Okay, I know what you're thinking, "I wonder what's for lunch?" . . . No, wait, that's what I'm thinking. You're more likely thinking, "What kind of idiot drives around with and unstrapped copier in the back of his van?" I thought long and hard before reaching my decision.
Copiers, I reasoned, are large and heavy. Things that are large and heavy do not move (e.g. my house, the Eiffel Tower, the Leaning Tower of Piza, the moon, my dogs, ect.) I suppose I should have considered that noone, as far as I know, has ever tried to move the Eiffel Tower in a minivan. I could be wrong about this.
So armed with one maniacal copier of DOOM, we haeded out on the long journey home. It was quiet for a while . . . too quiet. I could just hear the copiers gears turning in it's head, plotting evil. Okay, I really couldn't hear them or I would've know what was coming . . . In a violent display of violent type motion, the copier, quite literally, stuck it's tongue out at me (by tongue, I mean, paper tray.) This could only mean one thing. The paper tray had come out.
We quickly decided that this could not continue, so we decided that at the next stop, we would remove the tray from the copier. So, we stoped for lunch, where I got a tiny piece of bone stuck in my teeth. I got it out.
After leaving the 'reputable establishment,' by which I mean, nasty gas station with a fast food joint, I proceed to carry out our plan. I reached into the heart of the machine, with all the valour I could muster while still bloated from lunch, and ripped out the tray . . . okay, more like gently removed the tray. Then, for good measure, I took out the bottom paper tray as well. I laughed at the copier. The copier laughed louder, it would have it's revenge!!!!!!
And it did, before we had even gotten back on the interstate. I began to enter the onramp that would take me to the interstate, when I suddenly noticed a large tractor trailer with the right of way. So, like any sensible person, I braked. The copier saw it's opportunity. In a sudden violent blur it leaped forward, throwing its bulking mass at us with such hate and anger that it seemed no one would survive.
To Be Continued . . .
Flaming Kiwifruit
P.S. We survived.
P.S.S. I just ruined the suspence for you
P.S.S.S. I just wanted to see three 'S's at the end of the 'P'
Saturday, June 25, 2005
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
AR-336: A Copier Odyssey Part 2
And so, there I was. Standing among strangers in the distant land of 'Not Home Base' while Kiwi ran around trying desperately to figure out what was going on. Finally, he learned of his plans and he plopped himself down in the office chair and proceeded to explain to me, in detail, the various functions of each memo/note book, folder, piece or scrap of paper of every kind that was roaming that table they call a 'desk' . . .
Shane, the aforementioned delivery guy, finally returned from his 'delivery just down the road', carrying a newly purchased beverage, talking on a cell phone, and walking immensely too slow as if no one in the world was waiting on him to return with that hideous golden-brown van. And so, we departed . . . finally.
First Phone Call of the trip:
Time: App. 9:00 a.m. Central Standard Time
Mom: Where are you guys?
Me: Opelika.
Mom: Still!
Me: Yes . . . (grumble . . . grumble . . .)
Mom: Ok . . .
Most of the preceding trip to Orlando from this point on was a sleep deprived, caffiene-induced haze. Yes, sadly it is true, we were so sleep deprived and caffiene filled that if anything amusing did happen, we could scarcely remember it . . . or, really, not remember it at all. So we shall jump ahead . . . We arrived in Orlando. I proceed to go out with my fiancee, who's house we were staying at, for a nice dinner. Kiwi . . . well . . . he drove to Lakeland and had a nice dinner with his old roommate. Aside from this, nothing of note happened, except that Kiwi, loved by all little dogs, had a small dog strangely find him as he walked from the parking lot back to my fiancee's house. The dog followed him all the way to the door and would have followed him inside if allowed, but there was already a little dog in there who quickly came to see Phil, his good buddy. All little dogs love Phil. We don't know why, they just do. It's odd. But, back to our quest.
