The Zonker Dialogues

Jawja Blown-eyed Blodger Zonker used to have a blog, and is still active in blogmeets and the like... but I haven't seen or heard from him in a while. (Okay, he occasionally pops up over at T1G's joint, but other than that, I've had to depend on others to let me know he's still among the living, and still his sassy own self.)

Until yesterday, when I was so strongly reminded of Z-Man that the following email correspondence ensued:

Me: I thought of you this morning when I spotted not only the shortest dwarf I've ever seen (a female, under 3' tall), but also a midget who was Indian. At first I thought it was a 9 or 10 year old kid, until I saw his luxuriant black mustache and crows feet!

Both of them were headed into the old Mercantile Exchange building (2 S. Wacker Dr.) right across from my office building.

Bizarre.

Z: I'm touched that you thought of me. Sort of...

;)

Me: I almost chased the little guy in your honor...

Z: From experience, I assure you...they are remarkably fast. Plus there's the question of what to do in the event that you actually catch one.

Me: I figured I'd FedEx him to you and let YOU figure it out...

Z: Tsk, tsk. Attach a radio collar and release it back into the wild. After all, we want to show our love for all of Mother Earth's creatures...



ps - I think my favorite part is the Bobcat Goldthwaite-like character that appears around 0:25. TFF.

Me: Ooo! Like Hatchlings on Facebook! I can do that... And I'll watch out for Bobcat Goldthwaite lookalikes.

Smooches!

I can guarantee you he's the only person in the world I could have that particular conversation with!

______

Update:

Z: Hatchlings on Facebook? Geez, I am completely out of touch with FB at this point.

And it's not a Goldthwaite-lookalike...not exactly. More like a Goldthwaite-soundalike. Scary!

Me: Hatchlings is just another one of those games that's designed to hook anyone who's even slightly OCD into obsessively combing through Facebook for new eggs to hatch and for ones you already have to feed the critters that hatch. It's kind of like the high school parenting class where you have to haul a sack of flour around with you everywhere and pretend it's your baby, multiplied to the nth power. Large guilt pangs when you don't feed them and they "run away". After trying to keep about 50 of them fed while still looking for new ones, I had an epiphany: it's as unnatural to try and keep one of those online critters as a pet as it would be to breast feed a wolverine, and I happily released them all...