Shortly before we were heading to bed last night, Jake hopped off of our couch and started walking tenatively into the kitchen where the light was turned off. He was walking towards our oven, which has the standard black glass front to it. As he got closer, he started to growl (and much deeper than I thought a little dog could) at the shadowy reflection he saw. Marci and I were nearly rolling on the floor laughing as he repeatedly approached the oven, growled, and then trotted back towards us. This went on for about 20 minutes, with the growls getting longer each time. I even managed to capture one of the trips on our video camera, but the sound picked up more of the TV sounds than Jake's rumble.

Finally, he got to a boiling point and started barking at the oven and got all riled up. In front of a mirror, he has no problems, but the dark and menacing image in the oven seems to bother him. He must have been pretty spooked to because when we went to put him to bed he spent a while whimpering in his cage before I got back up to try and settle him down. I even had to move his cage back into our room to keep him quiet.

But the oven monster was quite a hit! Well, at least with Marci and I.

Today, I have a rather humorous story. Monday night, I had a friend who I knew from Pitt but hadn't talked to for almost a year give me a call and leave me a voicemail seeing if I wanted to hang out sometime soon. Since I didn't get the message until late, I waited to call him back until my lunch break yesterday. Playing phone tag, we bounced back and forth a few times before finally deciding to meet at a nearby cafe for dinner and pool to catch up. He said something about running into each other at the grocery store a little while ago, and something seemed to ring a bell, so I didn't pay it any mind.

So last night I made it to the cafe before him and was just sitting there waiting, and he walks in with this slightly puzzled look on his face, and then looked like he had an epiphany.

He walks up to me, and tells me how awkward it was because he called the wrong Greg. Turns out, a few days ago he had bumped into an old high school friend named Greg, and he got his phone number and saved it into his phone. Well, he saved it under "Greg", which is what he had my number down as. So when he went to call his friend, the number he wanted wasn't the first one to come up...mine was! Aparrently, we sound similar on the phone too.

Despite the misunderstanding, we still took the time to catch up on things. Amazingly, we spent 2 hours just talking (and neither of us is the real talkative type). It was nice to catch up with someone I hadn't seen in a while.

When we left, I couldn't resist saying "well, feel free to call me by accident again sometime".

Here's the endearing story of an adult education teacher in California who blew off his hand when he tried to smash a bug with a 40mm artillery shell. Not only did he set it off accidentally, but he did it in front of a class of about 25 students.

Apparrently, he didn't know the shell was live when he found it on a hunting trip a number of years ago. So naturally, he brought it home to use as a paperweight.

Remember kids, don't play with unexploded artillery shells.

If you consider yourself a 'computer geek', you need to read this exchange between a City Manager in Oklahoma and the developer of a linux distribution.

You can't make this stuff up if you tried.