids for a few minutes then left.  I stopped by D1's work and she asked me if I got her internet working.

I must have given her a are-you-freakin'-kidding look because she quickly just said thanks.  It's a good thing because I was about to go off on her.  I have a college degree in computer networking, I spent years managing networks at the local college then at a large oil company.  Did she think I would have a lot of trouble setting it up so she could use her iPad while she's on the toilet?  Seriously?!

Don't judge me,
Opus T. Penguin

Friday, October 12, 2012

Plastic Bricks or Gold Bricks?

Are Legos dangerous?  Have they been hunted to near extinction?  Are they only found at the base of an active volcano in some remote jungle full of cannibals?  Are they made from asteroids that are believed to have been covered in the tears of angels as they rocketed through the heavens?

No?  Then why are they so expensive?  They're made out of plastic, and not a lot of plastic either.  We have a Lil' Tikes car that has a million times as much plastic as a Lego and that thing costs about as much as lunch at Taco Bell.

Opus Jr. loves Legos.  Actually, he loves getting them, opening the box, pouring them all over the floor, watching the first five minutes of the four hour procedure as I put them together, checking every few minutes to see if it's done yet, and then playing with them for 30 minutes before he sticks them in his closet for the rest of his natural life.

But no matter how much I complain about them, I keep buying them for him.  I'm a sucker.

Don't judge me,
Opus T. Penguin

Forgive Me Because I'm About to Sin

Today is Mrs. Penguin's birthday so I spent all day yesterday trying to find her a gift.  Such is my life that things got weird.

I tried every store I could find in the hopes of finding the perfect present.  I ended up at a christian bookstore.  I found a couple of things that I knew she would like so I grabbed them.  I went to the counter to pay for them and the young man behind the counter asked me, "Aren't you D3's father?"  I told him that I was and then he said, "I don't think I've seen her since we left the hotel."

Christian store or not, I was going to have to beat this young man so long that it would turn into a career.  He must have sensed the thrashing coming because he quickly said, "We were in Costa Rica together!"

Ah yes, when D3 was in high school she went to Costa Rica with one of her classes.  This near-death survivor must have been in the same class.  He may want to learn how to phrase his statements a little better.  You know, for safety sake.

Don't judge me,
Opus T. Penguin

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Should I Feel Happy?

Update on the last post;

I just found out that the person that is no longer following me deleted their whole account.  Maybe that means I bored them completely off of the internet.  Is that possible?  Please don't answer  that.

Don't judge me,
Opus T. Penguin

Lassie, Come Home

I lost a follower of my blog today.  I'm not going to lie, I'm kind of sad.

Don't judge me,
Opus T. Penguin

What's Your Momma's Name, Child?

I went to call Mrs. Penguin and I was scrolling through my contact list but I couldn't find her.  You see, my contacts are listed by last name but I couldn't remember her last name.  My mind blanked.

I will never tell her that.

footnote:  We have the same last name.  How sad is that?

Don't judge me,
Opus T. Penguin


They were selling Breast Cancer Awareness shirts here at work and I ordered one for a guy that's off today.  I knew his wife would like one but I didn't know her size.  I would just guess but she's pregnant right now and that's a tiger den that I'm not going into. 

If I buy a shirt that is too small she will think she's fat and she'll start crying.  If I buy a shirt too big then she will think she looks fat and she will start crying.  Even if I get the shirt the correct size, she will look at the size and start crying.

Nope, not getting involved with that.

Don't judge me,
Opus T. Penguin

Friday, October 5, 2012

Google Let Me Down

I have a few questions about international sporting events.

Why do international teams "Americanize" the names of their countries?  For example, why does any team from China have "China" written on their uniforms instead of "中华人民共和国"?  Why does Germany stand being called "Germany" instead of "Bundesrepublik Deutschland"?  Why are Japan's players' names written in our alphabet instead of their own?

Americans would lose their minds if an American team had to wear Arabic, Greek, Russian or some other lettering on their uniforms.

It's just something I've always wondered.

footnote:  I got the names of Germany and China off of Wikipedia.  Is they mean something offensive in those languages then I'm sorry.

One more footnote.  Check out the picture.  There should be more sporting events where hot chicks wear mini-skirts.  The world would be a better place.

Last footnote, I promise.  I wanted to name this post "Play Ball" in German but Google couldn't translate it.  So disappointed!

Don't judge me,
Opus T. Penguin

Getting to Second Base

When someone signs a letter with "XOXO" then it means "hugs and kisses", right?  Does that mean the next time I see them in person I'm allowed to grab their boobs since we've already hugged and kissed?  That's the logical next step after making out with someone.

Makes you think, doesn't it?

Don't judge me,
Opus T. Penguin

Thursday, October 4, 2012

Meth Makes You Nervous

I have got to stop going to the Mexican restaurant down the street.  Nothing good ever happens when I go there.

I called in an order and I was standing in line waiting to get my food.  There was a man the size of a Greyhound bus in front of me and a girl at the counter that looked like most of her nutrients came from drinking the bong water.

