Updated Monday through Friday.
Short Hiatus
I am temporarily not going to be adding new posts. It's the start of the summer and I'm busy adjusting to life back at home. I'll start new posts again as soon as I'm back in some sort of routine.
Cat Allergy
This is loosely based on a quote from my friend. If you haven't noticed, I've changed the site a little. I'll also no longer be posting on the weekends, so just Monday through Friday nights. The posting schedule could be subject to change when I get a job, we'll see.
Summer Vacation
Deck the halls with "Going to Cali,"
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
'Tis the season to be jolly,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Just Kidding, the kids'll be feral,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
This is a college student's summer carol,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Watch the bonfire ablaze in front of us,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Yell to the heavens, "Finals bore us."
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Free for three months in measure,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Free at last, in ecstatic pleasure,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Watch as the summer quickly passes,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Return us to the Fall semester classes,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Until then, we'll all band together,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Clad in boots and pants of leather,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Note: It's summer, we probably won't be wearing leather, that would be too much heat!
It's summer time and millions, if not thousands of college students will be glad to be on break. Hundreds, maybe even tens of them won't need to get a job and will enjoy their time to the full extent. As for me, it's job hunting season and I'm up against a number of classmates applying to local jobs. Happy breaking, everyone!
Saving Toll Money
Have you ever tried to navigate your route so that you can avoid one extra toll? This is the story of when I tried to do this a few months ago. I have done it since with similar effects.
To accurately navigate to your destination and change it based on certain preferences (ie avoid tolls or highways, etc) then you need to have a working understanding and knowledge of the area. I thought I did. As you will soon find out, I was wrong.
It was Winter Break and I had just gotten a free table and chair set from one town over with my sister. There was a reason why they were free - they were falling apart and one was even missing parts, but college students don't mind when things are free. Soon these chairs and tables would me victimized by vandalism - my house-mates would decorate them with crude graffiti.
After getting these "chairs," or connected pieces of wood, we were going up to my new school that I had transferred to. I had just gotten an off-campus apartment, where it would be the first time I'd be living in my own place (with house-mates) away from home. Woohoo for independence!-ish (my parents were still well within reach and were paying for my place).
The new school was closer and I'd been there a number of times. I was driving a bit of a gas guzzler (back when my car still managed 10-11 miles to the gallon versus it's now 5-6 miles to the gallon) and I'm already cheap so I wanted to use routes that minimized tolls and still maintained the shortest distance.
This meant taking a couple extra highways, but in the end I figured I'd pull ahead at least a few cents. And those few cents matter! You know what I'm talking about, if you've ever driven an extra mile or two to go to a gas station with slightly cheaper gas. And indeed everything worked out, I made it to my destination with little to no problem and pretty quickly too.
You've probably figured out at this point that the problem obviously wasn't the going to my new apartment, it was getting back from it.
My sister and I unloaded my table and chairs and set them up in the living room, making them look operational, and began to head back. At first, everything was going well. The first road was a toll road, but it was essentially unavoidable. I had to be on that road for 45 miles, over half of the journey, and that all went well.
I took my exit. My exit left me with a choice. Nothing so dramatic as the blue pill vs the red pill (if you haven't seen The Matrix, stop reading my blog and go watch it, now!). I could stay on the highway that I just got on, I could transfer to a new highway and stay on that one or I could transfer on a new highway and transfer from there to yet another highway.
The last option, though it sounds the most complicated was the best choice - the one I should have chosen. I didn't want to do that one though because it meant a toll road - the final transfer was onto a highway with a toll. A few months after this story that I'm explaining now, I would take the second option and run into some problems.
But this is the story of taking the first option, to stay on the highway I just got on.
I got on this highway and drove on it for a while. I passed several options to transfer on other highways I was more familiar with, but I was sure that taking this highway would get me to a point only three miles from my house and it would be easiest to just stick with this one.
What I hadn't known at the time, was that the highway I was on, didn't just have a north and a south, but also a west and an east.
