Nick Bradbury

Farty Shoes

One recent rainy morning, I stopped at the grocery store after walking my dogs in the park.

As I strode into the store I realized that my wet shoes were making farting noises with every step. I tried walking more slowly, but that just resulted in slower, deeper farts.

So I paused for a moment, too mortified to move. Then like any geek of good conscience, I asked myself, WWJCD?

"What would John Cleese do?"

Suddenly the moment was transformed from one of extreme embarrassment to one of merriment. I put on my best Cleese straight-man face and continued walking, all the while pretending I had no idea the flatulent feet were attached to me.

If an unexpectedly boisterous blast burst from my soggy sneakers, I'd look around as though someone else was to blame and I was offended by their presence.

When the shopping was done I picked up the pace, resulting in dozens of quick squeaky blats following me as I left the store.

I have no idea what anyone else's reaction was, but I certainly had a good time.

So if you ever find yourself in an awkward situation, don't worry about it. Just ask yourself, WWJCD?Everything will be fine after that.

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While you're here I hope you'll check out Glassboard, an app designed for private sharing. I write the Android version of Glassboard.

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My Top 20 Minor Annoyances

If you've been on Facebook or Twitter for any length of time, chances are you're following at least one person who constantly complains about all the little things that annoy them. If they stub their toe, wake up with bad hair, or someone just looks at them funny, they immediately post about it.

In an effort to not become one of these people, I've decided to spout off my minor annoyances here. That way I can get them off my chest without bothering my Facebook friends. So, in no particular order, here they are:

1. People who blow their nose in restaurants
2. Lights that are controlled by more than one switch
3. Wearing wet socks
4. Dr. Phil
5. "New" music which rips off classic rock
6. Fitness fanatics who worry about eating too much at Thanksgiving and Christmas
7. Fake eyebrows
8. People who think you can't see them picking their nose because they're in their car
9. Athletes who all-too-obviously thank god when they win a game
10. Doorbells that play music
11. Anyone who tries to cure your hiccups
12. Sarah Palin
13. TV commercials that are twice as loud as the show you're watching
14. Walking down stairs and thinking there's another step when there isn't one
15. Being woken up by the sound of your own snoring
16. Food with an unreadable expiration date
17. Slow elevators
18. Waiting for a long time at a red light when there's no other traffic in sight
19. People in an audience who loudly say "Shhhhh!" when everyone is supposed to be quiet
20. Clogging up the toilet in someone else's house

Bonus: Geek that I am, I can't help but mention my top five geeky annoyances:

1. Software that asks whether you really want to exit
2. Constant Adobe Flash and Adobe Reader updates
3. Anyone who acts superior because of their choice of operating system
4. Video games that make you start the level over when you die
5. Auto-correct that turns a technical term into a cuss word

Flippin' Dummy

When I was a kid, one of my weirder hobbies was ventriloquism.  I don’t remember why I got started, but I do remember that some people thought I was pretty good at it.  In the short time that I was a ventriloquist, I won several local talent shows, and one time I even got to appear on live TV.

The TV appearance started off badly.

The crew sat me and my dummy in a chair in front of the camera, and soon afterwards the cameraman made some sort of hand motion at me.  I had no idea what the hand motion meant, so I just sat there, assuming it was nothing I needed to be concerned about.

Then he did it again, and this time it was clear that I was supposed to do something.  But I didn’t know what to do, so I simply looked at the camera and said, “what?”  He did it one more time, this time more forcefully, and again I said, “what?”

The cameraman, obviously displeased that I didn’t grok his secret language, leaned forward and said, “YOU’RE ON!”

Oops.  I’d just screwed up on live TV.

I nervously launched into my routine, which began with a joke involving three pieces of candy.  I was supposed to hold up three fingers when I mentioned the candy, but I was so distressed with how things started that I forgot to hold up two of them.

The one finger I held up was the middle one.

