My friend sent me this memo from their company concerning dress code:
Good afternoon everyone,
There seems to be a lack of understanding regarding the (XXX Company) dress code. This email is to reiterate the policy and remind everyone you will be asked to go home on your first offense and not be a part of the Company for the second offense. You should re-read the handbook which prescribes the following:
Appearance and Grooming
The people-oriented nature of our business lends great importance to the professional image (XXX Company) presents to customers, vendors, and other visitors. Therefore, it is important that you present a professional impression in your dress and grooming.
Staff based or working in (XXX Company) office:
(XXX Company) expects you to maintain a clean and polished yet professionally casual appearance. Generally speaking, (XXX Company) has adopted a relaxed dress code as follows:
For men:
Shirts: Dress or sport, knit or woven, must have a collar. Tee shirts, v-necks, henleys or other collarless shirts are not acceptable.
Pants: Dress slacks, chinos, or dockers
Suits: Suits, sports jackets, and/or ties are optional.
Sweaters: Crewnecks, v-necks, cardigans or turtlenecks are acceptable.
For women:
Slacks or skirts; jeans are permitted on Fridays and on days when employees are scheduled to embark on midday travel. Torn jeans are not allowed at any time for any reason.
Business suits
Dresses
Leggings, skimpy tank tops and shorts, and midriff blouses are considered inappropriate at any time. Shoulders and backs must be covered.
You are expected to use good judgment.
________________________________________________________
NOTE THE FOLLOWING BEING ADDED REGARDING FOOTWEAR:
No flip flops or flimsy sandals (i.e., ones more appropriate for the beach or BBQ than the office)
No sneakers (even if they are "hip")
We are lucky to have a relaxed dress code and need everyone to adhere so as not to risk losing it for all of us.
If you have any questions, or are unsure what's appropriate, contact either XXXXXXXXX or me.
Thank you for your cooperation.
Homestar and a Haircut
In 2004, Greg was a one years old boy and Homestarrunner.com only sold shirts for little boys and not for babies. But I bought Greg a shirt anyways, knowing that someday he would grow into it.
And he did.
A Drink with Allen
There is nothing more fun than a drink with Allen
Except two drinks with Allen
Of course three drinks is marvelous
And the fourth is only the prequel to the next drink
The fifth drink is the next drink and then there's the sequel
The sequel is the seventh drink and that's because there was a surprise ending where the sixth drink was kidnapped by my liver!
And then it's one in the morning and time to say goodbye
So then there's the last drink
And the last last drink
And the just kidding this is the last drink
And then I wake up and it's 11:45am and I have to be in Mansfield in 15 minutes.
Good god there is nothing more fun than a drink with Allen.
Except two drinks with Allen
Of course three drinks is marvelous
And the fourth is only the prequel to the next drink
The fifth drink is the next drink and then there's the sequel
The sequel is the seventh drink and that's because there was a surprise ending where the sixth drink was kidnapped by my liver!
And then it's one in the morning and time to say goodbye
So then there's the last drink
And the last last drink
And the just kidding this is the last drink
And then I wake up and it's 11:45am and I have to be in Mansfield in 15 minutes.
Good god there is nothing more fun than a drink with Allen.
Funny Translator
I got an e-mail from Andrew S. with a link to a concept I had played with a while ago, but forgot about. Fun stuff:
HolyJuan,
Just wanted to pass along http://www.funnytranslator.com
It uses Google to translate any phrase from English to 56 other languages and back again, with often funny, usually bizarre, sometimes even insightful/ironic results. My favorite example so far is actually someone complaining about the site: "Ok, I'm sorry to be the curmudgeon but I get the translator part, I'm just not seeing the funny part."
...56 translations later we get:
"Oh, Sorry, I know, I think it sounds great."
Andrew
I tried this one:
"My voice is my passport. Verify Me. "
...56 translations later we get:
"Yu. It. Passport / Embarrassing for them to show."
HolyJuan,
Just wanted to pass along http://www.funnytranslator.com
It uses Google to translate any phrase from English to 56 other languages and back again, with often funny, usually bizarre, sometimes even insightful/ironic results. My favorite example so far is actually someone complaining about the site: "Ok, I'm sorry to be the curmudgeon but I get the translator part, I'm just not seeing the funny part."