I was familiar with the subset of north and south, but I was on this highway going west. I was not familiar at all with this highway, except that occasionally I had used it when I was younger to get to a relative's house. On trips to my relative's house, I wasn't driving, I was a small kid zoned into his gameboy color and I was gonna catch all the Pokemon, gonna catch 'em all. In fact, you could say I was going to be the very best, the best there ever was.
I was driving on the highway for quite a distance when I realized that I was passing town names that I was not familiar with at all and I certainly knew I had been driving long enough to get near my town by this point.
I was not deterred by the increasingly evident fact that I was lost. I persevered!
I kept going, until I had gone another twenty miles and realized that my tank was running low. Really low.
Finally I took an exit that offered a U-turn. I went onto a small side-road and got out my phone. My phone had Google Maps on it so, I figured the GPS could figure out where I was and then direct me home. The problem is that Google Maps only could figure out a general radius of where I might be and figured I was still on the highway a mile down the road.
I figured out how to guesstimate approximately what I should do from the directions it offered. I also figured out that I had a remaining distance that was about five miles further than my car's tank could currently take me. Very simplistically:
------------------------------------------------------------------------------Total Distance
------------------------------------------------------------------ Gas Remaining
I set out and looked for gas stations so that I could put an extra gallon or two to ensure getting back alright. Of course the highway I was on didn't have any rest stops or gas stations along it, so as it turned out I was out of luck.
The directions called for getting onto another highway - the very highway I had thought I was on all along. This is when I realized my blunder. I got off onto another highway that would take me to the highway I thought I was on, but it very soon occurred to me that I desperately needed to go to the bathroom.
I figured a gas station would have a bathroom, but that would require getting to a gas station and as it turned out, there were no gas stations on any of the highways I was going to be on. Almost wherever you are, chances are you're pretty near some gas station. In fact, right now I'm within 100 feet of one. But the gas stations happened to congregate everywhere except where I needed them to be right then. I didn't know this at the time, so I kept my eyes peeled desperately looking for one.
Finally I had to give up. I pulled over and put on my blinkers and made sure my sister paid attention if any cops were coming. I walked into the brush at the side of the road and found a semi-decent coverage and just went for it. It had snowed but I didn't utilize the opportunity to write my name, I just cared about getting everything out.
I got back to the car after zipping up and, relieved, I continued my epic journey back. Eventually I got the the exit that was three miles from my house and there was a gas station there. As it turned out I only had a couple bucks, so I put in just about a gallon and fortunately it was enough to get me back to my house.
I ended up saving fifty cents by avoiding the toll, but using several extra gallons of gas by getting lost from avoiding that toll.
To accurately navigate to your destination and change it based on certain preferences (ie avoid tolls or highways, etc) then you need to have a working understanding and knowledge of the area. I thought I did. As you will soon find out, I was wrong.
It was Winter Break and I had just gotten a free table and chair set from one town over with my sister. There was a reason why they were free - they were falling apart and one was even missing parts, but college students don't mind when things are free. Soon these chairs and tables would me victimized by vandalism - my house-mates would decorate them with crude graffiti.
After getting these "chairs," or connected pieces of wood, we were going up to my new school that I had transferred to. I had just gotten an off-campus apartment, where it would be the first time I'd be living in my own place (with house-mates) away from home. Woohoo for independence!-ish (my parents were still well within reach and were paying for my place).
The new school was closer and I'd been there a number of times. I was driving a bit of a gas guzzler (back when my car still managed 10-11 miles to the gallon versus it's now 5-6 miles to the gallon) and I'm already cheap so I wanted to use routes that minimized tolls and still maintained the shortest distance.
This meant taking a couple extra highways, but in the end I figured I'd pull ahead at least a few cents. And those few cents matter! You know what I'm talking about, if you've ever driven an extra mile or two to go to a gas station with slightly cheaper gas. And indeed everything worked out, I made it to my destination with little to no problem and pretty quickly too.
You've probably figured out at this point that the problem obviously wasn't the going to my new apartment, it was getting back from it.
