Terrible Tuesdays

Michael's right, Mondays have a terrible and undeserved bad rep and we want to change that. Since this is entirely a public perception issue, a good place to start is to focus that misdirected ire at a worthy target.

Like Tuesday.

Tuesday, not Monday, is the absolute worst day of the week. How so? Glad you asked!

Let's say your grandmother is a terrible cook. I'm not saying that, except hypothetically. Actually, she's a good cook, except when it comes to meatloaf. Everything she makes is delicious but her meatloaf is godawful. You're scheduled to eat dinner at her house and that's fine as long as she doesn't make meatloaf. 

Guess what? 

She's making meatloaf.

Think of Monday as that first forkful of the steaming, dry, gray, grainy, crumbling ground beef compound, festooned with a sad drizzle of store-brand ketchup that lands on the table in front of you with a dull thud. You have to serve yourself a good-sized chunk of it and gulp it down with a brave face so Gam Gam thinks you like it and it isn't terrible. Well, it is terrible. It's the most terrible thing you've put in your mouth on purpose since that time in college. But, hey, if that were the only mouthful you had to choke down, you'd be okay. It's staring down the second bite when despair overcomes you and you realize that eating this is your foreseeable future. Tuesday is that second bite, where you put it in your mouth, which still has the nasty aftertaste left over from Monday, and swallow it with considerably more difficulty than you had with the first one. And then you look down at your plate and realize you're not even half finished.

Also, holidays. There are several Mondays throughout the year when the banks and post offices are closed and you get the day off, giving you a three day weekend. The only time you get a Tuesday off is when Christmas just happens to fall on that day. Otherwise, nothing. 

No, Mondays are not your problem. 

Tuesdays are.

Why in the world would you follow the lead of a corpulent cat who has no business trying to brush his teeth anyway?

Innocence

After "tinkling" (who uses the word "tinkling" anymore unless you're potty training a toddler?) I had an idea. (Hey ... I do some of my best thinking in the loo, you know.)

I practically bowled over Jeff and Clark as I came out the WC. "What are you guys doing hovering around the bathroom door? I'm not going anywhere! *geez* Look ... I know how to get to the bottom of this entire mess. We'll get KB ... I mean ... Mama' on the horn and she'll set the matter correct. We'll put her on speaker ..."

That sounded like a plan to the guys. Clark asked if he could still hold the lamp for effect while we talked to The Kitsch Bitsch. He'd grown fond of the thing.

"I'm still gonna hold the lamp. For effect ..." he said in no uncertain terms.

We dialed up The Kitsch Bitsch. "You guys do the talking. It's up to you guys to determine if there was any funny business going on. I'm confident in my innocence - it's you two who need the convincing."

Jeff sneered. His mustache twitched. Clark raised an eyebrow. He switched the lamp from his right hand to his left. The phone began to ring.

KB answered "Hello?"

"Cheers, Mama," Jeff replied. "It's me, Jeff. I'm with the guys. We're trying to get to the bottom of the quandary about your one site sinking like a stone once Michael came on board to moderate. Michael says he's confused about what happened; we were hoping you could shed a little light on the subject ..."

For punctuation, Clark positioned the lamp at that moment to shine its light directly in my eyes.

"Oh ... that. Yeah ... it's too bad I had to shut down that site. It got way, way out of hand. Too man savories who thought they were entitled to do whatever they wanted. I mean ... you have to have rules - and I did. I pointed them out time and again. But some people just seem to love reveling in chaos. Michael was a sweetheart coming on to help out. Not only did he offer his services, but he took time out to help out dissolving the site when I threw in the towel."

"Really?" Jeff asked somewhat incredulously. "You weren't coerced into doing it?"

"No," KB responded.

"He didn't try any funny business?" Clark wondered out loud.

"No."

"There wasn't anything underhanded going on?" Jeff suggested.

"No."

"No elements you might consider blackmail-like in nature?" Clark postulated.

"No! Why?"

"Well ... Michael seems a bit confused as to why any of it happened at all. Sounds suspicious to us ..." Jeff replied.

"Michael had nothing to do with it. It's been going on for quite some time ... the jerks on the site, I mean. Some of them seemed to thrive on doing what they want regardless of anyone else. It's plain and simple selfishness and them wanting to mess things up. Luckily, that hasn't happened with my other sites. That one got too big for its britches, anyway; too many members, too many uncontrollable members, really. That's recipe for drama. Me and the other moderators did what we could - Michael included - but it was really too late in the end. The inmates had taken over the asylum so to speak. It was purely coincidental Michael that came on when he did with my decision to shut down that page just a few days later ..."

