Holy crapadoodle! How have I not shared this with you before?
My Dad actually showed this to me ages ago — we’re talking years — but I forgot about it until today.
That was a mistake.
This must be shared widely and indiscriminately.
And thus, I share it with you, my plasticine-rendered readers.
I’m driving down the road this morning and I come to a stop when I see a man walking backwards onto the street.
A few seconds pass and then I see a second man walking forwards onto the street.
Between them, they are carrying a ten foot wide piece of plate glass.
I stare for a moment.
Then I put the car into “Park”, put my shaking hands into my lap, and repeat to myself, over and over again:
“This is not a movie. This is not a movie. This is not a movie…”
Because if it was…
I would have gunned the engine and smashed through that glass at top speed! Yee-HAW!
And then Danny Glover would have said, “I’m getting too old for this shit!”
And then we would all have ice cream!
…
I… may need to cut down on my sugar intake.
A teddy bear has been implicated in 2,500 deaths — trout deaths, that is.
State officials say a teddy bear that fell into a pool at a Fish and Game Department hatchery earlier this month clogged a drain. The clog blocked the flow of oxygen to the pool and suffocated the fish.
What I find most chilling is the fact that the bear is wearing a tiny raincoat and a tiny souwester… like he KNEW he was going to sea… like he knew he was going to kill.
*shudder*
Really?
How does someone forget how to do up their fly?
Because I seem to be that person.
And I’m not talking about right now.
I’m talking about as a general life rule.
I cannot remember to do up my fly lately.
For a while, I actually kept count of it, the number of times that I forgot to do up my fly, because it seemed sort of funny, in a “there’s got to be some mildly amusing blog material in these minor mishaps maybe I can mention cookies while I’m at it chortle chortle chortle” kind of way.
But then I lost count.
Of the number of times that I forgot to do up my fly.
And now I walk around in a paranoid haze, constantly checking my fly, like an overly fastidious pervert.
Now I’m trying to figure out what useless piece of learned information erased the commandment “THOU SHALT DO UP THY FLY” from my memory.
If I can figure that out, maybe it can be repaired. Or rewritten. Relearned. SOMETHING.
BECAUSE THIS IS NOT HOW I WANT TO BE REMEMBERED.
…
Sigh.
I wrote this post but didn’t put it online. Didn’t know if I was over-reacting. Decided to let it stew.
I just looked down.
My fly is down.
I left the office yesterday and stepped into the sunshine and I thought, “Damn. Now I have to walk two blocks to my car. That will take SO LONG. It’s such a WASTE OF TIME. GOD. I can feel the seconds of my life DRIPPING AWAY. I CAN’T TAKE IT. I CAN’T TAKE WALKING TWO BLOCKS TO MY CAR. I WILL DIE IF I HAVE TO WALK THOSE TWO BLOCKS. MY SKIN WILL MELT OFF MY BONES AND MY BRAIN WILL EXPLODE IF I EVEN START TO WALK THOSE TWO BLOCKS. THOSE ARE TWO WASTED BLOCKS AND I WILL NOT WALK THEM TODAY. AAAAAAAUGH.”
So.
I ran to my car.
I’m of two minds as to whether that was a mature decision.