My sister and I unloaded my table and chairs and set them up in the living room, making them look operational, and began to head back. At first, everything was going well. The first road was a toll road, but it was essentially unavoidable. I had to be on that road for 45 miles, over half of the journey, and that all went well.
I took my exit. My exit left me with a choice. Nothing so dramatic as the blue pill vs the red pill (if you haven't seen The Matrix, stop reading my blog and go watch it, now!). I could stay on the highway that I just got on, I could transfer to a new highway and stay on that one or I could transfer on a new highway and transfer from there to yet another highway.
The last option, though it sounds the most complicated was the best choice - the one I should have chosen. I didn't want to do that one though because it meant a toll road - the final transfer was onto a highway with a toll. A few months after this story that I'm explaining now, I would take the second option and run into some problems.
But this is the story of taking the first option, to stay on the highway I just got on.
I got on this highway and drove on it for a while. I passed several options to transfer on other highways I was more familiar with, but I was sure that taking this highway would get me to a point only three miles from my house and it would be easiest to just stick with this one.
What I hadn't known at the time, was that the highway I was on, didn't just have a north and a south, but also a west and an east.
I was familiar with the subset of north and south, but I was on this highway going west. I was not familiar at all with this highway, except that occasionally I had used it when I was younger to get to a relative's house. On trips to my relative's house, I wasn't driving, I was a small kid zoned into his gameboy color and I was gonna catch all the Pokemon, gonna catch 'em all. In fact, you could say I was going to be the very best, the best there ever was.
I was driving on the highway for quite a distance when I realized that I was passing town names that I was not familiar with at all and I certainly knew I had been driving long enough to get near my town by this point.
I was not deterred by the increasingly evident fact that I was lost. I persevered!
I kept going, until I had gone another twenty miles and realized that my tank was running low. Really low.
Finally I took an exit that offered a U-turn. I went onto a small side-road and got out my phone. My phone had Google Maps on it so, I figured the GPS could figure out where I was and then direct me home. The problem is that Google Maps only could figure out a general radius of where I might be and figured I was still on the highway a mile down the road.
I figured out how to guesstimate approximately what I should do from the directions it offered. I also figured out that I had a remaining distance that was about five miles further than my car's tank could currently take me. Very simplistically:
------------------------------------------------------------------------------Total Distance
------------------------------------------------------------------ Gas Remaining
I set out and looked for gas stations so that I could put an extra gallon or two to ensure getting back alright. Of course the highway I was on didn't have any rest stops or gas stations along it, so as it turned out I was out of luck.
The directions called for getting onto another highway - the very highway I had thought I was on all along. This is when I realized my blunder. I got off onto another highway that would take me to the highway I thought I was on, but it very soon occurred to me that I desperately needed to go to the bathroom.
I figured a gas station would have a bathroom, but that would require getting to a gas station and as it turned out, there were no gas stations on any of the highways I was going to be on. Almost wherever you are, chances are you're pretty near some gas station. In fact, right now I'm within 100 feet of one. But the gas stations happened to congregate everywhere except where I needed them to be right then. I didn't know this at the time, so I kept my eyes peeled desperately looking for one.
Finally I had to give up. I pulled over and put on my blinkers and made sure my sister paid attention if any cops were coming. I walked into the brush at the side of the road and found a semi-decent coverage and just went for it. It had snowed but I didn't utilize the opportunity to write my name, I just cared about getting everything out.
I got back to the car after zipping up and, relieved, I continued my epic journey back. Eventually I got the the exit that was three miles from my house and there was a gas station there. As it turned out I only had a couple bucks, so I put in just about a gallon and fortunately it was enough to get me back to my house.
I ended up saving fifty cents by avoiding the toll, but using several extra gallons of gas by getting lost from avoiding that toll.
Finals
A lot of college students are finishing finals, just finished finals or are about to have finals. These students are on a whole spectrum of feelings (when it is final time for them):
*Note: FactandFict is not responsible for any legal ramifications of "pulling a gun."
A lot of people fall into the red area and get either super stressed about it, or complain as if they were super stressed about it.
