Category: funny

So, I have this hat…

I’ve been going to a chiropractor since March, since I had been more or less constantly in pain from my hip and knee being wildly out of alignment. The pain was frequently bad enough that it caused a noticeable limp and prevented me from walking to work.

My chiropractor examined me, crunched a few bones, and told me that my problem was one that needed correction through treatment.  He started me on twice-weekly visits.  My pain has been significantly better, and I’ve been progressing along nicely.  About a month into treatment, after he was done crunching my bones, he introduced a chunk of foam I’m supposed to lie on for a few minutes at night in order to correct my head-forward posture.

You know the one–the hunched, hands-at-a-keyboard gnome-like posture of the inveterate computer junkie, e.g., me.

I said ok to this, since everything so far has been beneficial.  Lie on it for a few minutes each night, and it will help.  So I did.  Most nights I forget to do it, but my neck posture was steadily improving anyway.  My pain was getting better.

Next, he decides that it’s time for head weights.  This consists of a hat with seven pounds of metal in it, or as I call it, “The stupidest hat anyone has ever worn.”  It’s like a crown for the king of jackasses.  Have a look at it.

Hat

It's difficult to pull this off with dignity, but somehow I manage it.

So I’m supposed to wear this thing for five to ten minutes a day.  But, here’s the catch… I can’t just wear it.  Since the natural reaction to having a massive, stupid hat on your head is to slowly slump forward, I have to be constantly moving to counteract my body’s natural anti-idiocy reflex.  The result is that for five to ten minutes a day, I parade around my apartment with this damn thing on my head.  Or worse, stand in front of the TV with a controller in my hands, playing video games,  marching in place.

Sometimes I think my chiropractor is just fucking with me.  In a few months he’ll say, “You were actually doing thati?!  Holy shit!”  At this point, he will call in the receptionist and point at me.

“He was actually wearing the hat!

“No way.”  She’ll say.  Then, to me: “Really?  You thought that was real?  No one thinks that’s real!”

I will nod glumly and look for the nearest exit.  As I try to leave, they will grab me, and the receptionist will put the hat back on my head.  My chiropractor will pose next to me with a double thumbs up and giant grin, and a photo will be taken.   The photo will be sent to Chiropractor Monthly, where I will be captioned “Victim of the month.”

Hooker?

I was heading out the door for a pub quiz tonight, and slung my backpack over my shoulder.  I’m on call at the moment, so my work laptop is my constant companion.  If something breaks, the page goes out to me, and I get to fix it ASAP.

Iris (my roommate) saw me heading for the door.

“Where ya goin’?” She asked.

“Hooker.” I replied calmly.

There was a slight pause.

“Where?”

“Hooker.”  Again, completely nonchalant.  I realized as I said it that my backpack, possibly filled with clean clothes or sex toys, added some credence to the comment.

I opened the front door to go.

“I still didn’t hear you.”  She said, from her computer.

“Hooker!” I half-shouted as I stepped out, loud enough for the family next door to hear.

“Did you say ‘hooker?!'”

I closed the door without responding further, and laughed to myself the whole way to my car.

A Quick Tour of Queen Anne

I just signed a lease for a studio apartment near the top of Queen Anne, which is the name of a hill and neighborhood in Seattle.  I thought people might enjoy a brief tour of the area.

For the past four months, I have been living in what is known as Lower Queen Anne, which is a sort of plateau halfway up Queen Anne Hill.  It is best known within the city as “Gorm.”  The area is under water for six months out of the year, which is why the nearby Space Needle was placed on such a tall pedestal.  As you may have seen in Men in Black, the Space Needle is indeed a type of spacecraft.  Contrary to the movie, the Space Needle is actually owned by the city of Seattle.  It was placed prominently on the city’s skyline by the council of elders in order to taunt extraterrestrials of the city’s prowess in interplanetary travel.  Due to budgetary constraints it is flown only once a year, in celebration of St. Stanislaus’s day.  It is typically flown around the block twice, then returned to the city center to bombard the area with lethal amounts of radiation.

During the dry season, traffic is an unmanageable nightmare.  Most commuters sleep, and sometimes live, in their cars in order to make it work on time.  Many of them are caught unawares by the annual tsunami and die in them as well.  It is not uncommon to see homeless people and car-dwellers sharing a meal on the roof of a Chevy.

Many symposia are held in the open air insanity garden between Fifth Avenue Northwest and the edge of the flat earth.  Here, some of the world’s finest minds come to ponder the void beyond the edge of the world and mingle with the homeless insane that are drawn to the area.  This is a fairly typical exchange I experienced this afternoon:

Homeless insane guy with some sort of surgical scar running down the back of his shaved head: “Hey man, which way is up?”
Me, pointing up: “That way.”
Homeless insane guy, whom I’ve never seen before: “You ain’t lyin’ to me again, are ya?”

Other attractions in the area include the fire hydrant, that one chair with the orange stripes, and Tim.  The fire hydrant is best seen when it blooms in late spring.

Up the hill–far, far up the hill–is known simply as Queen Anne.  The name dates back to the founding of Seattle in the fourth century B.C., when an advanced, unknown, and extinct culture carved the name into the hillside in seventy foot high letters.  The name’s meaning is unknown.  Based upon the numerous mass graves found by workmen and archeologists over the course of the last two hundred years, it is estimated five thousand slave laborers died during its construction.  A bustling trade in these bones has sprung up in recent years, with local artisans using them to create everything from jewelry to powdered drink mixes.

Queen Anne is the highest point in the contiguous United States.  The curvature of the earth is clearly visible from nearly any vantage point, and the sky is starless and black even at high noon.  The city has placed oxygen stations on the northeast corner of every block to help visitors unaccustomed to the thin air.  Longtime residents of the area are easily recognizable by their haunted, bleak stares and hairlessness.

There are numerous restaurants and bars at the top of Queen Anne.  A personal favorite is Andrew’s, a tiny shack hidden deep inside narrow alleys.  It is only open on Tuesdays, and serves nothing but the absolute freshest food.  If you’re squeamish about selecting and drowning your own soup kitten, you may want to search for tamer fare down the hill in Gorm.

Fires are common due to birds plummeting from the sky, shrieking and aflame.  The city has investigated the phenomenon on numerous occasions and has not been able to determine its cause.  In what may be a related matter, household pets are known to go berserk when brought to the area, and often need to be sedated before they can be dealt with.  The total lack of any insect or animal life leaves the streets eerily silent at all hours, except for the steady bass rumble incessantly resonating from deep within the hill’s core.

Parking is ample.