What the hell was I thinking?

I’m four years old. 

I’m sitting in front of some Bugs Bunny cartoons with a coloring book and crayons.

I rip a strip of paper from one of the pages and roll it into a tube shape.  I push that tube up my right nostril. 

It hurts and panic sets it!  I run to my Grandma and tell her what I did.  She tries to pull it out with a pair of tweezers.  That doesn’t work because I SHOVED that paper up there as far as it would go.

Both of us are in a panic now.  What to do, what to do?

She thinks for a minute while I cry.

She goes to the spice cabinet and grabs the pepper.  A handful is blown into my face.

Sneezing ensues.  Snot is everywhere!  The tube of paper eventually flies out and lands several feel away.

Success!!

What the hell was I thinking when I did that?  What outcome did I expect?  I can assure you that I never tried that again!

I gotta pee!

Angry wants me to tell you about a little "issue" I seem to have.

Every time we go out for dinner or drinks, the same conversation takes place.  It usually begins when we are about half way home:

ME:  Guess what?

Angry:  Let me think; you have to pee?

ME:  YES!

Angry:  Why don't you ever go before we leave?

ME:  I did!

Angry:  I think you went about an hour ago.  That doesn't count.

ME:  Hurry up and drive as fast as you can without getting a ticket.

Angry (with a very heavy sigh):  I'll do my best.

ME (every time the car hits a pothole or bump):  Don't do that! I'm gonna pee my pants.

Angry:  I can't avoid every friggin' bump or pothole.  You should have gone before we left.

When we get home, Angry has to bolt our garage door and then unbolt and unlock the back door.

While this is going on, I'm standing on the back porch.  Well, not standing.  I'm actually doing a dance jig to try and keep from peeing my pants.  The rest of the conversation always goes like this:

ME:  COME OOOOOONNNNN!  I gotta pee!!

Angry:  Maybe you should bring your keys with you so you don't have to wait for me.

ME:  You go slow on purpose. (I actually think he does.  He's usually dropping his keys or looking at something in the yard.)

Angry:  I'm going as fast as I can.

ME (as he unlocks the door):  Get out of the way! 

Angry (as I'm pushing past him to get into the house):  Geez . . . you'd think you'd learn.

This conversation happens EVERY time, without fail.  I don’t learn.
 
Maybe I’m the martyr of pee?

The maple kind? Yeah!

This is some funny shit.  I stole it from one of my favorite bloggers, Rachel Lucas (she's in my reading list if you want to check her out).

Boogie in the parking lot!

In my city (as I’m sure it is in yours), we have many people that drive their cars around with the music turned up way TOO LOUD.  It's so loud that when I'm in my house the pictures on the walls rattle.  Unfortunately, the music is often some sort of rap or hip hop.  This is not a critique of that type of music.  What causes the problem is that it is heavy with bass and this is what rattles everything from pictures on the wall to my brain.

When I was leaving work a while ago, I got off the elevator in the parking structure and I could hear music.  Mind you, the elevator bank is inside a small "room" and enclosed by glass doors.  This music was pretty loud for me to hear it in there.

When I walked out towards my car, I could hear that it was a Beatles song (Back in the USSR if I remember right).  I noticed a lady who must have been in her 60s "dancing" in her car seat as she listened to the song.

I have to admit, I found it quite charming!!  Of course, I like the Beatles and was sort of doing a "boogie" of my own as I walked to my car.  And, my brain wasn’t rattling.