I'm somewhere in the blue area. I study and I want to do well on the finals, but it's not exactly the apocalypse, so I pretty sure I'll get through it. I've got a lot on my plate, so I'm looking forward to being all done by mid-Tuesday. Until then, my posts will probably be shorter since I'll only have so much time to devote to them.
Here's a little rhyme to keep you feeling alright if you got some test coming up:
Do your laundry and take a shower,
Study and have fun.
Take your tests, don't cower;
If you don't pass, just pull a gun*.
*Note: FactandFict is not responsible for any legal ramifications of "pulling a gun."
The Clap-er
Note: In case you didn't get it or don't already know, gonorrhea is also known as "the clap."
Water Cooler
The younger of my two cats, Vlad, is positively entranced by the water cooler that my family has at home. As intrigued as he is by it, I am equally amused by his puzzlement.
From what I've observed, he has passed the water cooler on many an occasion, without much care. The truth is, he is pretending not to care.
When I get a cup and walk towards the water cooler, Vlad knows what's going on - at the very least, he knows that the mysterious bubbly thing will soon be activated and the guy who feeds him (me) is about to consume from its innards (drink water).
So when I say Vlad pretends not to care when he passes the water cooler, I mean, he's trying to show the water cooler he is above it, but if it is going to be used, that's another story.
When I get to the water cooler, Vlad will come running - it doesn't matter if he's in a totally different room. He comes sliding in front of me, due to his high velocity, and then skids to a stop and lunges at the water cooler.
Sometimes Vlad just wants to see what's going on, but sometimes he wants to be involved. When he wants to be involved, he bolts into the room, leaps at my cup as I fill it and sends it splashing everywhere for me to clean up.
When Vlad just wants to entertain his bewilderment, he will jump on a high chair near the water cooler, then onto the stackable chairs that are next to the water cooler. Sometimes this jump is poorly calculated and he'll fall to the ground surprised and instantly try to regain access to the spot.
Once Vlad is up on the seats, he just stares at the water cooler as it bubbles and then he'll glance down at my cup as it gets filled, and then back to the bubbles. He just can't help himself.
I wonder what he thinks is going on. He consistently goes to watch it every time I try to use it, even if it means clawing onto me - sticking those little talons into my chest - just to jump closer.
Perhaps I have him incorrectly pegged as a fool, and while he is fixated on the water machine, and I am fixated on him, he has some accomplice get into the food supply and get some snacks. Who knows?
Right now, he's curled up next to me, purring softly, conspiring or day dreaming about the water cooler.
Note To Readers
I normally post every day, but Blogger was down since last night so I couldn't post my comic.
I'm on a different computer so I'll have to upload my comic later when I get on my computer.
I made a twitter account for the blog: http://twitter.com/#!/FactandFict
(@FactandFict) so you can go there to read stuff like funny comments on news articles, when I am not able to post.
Sorry for the inconvenience. If time allows, I'll do two more posts today.
I'm on a different computer so I'll have to upload my comic later when I get on my computer.
I made a twitter account for the blog: http://twitter.com/#!/FactandFict
(@FactandFict) so you can go there to read stuff like funny comments on news articles, when I am not able to post.
Sorry for the inconvenience. If time allows, I'll do two more posts today.
Sticky Fingers
This post is mostly for parents, but still it applies to just about anyone. When someone spills soda, or in some way gets their hands sticky, you need to know how to appropriately handle the situation.
Sticky fingers and hands do not call for a napkin. Don't ever hand a person with sticky fingers a napkin, paper towel, toilet paper, rag, towel, any cloth that isn't wet.
You know what sticky fingers and a napkin combine to make? Sticky fingers with napkin bits attached all over. Same thing happens when something sticky is on the ground. Don't clean it up with a napkin or papertowel because gets what's gonna happen... I'm waiting. You guessed it (or maybe you didn't): you'll have sticky stuff with bits of napkin all stuck to your floor.