...56 translations later we get:
"Oh, Sorry, I know, I think it sounds great."
Andrew
I tried this one:
"My voice is my passport. Verify Me. "
...56 translations later we get:
"Yu. It. Passport / Embarrassing for them to show."
The Best Man Speech
About two weeks before John's wedding, I called his best man and brother, Chris, to ask him if he needed any help with his Best Man speech. Chris said he hadn't started working on the speech, but that if he needed me to look at something, he'd let me know.
The Wednesday before the wedding, I left Chris a message, asking him how things were going with the speech. I didn't hear back so I assumed things were going OK.
The night before the rehearsal dinner I got a call from Chris. He had a bit of writer's block and was well on his way to losing his mind. We talked for a little bit about what he was thinking and he had some good ideas. I gave him some gag ideas but I could tell that wasn't what he was looking for.
But at about 2:30am, he had a break through.
The speech was very well received at the reception and I got his permission to share this with you.
Chris' Best Man Speech
Hi everyone, I'm Chris, John's brother. I want to thank all of you for coming. I also would like to assure you that I am indeed the best man, and not the ring bearer.
Some of you know that John and I are very close as brothers--our parents passed away when we were very young and we pretty much raised ourselves. Now it's true that we had a lot of help from our friends, who also essentially moved in with us. You can imagine then that two teenage boys being "raised" by other teenage boys -- things are going to fall through the cracks. Our neighbors likened this whole situation to living next door to a den of wolves--that is a gross and malign misrepresentation -- we regard you more like a pack of dingoes, and you were delightful company.
Since John and Bekah have met, this has all played out like a Disney fairy tale...no, no, not the one with the dwarves...ok yes that one, but...the one where the beautiful, cultured princess falls in love with the scruffy, uncouth man-boy living in a cabin somewhere and on the way to falling madly in love, sees fit to re-introduce him to those quotidian preambles of adult normality like eating off plates that aren't made of paper, silverware that’s actually metal, or -- what is...an oven. (I share some of the blame here too...Doug reminded me the other day that the oven at our house in Lancaster had not functioned properly for 10 years...we were informed of this by the NEW owners. Brett, again we are terribly sorry and we had no idea that family of raccoons was living in there)
Bekah, you've found a wonderful husband to grow old with--John, you've found a great girl you can grow UP with. I'm sure the two of you will create all new deeply embarrassing, traumatizing adventures to add to the catalog of our family lore --none of which you can ever ever publicly talk about.
Oh, speaking of that John, there's a nice lady from Wal-mart's toddler's department who's waiting to speak with you after the reception.
So I'm proud to welcome you Bekah into the family as a younger sister/den mother (not that there's anything weird about that). And thank you both, and Bekah's parents, for making this a wonderful celebration.
The Wednesday before the wedding, I left Chris a message, asking him how things were going with the speech. I didn't hear back so I assumed things were going OK.
The night before the rehearsal dinner I got a call from Chris. He had a bit of writer's block and was well on his way to losing his mind. We talked for a little bit about what he was thinking and he had some good ideas. I gave him some gag ideas but I could tell that wasn't what he was looking for.
But at about 2:30am, he had a break through.
The speech was very well received at the reception and I got his permission to share this with you.
Chris' Best Man Speech
Hi everyone, I'm Chris, John's brother. I want to thank all of you for coming. I also would like to assure you that I am indeed the best man, and not the ring bearer.
Some of you know that John and I are very close as brothers--our parents passed away when we were very young and we pretty much raised ourselves. Now it's true that we had a lot of help from our friends, who also essentially moved in with us. You can imagine then that two teenage boys being "raised" by other teenage boys -- things are going to fall through the cracks. Our neighbors likened this whole situation to living next door to a den of wolves--that is a gross and malign misrepresentation -- we regard you more like a pack of dingoes, and you were delightful company.
