Random Story – Missed photo

This is just an odd little story from my life.

Back in February, something got into our coop and killed all of our chickens.  After some repairs, we got a bunch of new chicks.  About a month ago, I was putting them in for the night when one of the little roosters stopped at the door, and crowed.  Well, he tried to crow.  It was more like a cough. 

After laughing for a bit, I thought it would have been great if I had recorded it.  Of course, I’m one of those weird people who can put their phone down for hours.  At the time, my phone was back in the house because, why would I need it if I’m just going out for five minutes to put the chickens in?  While thinking on this, I remembered a story of a photo I was about ten seconds too late to capture.

I forget exactly when this happened, but it was like fifteen years ago.  At the time, in addition to chickens we also had some ducks.  We also had a dog, and one of their toys was a mostly deflated innertube.  We’d throw it, and he’d bite it and give it a good shake. 

So I was in my room – maybe working on a story, I don’t remember – and I looked out the window to our backyard.  In the middle of the yard was the innertube, and walking right towards it was one of the ducks.  I expected the duck to go around it, but instead it kept marching straight.  I was further surprised when it stopped for a few seconds inside the innertube.  I scrambled to grab the digital camera I had back then, but before I could turn it on, the duck scrambled out of the innertube and continued on their way. 

That’s the story of how I missed taking a photo of a duck, sitting in an innertube, in the middle of a yard.  If I had managed to get a photo of it, I’m sure I would have posted it with a thought bubble of the duck going, “Something isn’t right.”

Random Story – Lighting a match with my thumbnail

This is just an odd little story from my life. 

I’ve always said that I grew up a short drive from the middle of nowhere.  That was good for several reasons – less light pollution so I can see the stars and I prefer the outdoors to cities – but it was also bad for a few reasons.  Like it’s annoying that to go anywhere – grocery store, bank, movie theater – it takes half-an-hour.  Another bad thing is that we were so far out in the country, that it wasn’t until twenty-five or thirty years ago that someone offered to come out for trash collection.

This means that back when I was growing up in 80’s and 90’s, the way we got rid of our trash was to burn it.  And somehow that became my chore.  To do this, we had an old metal barrel with some holes cut in it to let air in set some distance from the house.  Every day or two, I’d take out the garbage cans and dump all the trash into the barrel.  I’d then light a match and hold it to some tissues or newspaper.  Hopefully, they would burn long enough for the cereal boxes or whatever to catch. 

For the most part, it wasn’t that bad of a chore.  Except in winter, when I’d sometimes have to slog through snow to get to the barrel, and then everything would be so damp from snow that it would take multiple tries to get something burning. 

But probably the biggest issue was boredom.  If I left before it caught, I could have a barrel half filled with damp trash the next time I had to burn stuff.  So I’d light it, then stand there for a few minutes to see if it really got going.  I either had a stick or a metal pole to move things around to try to help things out.

Another way to try to beat the boredom, was to try some games.  Like, trying to get the fire going with just one match.  But probably the biggest game was seeing where all I could strike the matches.  These were wooden, “strike anywhere” matches, so I tried as many places as I could.  It started with just the sides of the barrel, but then I’d use any old rock I could find.  If it was cold, I’d use the zipper on my coat.  But the most … memorable, I guess, was when I started using my thumbnail.  I must have seen a movie were the hero, or villain, lit a match with their thumb.  That looked cool, so I tried.  At first, I tried striking it off top, but it was too smooth.  I think I did get it to light a few times, but it took ten tries or so.  Then I discovered that if I put the tip of the match just under my thumbnail, I could get it to light.

For a month or two, that was how I would light the match.  Then one day I discovered WHY YOU SHOULD NOT DO THAT!  What happened, is a tiny bit of the match head broke off and became lodged under my thumbnail.  That wouldn’t be so bad, but it was burning.  It was a tiny, tiny bit, and it likely was finished burning by the time the pain signal reached my brain, but man did it hurt. 

After that, I went back to using the barrel or a random rock to light matches.

***

Image from Pixabay.

Random Story – Bottle cap battles

This is just an odd little story from my life.

When I was in high school in the early 90’s, the bus would pick up one group of kids that lived in town and take them home, and then come back and pick up us kids who lived out in the boonies.  And given that our bus driver was old and drove very slowly, it was usually half and hour or more after school ended that we finally got on the bus to go home.  So we had time to kill.  Sometimes, I’d hang out in the computer room for another ten minutes or so until the teacher finally kicked me out, or I’d take the time to clean my locker, or whatever.  Sometimes, some friends and I would walk a couple blocks into town to buy candy or cards and then get back for the bus.  But most afternoons we just stood around and goofed off. 