In slow motion, my eyes moved to the upheld digit, and a look of sheer terror crossed my face when I realized that I’d flipped off everyone watching.  Doing that as an adult would've been bad enough, but it’s infinitely worse doing it as a kid.  The middle finger held a mystical quality back then, and raising it - even accidentally - was a very bad thing.  I was pretty sure that raising it on live TV would mean a lump of coal come Christmas morning, and possibly even eternal torment in the place with the guy with the horns.

To my surprise, nobody mentioned my one-fingered salute after the show, and I never got in trouble for it.  But somewhere deep down, in the same place I store my guilt over setting off those stink bombs in third grade, I just know I'll eventually pay for flipping off my home town.

My Master is an Asshole (a Response From Calvin)

Apparently my master thinks I'm an asshole. Well, big deal. I can tell you the feeling is mutual.

If you don't think he's an asshole, then explain to me why he wants me to call him my "master," like I'm in frickin' "I Dream of Jeannie" or something. Hell, if I was a genie, I'd blink my eyes and transport myself to some poodle harem. And then I'd turn Nick into a cockapoo, if for no other reason just because the name fits him. Anyway, he's not my "master" - he's my captor.

Yeah, he's my captor, 'cos I can't leave the house without him, and I have to wait for him to give me water and food. He's even forgotten to feed me for several hours when he's lost in some stupid coding frenzy. It's not like I can order a pizza - I have to wait for the geek to get away from his computer before I can eat, and even then, he gives me the same boring dog food night after night. How 'bout a little variety now and then, pal? The only reason I lick peoples' feet all the time is so I can taste something different (btw, people taste like chicken - just thought you'd want to know that).

He even complains that I won't protect his family from intruders, like that's supposed to be my job or something! Look, buddy - I'm a 15-pound dog, and you're a 170-pound man. Yet somehow I'm the wimp in this situation?

And I'm amazed that he bitches about me waking him up at night so I can go outside. First he complains that I pee on the floor, then he complains when he has to get his butt out of bed to let me outside so I can avoid staining his precious carpet. It's an ugly carpet anyway - I'm just adding a little color.

So, he doesn't like it when I pee on the carpet? Well, what does he expect after getting me neutered? There I was thinking I was going for a nice car ride, and the next thing I know, I'm waking up in the vet's office and I discover that my cherries are seedless, if y'know what I mean. I figure that peeing anywhere I damn well please is payback for getting me snipped.

Oh, and to make matters worse, after he neutered me, he brought Gypsy - a sexy female dog - into the house. What a frickin' tease! Do you think he'd like it if I had him castrated and then invited Angelina Jolie to come stay with us?

Anyway, enough of this - my paws are getting all gummy from using Nick's keyboard (he never cleans the damn thing). I may not be a perfect dog, but I just wanted y'all to know that my master captor isn't exactly a shining example of his species, either.

Peace out, folks.

My Dog is an Asshole

There, I said it. And I'll say it again. Despite being cute enough to make the furry felines at LOLCats.com seem ugly by comparison, my dog is an asshole.

Oh sure, you're probably saying, "deep down, I'll bet he's a nice doggie." But you know what? When you have to say that "deep down" someone is nice, it's because they're an asshole.

We got him when he was a pup, and I named him "Calvin" after my favorite comic strip, Calvin & Hobbes. Like the lead character in that cartoon, our dog is always causing trouble, and he acts like he's living in a fantasy world. Except that the cartoon Calvin was actually a likeable kid, whereas our canine Calvin is truly obnoxious.

Calvin constantly wakes us up at all hours of the night wanting to go outside, but when we open the door for him, he sits there and looks at us as though he's saying, "you don't actually expect me to go out there, do you?" Then he pees on the carpet.

He splashes his paws in his water bowl and treads muddy footprints all over the floor, then scratches at the empty bowl until we fill it up again. He torments every guest by licking their feet, and when we scold him for it, he starts licking the air around their feet instead, like he's testing our resolve. And as soon as we start to pet him, he rolls over and exposes his private parts, then looks up at us hopefully (yes, he's not only an asshole, but he's also a pervert).

