Stupid Injuries

I used to get injuries I could brag about. When I was a kid, I would fall off of my bike while attempting all kinds of wild stunts, or fall out of a tree while trying to climb to the top, or I’d eat dirt while flipping off the monkey bars at school. The older I get, the stupider my injuries sound. For instance, yesterday morning I woke up with a severe pain in my neck, to the point where every time I turn my head to the left my whole body seizes up and I can’t move… and what did I do to earn such pain? I slept with my head tucked underneath my arm. Now that’s something to be proud of!

“How’d you hurt your leg, Joe?”
“Oh, I was running a marathon and a pulled a hamstring.”
“How’d you hurt your shoulder, Bob?”
“Oh, I was skydiving and I came in a little hard.”
“How’d you hurt your neck, Mendeaux?”
“…mmblemmblemble…”
“What?”
“I slept in a weird position.”

See what I mean? I’ve decided that if anyone asks, I was on an expedition to climb to the top of Mt. Everest when our group was caught in an avalanche. When all was said and done, I was the only survivor, but I didn’t come out unscathed.

Shhhh… it’ll be our little secret.

Overheard in my Kitchen

Me: I wonder if a thousand years from now archaeologists will dig up a jar of this peanut butter, read “Sealed for Your Protection” and conclude that the jar contains something sinister.

TR: It does.

Overheard in my Bedroom Pt. II

Me: I need a new pair of blue slacks. These are falling apart.

TR: What size do you wear?

Me: Between a 34 and a 36. So 35, I guess… but they don’t make odd sizes.

TR: They do, they just don’t make many of them, so they’re hard to find.

Me: Yeah. I think the ratio’s like 50 to 1.

TR: Something like that.

Me: Or, more likely, every few hundred pairs of pants, some worker measures wrong, and they go “Oops. Can’t throw those out, slap a 35 label on it.”

It’s a Sad Day

Today I joined the pathetic ranks of stupid people that forget to put their gas cap back on after filling up their cars.

The Circle K actually had water in the squeegee thing this morning – that only happens about once a year – so, of course I had to clean my windshield. Well, the gas pump shut off before I finished, and I hung the pump up and went back to cleaning the glass. I didn’t put the gas cap back on, thinking I’d do it after I returned the squeegee. So, I suppose I could blame Circle K for distracting me with squeegees and water – but really the fault was mine. It wasn’t until I was 40 miles down the road that a concerned fellow driver pulled along side and waved at me to let me know of my blunder. I cringe to think of how many people saw my gas cap dangling alongside my car, pointed and laughed at the absent-minded moron.

I hang my head in shame.

Starbucks

I love Starbucks. I really do. The best drink in existence is a Starbucks Venti® Latte with 3 shots of espresso (notice the correct spelling of the word “espresso” – it’s not eXpresso people! C’mon, get it right!).

However, I do have a little complaint about the drive-thru at Starbucks. Their opening greeting sucks.

A typical conversation at any other drive-thru goes something like this:

“Welcome to (Fill-In-The-Blank-Restaurant), may I take your order please?”

“Yes, I’d like a…”

Not at Starbucks. Oh no. Here’s what you get there:

“Thank you for choosing Starbucks, my name is Bambi. How are you doing today?”

“Uh. Er. Um. Ok, I guess.”

Followed by an uncomfortable silence that stretches on for several seconds.

Why are they asking how I’m doing? Do they know me? They obviously don’t care about the answer to the question, judging by the long uncomfortable silence. I wonder how they’d react if I told them I was dying of some rare incurable disease, but if I could just get a decent Frappuccino® I could pull through. Why ask a question if you’re not really interested in the answer? And if you’re not interested in the answer, for heaven’s sake ask me a question that you really are interested in, like what would I like to drink!

Sorry. It’s early and I haven’t had my latte yet.