One way we goofed off began by accident.  I think what happened is one of us had a bottle of pop (I’m from that part of the country) and dropped the lid.  Someone else “pretended” to stomp on it, for some reason, but they just missed and they caught the edge of the bottle cap with the edge of their shoe.  The result was the cap went flying five or so feet.  Which we found pretty funny, so we started doing it on purpose.  You put the cap open side up, and just put the edge of your shoe on it, and then do a quick press down.  Sometimes, the cap would just fly up and hit our nuts, but usually it would fly off across the hallway.  So we started having bottle cap battles trying to hit each other.  If they connected, it was just a little thump.  At worst, if they hit your arm, you might have a bit of a red mark for five minutes. 

After a dozen or so flights, the caps would start to deform, meaning they didn’t fly as far or as well.  So we would save caps from the week or dig in the trash for some to have one big battle with five or six caps whizzing around.  We did this, off and on for a couple of years.

It was probably a decade ago, I remembered this, so I got a cap to relive my youth.  But I don’t know if they’re using softer material in caps, or shoes, or what, because I could only get a cap to fly a foot or two.  Either that or there’s some basic step I’ve forgotten.

Random Story – What happened to the pill guy?

This is just an odd little story from my life.

As a nerdy kid growing up in 80’s and early 90’s, I watched a lot of PBS.  There was Nova and Scientific American Frontiers and several other science shows.  If the topic was about space, I almost certainly watched it, but I watched most of them regardless of their topic.  Having been over thirty years, I’m sure I’ve forgotten most of what I watched, or whatever I’ve learned has just become part of the mass of “Things I know, but I don’t know how I know them.” But there are a few random fragments that, for some reason, I remember.  For example.

I don’t know what show it was, or if it was late 80’s or early 90’s, but there was one episode on longevity.  I think overall it dealt with the various ways people were trying to live longer.  I don’t remember, but it’s likely there was a section on people eating a particular diet, or people doing things like tai chi, or whatever.  But the one I remember was this guy taking vitamins.

I can’t remember if this guy (I’m 99% certain it was a guy) was a doctor or just some health enthusiast, but somehow he came to the conclusion that more vitamins somehow made you live longer.  I’m not talking about just taking two multivitamins a day, or whatever.  He was taking like 50X the daily recommended amounts.  And not just of Vitamin C, but like, all of them.  He had ones he took in the morning, ones in the afternoon, and ones in the evening.  I think there was a scene where he had a garbage bag of the vitamin bottles he emptied each week.  But the scene I do remember is him sitting on his couch reading a book, and on an end table there’s a little candy dish with the evening mix.  And every few minutes, he’d just grab one and swallow it, without water or anything. 

For some reason, that image has stuck with me for … over three decades.  And I have to wonder what happened to him?  He was … fifty, or whatever, so it’s possible he’s still alive.  Or, he could have died shortly after that show from a … Vitamin A overdose.  Or, he might have some role in the current regime’s Department of Health and Human Services.

Random Story – Infinite coupons

This is just an odd little story from my life.

It was probably fifteen or so years ago, I got a coupon for these trail mix type things.  It probably came in one of those envelopes of coupons – 99% of which I had no interest in – that places sent out.  I don’t know if they still do that or not.  Anyway, there were five or six pouches of trail mix that came in a cardboard box.  I was on the lookout for something new, so I tried them and enjoyed them.  What was nice was I could have a few pouches at my desk at work, and if I got a little hungry, I could just eat one.

I can’t remember if it was with that first box, but very soon after I started buying them that they started putting coupons on the inside of the box.  I think it was a save a $1 when you buy two boxes type.  Since I enjoyed them, that’s what I started doing.  I’d use one coupon to buy two boxes and get two coupons.  Use one of them, and get two more.  At first, I figured it was a short run promotion, and eventually they’d stop putting the coupons in the box.  But it kept going.  The first coupons were good until the end of June, or whatever, but then they became the end of September, and then December.  And they just kept going.

I had a little table by the door where I kept my keys, and I kept a pile of these coupons.  And every time I went to get groceries, I’d take one and buy two more boxes.  For I don’t know how long these pouches just became my generic snack.  When the coupons were getting old, I’d take a handful of them and leave them on the shelf at the store to maybe start someone else down this road of madness. 

Eventually, I stopped buying them because, well, I got tired of them.  But a year or so later, I was nostalgic for them, but I couldn’t find them in the store.  I can’t remember what their name was, so I don’t know if they went out of business or what.

Random Story – Was that a Christmas tree?

This is just an odd little story from my life.

I have two routes I can take going to work.  Route A – my preferred way – is about two-thirds on back roads and one-third on a main road.  Route B is about one-third backroads and two-thirds main roads.  There are a couple of reasons I prefer Route A.  For one, I don’t have to drive through the town.  Also, the main road for Route B seems to have more trucks as well as people who apparently need to be somewhere.  But the main reason is that I like driving, but not when there are other cars around.  When I’m driving home – I work 2-10 – there’s usually some traffic on the main roads, but once I turn onto the backroads, I only have to watch for deer.  But Route B is important whenever it snows because I’d rather have two-thirds of my drive be on roads that are plowed and salted than on roads that might not be. 