But there is a solution. Dampening or wetting the cloth or getting Lysol wipes or something, will actually help you clean up the mess or unsticky-ify your hands. That's right, wetting cloth is so effective, you can make up words like "unsticky-ify" to describe it.
So, whenever there's something that needs cleaning up, you're best getting a wet cloth*.
*Note: This doesn't apply to getting sticky stuff on things like outlets - bring a little common sense into the equation here. Cleaning outlets with wet cloths are just going to send electric currents into your body that you'll have to discharge by use of the force. Take Darth Vader's mentor for instance. He probably cleaned an electrical outlet with a wet cloth and now he keeps shooting lightning out of his hands.
from Google Images
You may think it's cool to shoot lightning out of your hands, but you have to also consider that lightning is bouncing around inside you before it can be discharged, so that's gotta be uncomfortable. Not to mention, what if you discharge the lightning at the wrong time. Say, for instance, you gotta change bulbs because the light burned out and then you accidentally zap the thing with your electric discharge. Now you got two useless bulbs because you shorted the thing.
Not to mention, check out how ugly Palpatine is (Darth Vader's mentor). I mean that dude probably got that way from a) all the built up electric charge in him and b) all the built up anguish from breaking all his lightbulbs.
So, in short: don't use a dry napkin to clean a sticky hand and don't use wet cloth near an outlet lest you'll look like "Mr. Right?"
Sticky fingers and hands do not call for a napkin. Don't ever hand a person with sticky fingers a napkin, paper towel, toilet paper, rag, towel, any cloth that isn't wet.
You know what sticky fingers and a napkin combine to make? Sticky fingers with napkin bits attached all over. Same thing happens when something sticky is on the ground. Don't clean it up with a napkin or papertowel because gets what's gonna happen... I'm waiting. You guessed it (or maybe you didn't): you'll have sticky stuff with bits of napkin all stuck to your floor.
But there is a solution. Dampening or wetting the cloth or getting Lysol wipes or something, will actually help you clean up the mess or unsticky-ify your hands. That's right, wetting cloth is so effective, you can make up words like "unsticky-ify" to describe it.
So, whenever there's something that needs cleaning up, you're best getting a wet cloth*.
*Note: This doesn't apply to getting sticky stuff on things like outlets - bring a little common sense into the equation here. Cleaning outlets with wet cloths are just going to send electric currents into your body that you'll have to discharge by use of the force. Take Darth Vader's mentor for instance. He probably cleaned an electrical outlet with a wet cloth and now he keeps shooting lightning out of his hands.
from Google ImagesYou may think it's cool to shoot lightning out of your hands, but you have to also consider that lightning is bouncing around inside you before it can be discharged, so that's gotta be uncomfortable. Not to mention, what if you discharge the lightning at the wrong time. Say, for instance, you gotta change bulbs because the light burned out and then you accidentally zap the thing with your electric discharge. Now you got two useless bulbs because you shorted the thing.
Not to mention, check out how ugly Palpatine is (Darth Vader's mentor). I mean that dude probably got that way from a) all the built up electric charge in him and b) all the built up anguish from breaking all his lightbulbs.
So, in short: don't use a dry napkin to clean a sticky hand and don't use wet cloth near an outlet lest you'll look like "Mr. Right?"
Peeing In The "Woods"
Have you ever been on a long drive and really had to take a wizz?
We've all been there, many of us may have even pulled to the side of the road, found a hidden spot and let nature take it's course. I can count myself amongst those that have pulled to the side of the road to take a leak.
Sometimes, hard as we may try, we're not always as hidden as we believe.
I used to visit my friend, Danny, every weekend. He lived fifty miles from me, so getting there always took a little over an hour. Often we'd head out around lunch time, so on the way, we'd all get hungry and agree to get fast food.
As usual, I got a burger and a drink, a large drink - large, at least, compared to the size of a human bladder. When it comes to drinking, I'm like a camel in that I drink a lot, but I'm not like a camel in that I can't store it. Camels can drink gallons of water and then go days without drinking because they can store it in the hump on their back. I can drink gallons of water and then go minutes without peeing, but pretty soon it'll catch up to me.