"So ... he's completely innocent of any wrong doing?" Jeff wondered.

"Yes. He was a sweetheart. He even helped me shut the page down."

"Because ... if there's any doubt, anything you're not telling us that needs to come to light ..." Clark punctuated the "come to light" part of his response by jerking the lamp toward me "... we have some things we can do to make him talk ..."

"What do you mean?" KB asked.

"Chinese water torture, for one," Jeff offered. "We haven't used that one in quite some time. It's pretty effective ..."

"What? No! Torture? Why would you want to do that?"

"I could force him to listen to modern country music while tied to a chair," Clark offered. "He isn't the least bit fond of the stuff. He hates Sade, too."

"No! Michael didn't do anything!"

"You know ... we could make him eat off metal plates. He has 'a thing' about eating off metal plates, remember ..." Jeff suggested.

"Ooooooooooooooo ... good one!" Clark agreed. "Hey ... I got it: We could force him to eat off metal plates while watching reruns of that Honey Boo Boo show ..."

You could see Clark's eyes light up. Mine just rolled up into their sockets. I sighed.

"DO NOT TORTURE MICHAEL!" KB yelled over the phone. "He didn't do anything!"

"Are you sure, Mama? Because we could break out our head squeezey thing, too. It's like a vice-grip. That always gets'em talking."

"No! Stop that! I have to go. You boys need to play nice and leave Michael alone. Otherwise, I'll be over there to put the hammer down ..."

Jeff and Clark sighed. I reached over and disconnected the phone. I also took the lamp away from Clark, turned it off and put it down.

"Are you guys satisfied?" I asked.

"Not really," Jeff said. "Now what are we going to do? We had all this pent-up energy ready to roll. Now you and Mama quashed it ..." Clark had his head down. He appeared dejected.

"I know: Jeff - Why don't you go whip up a batch of potatoes?"

Jeff looked at me. "But ... it's not Tuesday ..."

"So? And Clark? You could go kick Henri Petit's ass just for the fun of it. That will cheer you up ..."

Clark looked up with a gleam in his eye. A smile began forming.

Of a sudden, the air in the room vacated its smell of noir ... and all was right with the world.

(Not So) Unbelievable

 

We're guys.
(Yes ... suave, tailored, fashionable, trendy guys ... but still, deep down, we're guys ...) 

And being guys entails a lot. Lots. Tons. 

There's a whole bevy of things we think and do and get in trouble for that "reasonable" people (i.e. women) wouldn't even begin to consider. *snort*

But, as stated: We're guys.

We're bred to mess with things. Annoy. Tinker. Challenge. Boast. Mess with. Do better.

That being said, if there's anyone out there who thinks three guys in a base of operations get along 24/7, then they've never been with a group of guys for any length of time. Put us in a group and there's going to be conflict of one sort or another. It's inherent.

So no ..., Jeff, Clark and I don't always get along.

And that's okay. Really ... it is. Our different likes and dislikes are what fosters our competitive natures. Our differences highlight our various strengths. They're what cause us to virtually slap each other on the back in congratulation when something goes exceedingly well. That and an unexpected wedgie every once in a while is what camaraderie is all about.

But, oh ... the times we're at each other's throats (metaphorically speaking, of course) ...

Those times? Not necessarily our finest moments:

"All right ... who ate the last of my cherries!?? Especially when you guys don't even like cherries ... ?!??"

Is there any doubt this is Jeff's favorite scene

in Close Encounters Of The Third Kind?

Jeff: "Is it Tuesday? I'm dying for some whipped potatoes. I can't even remember the last time we had whipped potatoes ..."

Clark and I in unison: "Yesterday! Which was Tuesday!"

"Michael! The Unbelieva-Babes are not a ladder!"

Jeff: "Who unplugged the steam to my computer? Do you have any idea how long it takes for me to get this thing fired up ... ?!?"

Yet another of Clark's hundreds of home made robots ...

Clark: "Hey, guys! Wanna see the new robot I made last night?!?"

Jeff and I in unison: "NO ... !!!"

Clark: "Michael ... that's the fifth time you've played 'Hot Rod Lincoln' this morning. Can you please find something else to listen to ... ?!?"

Jeff: "Michael? We appreciate you cooking dinner, but ... Clark and I would appreciate it more if you'd put some pants on when you do so ... all right?"

"Clark! I stepped on your pet Stegosaurus last night when I got up to go to the bathroom. How many times have I told you to put away your dinosaur collection when you're done with it ... ?!?"