Anyway, one-time last summer, I drove to work on my normal Route A, but a couple hours later a big thunderstorm rolled in.  Our power blinked a few times, but stayed on.  Once the storm passed, we started getting customers saying that the other side of town had lost power.  Apparently, it’s a different grid section, or whatever.  People also came in saying power was out along the Route B main road. 

When it came time to go home, I decided to go Route B because with every storm there are branches knocked down and there’s a heavily wooded area on Route A.  There are wooded areas on Route B, but not as much and those roads are more trafficked.  I didn’t feel like having to stop to clear branches from the road.  I also wanted to see how far out the power was out, and wondered if it would be out at home.

So I started home and got to the blackout area of town, which was a bit weird.  But then going out Route B was even weirder.  It’s not heavily populated, but there’s usually at least one house in view at any one time, and about half have a light of some kind on, but this night it was all darkness. 

And then, about half-a-mile from the turn on to the backroads to get home, there was a house with lights on.  I don’t think we lost power at home, so I think I just crossed into a different grid section. 

This house is situated a bit off the road, but it was the first lights I’d seen in miles, so I looked at it closer than normal.  I’ll admit, there is a part of me that is curious about how other people live.  Like, I’d love to go into my old apartments to see how people furnished them.  Oh, they put the couch there?  Interesting.  I’ll admit to having some curiosity, but I’m not a voyeur who looks through people’s windows.  But for this house, I could see into what I guess would be their living room, and I thought I saw a Christmas tree.  I forget exactly when this was, but it had to have been May or June.  And I only had a split second of looking through a window of a house set back from the road, so it is possible I saw some random shapes that my brain just interpreted as a Christmas tree.  But it left me wondering about it for the rest of the night.

Maybe a week or so later, I was running some errands one afternoon and going home the same way.  So I had to look.  Just to see if it was a Christmas tree or what.  Unfortunately, they had the blinds down and I didn’t see anything. 

There were several nights this winter I took Route B home, but I don’t think I ever looked to see if they had a Christmas tree in that room.  Not because I forgot about it – I still think of it as The Christmas Tree(?) House – but because most of the nights I drove home that way it was snowing, and I had more important things to do than to see where these people I’ve never met put their tree.  Or why they’d keep it up year-round.

Random Story – We no longer know each other

This is just an odd little story from my life.

When I was in college back in the mid to late 90’s, I had a summer job for a natural gas company.  There were six or so of us college kids who mowed yards, painted water tanks, and did other odds and ends.  One of these fellow Summerhelp was this woman who did not get along with me.  Mainly because I was always picking on her, because it was fun. 

Looking back older, wiser, and less of an asshole, I would say that my picking on her wasn’t bullying.  It was more along the lines of an older brother being annoying.  As an example, one of the few things I remember is at one point she needed some minor surgery and one of the things she was worried about was paying for it.  So I, standing six or so feet from her, took out my pocket knife and – not using it in a threatening manner – said I would do it much cheaper.  I don’t remember her exact response, but it was probably something akin to rolling her eyes.

Anyway, this Summerhelp program was only open to kids in college, and I think we were both graduating so it was our final summer there.  And her last day was a week or so before my last day.  For some time I wondered what I should do as a “going away” present, and I finally decided to go up to her just before she left and say, “In ten years, we’ll be glad we no longer know each other.” I thought I was pretty smart for thinking up such a perfect way to sum our relationship up.

For a week or so, I patiently bided my time.  And then her last day came.  And I waited, and I think I went to do something and figured to tell her when I came back, but when I came back I learned that she left an hour early. 

Over the twenty-plus years since, I’ll randomly remember this and feel slightly disappointed I didn’t get to say my brilliant line.  But I also wonder, if I had gotten to say it, would I eventually forget about it?  After ten years or so, would I have forgotten all about her and do I still remember her just because she, accidentally, out tricked me? 

I know people who know people who could look her up.  But what would be the point?  It’s almost certainly a safe bet that she doesn’t remember me.  Twenty some years later, I still have the occasional regret about her, and she’s oblivious to ever knowing me.

Random Story – Taking a nice walk at work

This is just an odd little story from my life.

Years ago, I worked at a lab for a company that makes metal working fluids.  Yes, it was as exciting as it sounds.  Over my years there, I worked in a couple different labs.  In one lab my boss would tell me to run such and such tests on some samples, and then he’d do his own work.  And a lot of the tests I ran for him required twenty minutes or so to get everything set up, and then it would run for half and hour and then I’d repeat everything for the next sample.  And while the test ran, there really was nothing for me to do. 

