When I was a kid I liked when my mom went clothes shopping. There were lots of neat clothing displays to run through and hide behind. My favorites were the large circular racks. I could step into one of those and be invisible from the rest of the store. Often strangers would come up and browse through the clothes and talk to each other without knowing I was there. There were some stores that would have a really long rack running the entire back wall. That was great to run past with my hand out, zipping along the pant legs like a stick against a picket fence.
Archive for March, 2011
I wonder when the planet is destroyed and the remains of humanity are drifting aimlessly through the galaxy in centuries old spacecraft if parents will constantly threaten their children with the airlock. “You finish all of that protein paste or so help me I’ll throw you right out of the airlock.” “Really? If Jimmy told you to jump out of the airlock would you?” “Everyone stop arguing right now or I’ll shoot this whole family out of the airlock including the robot dog!”
I used to have the worst time with stuck jar lids. Bang it on the counter, run it under hot water, bang it a few more times. Nothing. Then one day we got a sill rubber disc in the mail as an ad for a chiropractor. Perfect! Thank you whoever it was that had their ad rub off the disc after a few turns.
A memorable project I had in school was to build a structure out of only toothpicks and glue to protect a raw egg from a fall from a 5th floor window. My first entry was a fairly standard construction of pyramid shapes built out with the egg in the center. Unfortunately it didn’t have a large enough crumple zone to stop the egg from smashing open. We had a few weeks to design our projects so my second egg I painted on a layer of rubber cement every few hours. By drop day I had a softball sized rubber ball with an egg core. After the drop I had to cut it open to prove that there was an actual egg inside. Unfortunately it was a messy reveal as well.
I remember being little and wanting to pet animals with a fast back & forth motion instead of going with the grain. The animal wouldn’t like it but I only learned it as a rule specific to that individual animal. “Oh, I see, Blinky likes it when you pet him like this.” It took awhile before I caught on to the pattern and realized this was a good rule of thumb for all creatures with fur.
My wedding ring fits great in the warm months but barely holds on in the winter. I once brushed a piece of lint off my shirt in the bathroom at work and flung my ring into the sink in front of me. I frantically grabbed for it as it bounced around the inside of the sink like a basketball dancing around the edge of the rim in the final scene of every basketball movie ever made. My fingers failed to snag it but fortunately I was standing in front of the coffee sink. This was the special sink closest to the door where everyone liked to dump out their fancy beverage that they didn’t finish drinking. This was the only sink in the room that didn’t have a wide open drain. It had a fine mesh filter on it to catch things like coffe grounds or tea bags or wedding rings.
Police dad is also against speed reading, running with scissors and fast forwarding movies. Don’t even think about putting him on your speed dial. You can press all those numbers in sequence like upstanding citizen should. Microwave popcorn? Out of the question.
I enjoy the new style of board games that take less than an hour to play. The ones I grew up with were such a commitment that I constantly turned down playing them. “Uh no thanks, I have to go to bed in 8 hours. There’s just not enough time for that.” On more than one occasion a game of Risk was carefully transferred to the top of the refrigerator so it could be completed after a round of sleep and showering.
I have a friend whose number one turn-off is feet. He’s very obvious in his disgust so we point them out to him at every chance we get. TV commercials, bilboards, magazine ads are all great sources for “Hey, look at this.” The funny thing is that these are professional glossy magazine feet, not some dude walking down the gravel roat barefoot feet. Also, as soon as the temperature gets above 60 degrees fahrenheit, he is constantly in a t-shirt, shorts and sandals. I think I’ve seen his feet more than my own.
I’ve had my share of horrible jobs but being a sword plunger has got to be soul crushing work. All that heavy lifting and thrusting has got to be murder on your upper back. I’m sure it doesn’t pay enough to afford a regular massage so you just gotta make do with ice packs and pain killers. Then there’s all the maintenance on your sword collection. Keeping them sharp and straight and getting the blood out of the little decorative details in the hilt. Gotta remember to save those old toothbrushes when the dental hygienist gives you a new one.