Well, I wolfed down my burger and practically inhaled my entire beverage and sat quite content. When you drink fast, all of your beverage can go through quite quickly and since most beverages are liquid and liquids are digested in 15-20 minutes, whatever you drink will hit your bladder pretty soon.
Now, I mentioned that the trip takes a little over an hour, so you can easily see that 15 minutes is only a small segment of that - a fraction of the time. Having downed the whole beverage quickly, it all hit me at once.
When we got to be about ten minutes or so from my friend's house, I couldn't hold it any longer. I demanded that my mom pull off at the nearest curb that was located next to the woods and I would go relieve myself behind a tree.
After what felt like forever, we finally pulled off into the shoulder of a street we were on and I jumped out of the car and dashed for the woods. I wasn't too picky about what tree I would use, just anything about as thick as me and maybe fifty feet in would do.
All I could focus on was urination and holding back that urination till I found a tree. Being so unaware of my surroundings is what lead to a rather embarrassing situation that I will describe soon.
I found a tree, maybe ten rows of trees in, that would cover me from the road and I unzipped and let waves of relief wash over me as I gave my drink back to nature. When I was just about finished, I shook out the last drops and began to zip up my pants.
Suddenly, from my right, I hear a voice yelling. It's an old man, exiting his house, cane in hand, scolding me.
"How would you like it if I went to your house and peed on your lawn?" the old man yells.
I'm going to break here to tell you a little about where I lived at this time, so you can appreciate what I was imagining when this guy yelled that.
I lived in a highly populated sub-urban town of 40,000 people. I lived on the second floor of a two-family house on one of the five most popular roads. My front yard was small, maybe 10 feet by 10 feet and is clearly visible by anyone and everyone who drives on the road, which on any given day, during most hours when the sun is out, will mean several hundred people in the space of five minutes.
So, as this guy is yelling at me, I am running as fast as my little legs can take me (I'm around twelve or so at the time) and imagining this elderly man, whipping out his tinkler on my front lawn, exposing himself to hundreds of passersby as he just pees gingerly on my lawn.
He waves his cane at me when I turn back to see if he's gaining on me at all (he isn't moving much faster than a turtle). I yell to my mom to open the side door of the mini-van as I come sprinting at it.
My sister hurls it open just in time for me to dive in and shout for my mom to step on it.
The old man never did pee on my lawn to my knowledge, though I'm sure it would've been the talk of the town for some time if he did. Every time since then that I go to Danny's house, I pass that old man's place and think of when I peed on his lawn.
We've all been there, many of us may have even pulled to the side of the road, found a hidden spot and let nature take it's course. I can count myself amongst those that have pulled to the side of the road to take a leak.
Sometimes, hard as we may try, we're not always as hidden as we believe.
I used to visit my friend, Danny, every weekend. He lived fifty miles from me, so getting there always took a little over an hour. Often we'd head out around lunch time, so on the way, we'd all get hungry and agree to get fast food.
As usual, I got a burger and a drink, a large drink - large, at least, compared to the size of a human bladder. When it comes to drinking, I'm like a camel in that I drink a lot, but I'm not like a camel in that I can't store it. Camels can drink gallons of water and then go days without drinking because they can store it in the hump on their back. I can drink gallons of water and then go minutes without peeing, but pretty soon it'll catch up to me.
Well, I wolfed down my burger and practically inhaled my entire beverage and sat quite content. When you drink fast, all of your beverage can go through quite quickly and since most beverages are liquid and liquids are digested in 15-20 minutes, whatever you drink will hit your bladder pretty soon.
Now, I mentioned that the trip takes a little over an hour, so you can easily see that 15 minutes is only a small segment of that - a fraction of the time. Having downed the whole beverage quickly, it all hit me at once.
When we got to be about ten minutes or so from my friend's house, I couldn't hold it any longer. I demanded that my mom pull off at the nearest curb that was located next to the woods and I would go relieve myself behind a tree.