Instead of just sitting in the lab twiddling my thumbs, I would find things to do.  Like I’d check our supply of soap and paper towels and then go to the other end of the building to the supply room.  And then I’d check on our supply of various chemicals, and then I’d go back to the supply room to see if we had any. 

The way the building was laid out, there was sort of a main hallway that went from the offices, past a bunch of labs, to the supply room.  But there was also a back hallway that went by fewer labs and saw less traffic.  So sometimes on my trips to or from the supply room, I’d go back and forth in the hallway where nobody could see me.  Sometimes I could go back and forth five or six times before someone else would wander down that hallway and I’d be forced to continue on in whatever direction as if that was where I was going.

Anyway, at some point I noticed that the floor tiles were one foot square.  I counted how many tiles there were in that back hallway, and worked out how many times I’d need to go back and forth to walk a mile.  And there were days where I did walk over a mile, just going back and forth in an empty hallway.  There were parts of that job I didn’t care for, but I guess there were perks.

Random Story – The 100-year tweet

This is just an odd little story from my life.

Over ten years ago, back when Twitter was a thing and relevant, I found a service that let you schedule your tweets.  There was a calendar, and you just picked the date you wanted for your tweet, and then you set the time and everything.  To post something in the next month, you had to click on the “Next Month” button. 

One night, I guess I was feeling a little silly, so I clicked the “Next Month” button twelve times, and scheduled a tweet to post in one year.  I forget what exactly I said, but it was something like, “I scheduled this tweet a year ago.  Do you guys have flying cars yet?” Over the next year, I patiently waited for it to be posted.  And I think someone did make a sarcastic reply about flying cars, so this one-year tweet served its purpose.

But a day or so after scheduling the one-year tweet, I was wondering if I should do a five-year, or maybe even a ten-year tweet.  Then I figured, why not go all in.  I don’t know how long it took me, but I clicked the “Next Month” button 1,200 times so I could schedule a tweet in … June 2112, or whatever.  I forget what I wrote, but I think it was something like, “I scheduled this tweet 100 years ago.  Is Twitter still a thing?  Is the internet still a thing?”

Unfortunately, my 100-year tweet will never be posted.  Mainly because I think it was about six months after my one-year tweet posted the service went belly up.  I don’t know if there is some digital archive that holds all the tweets they never got to post or if all that was just deleted. 

I’ve sat here for about five minutes trying to think of some thought-provoking thing to say about the impermanence of … well, everything.  But I got nothing.

Random Story – Payphone stories

These are just odd little stories from my life.

Back in ’92 or ’93, I went on a school trip to Toronto.  It was one of these where we left at midnight, did something in Toronto, and were home again at like 4 AM the next day.  What we did on that trip, I don’t remember.  But at one point, a group of us were someplace and we figured it was a good time to use the restroom.  I remember we went down a set of stairs, and ended up in this lounge area with the restrooms on the ends.

A friend of mine and I had finished, and we were waiting out in this lounge for another one of our friends.  In this lounge, there were four or five payphones, and I was standing next to them.  I don’t know why, but I stuck my finger in the change return of the nearest one.  My friend started to say something about if I was that desperate for money or something, when I pulled out a quarter.  He then got angry alternating between claiming I was trying to prank him and what was the luck that I’d check some random payphone in another country and find a quarter.  Well, it was a Canadian quarter from a Canadian phone.  If it had been a US quarter, that would have been another level.

The other payphone story I have, happened like ten years later.  When I lived in towns, I enjoyed taking walks late at night to let my mind wander and plot stories.  Which is something I can only really do in a place with sidewalks and streetlights, and where I live now has neither.  But I get to see a lot more stars.  Anyway, one of my walking routes took me by the courthouse in this town, and outside it there were two or three payphones.  One night, I was walking by them and just randomly checked for coins, but didn’t find any.  I kept going, until I heard a woman call out to me.  She walked over and tried to give my like $10.  I was confused, until I realized she thought I was homeless.  She figured only homeless people would check for coins.

I can’t remember the last time I saw a payphone.  But if I ever see one again, I’ll probably check for change, just for memories.  Plus, a quarter doesn’t buy as much as used to, but it’s still money.

Random Story – My smoking car

This is just an odd little story from my life.

Years ago, I had an almost thirty-minute commute from where I lived to where I worked.  Fortunately, there was a freeway that ran almost the entire way.  Unfortunately, thousands of other people also drove on it, which lead to traffic jams every morning and evening.  When I first started that job, my car was kinda old, and liked to overheat, especially if it wasn’t moving and getting some air flow.  Because of that, and because who likes sitting in traffic jams, I found alternate routes to work and home, which was pretty easy because there were highways and smaller roads that ran pretty much parallel to the freeway.  I took one route to work in the morning, and a different one home.  The route I took in the morning started with me getting on the freeway, but then getting off just before the spot the traffic jams started.  I then took a highway until it rejoined the freeway at a spot after where the traffic jams usually cleared up.  Not long after I started this job, I got a new car.  It didn’t have the overheating problem, but I still didn’t care to sit in traffic, so I continued following these routes. 