By comparison, our other dog, Gypsy, is one of the sweetest creatures you could ever meet. We picked her up as a stray, and every day she acts thankful for being taken in. Calvin, on the other hand, acts like he expected to be living with royalty, and is supremely disappointed at having to stay with mere commoners.

Late one night a few years ago, after everyone was asleep, an old guitar stashed away in some forgotten upstairs closet suddenly broke a string. Fearing it was an intruder, Gypsy (bless her heart) leapt out of our bedroom, ready to tear apart whoever was responsible for the ruckus. But did Calvin try to protect us? No. Instead, he jumped up on our bed in fear and planted his furry behind squarely on my face. As you can imagine, being awoken by a loud noise in your house and then having something hairy smother you is not a pleasant experience.

He's clearly a defective dog, but it's not like we can return him. We have to keep him, even though he steals food from our kids and barks at the slightest noise. I guess we're stuck with him for the rest of his life (and just before he goes to meet his maker, I'm sure he'll find time to poop all over the house).

Don't get me wrong - we love our little Calvin, of course. But he's still an asshole.

Update: It appears that Calvin has taken offense to this post and has written a response.

Nose Candy

I told this horrible little story to my children recently, and they enjoyed it so much that I figured I'd share it here.

My parents took us on a lot of long car rides when I was kid, presumably as punishment (for both them and us).  I remember how incredibly boring these trips were - I couldn't read without getting sick, and my parents would never subject themselves to the kind of music I wanted to listen to, so it was hour after hour of just sitting there watching stuff go by.

On one particularly dull trip, I brought along a little box of green "DynaMints" (these were mint candies, similar to Tic-Tacs).  For reasons that escape me now, I began to wonder what would happen if I inserted one of these mints into the nose of my sleeping older brother.  I knew I shouldn't do it, but my scientific curiosity got the better of me, so I gently placed one in his left nostril.

Unfortunately, in his sleep he apparently decided that the little mint was something escaping from his nostril, so with a loud "SNORK" he sniffed it straight up his nose and out of sight.

This, of course, woke him up.  With eyes bugging out, he let out a terrified yell over the intense mint flavor now shooting up his nasal cavity.  To make matters worse, the green candy coating was leaking out. 

He had no idea what was going on.  I, on the other hand, knew exactly what was happening, but I was laughing waayyyy too hard to explain it to him (after all, what could be funnier to a kid than seeing his older brother screaming while green goo dripped out his nose?).  After the hysterical laughter subsided, I told him what I had done.  I don't remember now, but he probably gave me the pummeling of my life over it (but it was worth it).

Every now and then I remind my brother of the famous DynaMint experiment, and the look in his eyes says he hasn't really forgiven me for it.  Perhaps my strange reaction to mints is some sort of guilty response?

Hold the Cream Cheese

As a general rule, people who work by themselves develop unusual habits. I wish I could say I'm the exception to that rule, but unfortunately I've developed a socially unacceptable habit that never would've occurred if I didn't work at home.

It's kind of embarrassing, but the truth is that I entertain myself with my own belches. Not only do I make them unusually loud, but I also speak while doing it.

I know, it's an incredibly childish habit, and I'll probably lose some of my readers by admitting to it. But maybe if I confess to it here, I'll stop doing it.

Anyway, my favorite belch word for the past few months has been "bagels." Don't ask me why I chose that word - I guess it just sounded right. It's hard to spell it out, but it sounds something like this:

BAAA-AAA-AAA-AAA-GELS !!

My kids, of course, think it's hysterical when they hear that blasting from my office. Which is probably why I keep doing it.

Not too long ago I came downstairs after a day of coding, and as I exited my office I let fly with a particularly boisterous "baaa-aaa-aaa-aaa-gels." When I turned the corner, I was mortified to find my wife talking with one of our neighbors - a neighbor who I didn't know too well (and probably never will, thanks to my outburst).

I've seen this neighbor a few times since then, and she never really makes eye contact (can't say I blame her).