Since John and Bekah have met, this has all played out like a Disney fairy tale...no, no, not the one with the dwarves...ok yes that one, but...the one where the beautiful, cultured princess falls in love with the scruffy, uncouth man-boy living in a cabin somewhere and on the way to falling madly in love, sees fit to re-introduce him to those quotidian preambles of adult normality like eating off plates that aren't made of paper, silverware that’s actually metal, or -- what is...an oven. (I share some of the blame here too...Doug reminded me the other day that the oven at our house in Lancaster had not functioned properly for 10 years...we were informed of this by the NEW owners. Brett, again we are terribly sorry and we had no idea that family of raccoons was living in there)
Bekah, you've found a wonderful husband to grow old with--John, you've found a great girl you can grow UP with. I'm sure the two of you will create all new deeply embarrassing, traumatizing adventures to add to the catalog of our family lore --none of which you can ever ever publicly talk about.
Oh, speaking of that John, there's a nice lady from Wal-mart's toddler's department who's waiting to speak with you after the reception.
So I'm proud to welcome you Bekah into the family as a younger sister/den mother (not that there's anything weird about that). And thank you both, and Bekah's parents, for making this a wonderful celebration.
Air Hockey Table
My parents did something amazing once. Normally the stuff they did was one step down from amazing. It wasn’t their fault. We were not rich and they always bought what they could and not what we wanted. They bought the Sears Atari knock off when they could have bought the original. They bought the TI-99/4A computer when we could have had an IBM. They bought an Apple //c when we could have had an PC. You get my drift.
One year they bought something awesome. They bought an air hockey table. It might have been used (some dents and some larger dents filled with bondo,) but it worked great. We would play for hours. I think I was born with six fingers, but luckily I lost one of them on the air hockey table, so now I look normal.
One weekend, my buddy Russ got to spend the night. Russ and I did a lot of spending the night at each other’s house. It was great when I got to go to his house because I got to watch Monty Python and Benny Hill. At my house, we got to play air hockey.
During one morning at my house, we decided to play a game of air hockey. I’m not sure if it was the corn flakes for breakfast or the pizza we had the night before, but something crept through my bowels and waited to pounce.
During a very hard fought game, I let loose a very quiet, but very deadly fart. It left my butt, snuck through my dirty underwear and pajamas. Right before escaping unto the world it was pulled back under the table and into the fan that sucked air up and through the hundreds of holes in the air hockey table surface. As it was a hard fought game, Russ was bent over the field, intent on winning. The fart was pulled up and pushed right into Russ’ face.
Here is where I mention that Russ had a weak stomach.
Russ puked. First on the table and then on to the floor. The air didn’t mind having puke on the table so it just kept on bubbling through. Yeah. Gross.
I ran downstairs and got mom. We unplugged the table and cleaned it up. Unto this day, Russ will swear that the Devil himself crawled up his nose and pulled forth the vomit from his gut the stench was so bad.
The table withstood the vomit and only lost its value with its legs buckled under the constant leaning and smashing it had to endure. We tried propping it up under some chairs, but they were never even and someone always got the uphill bonus.
My son, Greg, and I play air hockey when ever we get the opportunity. Sometimes, Russ is there with his kid and we watch them play. I know what we both are thinking.
One year they bought something awesome. They bought an air hockey table. It might have been used (some dents and some larger dents filled with bondo,) but it worked great. We would play for hours. I think I was born with six fingers, but luckily I lost one of them on the air hockey table, so now I look normal.
One weekend, my buddy Russ got to spend the night. Russ and I did a lot of spending the night at each other’s house. It was great when I got to go to his house because I got to watch Monty Python and Benny Hill. At my house, we got to play air hockey.
During one morning at my house, we decided to play a game of air hockey. I’m not sure if it was the corn flakes for breakfast or the pizza we had the night before, but something crept through my bowels and waited to pounce.
During a very hard fought game, I let loose a very quiet, but very deadly fart. It left my butt, snuck through my dirty underwear and pajamas. Right before escaping unto the world it was pulled back under the table and into the fan that sucked air up and through the hundreds of holes in the air hockey table surface. As it was a hard fought game, Russ was bent over the field, intent on winning. The fart was pulled up and pushed right into Russ’ face.
Here is where I mention that Russ had a weak stomach.
Russ puked. First on the table and then on to the floor. The air didn’t mind having puke on the table so it just kept on bubbling through. Yeah. Gross.
I ran downstairs and got mom. We unplugged the table and cleaned it up. Unto this day, Russ will swear that the Devil himself crawled up his nose and pulled forth the vomit from his gut the stench was so bad.
The table withstood the vomit and only lost its value with its legs buckled under the constant leaning and smashing it had to endure. We tried propping it up under some chairs, but they were never even and someone always got the uphill bonus.