We had to go the next morning and help a fellow employee of Phil's, Scott, load two copiers before we could retrieve our own little AR-336. Naturally, we had only an adress, and we didn't know when we were to meet Scott. Phil tried many times to call Scott, but they were all failed attempts. Having recently heard how Scott gets his phone to work when it's broken, I think I might know why. But, that's another story entirely.
Any ways, we got up early and headed out. Finally, the call came. Scott was 45 minutes away. Despite what you're thinking, this didn't mean we had to sit in a parking lot and wait for 45 minutes; rather, we took what Phil might describe as a 'scenic tour' of Orlando. It didn't seem very scenic to me as we went up and down the same street the entire 45 minutes. We FINALLY found the place and pulled in directly BEHIND Scott. . .
They retrieved the copiers, I sat this one out, so if anything amusing happened, Phil will have to fill you in (no pun intended, belive me!).
So, jumping ahead to our own little copier. We arrived at the place where it supposedly was. What we found was a seemingly abandoned building with no signs of a business being, having been, or planning to be there. Of course, Phil also was never able to get a phone number for this place before we left, so he called back to the office ('Not Home Base') and retrieved a number which he used to call the business. It turns out, they had moved on Saturday, this being Thursday. So, we went to their new location. It seemed simple enough . . .
Secretary: It's all set. Just pull around back and you can pick it up.
Phil: Thanks.
So, we pulled around back where we found a myriad of large trucks amidst which our little golden-brown van was feeling very out of place. The back wall was lined with large openings through which trucks could recieve their respective copiers, these openings being approximately 5 or 6 feet off the ground and there being no ramp in sight. So we went inside and found the man who was to help us, in his office eating lunch. He gladly came out to help us and brought us to the copier, a shiny Sharp AR-336. It looked so deceptively innocent in the bright light of the early afternoon . . .
A conversation ensued which went something like this:
Man: Where's you're truck.
Phil: We don't have one.
Man: Oh?
Phil: We have a van.
Man: Oh. I guess you'll have to go back around front.
So I drove the van back out front, and shortly after, Phil and the man arrived with another guy and a ramp. Only, the copier was too big for the van, so they couldn't roll it up the ramp. They had to take it off it's stand and hoist the monster into the back of the van, after which another conversation ensued:
Man: How are you gonna strap it in?
Phil: I'm not.
Man: Oh.
Phil: It should be fine.
I think we can all see where this is going.
So, we set out on the long journey home . . .
TO BE CONTINUED
The Chimp
Shane, the aforementioned delivery guy, finally returned from his 'delivery just down the road', carrying a newly purchased beverage, talking on a cell phone, and walking immensely too slow as if no one in the world was waiting on him to return with that hideous golden-brown van. And so, we departed . . . finally.
First Phone Call of the trip:
Time: App. 9:00 a.m. Central Standard Time
Mom: Where are you guys?
Me: Opelika.
Mom: Still!
Me: Yes . . . (grumble . . . grumble . . .)
Mom: Ok . . .
Most of the preceding trip to Orlando from this point on was a sleep deprived, caffiene-induced haze. Yes, sadly it is true, we were so sleep deprived and caffiene filled that if anything amusing did happen, we could scarcely remember it . . . or, really, not remember it at all. So we shall jump ahead . . . We arrived in Orlando. I proceed to go out with my fiancee, who's house we were staying at, for a nice dinner. Kiwi . . . well . . . he drove to Lakeland and had a nice dinner with his old roommate. Aside from this, nothing of note happened, except that Kiwi, loved by all little dogs, had a small dog strangely find him as he walked from the parking lot back to my fiancee's house. The dog followed him all the way to the door and would have followed him inside if allowed, but there was already a little dog in there who quickly came to see Phil, his good buddy. All little dogs love Phil. We don't know why, they just do. It's odd. But, back to our quest.