After what felt like forever, we finally pulled off into the shoulder of a street we were on and I jumped out of the car and dashed for the woods. I wasn't too picky about what tree I would use, just anything about as thick as me and maybe fifty feet in would do.
All I could focus on was urination and holding back that urination till I found a tree. Being so unaware of my surroundings is what lead to a rather embarrassing situation that I will describe soon.
I found a tree, maybe ten rows of trees in, that would cover me from the road and I unzipped and let waves of relief wash over me as I gave my drink back to nature. When I was just about finished, I shook out the last drops and began to zip up my pants.
Suddenly, from my right, I hear a voice yelling. It's an old man, exiting his house, cane in hand, scolding me.
"How would you like it if I went to your house and peed on your lawn?" the old man yells.
I'm going to break here to tell you a little about where I lived at this time, so you can appreciate what I was imagining when this guy yelled that.
I lived in a highly populated sub-urban town of 40,000 people. I lived on the second floor of a two-family house on one of the five most popular roads. My front yard was small, maybe 10 feet by 10 feet and is clearly visible by anyone and everyone who drives on the road, which on any given day, during most hours when the sun is out, will mean several hundred people in the space of five minutes.
So, as this guy is yelling at me, I am running as fast as my little legs can take me (I'm around twelve or so at the time) and imagining this elderly man, whipping out his tinkler on my front lawn, exposing himself to hundreds of passersby as he just pees gingerly on my lawn.
He waves his cane at me when I turn back to see if he's gaining on me at all (he isn't moving much faster than a turtle). I yell to my mom to open the side door of the mini-van as I come sprinting at it.
My sister hurls it open just in time for me to dive in and shout for my mom to step on it.
The old man never did pee on my lawn to my knowledge, though I'm sure it would've been the talk of the town for some time if he did. Every time since then that I go to Danny's house, I pass that old man's place and think of when I peed on his lawn.
Happy Mother's Day
Send this to your mom, cause it's easy and shows you thought of her for a couple seconds today.
Violent Sleep
My girlfriend sleeps over at my place a couple times a week. When she goes to bed, she likes to have a glass of water next to her because she gets thirsty as she falls asleep and when she wakes up. Normally I keep my cup several feet from my bed, but on these nights, I move it within arms reach.
When you're tired, anything out of arm's reach is as good as doesn't exist because there's no way you're gonna get to it.
The cup goes flying and water covers the room. She wakes up, probably from hurting her hand in the aggressive cup attacking escapade and gets me to clean it up.
I've learned my lesson at this point. She still needs the water there but now I cover everything near it with cloth to absorb the liquid before anything else can.
Now that her mind understands that it can't knock over the water and cause my sleepy self any grief, she hasn't knocked the water over again. I still cover everything in cloth just in case.
As I look at her now, she's probably plotting her next mode of attack.
Note: She'd like to point out that parts of this were dramatized - she did clean up the water when she falcon punched it, but I don't know if that necessarily precludes her attacking more of my stuff.
When you're tired, anything out of arm's reach is as good as doesn't exist because there's no way you're gonna get to it.
Even if that suitcase will disappear in five minutes, you're just not gonna get it cause it's too far.
Anyway, so I have the water next to the bed so that it's in arm's reach - accessible for my girlfriend.
Well, one night, she forgets that it's there. She swings her legs out and plants her feet next to the bed. She stands up and heads for the door, but not before taking a swing at the cup.
Her foot makes contact and the water spills all over the floor. I wake up and grudgingly clean it up with a towel.
I figure this is a fluke thing. She's slept over a number of times without knocking over the water, chances are she won't do it again. To be safe, I put the cup on the bed-side table so that she doesn't run the risk of kicking it.
I figure, it's elevated, the only problem she could have is dropping it and I doubt that would happen. Well, I was wrong, dropping it was not the only way she could take care of it.
She sleeps over again another night and I set up the cup next to her on the bedside table. She doesn't have any problems with it and eventually we fall asleep.
At some point in the night, some latent need to knock it off the bedside table builds up in her. In her sleep, she punches the cup.