Clark: "Michael? Do us a favor: Put some pants on when you answer the doorbell from now on ... please ..."

Jeff: "Guys! Whipped potatoes tonight ... okay?"

Clark and I in unison: "NO ... !!!"

"Michael? While Clark and I encourage your nude volleyball proclivities with enthusiasm and vigor uniquely your own, we think doing so in the main lobby is not the proper place to do so. And especially when there are customers present ..."

Clark: "I'm gonna go wash the 'Vette guys. Back in a few ..."

"Again? Didn't you wash it earlier this morning?"

Jeff: "Anyone up for a whipped potato sammich for lunch?"

Clark and I in unison: "NO ... !!!"

Believe me ... it gets worse ...

A Re-Volting Development Chapter 3 (or: "And Then There Was Light")

Facts:

• The Unbelievables are comrades in arms and good buddies
• We're fearless defenders of the common good
• We're upstanding (and stylish!) citizens (... duh ...)
• We're nestled securely as the number one "go-to" establishments for the public in beautiful Stiletto Flats, Nevada
• Additionally, The Unbelievables are one of the Top 10 revenue generators in the state. You probably wouldn't have guessed that. We donate a lot of our income (reward money for ousting bad guys and the like) to the betterment of the state. (It's public record. Go ahead ... look it up.)

With facts such as these embedded in absolute certitude, is there any doubt I had a plan going forward to deal with Negative Charge and his nefarious plans? Of course not ... and here's how that went down:

So ... talking to the guys "in secret" while we were in the clutches of Negative Charge? Well ... let's just say I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt he was listening in. What kind of super villain would he be, regardless of his polite proclivities, if he wasn't eavesdropping on our conversation?

What Charge didn't realize, however, was the "key" to our little powwow, when Jeff chided me: "You're better than that." Nothing like a little dissension in the ranks to help convince an unsuspecting evil doing nemesis (and a new one at that) something wasn't going quite right. Gets'em every time.

With our little huddle complete and a nod of acknowledgment to each other (even though the guys really didn't know what I was up to), Clark called out to Charge: "Hokay ... we're done here."

Our nemesis visibly lit up with anticipation - something not so easily done when you have a computer monitor for a head.

 Is Negative Charge visibly lit with anticipation here?

Or is he just pretending to use his hands as futuristic ray guns?

Clark added: "We'd like to admit to defeat, Charge. You've obviously caught us with our pants down, so to speak ..."

"In Michael's case, that's truer than you'll ever know," Jeff chimed in.

I continued: "What say we head over to our Unbelieva-Base and I'll introduce you to the spoils of your victory?"

"Capital idea!" Charge beamed enthusiastically.

So, with his minions in tow, we traipsed over to our digs.

And the first location I led Charge and his posse to? Well ... this room:
 

Clark and Jeff caught the clue and began volunteering information.

"Yep ... here it is. Our fabulous central control room. This is where we get it done," Jeff gushed proudly.

Negative Charge was stunned. He did a complete 360 turn in order to take the entire room in.

Clark picked up from there: "Being a super villain, you have one yourself, don't you? Where you monitor your enemies and plan evil doings and stuff, right?"

Charge was disgusted. "What the ... ?!?? What the hell is this?!?" He began pointing at stuff. "Is that the skeleton of an old stereo monitor?!? And why is it in front of a toilet? Wait ... why is there a toilet in here? Better question: Why is the lid UP?!? All these panels should be covered for safety! There's wiring all over the place ... and in the vicinity of water, too! For Pete's sake - there are cobwebs in ever corner of the room! Don't you guys ever clean ... ?!? This place is a shambles! This isn't a control room ... it's a pigsty! You guys are slobs! You aren't worth the effort! Come on Kevin! Bob ... let's go! Ted, who said you could sit down?!? Let's get out of here ..."

And, just like that, Negative Charge was out of our hair. (No one ever said he was the sharpest tool in the shed.)

  Negative Charge's "groupies" aren't exactly members of Mensa, either ...

"Good job, Michael." Clark congratulated me when Charge stormed out. "Jeff and I never doubted you for a moment. We knew you had matters in hand ..."

"Uh, huh," I responded. "I thought he'd never leave. I'm taking my pants off ..."

Jeff suddenly got animated: "Hey, guys! Let's celebrate another Unbelievables' win! I know it's not Tuesday ... but who's up for some whipped potatoes ... ?!??"

Side Note: 10 minutes after Negative Charge and his companions left, our power came back on ... you know, because he's a considerate and polite super villain ...