Your best story

[Triple J]

OK...NoisyDante'e last story (very funny  ) reminded me of a work related one.

My first engineering job out of college (~1996) was at a small civil/geotechnical engineering firm in Reno. It was a very un-PC place for sure...as an example, the office newb would have to make a beer run for the bosses everyday (their money thankfully) around a quarter to 5. On Fridays work essentially ceased at about 3, the office newb had to make a beer run for everyone, and the poker games and rowdiness ensued. Friday lunches at the adjacent sports bar often included buckets of beer to get things started.  

So anyway, we had an older lady in accounting who was probably late 40s/early 50s. She was nice enough, but seemed a little crazy. Not shoot up the office nuts, but crazy in an awkward sort of way. I'll call her Jane, as I've since forgotten her real name.

About two weeks before our Christmas party a young female friend of mine in the office named Jonie got on the office loud speaker, which could be accessed through anyone's phone, and announced to the entire office that I was taking Jane to the Christmas party that year as my date. Everyone thought this was quite hilarious, including Jane, and for the next 2 weeks I was harassed by every single person in the office, pretty much all day. It was funny...especially if you weren't me! Everyone got in on it, including the company owner and my boss. I informed Jonie that she had done well, but that I would get her back...and it would be good.

Fast forward to the Christmas party, and the normal festivities occured. As usual, the company owner said the bar was only open until dinner was served...but by the time dinner was served he was hammered, and he left the bar open for the remainder of the night. BTW...don't ever give engineers (or accountants) an open bar...it can get ugly. Dancing, drinking, and a few party games kept the party going until 2-3 am.

Monday morning I roll into work, just now fully recovering from my hangover, and fire up the computer. Waiting for me is an an email from the guy who was in charge of taking pictures at the Christmas party. The email had the subject line: "You May Find This Interesting".   Inside was a picture of our little prankster Jonie.   She was engaging in a game some employees (not me) had played where they had to place a basketball sized ball between their legs and attempt to walk across the dance floor...while ofcourse being drunk. What made the picture interesting was that she had hiked up her new dress a bit to do this, and unknown to her, had exposed the tops of her thigh-high stockings and the garter belt holding them up. If you zoomed in you may have been able to see the bottom of her undies as well...but we never confirmed this is what we were seeing for sure. It was a nice picture either way.  

Well, this was my chance. I took the picture and made a Mastercard priceless ad with it, reading:

Fancy New Dress - $100
New Garter Belt and Stockings - $50
Flashing the Entire Office at the Christmas Party - Priceless

I then emailed it to a few people I knew I could trust in the office. Well, apparently I couldn't trust them, because in short order the entire office had a copy. It was legendary...everyone thought it was hilarious. To make it even better, Jonie was on vacation that entire week, so she wasn't there to limit the distribution. A few people even made it their computer desktop image.  

The following Monday, Jonie returned to work at 8am as usual...confused as to why people were calling her "priceless". She was eventually shown my handywork. I was out drilling all day, so by the time I returned to the office she was eager to speak with me (to say the least)...and I was being warned by everyone I passed in the halls that Jonie was looking for me!   Although embaressed, she laughed and took it in stride after I reminded her of my "date" to the party.  

[metallimonster]

You hit that?

[Triple J]

You hit that?

I half-heartedly tried, but no.

[cyrus buelton]

Not ignorant at all. most people don't know how this stuff works.

Drop distance on a MK82 is ten feet. Anything more than that and EOD would have to be called in. These were without fuzes. Once a fuze is installed in either nose or tail well, the drop distance goes down to 3 feet. Had they been fuzed, the sliding of the bombs into each other would have been a MUCH MUCH bigger deal, and we all would have been exacuated to past the 4000ft mark.

Ok, Mr Question again:

1. When you refer to drop distance is that any piece of the ordinance falling 10ft or a specific part (i.e. nose) hitting the ground? Edit: sounds like either the nose or the tail
2. What is EOD mean?


When do they get fused? Right before loading onto an aircraft or is there a steady supply of ready to go ordiance to keep up a certain "inventory level" if you will.

wow.

you and i are completely different people.  when i was your age (and single) i would have just announced to everyone that there was to be a performance art sketch later and it was adult oriented.  and then proceeded to bang her on a table top with an audience.

Dude, I was trying to work (and successfully did) one of the girls in the program.

My chances of her would have been slim to none if I railed this Hoosier in a shitty hostel in Dublin.

You hit that?

I gotta say..........I am a bit disappointed JJ didn't close the deal on the garter belt chick. Was she hot?

