Ask Uncle Sal: Pickled herring and picked-up chicks

Yeah, I know it's been a while since the last edition of Ask Uncle Sal. If yer wonderin' where I been, let's just say I ran into trouble in Laredo with a Honduran luchadora, a used car salesman, a mysterious suitcase, and a sandwich bag filled with what turned out to be a mixture of oregano and Chinook hops. Now, onto yer questions.

Hey Uncle Sal: It seems to me you got the wrong impression. I ain't gonna whack my ma. Her favorite snack is pickled herring. She eats it by the bushel, and I was trying to think of some way of sending it without offending the other passengers. Geez, I guess I shoulda mentioned that. Put Out in Pontchatouka, again

Hey Put Out, I reckon I did get the wrong impression. Except I didn't think you was gonna whack yer ma. I thought ya already done it. And yeah. I guess ya shoulda mentioned that. See, that there's what I mean when I say ya readers don't give me enough information. Now, as for the pickled herring, tell yer ma that's a fine choice. I reckon any little Igloo cooler will be enough to keep her herring fresh and keep the passengers away from the smell...at least until she props her head against the window and starts snorin' and exhaling the pickled herring scent for the entire bus to enjoy. Oh, and tell yer ma to pack a growler fulla Cajun martini cuz ain't nothin' goes with pickled herring like a Cajun martini.

Hey Uncle Sal: Ever since I started bringing home women I meet at clubs, my wife's in a bad mood. Any way to snap her out of it? Her constant banging on the bedroom door is really cramping my style. Annoyed in Apalachicola

Annoyed, the way I see it, there's a coupla reasons your wife might be in a bad mood and bangin' on the bedroom door.

• When you go in there with some chick you picked up at the club, she feels like she's missin' out on sump'n she don't wanna miss. You know, maybe she wants a piece of the action too.
• Another possibility is that she left her romance novel on the night table and she's bangin' on the door because she wants to do some readin' before she hits the hay.
• Or maybe, just maybe, she's standin' on the other side of the door with a cast-iron skillet waiting to whack you or your bar chick on the coconut with it.

I say that first possibility is reason enough to open the door the next time she starts bangin' on it while you're gettin' yer groove on. Just duck in case she's there for possibility #3.

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Ask Uncle Sal: Erection set?

Dear Uncle Sal: My wife's parents just e-mailed us asking if we think our son would like an erection set for his 8th birthday. How do we let them know this is wrong without hurting their feelings? Horrified in Homosassa

Hey Horrified, I gotta tell ya sump'n before I answer yer question. The combination of your topic and your hometown reminds me of the song "Homo Erectus" by Kinky Friedman and the Texas Jewboys. Matter of fact, I thought about titling this column Homo Erectus, but thought that might give folks the wrong idea.
Now, onto yer question. Sometimes I feel like you readers don't give me enough information. For instance, do you only have the one son? Did you ask what's in this erection set? Maybe the erection set is a buncha little blue pills for you because your in-laws want another grandchild. Maybe they're plannin' to send a birthday gift for junior and include the erection set for you. As for hurtin' their feelings, I think they'll understand if ya tell 'em that yer bedroom problems are none of their concern.

Dear Uncle Sal:, I'm sending my ma on a trip to visit her sister out west. What's a good, sturdy brand of trash bag that'll keep in the stink and the fluids and ain't gonna rupture in transit? Put Out in Ponchatouka

Yer put out? Boy, I'll tell ya what. Times like these I wish I'd never said I'd answer any question ya can give me. Now, the thing is, this ain't my strong suit so I sent a message to a guy I know called Guido Scallopini and this here is what he wrote, "Look here. Trash bags is fine if you live in a trailer. But for a job like this one, what you really want is an ice chest. I mean one of the old kind that you can fasten shut. But if you are really fixed on trash bags (like some kinda cementhead), them Husky yard bags is pretty good."
There ya have it, Put Out, and all the rest of ya readers. Call it a cop-out if ya want, but you'll get an answer to your question on topics ranging from bags to fishes.

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Ask Uncle Sal: Dancing dogs and driveways

What do dancing meat products have to do with the day of the week? Redhot with Relish

Now, it would be easy to chalk this up as another thing cubicle farmers do to cheer themselves up. And it might well be. Some corporate drone mighta done that picture because Friday is the only thing he has to look forward to. (See a previous edition of Ask Uncle Sal about how much importance office cogs place on the day of the week.)
But let's think about this another way. Say you run a bar and your special on Fridays is hot dogs. Then that picture you submitted would be pretty appropriate, don'tcha think? So let's think of it as sump'n good like a bar special instead of sump'n as depressing as office life.