One rainy morning, a couple of months after getting my new car, I was going to work and I took the exit off the freeway and stopped at a red light.  I sat there for twenty seconds or so, when I saw a wisp of what looked like smoke coming up from my hood.  I was freaked out by this, but then the light turned green and there were plenty of cars behind me, so I had to go.  But I stopped at a little strip mall maybe a quarter of a mile down the road and popped my hood.  I’m not a car guy, but I figured I would be able to spot a fire, but I didn’t see anything, not even smoke.  So the rest of the drive to work was a bit nerve racking, and every time I hit a red light, I’d strain to see if there was any smoke, but I didn’t see any more.

About a week later, the same thing happened at the same spot, and I again checked but didn’t see anything wrong.  This happened three or four times over a month, with me eventually not even stopping to check if anything was wrong. 

I don’t know how much time I spent thinking about all this on my drives to work, but I eventually noticed that this only happened when there were two conditions.  First, it either had to be raining, or a very dewy morning.  And second, it only happened at this one stop light.  If it was raining, but I hit a green light coming off the freeway, but then stopped at the next red light a bit down the road, there wasn’t any “smoke.” I eventually hypothesized, that on rainy or dewy mornings, some water droplets would condense on the underside of my hood.  The five or so minutes of driving on the freeway was enough to heat the engine up that when I braked at this red light – with the exit ramp slopped slightly downward – these drops would break off, fall on the hot engine, and evaporate into steam which I mistook for smoke.  These droplets probably fell on the engine at several points, but I was usually driving and the airflow dispersed them before I could see them.  Any stops I made before this point, my engine probably wasn’t hot enough yet, and any stops after that point, all the water droplets had probably already fallen.  It was only this very narrow bit of coincidences that led me to think my car was on fire.

Random Story – Quick stories from school

These are just odd little stories from my life.

Speeling

I was a terrible speller back in school. I can’t remember which grade it was, maybe 7th or 8th, but the English teacher gave a weekly spelling test. She said she would continue giving them until everyone in the class had received at least one 100%. I was the second to last person in the class to get a 100%, and I remember it happened on my birthday, which is in February, so it took me awhile. The other thing I remember is that when I took out a sheet of paper and put my name on it, I wrote “speeling test” on it. (That’s why I put that as this blog title, it’s not a typo!) The teacher said she wasn’t sure if my 100% should count because of that, but I think she wanted to stop giving the tests, so nothing more was said.

The reason I brought this up, is that my spelling has greatly improved over the years. The best reason I can think of is my writing. Yes, I do count on the spellchecker to catch mistakes, but most of the time it seems like I use it for words I don’t know how to spell. I just get something close, then pick the correct one out of the spellchecker options. But I was surprised the other day when – for a story – I spelled aneurysm correctly. (And I just did it again!) Back in high school I’d probably spell it anyourism. If my high school English teachers could see me now.

Not doing my calculus homework.

I can’t remember if it was in pre-calc, or calc class, but one day I show up and the teacher says something about checking our homework.  And I had completely forgotten that he had assigned a dozen or so problems the day before.  So I sat there for twenty or so seconds almost crapping myself because A, I couldn’t believe I had completely forgotten to do my homework, but also B, we had a homework grade.  I wasn’t in any danger of failing, but I was a good student who didn’t want the teacher – who was pretty cool – to think I was a slacker, or whatever.

Well, the way he checked our homework was to walk around to see what we had done and if we had any questions.  Fortunately, for me, the first girl said that she had trouble with the last problem.  Thinking quick, I turned to a blank page in my notebook, and copied down problem 12, or whatever.  I started working on it, and I got to a part and got stuck. 

So I’m trying a couple things on this problem a minute or so later when I notice the teacher standing next to me.  I look up and say, “I’m just trying to figure out this last one.” He nods and moves on to the next student.  Sometimes, being known as a good student pays off.

Random Story – Something you don’t want to hear from your dentist

This is just an odd little story from my life.

About twenty years ago, I had a bad cavity and I figured the dentist would just pull the tooth.  But he said they tried to save teeth, and recommended a root canal.  But since root canals are specialized, the one who did them worked with like ten dentists in the area and she wouldn’t be back to that office for a couple of days.  So he did the prep work and I came back in a few days for the rest of the root canal.