The crackhead got her food, stood there looking dazed for a minute or so, then turned and walked out the door.  I look out the window and she's standing right in front of my car.

If you've been reading my posts then you know that I am very fond of my car.  I take offense when it's being eyeballed by a random crackhead.

Suddenly, I realized that I forgot to lock my car.  I pushed the button on my key fob to lock my doors but I forgot that the car's horn beeps when it locks.  The horn tooted and it must have startled the crackhead because she jumped and flung her bag of food into the air.

Let me sum up this post.  I just wanted to run out and get myself a burrito for lunch.  That's all I wanted.  Instead I ended up apologizing, buying a crackhead lunch, and stopping by the car wash to remove nacho cheese from the hood of my car.

From now on I'm eating from the vending machine.

Don't judge me,
Opus T. Penguin

Those Germans Can Really Bust a Move

Speaking of road trips.

Back during the summer Mrs. Penguin, Opus Jr., and I went to Oklahoma City for a couple of days.  We saw some pretty cool stuff but there is one thing that really stood out.

We stopped to eat at a cool looking German restaurant/bakery called Ingrid's Kitchen.  It was kind of early on a Saturday afternoon but the place was packed.  While we were eating there were some people preparing a drum kit and a piano.  I thought, "Great, we get to hear some music." 

I started to look around the place and I noticed that there were several elderly people just sitting around and not eating.  About that time an elderly couple set down at the table next to us.  The gentleman asked if we were there to dance.  Huh?  Dance?  Us?

I told him that we weren't dancers and he proceeded to tell me in great lengths about how people come out every Saturday to dance at Ingrid's Kitchen.  He told me all about the type of music they place and how some people danced a west coast swing while some danced an east coast swing.  He looked so happy and excited that he kind of rubbed off on me.

Let me interject at this point to tell about the other half of this couple.  The gentleman must have been pushing 90 but the woman looked like she was in her late sixties at the latest.  The gentleman was smiling from ear to ear, the woman looked like I ran over her cat back in the old neighborhood and she was still holding a grudge.  The gentleman talked non-stop, the woman never grunted a single syllable.

By the time the music started Opus Jr. and I were all excited about seeing these people cut a rug.  We watched with excitement as an older fellow slid behind the drums, an even older fellow settled down at the piano, and a woman that could have been their grand-mother grabbed a microphone.  With a "one and a two" we were off and running.

There was a blur of grey hair as senior citizens rushed the floor like it was the mosh pit of an Anthrax concert.  Our guide joined the fray.

After the way he talked, I was really looking forward to seeing our new friend shake a leg.  A leg was pretty much all he shook.  I'm serious.  Grumpy stood in one spot while Mr. Talker wrapped his arms around her waist and moved his feet 2cm at a time.  He still had the biggest smile you've ever seen.  She still looked like she was still pissed that Alanis Morissette's song Ironic didn't have a single example of irony in it.

Opus Jr. was tugging at my arm saying, "Dad, dad!  Look, old people are dancing!"  He was having the time of his life.  To this day, if you ask him anything about Oklahoma City all he will say is, "I saw old people dance."

footnote:  Sorry Alanis Morissette fans but nothing listed in Ironic is actually irony, it's just bad luck or bad timing.
Oh yeah, the picture at the top is an actual picture of the event.

Don't judge me,
Opus T. Penguin

Out on the Town

Mrs. Penguin and I took a little trip this weekend.  Nothing big, we just wanted to get out of the house for a while.  We hit up a couple of farmer's markets, a free concert in the park, some out of the way shops, an oddball restaurants or two, and a few tourist traps.  All in all it was a good weekend.

This part of the conversation gets a little "adult" so anyone that is easily offended may want to stop reading now.

Still reading?  You perv!

Is it just me or is hotel sex better than home sex?  There's just something about it, I think it's because Mrs. Penguin knows that she doesn't have to change the bed.

Don't judge me,
Opus T. Penguin

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

Last Call for Alcohol

Do they still make wine coolers?  That was the bomb back in the day.

When they were big, it seemed like every commercial on TV was shilling some kind of wine cooler.  Heck, even Bruce Willis was a spokesman for one.  My favorite was the old guys selling Bartles & Jaymes.

For those that missed out on the wine cooler crazy, I pity you.  That stuff was liquid panties remover.  The first bottle was nervous giggles, the second was pure Spanish fly.

Don't judge me,
Opus T. Penguin

You're in My Spot


If you ever come to my house, don't place anything breakable on my couch. Over the years I have managed to sit on countless TV remotes, cats, dogs, toys, two plates of Snickerdoodle cookies, and GD2.

Sitting on GD2 wasn't completely my fault. She was only a month or so old and she was tiny. Her mother had her wrapped in a baby blanket that matched my couch so well the army has decided to use it for their next camouflage pattern.

Just remember, you have been warned.

Don't judge me,
Opus T. Penguin