Thursday, January 11, 1990

(So heres a post that gets an accurate time stamp as it relates to
something that actually happened today. Generaly, as my life is not nearly so
fascinating as to require a daily post, I do not respect the timestamp. My rants
and musings are timeless. This was today though so Ill report it as such)


Ever put your foot so far down your throught that you arent sure whether to try to remove it or just swallow it down? I do that a lot, and today was no exception.

I was walking down bedford torwards my car when I saw a strange sight. Parked half-on/half-off the curb, with a scraped chasis, missing a tire, the bumper a few feet behind, was a wreck of a car. It must have been hit recently because it smelled fresh, ready for the insulting. I whipped out my camera-phone (that thing that serves the double function, neither of them particularly well) and said to a friend who asked that her name not be mentioned: "wow, I'm glad I'm not such a lousy driver." About that time, the owner of the car was getting out from underneath it, having assesed the damage. To say that he fired daggers from his eyes would be an understatement. Less poeticaly, more succintly, let us say that he wished death upon me and my loved ones. The bad kind of death. The kind that involves honey-smeared genitalia and fire ants.

Thats the kind of thing that happens to me on a weekly basis. I've put my foot in my mouth so many times that I can tell what socks I've been wearing that day, by taste alone. A particular event that seems to occure to me a lot (yet I never seem to learn my lesson) goes something like this:

GuyI havent seen in a while: Hey Xvi, long time no see. Whatsup?

XVI: Not much "guy." Yeah, I havent seen you since your wedding. How is the little lady?

(Now this part changes a bit, depending on how embarassing the situation is, but all of these situations are true! I just may have changed the actual dialogue a bit so as not to bore you.)

Ive gotten this response like 2 or 3 times:

Guy 1: Oh... her. Yeah, were seperated/divorced.

Thats pretty bad, but this has happened too:

Guy 2: Yeah... She passed away three months ago.

And if you think I havent learnt my lesson yet, another ACTUAL response:

Guy 3: Well... She's, kind of, been commited to a mental institution...

XVI! SHUT UP ALREADY! I really need to invest in some duct tape or something...


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