While they were getting ready, I was sitting there getting nervous.  I’m not a fan of doctors in general and dentists in particular.  But the root canal dentist noticed my heart rate was up, and asked and I said it was nerves, but she wondered if the novocaine, or the super-novocaine they used had gotten in my bloodstream and was working me up.  So she said she’d wait a few minutes and let me relax some before they started.

I think from previous visits, I had picked up that the assistant was from … Colombia and had been a dentist there, but when she moved to the US she wasn’t certified to be a dentist here.  So she was working as an assistant, while going to night school to be a US dentist.

While they waited for me to calm down, the root canal dentist asked the assistant what they were studying.  And the assistant replied with … something.  It was some medical jargony thing that probably translates to … I don’t, braces.  And the root canal dentist replied with something like, “Oh, I’ve forgotten half that stuff.”

Now, I understand that she focused on root canals, and that was what she did.  You don’t call her in for your basic cleaning.  But as someone already uncomfortable at the dentists, with a little chemical goose to my nerves, hearing the dentist go, “I don’t remember half the stuff I learned in dentist school, now let’s start drilling,” wasn’t the best thing to hear.  After a few seconds, I was able to remind myself that she had specialized in root canals, and it was a tad funny.  If half my face wasn’t numb, I might even have told them that.

Random Story – Racial awkwardness

This is just an odd little story from my life.

Years ago, I worked as a technician at a place that made industrial lubricants and metal cutting fluids. And yes, it was as exciting as it sounds. Anyway, one day my boss was trying to mix something up but he needed a sample of something. So I was going around to the other labs to see if anyone had some. One of the other technicians was an older woman I was friendly with. When I stopped in her lab, she was in the middle of like three different things. She explained that her boss was on a business trip that week, and he had left her almost two weeks’ worth of work to do. This contrasted my boss who’d sometimes be gone for a week but only leave me three days’ worth of work, as mentioned in an earlier Random Story. I smiled and was a fraction of a second away from saying to her, “So you’re saying [boss’ name] is a real slave driver?” I meant it as someone giving a heavy work load. Fortunately, I was able to stop myself because she’s black. I don’t know her family history, but even if her ancestors freely came to this country, that would still have been an insensitive phrasing. It wasn’t that I had forgotten she was black, it was just something unimportant, like if someone is left or right-handed.

Random Story – The train snuck up on me

This is just an odd little story from my life.  And there’s a bit of backstory to get to the story.

I grew up on a farm and one of my favorite things to do was to go for a walk around the pasture to just let my mind wander and to think on things.  But I could only do this during the day because, well, pastures can be uneven and filled with things you don’t want to step in.  This wouldn’t be a problem, but I’m also a bit of a night owl, and there are plenty of nights I would have liked to wander and think on things.  So when I went to college, I was happy to find these things called sidewalks.  I would often head out late at night to wander around town.

At one point in my wanderings, I came across this intersection of a couple quiet streets.  The memory of the desk scene from Dead Poets Society came to mind about looking at things from a different perspective.  I had crossed many streets, but I’d never stopped in the middle to look around, or stood in the middle of an intersection.  So I did, and it does give an odd view of the world.  As I said, these were quiet streets, and the few times a car did turn my way, I had plenty of time to get out of the way, so I was never in any danger.

A few years later, I got an apartment in a town I’d never been to before.  A few blocks down from my apartment, there was a train track.  One block over there was a bridge over the track, and a couple of times I managed to be there right when a train went below me, which was interesting in its own way.  Now, this wasn’t a main track, I think it might have just been a sideline that went to a factory, or something, so there was only one or two trains of maybe a dozen cars a week.  Not being a busy train track, they didn’t have gates to block the road.  Meaning, whenever a train came through, it came to a stop, and the police or maybe just the conductor on the train would make sure traffic stopped and then the train would slowly go through the intersection.  I think I only saw how they did it once or twice, and this was over twenty years ago, so my memory on this detail is a little fuzzy.

Anyway, not long after I moved, I went for a walk late at night.  I went over the bridge, and went down a block or so, before turning and heading back up the street my apartment was on.  At some point during this, I remembered standing in the middle of an intersection, and I realized I’d never stood in the intersection of a road and a train track.  Now, this street wasn’t so quiet, so as I walked towards the intersection, I kept looking over my shoulder to make sure no cars were coming.  I walked out into the street, and stopped in the middle of the road and the middle of the train track.  I looked down the street the way I had come for a few seconds, then turned ninety degrees to the right and looked up the tracks.  After a few seconds, I turned ninety degrees and looked up the street.  A few seconds later, I turned ninety degrees and THERE’S A FUCKING TRAIN FIFTY FEET FROM ME!

About thirty seconds later, once my heartbeat had slowed to somewhat normal, I just started laughing.  The train was parked there, it wasn’t going anywhere.  The reason I hadn’t noticed it, walking up the streets, was because I kept checking over my shoulder for cars, and there was a building that blocked just enough of the view that you couldn’t see the train until you were almost at the tracks.