We had to go the next morning and help a fellow employee of Phil's, Scott, load two copiers before we could retrieve our own little AR-336. Naturally, we had only an adress, and we didn't know when we were to meet Scott. Phil tried many times to call Scott, but they were all failed attempts. Having recently heard how Scott gets his phone to work when it's broken, I think I might know why. But, that's another story entirely.
Any ways, we got up early and headed out. Finally, the call came. Scott was 45 minutes away. Despite what you're thinking, this didn't mean we had to sit in a parking lot and wait for 45 minutes; rather, we took what Phil might describe as a 'scenic tour' of Orlando. It didn't seem very scenic to me as we went up and down the same street the entire 45 minutes. We FINALLY found the place and pulled in directly BEHIND Scott. . .
They retrieved the copiers, I sat this one out, so if anything amusing happened, Phil will have to fill you in (no pun intended, belive me!).
So, jumping ahead to our own little copier. We arrived at the place where it supposedly was. What we found was a seemingly abandoned building with no signs of a business being, having been, or planning to be there. Of course, Phil also was never able to get a phone number for this place before we left, so he called back to the office ('Not Home Base') and retrieved a number which he used to call the business. It turns out, they had moved on Saturday, this being Thursday. So, we went to their new location. It seemed simple enough . . .
Secretary: It's all set. Just pull around back and you can pick it up.
Phil: Thanks.
So, we pulled around back where we found a myriad of large trucks amidst which our little golden-brown van was feeling very out of place. The back wall was lined with large openings through which trucks could recieve their respective copiers, these openings being approximately 5 or 6 feet off the ground and there being no ramp in sight. So we went inside and found the man who was to help us, in his office eating lunch. He gladly came out to help us and brought us to the copier, a shiny Sharp AR-336. It looked so deceptively innocent in the bright light of the early afternoon . . .
A conversation ensued which went something like this:
Man: Where's you're truck.
Phil: We don't have one.
Man: Oh?
Phil: We have a van.
Man: Oh. I guess you'll have to go back around front.
So I drove the van back out front, and shortly after, Phil and the man arrived with another guy and a ramp. Only, the copier was too big for the van, so they couldn't roll it up the ramp. They had to take it off it's stand and hoist the monster into the back of the van, after which another conversation ensued:
Man: How are you gonna strap it in?
Phil: I'm not.
Man: Oh.
Phil: It should be fine.
I think we can all see where this is going.
So, we set out on the long journey home . . .
TO BE CONTINUED
The Chimp
Monday, June 20, 2005
MacGyver Could've
Ducttape can fix sandal. Ducttape and powerful industrial chemical are not 'friends' by any definition of the word. Except maybe mortal enemies, which I'm pretty sure is not a definition of friends. If it is, my friends and I need to have a talk, but I doubt it is.
Anyway, my old trusty sandals finally bit the dust the other night. So, what was I to do? Wear shoes! No, that wouldn't work at all. That'd be like asking penguin to dance a jig (note to self: try this sometime). So, I ducttaped them together. That is once I realized that neither scotch nor masking tape would work (scotch tape that is, not the alcoholic beverage).
It worked fine until I went to work. I was again cleaning covers with the chemical I like to complain about when it ate through, not only the ducttape, but the sandals and the surrounding floor as well. HA! Just kidding. The floor was fine. All it really did was allow the thingy that holds my foot in to escape from the ever weaking grasp of the dying tape. So, now I have new sandals. And David doesn't have to smell the old stinky things anymore . . . unless I leave them in his room next year . . . but rest assured I would never do such a dastardly thing unless I thought it would be funny.
Flaming Kiwifruit
Anyway, my old trusty sandals finally bit the dust the other night. So, what was I to do? Wear shoes! No, that wouldn't work at all. That'd be like asking penguin to dance a jig (note to self: try this sometime). So, I ducttaped them together. That is once I realized that neither scotch nor masking tape would work (scotch tape that is, not the alcoholic beverage).