If she was wearing that attire to the party.........she was looking for some sausage.

[KnightofNi]

cuz it's a waste of good acid man

no. it's because that's not a challenge anymore. he just drops it straight into their mouth now.

[NoisyDante]

A co-worker of mine sent this out to the entire company before I joined the studio.




Fortunately for him, he didn't add a caption, and the people who he was worried about offending did not get the joke.  He was able to say, "What?  This is just my favorite ladies golfer, everyone knows that."

[Triple J]

I gotta say..........I am a bit disappointed JJ didn't close the deal on the garter belt chick. Was she hot?

If she was wearing that attire to the party.........she was looking for some sausage.

She was cute. 

[Pip]

Ok, Mr Question again:

1. When you refer to drop distance is that any piece of the ordinance falling 10ft or a specific part (i.e. nose) hitting the ground? Edit: sounds like either the nose or the tail
2. What is EOD mean?


When do they get fused? Right before loading onto an aircraft or is there a steady supply of ready to go ordiance to keep up a certain "inventory level" if you will.

Drop distance is any part of that particular munition. If the bomb is vertical, and .5 inch of the tail is at 10ft or greater and the munition falls then it is unserviceable, and EOD (or Explosive Ordnance Disposal... did you see The Hurt Locker? That's them.) comes in to either safe, or blow up said munition.

They get fused when we know they are going to be put on a plane that has the potential to use them. The are brought out of storage, fused, then they are transported to the line (flightline) for the armament guys to load on the aircraft.

[cyrus buelton]

Drop distance is any part of that particular munition. If the bomb is vertical, and .5 inch of the tail is at 10ft or greater and the munition falls then it is unserviceable, and EOD (or Explosive Ordnance Disposal... did you see The Hurt Locker? That's them.) comes in to either safe, or blow up said munition.

They get fused when we know they are going to be put on a plane that has the potential to use them. The are brought out of storage, fused, then they are transported to the line (flightline) for the armament guys to load on the aircraft.

Thanks for the knowledge, I appreciate it.

I imagine being in close proximity to a 500lbs bomb would leave a bit of a mark on you 

I've seen some video from Fallujah where an air strike was called in with a 500lbs bomb, no idea make/model, but good lord, that sucker destroyed some property. I want to say it was a JDAM.

[Pip]

I've seen some video from Fallujah where an air strike was called in with a 500lbs bomb, no idea make/model, but good lord, that sucker destroyed some property. I want to say it was a JDAM.

Probably was. Joint Direct Attack Munition. Inertial navigation GPS guided, built from either a MK82, or a MK84 (2,000lb'er).

My fave was the BLU-113 (4,000lb penetrator... it was make the beast with two backsing AWESOME)

[cyrus buelton]

Probably was. Joint Direct Attack Munition. Inertial navigation GPS guided, built from either a MK82, or a MK84 (2,000lb'er).

My fave was the BLU-113 (4,000lb penetrator... it was make the beast with two backsing AWESOME)

Let me figure out where I have that video saved and I'll send it to you, as I don't want to post it on the net and link here as that wouldn't be appropriate.

Shoot me your email.

[il d00d]

How We Got Into the Lowenbrau Tent At Oktoberfest.  Or, Another act of stupidity caused and ultimately resolved by booze.

Before I outline the profound acts of jackassery that would transpire in the hours after our arrival in Munich, I would first like to point out an interesting fact.  The Munich airport may be the nicest building I have ever been in.  It is constructed out of smoked glass and polished nickel, is lit like an art gallery, and generally reminds me of departments stores I've been to where I can't afford anything.  I would not be surprised to discover that they hold fashion shows or sign treaties there.  If I find myself in Germany again, I may stop there again just to hang out.

Anyways.


We arrived on a Friday, lingered at Awesome International Airport for a while, then took a cab to our hotel. We had spent a couple weeks planning this trip, the six of us, and had a game plan laid out.  We would get a good night's sleep, wake up early, and stake our claim at one of the dozen or so tents the brewers set up.  Then we would drink until we were dead, probably.  Tents, by the way, are of Barnum and Bailey proportions - they hold thousands of people each, and this is really where all the action is.  Outside there are rides and vendors and you can buy beer, but inside is Das Fun.