So I got a good laugh out of the train that snuck up on me.  And that’s probably the closest I’ve gotten to giving myself a heart attack.

Random Story – Three quick stories

These are just three, odd little stories from my life.

Serial Killer

Years ago, I showed up to the apartment of the woman I was dating at the time, and she told me that she had been watching some daytime talk show and the topic was something like, “Ten signs your child may grow up to be a serial killer.” She said I had nine of the signs.  I almost asked, “What am I missing?” but I knew better. 

Honestly, this shouldn’t be taken seriously.  First off, I’m a white male, so that’s probably two signs right there.  Not to mention she was the type that once she thought something, just about no amount of evidence would convince her otherwise.  I’m sure if I had asked her what signs I had, probably five or six of them wouldn’t be true or would be taken waaaay out of proportion.

Would you lie to me? 

In my senior year of high school, we got class rings.  (I don’t know if schools still do that or not.  At the time they seemed important, but mine is probably in a box in the attic.  If I had to guess, I’d say the last time I saw it was probably twenty-some years ago when I came across it cleaning.)  Anyway, this one friend of mine would take his ring off in study hall and leave it on his desk.  When he wasn’t looking, another friend would grab it and start passing it around.  I sat at the end of the row, and I usually ended up with it.  This happened day, after day, after day.  One day, our friend snagged the ring and started passing it around, but I DID NOT END UP WITH IT.  But this guy told the teacher that I had his ring.  So she asked, “Steve, do you have Guy’s ring?” I honestly replied, “No.” She then asked, “Would you lie to me?” After a second or so, I honestly answered, “Yeah.” One of our friends – who I think did have the ring – almost fell on the floor laughing.  The teacher wasn’t sure what to say to that. 

Killing time

Over twelve years ago, I worked in a lab for a company that made industrial lubricants.  Sometimes, I’d run tests that took twenty or so minutes to set up, and then they’d run for an hour and there wasn’t anything I could do while they ran.  So I ended up with a lot of free time.  One of the things I’d do to kill time, was go to the store room to “get supplies.”

In the store room there were a bunch of plastic binding strips that had been used on the packaging just laying around.  Out of boredom, I started weaving these into the holes on the metal shelves.  

As you can see, I still have pictures of these.  I did this over several months, and as far as I know nobody ever mentioned it.  I wonder if they’re still there.

Random Story – For want of a lug wrench

This is just an odd little story from my life.

One Saturday in February, maybe 2006, I was going to meet with some friends and go to a matinee movie and then get some dinner.  The theater was only five minutes or so from my apartment, but we had still planned to meet fifteen or twenty minutes before the movie started.  I got in my car and backed out of the parking spot, but something seemed wrong.  I pulled back in and got out to see that my left front tire was flat.  Not having time to change it, I went back in and called one of my friends – who had a cell phone – to ask if he could pick me up.  And by the time he dropped me off that night, it was dark, so there was no point trying to change my tire then.

On Sunday, after lunch I planned on changing my tire.  I’d had my car for a couple years by this point, but I had never needed to change a tire on it before.  When I got it, I had looked to see if there was a spare, and there was a small one and a jack, and I didn’t think any more about it.  Well, I went out and opened my trunk, and got out the spare, and the jack.  I looked around, but couldn’t see a lug wrench.  I knew some jacks had a handle that doubled as a lug wrench, but that wasn’t the case with mine.  So I had no way to take the old tire off.  Fortunately, I had a can of Fix-a-Flat which I think had been part of an emergency road kit I got for Christmas a few years earlier.  Unfortunately, since it was the middle of February, it was frozen solid.  I took it in, but a couple hours later there was still a solid block in it.

Thankfully, Monday was President’s Day and I had the day off from work.  The Fix-a-Flat had thawed and I went out and put it in the tire.  And nothing happened.  So I called another friend – who lived closer – to ask if I could borrow a lug wrench.  He came out and I soon had the old tire off, and found out why the Fix-a-Flat did nothing: there was a foot long slice on the inside of the tire.  The strut, or something, had broken and there was a nice sharp chunk of metal that sliced though the tire.  I’m not entirely sure when this happened, because you’d think I’d hear something snapping and a tire being punctured.  Maybe it broke just as I parked Friday night, and there was a slow leak with the slice happening when I pulled out on Saturday.  Who knows.

Anyway, I soon had the small spare on, and set off to the Sears Auto Center about a quarter mile from the theater.  My friend followed me in case something happened, but I made it safely to the store.  I then spent an hour or more – on my day off – waiting for my car to be fixed. 