OK, now that I've admitted to a really dumb habit, it's your turn :) What bad habits have you developed when nobody was around?

Holy Rush

My family moved to Tennessee when I entered my teen years, and it was there that I met my first true love. She was a southern girl whose father was a fire-and-brimstone minister. I was 16 at the time, and to prove my devotion to her I agreed to attend one of her father's church services.

I was completely unprepared for what I saw. The service started simply enough, but once the sermon was underway, the reverend began speaking in tongues. You couldn't actually understand what he was saying, but a lady in the congregation was kind enough to translate his babbling into English. And to make this scene even more surreal, I should add that she had inexplicably shaved off her eyebrows and painted in ones that looked like Spock's. I kid you not.

A few months later I attended another of his services, and it turned out that the church pianist was sick. I kinda-sorta knew how to play, so my girlfriend volunteered me as a replacement.

After my eyeballs returned to their normal size, I tried to explain that I only knew a couple of rock songs - but they were desperate for a piano player, and I was a desperate young teen, so I agreed to do it. But to repay my girlfriend for volunteering me, I said that I'd do it only if she would sing.

A short while later I found myself seated at a piano in front of a hushed church audience that was expecting something inspiring.

So I gave them what they wanted. I played "Closer to the Heart" by Rush.

To my girlfriend's credit, she found a way to sing it like a hymn. And to my credit, I skipped my piano version of the guitar solo (it would've rocked, btw).

I sheepishly left the service, feeling a mixture of elation and guilt for having pulled it off. But I felt better when the reverend came up and shook my hand, congratulating me for the "inspirational music."

PS: It's a good thing they didn't ask me to play again, because the only other song I knew was Iron Man, and that never sounded quite right on piano.

Mints Make Me Sneeze

I seem to be unique among people I know in that mints make me sneeze.  And I'm not talking about a minor sneeze here: give me an Altoid, and I'll sneeze half-a-dozen times with enough force to part the Red Sea. It's a strange affliction, but at least my sneezes smell fresh.

My kids think this is the funniest thing in the world, of course.  We have a little game where I pop a mint into my mouth, and my kids both guess how many times it'll make me sneeze.

But for real entertainment, just watch me brush my teeth with an extra-minty toothpaste.  Many times I've brushed my teeth and just barely spat in time to avoid decorating the countertop with minty sneeze spray.  And yeah, there have been a few times when the sneeze wins (hence the crusty drops all over my bathroom mirror).

Does anyone else have this weird reaction to mint?

Crazy Poopin' Bird

I used to consider myself a nature lover, but that all changed when the crazy poopin' bird made my car his home.

It all started one summer morning two years ago when I found my car covered with bird droppings.  My car had been used by birds for target practice before, but never like this.  The sheer amount of stuff was worthy of an entire flock of birds - but I soon discovered it was the work of a just one crazy cardinal.

The cardinal (whom my kids have since nicknamed "Frenzy") hangs out on my car's side-view mirror, apparently under the belief that his reflection is another male competing for his space.  Rather than peck at the mirror, though, he tries to run off the intruder by regularly marking his territory.  A lot.

After putting up with this for a few weeks, I bought a rubber snake and wrapped it around the mirror, hoping to scare him off.  The next morning there was no sign of Frenzy's mischief - success!  But it didn't last.  A couple days later he started hanging out on the other mirror.  So I put a snake on that mirror, too, thinking that two snakes would send him packing for good.

It didn't work.  The next morning I came out to my car and found that he'd pooped on the snakes.

Then winter came around, and Frenzy disappeared.  Months went by, and there was no sign of him.  By springtime I'd almost forgotten about him, but he came back with a vengeance.  Apparently he'd spent the winter months at a buffet because he was more productive than ever.

So what can I do to get rid of this crazy bird?  I know that if I caught my neighbors pooping on my car, I'd shoot them.  But I can't bring myself to harm this bird.  He's simply doing what crazy birds do.  I just want him to do it somewhere else, that's all.