It worked fine until I went to work. I was again cleaning covers with the chemical I like to complain about when it ate through, not only the ducttape, but the sandals and the surrounding floor as well. HA! Just kidding. The floor was fine. All it really did was allow the thingy that holds my foot in to escape from the ever weaking grasp of the dying tape. So, now I have new sandals. And David doesn't have to smell the old stinky things anymore . . . unless I leave them in his room next year . . . but rest assured I would never do such a dastardly thing unless I thought it would be funny.
Flaming Kiwifruit
AR-336: A Copier Oddessy, Pt. 1
Sometimes the tiniest job can baloon into a tale of epic preportions. Observe:
It seemed like a simple task. I was to go to Tampa . . . or Orlando . . . or somewhere close by it such as Chicago or Tokyo . . . we really weren't sure where . . . to pick up a copier. I didn't 'sweat the small stuff' (where is the copier, what is a copier, how are we going to get there, ect.) as I was informed of the journey several weeks ahead of our scheduled departure date (June 16). So, I waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Finally, June 15th rolled around. I went into work, just like any other day. As the day began spiraling to an end, I came to the sudden realization that, the 'small stuff' was still hanging above like an elevator held up by a piece of silly string. Except that silly string can't actually hold things up. So, I'm pretty much crushed . . . but I wasn't crushed, so it's just a bad analogy. But I degress.
So, brought it up with my boss. He seemed quite caught off guard by the question, not even daring to feign memory of the above referenced trip. He quickly told me in no uncertain terms that we were quite uncertain about the whole ordeal. This comforted me. No it didn't. I agreed to call him at 8 in the morning to find out what was going on, if Rachel was coming with me, if there was really such a place as 'Tampa' or 'Orlando.' So I waited.
And wait . . . no, I really didn't wait that long this time. A few hours after my arrival at 'Home Base' (codeword for home. it sounds more dramatic). I learned that Rachel and I were to report to the Auburn office ('Not Home Base') at 0800 hours to depart. So I did.
And did.
And did.
And I'm really overusing that dramatic device, aren't I?
I managed to get to the office right on time. This was a silly thing to do. I should've known no one would be there. Well, except my boss's wife, who assured me he was simply at breakfast and would be back in no time. Soon, the office manager showed up. I explained the situation and he spent app. 15 minutes running around the office frantically trying to confirm that he had no clue what was going on. He seemed well aware of this fact already, and kept pointing it out as he trudged on.
Shane, the delivery guy, came in and went on a delivery.
Finally the boss came back and gave me money for food and stuff, the addresses of the places I would be going to, and instructions, which involved me and the company van. Understand, I was mortified at the thought of driving this trip in the company van. It's not that the van is unsafe, rather . . . uncool. It's a golden-brown minivan. Golden-brown minivan must be the most uncool vehicles on the road (sorry, if you have, have had, will have, or are trying to sell one. the truth hurts). I mean, these things are the modern day equivalent of the white station wagon with the wooden paneling!
But, there was a bigger problem than my personal feelings about the van . . . It was gone!!!!!!
Okay, that seem dramatic enough to leave you guys hanging miserably until I forget to post the rest . . . so . . .
TO BE CONTINUED?
Flaming Kiwifruit
It seemed like a simple task. I was to go to Tampa . . . or Orlando . . . or somewhere close by it such as Chicago or Tokyo . . . we really weren't sure where . . . to pick up a copier. I didn't 'sweat the small stuff' (where is the copier, what is a copier, how are we going to get there, ect.) as I was informed of the journey several weeks ahead of our scheduled departure date (June 16). So, I waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Finally, June 15th rolled around. I went into work, just like any other day. As the day began spiraling to an end, I came to the sudden realization that, the 'small stuff' was still hanging above like an elevator held up by a piece of silly string. Except that silly string can't actually hold things up. So, I'm pretty much crushed . . . but I wasn't crushed, so it's just a bad analogy. But I degress.