We had been warned by everyone that had heard of our plans that we would be completely SOL if we arrived at the grounds after 10:00AM.  No chance that we would be getting into a tent, since once you are in Beervana you are disinclined to leave and free up space for someone else.  "Get there early" said our hotel and airline booking agents, cab driver, trusted advisors, mothers and religious leaders.  So, it was no surprise to us to get yet another friendly warning as we checked in.  Ah, Oktoberfest.  You will arrive early there, yes?  Ja, of course, dude.

When we woke up at 10:30 the next morning with crippling hangovers, we frantically assembled the group and lurched as fast as we could toward the nearest train station.  Where the make the beast with two backs are we going?  I don't know.  Let's follow the people in the lederhosen.  Oktoberfest, yes?

Another quick aside:  Lederhosen and what the women wear -the Dirndl- are not really costumes, the way you might break out your whatever-themed clothes for Whateverfest. These are actual garments -National Garments- and they take them seriously.  All the German attendees we met were dressed in one or the other.  If I ever go back I am totally going to wear a fruity pair of leder pants.  Also, the women of Germany look collectively hot dressed like peasants.

Our first beer, standing there looking at the lines to the tents was a liter of bitter disappointment.  It was cold and wet, and the six of us -from Texas, Mexico City, and Australia- were dressed like idiots from warm climates.  It was just warm enough for the snow to turn to drizzle before hitting us, so the first order of business was to buy ridiculous souvenir hats with which to forestall hypothermia.

We did some quick recon, and found a line that we thought might be moving.  We discovered over the course of two hours that this was attrition based movement, no seemed to be getting into the tent.  Naturally, our resolve began to waver after some time.  Maybe we would have better luck at another tent. Maybe we should just hang out outside for a while and get drunk.  Wait it out.  About the time our hands were hovering over the abort mission button, we reached the front of the line.

There were several large people manning the door - they let people back in who had return-to-tent stamps, and otherwise served as glassy-eyed reflectors of the impatient stares directed at them by a long line of drunk people.  When we reached the door, I watched as Chris the Aussie, took two 100 Euro bills and slapped it on the window.  We got a smile and an apologetic shrug from one of them.  Eventually, he came out and talked to us.

His name was Mohammed, and he seemed sincere when he said he could not take our money in good conscience and that he was sorry that he couldn't let us in.  We assured him that we were not trying to pull a dick move, but deperate times, you know?  If it were up to me, I would take you all in.  Be patient, he said smiling.  Mohammed, as it turns, out was a very kind man.

Hope had glimmered faintly for the first time since we arrived, so we sent word to the rest of group who had temporarily reatreated to a drizzle-free area.  Chris and I waited, trying not to look so desperate, and trying not to punch the people who began to elbow us from behind.

And then, Chris grabbed my arm and dragged me through the door. 

It was warm, and dry, and I could hear the sound of happy people.  I looked back up, after looking down to identify the arm that yanked me - Mohammed was  telling me to go, my friend, go.  As I fled in stunned slow-motion, I looked back to see Mohammed urging us on, and a lot of pissed off looking people watching us through the windows of the doors.

We were in.  Chris and I stopped and hugged, and possibly made out for minute we were so goddamn happy.  Chris explained that Mohammed had waited until he was alone at the door, then yanked him in.

We had just seconds to savor the moment. There was angry German being spoken, and another, firmer yank at my arm.  This time, it was a large blonde man who began to drag me back towards door.  My hand was investigated.  Before I had time to construct an alibi, I was informed, loudly, in English

NO STAMP.

The door was opened and we were pressed back into the cold and against the spiteful elbows of our linemates.

OK, this is getting to be too long for one post.  I'll submit more shortly..

[il d00d]

Chapter II:  The Plan.  The Incredibly Stupid Plan.

Verily, Chris and Adam had been to the mountain, and it was good. 

We located our friends and recounted our brief stay in the promised land.  I was surprised and disappointed by the reaction.  It may have been that we had seen the other side, however briefly, while they had Fall German weather continually pissed on them, but there was also some level of skepticism of repeating the feat, and with all six of us.  Morale was lower than ever.  Goddamn it. 

Lacking good ideas, and thinking they wouldn't bail on us while we were separated, Chris and I got another beer and returned to the front.  We didn't bother jockeying our way back into what was an increasingly drunk an angry mob, but just lingered and drank, hoping inspiration would strike.  Mohammed shrugged at us from behind the door.  We know you tried.

We kept an eye on the other door guys who ejected us, the Door Naz-

The door... strict guys.  Strict adherents of the door enforcement policy.  These individuals, they didn't look like they were inclined to leave again.

