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Kortalh.com
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Jesse Tessmer is the author of numerous short stories in the speculative fiction
genres, as well as the monthly comedy column, The Grouch Potato.
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Grouch Potato #3, Feburary 2008
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Discuss
Dear Grouch,
I just started dating a really great girl, and I want to get her something special for Valentine's Day -- not just the cliched red roses. What can I do?
- Lou VeerBoughee
Lou,
You've sent your e-mail to the right place: If there's one thing the Grouch knows well, it's love. Take it from me -- you've made the right choice in avoiding roses. Women hate roses. In fact, the last time I gave roses to a woman, she said something along the lines of, "Who the hell are you?" and tossed them into the nearest receptacle.
Now, if you really want to impress your girlfriend, I have it on good authority that the best thing you can do is write a poem. The problem there is that neither you nor I are nearly creative enough to satisfy a ladies' blood pump. So my suggestion is to find a good hunk of poetry from an established author like, say, Mr. Hallmark. He's one of the best poets I've ever read, and seems to really know what it's like to be in practically every situation one could ever face. So when it comes to love, I just grab one of his cards off the shelf, sign it with, "Yours, Grouch Peterson," and stick it into the mailbox of my preferred significant other.
Of course, the key word in that last paragraph was "practically," as it would seem that Mr. Hallmark has neglected to create an "I've Been Collecting Your Trash Over The Last Several Months" line of cards.
Dear Grouch,
I have friends from other campuses, such as Stevens Point and Madison. They always tell me about all the great stuff their campus has, and turn their nose at the UWMC's comparatively small size. I love it here, and I hate to see the place being dumped on. What can I say to impress them?
- Tim Orous
Tim,
The official line from Student Services is something about a down-to-earth, personalized atmosphere and a friendly, accessable staff. But if the Grouch cared anything about that, you'd be reading The Nancy Potato. And you're not.
No, Tim, what makes our campus so special are the extra frills that no other place has. That's right; I'm talking about the carousel. Other campuses brag about their fancy-schmancy laser light rock'n'roll shows, but when it's the end of the semester and your homework just keeps piling up, you need somewhere to relax. Sure, you could lounge in one of seven on-campus coffee bars, or practice Zen meditation in an enclosed flower garden. But when the bullet hits the bone, what you need -- what you really need -- is to hop on a miniature train and take a few laps. When that 7-mile-per-hour wind is blowing flaccidly at your face, you have all the time in the world to sit back and enjoy the emphysemic cough of the train's lawnmower engine.
So, the next time you're asked why your campus doesn't have its own bowling alley, ask in return why theirs doesn't have its own mini-golf putt-putt course. Their face will become flush and, in all likelihood, they'll attempt to laugh away their shame. Don't worry -- you can laugh at them, too.
The Trash Bin
The Trash Bin is a semi-regular special feature in which the Grouch expresses his most serious and intimate thoughts -- a depository of important issues and philosophical dilemmas.
While the Grouch knows that everyone has come to appreciate his monthly stalwart advice column, there is an important and pressing matter that must be discussed. It is a problem that affects millions of people every year, and as of yet has no simple solution.
What is this problem, my dearest Grouch? you ask. I address none other than the dreadful frozen mustache. The unmustachioed reader might dismiss this problem as trivial, but those who are afflicted know quite well the pains that it brings.
To summarize the phenomenon, for those who are unfamiliar: The humidity contained in one's exhalations, when combined with the chilly winter air, condenses and collects on the protruding hair of one's mustache. This, when combined with a low temperature, forms miniature icicles, which render the hirsute man's face inflexible.
The problems caused by the icestashe, as I've come to call it, are many. Firstly, the aforementioned frozen face means that -- when coupled with a runny nose -- dripping snot becomes unwipeable as it quickly intermeshes itself with the normal water vapor and solidifies. Secondly, upon re-entering a warm area such as the workplace or a classroom, the beard thaws and its owner looks like some sort of rabid sea-lion. Finally, and perhaps most importantly to yours truly, nobody wants to be kissed by a snot-faced rabid sea-lion.
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