Sometime that week – possibly even on Tuesday – after work I went to the Walmart near where I worked for a lug wrench.  I can’t remember why I didn’t just get one at Sears.  Probably I just wanted to be done with it all, and didn’t think about getting my own lug wrench until I got home.  I think I had to walk down an aisle two or three times before I finally saw them on the bottom shelf.  I bought one, walked out to the parking lot, and threw it in my trunk.

I was about to say that I haven’t used it, but one time two or three years later, I was going to the apartment of the woman I was dating at the time, and as I drove along I thought something wasn’t right.  I pulled over and found one of my tires was flat.  I’m pretty sure it was on the left side, but I don’t remember which one.  I was soon able to get the spare on, and I think where I pulled over was within sight of the Sears Auto Center, so I went and got my tire fixed.  I think I just picked up a nail or something somewhere, so it wasn’t a huge deal.  Though it did ruin date night.

When I got my new car, five or six years ago, I checked and I think the handle for the jack that came with it is also a lug wrench, but I threw my once used lug wrench in the trunk.  I’ll keep it with me for every car I have from now on.

Random Story – The naked neighbor

This is just an odd little story from my life.

My first apartment was in this old building that had been split up into six or seven apartments.  The first floor on this building must have had ten-foot-high ceilings at least, because it was a very long staircase up to the second floor.  I spent way too long trying to describe the second floor set up, so I decided to just make this little diagram.

 

You go up the stairs, to a landing, where there’s a door to an apartment.  There’s another apartment, tucked back in a little nook of some sort.  To get to my apartment, I had to go down the hallway and up another set of stairs. 

Anyway, I believe I had just gotten back after going home for Christmas, so it was early afternoon and I was tired from driving for six hours.  I was trudging up the stairs carrying a bunch of stuff, when I hear a noise.  I look up, and I see the neighbor from Apartment 2.  Well, I see a hairy gut and a hairy leg.  Fortunately, the area in between was behind the corner of the nook.  But, I only saw him for a second, because he rushed back into his apartment.

I didn’t want to know, and tried to forget about it, but the next day he knocked on my door and through broken English said he was sorry and that he had been drunk.  We laughed, and I hoped that would be the end of it.

A couple months later, I think I was at a friend’s playing poker, and it was 3 in the morning when I finally got home.  I was walking up the stairs, when I heard a noise and looked up.  And that’s when I saw a hairy ass rush back in the apartment and slam the door.  After that, I kept telling myself, “If you’re going up the stairs and hear a noise, DO NOT LOOK UP.”

I don’t know if he was a nudist trapped in a clothed world, or if he just got naked when he got drunk.  I’m pretty sure those were the only three interactions I had with him.  For which I’m glad. 

Random Story – The burning bush

This is just an odd little story from my life.

Years ago, I lived in this apartment complex.  I’m a bit of a night owl, and I would often take a walk around the complex late at night/early morning to clear my head or think through some story elements.  Anyway, one night, it was probably around midnight, I turned a corner and started down this parking area, and I saw something flickering at the end.  It took a bit to figure out, but I eventually realized that one of the decorative bushes at the entrance to the parking area was on fire.  It might not have been that big a deal, but this bush was right next to an electric pole. 

Now, cell phones were a thing then, but I didn’t have one.  So I scrambled for several minutes trying to find someone with a light on.  I eventually found an apartment, and told them to call the fire department because a bush was on fire.  Now, their apartment didn’t face the fire, and I think English was their second language, but I got the point across. 

I went back to the bush, and a couple guys joined me.  By now, the fire had mostly burned out, and they stomped most of it out.  A couple minutes later, a cop pulled in, and he had a fire extinguisher and put it out.  He figured someone threw their cigarette in there and it was dry enough to burn, although it might have been smoldering for hours.  A couple minutes later, a firetruck pulled in, and they gave it a quick hose down to really make sure it was out.

So that’s my story of encountering a burning bush.

Random Story – The Joke Off

This is just an odd little story from my life.

In high school, there was a group of six or seven of us who shared a table at lunch.  One day – I’m pretty sure it was a Monday – either I or my friend Jason told a joke.  And then the other told a joke in reply.  And pretty soon, we had started a joke off, to see who could tell the most jokes.  I believe it went on for five days during lunch, that’s why I think it started on Monday because I don’t think we went over a weekend. 

While we started strong, by the end we were scrapping the bottom of the barrel.  I think one joke I came up with was, “What do you get when you cross an orange and an orange?  An orange.” Between groans, the “judges” accepted that as a joke, but they allowed Jason to do a similar joke, I think his dealt with apples. 

After five days, everyone was tired of jokes, and I think we just declared it a draw.  I’m pretty sure I would remember if I won.

Right now, I probably only know a dozen or so jokes, so I can’t remember how I went five days telling jokes.  I almost wish someone had recorded what jokes were told.  Of course, the majority of them were most likely in poor taste, so it’s probably best no records were kept.