Meanwhile, we leered at people walking up to the front presenting their stamped hand, and walking in, while the door crew kept the line at bay.

make the beast with two backs it.  I don't remember who said it, or even if it was said, but we mentally converged on this concept at the same moment - we  didn't even need to communicate the plan to each other.  We saw a big mob of hand-stamp bearers approach the door.  We swiftly entangled ourself in the group as the door crew started to contain the rush of line-dwellers toward the door.  Four or five people with stamps made it in.  Then Chris, ducking, and flashing a hand with a nonexistent stamp disappeared through the door.  More people filtered in, and I was one of the last though and had just a couple bodies with which to shield myself.  Mohammed somehow materialized in front of me and created what I realized was a visibility shield between me and the other door crew with enough space for me to pass on the other side of him. He grabbed me.  May he be greeted in heaven with 72 virgins, he said run, man! and shoved me toward the inside of the tent.

We were in again, and this time, we disappeared.

I found Chris at what seemed to be a safe distance from the front, looking elated and wary.  High-fives were dispensed.  What now?  Beer.  As we drank and dried off in the warm bosom of the tent, we considered the problem.  It was either coming up with a good reason to let the rest of the group to suffer in the cold or a good plan on getting ourselves, with them, back in.  We didn't lack sympathy for them, but they didn't exactly demonstrate a lot of fortitude with their retreat talk.

After the last half liter, what we didn't lack was beer, in us.  We probably had at least three liters apiece.  make the beast with two backsthat we came here and weregonna, come here, like INSIDE here, youknow, were not gonna NOT come inhere.  ALL of us.  I remember saying, inspirationally.  Chris agreed, it would be all or nothing. It was time to construct an asinine plan.

Once we were in the tent we learned a few things.  There were several entrances, and we had been standing at the main one, probably the busiest one.  Also, there was someone, at some point, somewhere giving out hand stamps for re-admittance.   We figured that if we could get our hands stamped we might pull the same stunt that we just pulled, with the two of us bookending the group to add some legitimacy. Well, this person did exist, and was an asshole, because once we finally located them, he refused to give us one, citing some Oktoberfest rule.  We would rely on drunken bravado, and improvise.

We then located a entrance through which to stage our return.  We found at one of the side doors what might be the only local that didn't speak perfect English, and pantomimed to him that we would be coming back, and could you please let us back through?  We made a point to point out our hats, our ridiculous hypothermia-preventing hats.   We were all wearing them, and we figured this would be our collective identification. RE-MEM-BER THE HATS.  HATS.  HEAD?

He seemed to get it.  So we steeled our resolved, finished our beers and made our way to leave.

[RAT900]

OK the nature of my work is that I am one of a small handful of "blank check" people the corporation keeps around.  I only work on Fortune 100 accounts and I am sent in when either an account management disaster occurs or a multimillion dollar mega-deal opportunity is out for bid. Otherwise I am killing time waiting for the fire bell to go off sometimes weeks sometimes months which explains my post count here

I pull together teams from any area of the company I need to, develop the plan and we go forth. I am granted absolute authority to engage and prioritize any organization that I need to when I am invoked, in order to get things done or fixed. When I get sent in I shave the beard, cut the hair and drag out the suits....I clean up nice and am the reassuring face and voice of the corporation to clients, the guy who actually gets things done or fixed after it shows up on the CEO's radar screen or sometimes/preferably before it gets that far

I am appreciated and sometimes resented...because I come in out of nowhere and preempt whatever local team is managing or mismanaging an account. I don't blame, I fix...I leave the ugly back-stabbing stuff to the locals to sort out once I wring the facts out of them to establish a starting point. I am often initially challenged with "and who are you?" to which I cheerfully reply with a laugh "the best thing that has happened to you recently or the worst, let's figure out where we are"

I have no magic powers, my effectiveness is only attributable to the fact that I can bypass process and escalation to get what is needed where it is needed, when it is needed....I am little more than the corporation's exception-clause to its own rules so I don't get all ego'd up about it...but I do let people create their own mythology about me...they need to believe in saviors

Anyway I was at a retirement party for a coworker a while back, this coworker and I pulled a wonderful prank on one of his employees..also a great guy, he took it very well ...

but as they say payback's a pregnant dog...

this charming shot was taken on the avenging party's cell phone that night....I was goaded into dancing with the belly dancer at Layla downtown

by the next morning this shot was printed out and posted in every elevator lobby on every floor of our headquarters with the caption "I am from Headquarters and I am here to help"

[Kopfjager]

^^^ It looks like she is getting ready to pinch your hog with her hand cymbal.