Dear Uncle Sal: Why do people park on driveways and drive on parkways? Bumfuzzled in Bemidji

These are the kinda questions that keep you up at night, Bumfuzzled? Since ya asked, I'll answer. That's the way this here column works.
To find the reason people drive on parkways, ya gotta go back a bit in history. Ya see, the first parkway was a road called Park Way in Ronkonkoma, New York. It was named for an amazing Korean table tennis player who moved there when he couldn't find no more opponents to play in his hometown in Korea. The guy won a national championship in table tennis (yeah, there is such a thing) after he moved to Ronkonkoma. As ya mighta guessed, parkway became a generic term for a road. Which leads us to the matter of parking on driveways. See, since a parkway became a generic term for a road, real estate agents couldn't say that a house had a parkway leading up to the garage. So some clever real estate agent figgered that if people drive on parkways, they might as well park on driveways.

Gotta question for Uncle Sal? Submit it at the Facebook fan page or to my gmail: askunclesal.

Ask Uncle Sal: Down on the cubicle farm

Since I work at a cube farm do you think they'd fire me if i just mooed from my desk every hour or so? If the did then where would I go since they kicked me off the farm for bein a full fledged member of the cube farm? Is there a home for lost wayward cube farm animals? Corporate Cog, Burned


Good questions, Cog. First off, I would encourage you to moo or make other barnyard sounds in your cubicle as frequently as you think is prudent. Why? Because from what I've seen, working on a cubicle farm is about avoiding both people and work. I guarantee folks will leave ya alone if they hear brayin' comin' from your cubicle.
Can you get fired for makin' farmyard noises? Prolly. Employers can fire folks for just about anything these days. But gettin' fired from your lot on the cubicle farm might be the best thing that ever happened to ya.
Which brings me to yer third question. Is there a home for wayward animals from the cubicle farm? Heck yeah. It's called wherever the fun is. Either that or university. A whole lotta career students go to school their whole lives just to avoid being in a cubicle. Thing is, that ain't much more fun than staring at a computer screen and doin' work ya hate. So do whatever ya gotta do, but get offa that cubicle farm.

Dear Uncle Sal, I have to use this machine. What does this mean? Mystified by the Machine

The way I see it, Mystified, this means a couple things.

1. The writer of this warning does not speak English (and was possibly drunk as a goldfish in a bowl of vodka).
2. The company that made the label does not have an editing department.
   

Gotta question for Uncle Sal? Submit it to his gmail: askunclesal. Also, check out the blog Desk Jockey Shorts for more about the sheer misery of life on the cubicle farm.

Ask Uncle Sal: The brown edition - hobo coffee and corduroy jumpsuits

Uncle Sal, Why if I spend my whole day making money for the man can't the man at least buy be a cup of coffee that tastes like water that was run thru a hobo's sock? Hobo Joe from Kokomo.


Thanks for writin', Hobo Joe. Say, ya ever been to the Cocked Up Cafe? They got sump'n there called hobo coffee and I'll tell ya. Your spoon will stand up in the cup...if it don't dissolve first. But onto your question. Actually, I think ya kinda answered yer own question. How is The Man supposed to make any money if he's spending on fancy coffee for his employees? He ain't. Least that's the way he sees it. So of course The Man buys the cheap stuff because he don't care what kinda coffee you drink as long as yer makin' money for him.
The point here, Hobo Joe, is that you are in the crummy situation of working in an office. I'll tell you what I tell everyone in this predicament. Get out of it! A life of leisure (like mine) awaits you...bowlin', beverages, music shows with go-go dancers, etc. But first ya gotta eject from the cubicle farm. Ya can thank me later.

Hey Uncle Sal: I was gunna be the best man at my buddy's wedding, but I just found out all the groomsmen have to wear brown corduroy bell-bottom jumpsuits. Geez, how do I get out of this gracefully? Cringing in Cahokia


Hey Cringing. I think yer lookin' at this all wrong. Why wouldja wanna get out of this - gracefully or otherwise? First off, everyone knows thathttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif weddings do sump'n to the single chicks that are there. Ya wanna miss out on that? More'n that, I think ya oughta embrace it and here's how. From now until the day of the wedding, let your hair grow so it's nice and shaggy. Also, grow some big ol' sideburns. And for the finishing touch, make sure that jumpsuit is open to yer bellybutton, so everyone can see yer carpet of chest hair (assuming ya got one, of course). Sure, the bride will hate it, and by extension, so will yer buddy. But if that ain't all the more reason to do it, I don't know what is.

Gotta question for Uncle Sal? Send it to my gmail: askunclesal or the Facebook fan page.