I've learned my lesson at this point. She still needs the water there but now I cover everything near it with cloth to absorb the liquid before anything else can.
Now that her mind understands that it can't knock over the water and cause my sleepy self any grief, she hasn't knocked the water over again. I still cover everything in cloth just in case.
As I look at her now, she's probably plotting her next mode of attack.
Note: She'd like to point out that parts of this were dramatized - she did clean up the water when she falcon punched it, but I don't know if that necessarily precludes her attacking more of my stuff.
Poke Me
I own a shirt, in fact I own many shirts, but there's one specifically I want to focus on. It's blue, similar in color to jeans (dark wash), but soft. On it is the Pillsbury doughboy in a classic pose. If you can't remember what the Pillsbury doughboy is, he's that little white animated figure with a chef's hat, a big grin and a bit of a tummy - in short, look at this picture:
He's the one getting poked if you couldn't put that together.
Anyway, the shirt reads, in big white letters above the picture, "Poke Me" and so we get to the crux of our story. Last year I lived in dorms at another school and one day I wore this shirt.
I am fond of the shirt, I enjoy the fit, the feel and the fabric's colors (blue and white). Since I'm fond of it, I wear it often. I have a number of shirts, many with clever slogans or something or other written on them and so as the days blend and carry on, I always forget what shirt I am wearing. It is crucial to remember that I always forget the shirt that I'm wearing.
On this particular day I'm wearing the shirt and I'm in my dorm, hungry. Next door there is a mini-store/dining hall where I can get $7.50 worth of stuff at each meal, except breakfast ($5.50 at breakfast). It was nearing the end of the lunch time so I wanted to get over next door and get my money's worth before I lost the opportunity and it became dinner time and I'd miss out on the $7.50 for lunch.
It was a bit of a dreary day, it had rained earlier, but even so I went out, in my shirt, a pair of jeans or possibly pajama bottoms, flip flops and socks (I know that they don't go together but darn it I like warm feet!).
My feet look kinda like that except the flip flops are white with a blue design on it and the green thing on that is black on mine. I know what you're thinking: that's definitely the next trend in fashion.
As I walk in next door I get a compliment on my shoes, I thank the person and go to the room where all the food is. I pick out a half personal pie of pizza, a bag of Baked Dorito chips and a drink, probably Fuze. I go to the checkout and since I always have the same combo, I know that it comes out to $7.43 or something in that ballpark.
The food service lady compliments me on my incredible power of picking out four items to total so closely to my limit (as happens every day, with that same lady) and I head back out of the building.
I'm holding my food and push open the door as I leave and a group of three guys is standing off a little to my left, on the grass. As I pass by one of them looks up.
Suddenly he charges me.
I'm cradling a bunch of food in my hands and I don't know what to do. I tell myself that I'll always be prepared if someone tries to mug me and that I'll miraculously be endowed with incredible strength, agility and reflexes and easily take care of the attacker, but in this instance I stood completely petrified.
I didn't budge, I just watched my assailant fly at me with his arm extended. In the blur of action I didn't notice but he had a finger extended towards me which soon finds contact with my stomach, near my solar plexus (ie pain).
I cringe and he jumps back laughing.
"I had to do it," he says, "man."
Had to do it? Had to do what? Inflict pain and bestow terror on a random guy who passes him?
I didn't know what to think. In my confusion I looked down and remembered the shirt I was wearing.
"Poke Me" - apparently I had asked for this. I brought this on myself.
Now whenever there are "poking" wars on facebook, all I can think of is that crazy kid, I didn't know, charging at me arm extended, jabbing me right in the stomach.
By the way, when I realized, I gave him the trademark giggle of the Pillsbury doughboy, got a laugh out of them and then I retreated to my room to nurse my battle wound and eat. I still wear this shirt, often and get pokes (get confused at first), but nothing so drastic - fortunately.
Automatic Toilets
Ever get an automatic toilet flush on you a bunch of times before you were ready? My girlfriend had it flush on her six times once before she made it out of the stall. Share your stories in the comments!
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