My son, Greg, and I play air hockey when ever we get the opportunity. Sometimes, Russ is there with his kid and we watch them play. I know what we both are thinking.
Andyman Fund
It wasn't until after I gave $5 to the Andyman fund that it all became very real. I didn't know the guy at all, but it seems that many did or felt a strong connection to the man.
So if you get a chance... drop his family a buck or two. Go to http://www.cd101.com/andyman/ and click on the PayPal link under his photo.
I think some DJs of CD101 said it best... pretend like you are buying him a drink. The same drink he would have bought you, not expecting one back.
So if you get a chance... drop his family a buck or two. Go to http://www.cd101.com/andyman/ and click on the PayPal link under his photo.
I think some DJs of CD101 said it best... pretend like you are buying him a drink. The same drink he would have bought you, not expecting one back.
My Only Andyman Story
It seems like everyone has two or three stories about Andyman from CD101. He was everywhere Columbus and people gravitated towards his exuberantly friendly personality.
I only have one Andyman story.
A few months ago, my buddy Russ and I ended up at the My Morning Jacket concert. Towards the end of the show, I walked off to use the bathroom. The line was only a few dudes out the door and I saddled up. I could sense people lining up behind me and that became obvious when the guy behind me starts talking to the guy behind him. When I turned to look, I could tell it was Andyman. I had not seen any photos of him recently and I missed the part where he dropped 200 lbs. I said, "Hey, it's Andyman!" Without missing a beat, he proceeded to tell me a story as we all shuffled forward into the bathroom. He said that years and years ago, he was standing in line for a bathroom with one of his crazy buddies at a concert. His buddy couldn't wait any longer so he just started pissing in the bathroom all over the concrete floors and on dudes' shoes. All the time he was telling this story, he was laughing and his laughing caught me doing the same. The best part of this was that we were using urinals that were separated by three or four guys and he just yelled over the top of them to finish the story.
I assume that every hour of his life was like that. No, not the pissing on shoes part. The openness. The stories. The contagious laughter.
Here's a tribute video from one of his co-workers at CD101.
I only have one Andyman story.
A few months ago, my buddy Russ and I ended up at the My Morning Jacket concert. Towards the end of the show, I walked off to use the bathroom. The line was only a few dudes out the door and I saddled up. I could sense people lining up behind me and that became obvious when the guy behind me starts talking to the guy behind him. When I turned to look, I could tell it was Andyman. I had not seen any photos of him recently and I missed the part where he dropped 200 lbs. I said, "Hey, it's Andyman!" Without missing a beat, he proceeded to tell me a story as we all shuffled forward into the bathroom. He said that years and years ago, he was standing in line for a bathroom with one of his crazy buddies at a concert. His buddy couldn't wait any longer so he just started pissing in the bathroom all over the concrete floors and on dudes' shoes. All the time he was telling this story, he was laughing and his laughing caught me doing the same. The best part of this was that we were using urinals that were separated by three or four guys and he just yelled over the top of them to finish the story.
I assume that every hour of his life was like that. No, not the pissing on shoes part. The openness. The stories. The contagious laughter.
Here's a tribute video from one of his co-workers at CD101.
Andyman has Died
News spread quickly this eventing in Columbus that Andyman had passed away. Here is the news from the CD101 website:
"It is with much sadness that CD101 announces the passing of John Andrew “Andyman” Davis – programming director and beloved dee jay at CD101. Andy was vacationing with his family in Michigan and tragically drown on Saturday evening. Andy is survived by his wife, Molly, and their three sons Johnny, Oliver, and Sammy.
Andyman Davis started at CD101 in June of 1991 as on on-air personality and became CD101’s Programming Director in 1998. Andyman was the voice of CD101’s afternoon drive program and was voted Columbus’ favorite DJ on numerous occasions.
No further details regarding Andyman’s memorial services are available at this time but information will be announced as it is made available."
On Friday afternoon's, Andyman would do a bit called, "Taking Calls" where he would answer the phones and let people say whatever they wanted for a few seconds. At the end of the bit, he would play the Beer Song by Asylum Street Spankers. My kids sing the "beer, beer, beer, beer, we love beer" part.
You will be missed, Andyman, and never replaced.
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