So, brought it up with my boss. He seemed quite caught off guard by the question, not even daring to feign memory of the above referenced trip. He quickly told me in no uncertain terms that we were quite uncertain about the whole ordeal. This comforted me. No it didn't. I agreed to call him at 8 in the morning to find out what was going on, if Rachel was coming with me, if there was really such a place as 'Tampa' or 'Orlando.' So I waited.
And wait . . . no, I really didn't wait that long this time. A few hours after my arrival at 'Home Base' (codeword for home. it sounds more dramatic). I learned that Rachel and I were to report to the Auburn office ('Not Home Base') at 0800 hours to depart. So I did.
And did.
And did.
And I'm really overusing that dramatic device, aren't I?
I managed to get to the office right on time. This was a silly thing to do. I should've known no one would be there. Well, except my boss's wife, who assured me he was simply at breakfast and would be back in no time. Soon, the office manager showed up. I explained the situation and he spent app. 15 minutes running around the office frantically trying to confirm that he had no clue what was going on. He seemed well aware of this fact already, and kept pointing it out as he trudged on.
Shane, the delivery guy, came in and went on a delivery.
Finally the boss came back and gave me money for food and stuff, the addresses of the places I would be going to, and instructions, which involved me and the company van. Understand, I was mortified at the thought of driving this trip in the company van. It's not that the van is unsafe, rather . . . uncool. It's a golden-brown minivan. Golden-brown minivan must be the most uncool vehicles on the road (sorry, if you have, have had, will have, or are trying to sell one. the truth hurts). I mean, these things are the modern day equivalent of the white station wagon with the wooden paneling!
But, there was a bigger problem than my personal feelings about the van . . . It was gone!!!!!!
Okay, that seem dramatic enough to leave you guys hanging miserably until I forget to post the rest . . . so . . .
TO BE CONTINUED?
Flaming Kiwifruit
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Narcissism
I have a sister! Okay, so I knew that already, but you newcomers probably didn't. You probably thought I just signed all my posts because I'm a narcissist. I am a narcissist, but that is not why I signed all my post. It's because it keeps you, the innocent readers, from thinking my quality has declined suddenly. For example:
Average Reader: WHAT??!!! That is SO stupid! I can't believe the Kiwi wrote that!
Someone Else: That's not the Kiwi. That's the Chimp. See, it's in that ugly orange color.
Average Reader: Oh, I see. Phew, scared me for a second there.
Someone Else: I'm gonna go have a turkey sandwich now.
I like turkey sandwiches, but . . . wait . . . that's not what I was talking about. Yes, we must keep my greatness seperated from the 'common people' (read, lesser beings) (don't read that in parenthises if you're a lesser being/common person)(oh, never mind, it's too late now). So anyway, as I was saying, that's all folks!
Flaming Kiwifruit
P.S. I am SO cool!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Average Reader: WHAT??!!! That is SO stupid! I can't believe the Kiwi wrote that!
Someone Else: That's not the Kiwi. That's the Chimp. See, it's in that ugly orange color.
Average Reader: Oh, I see. Phew, scared me for a second there.
Someone Else: I'm gonna go have a turkey sandwich now.
I like turkey sandwiches, but . . . wait . . . that's not what I was talking about. Yes, we must keep my greatness seperated from the 'common people' (read, lesser beings) (don't read that in parenthises if you're a lesser being/common person)(oh, never mind, it's too late now). So anyway, as I was saying, that's all folks!
Flaming Kiwifruit
P.S. I am SO cool!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I just want a PENCIL!!!
If you want to do something simple, the world will turn against you.
I learned this lesson the hard way. I came to my computer desk to retrieve a couple of nicely sharpened pencils. My dad was seated at the computer, he suddenly mad eme stop my task to ask me to list my six favorite songs. Something about the pyramid method and he needed six volunteers, forced volunteers of course. So . . . I obliged him. Naturally, as I stood there with a handful of broken, non-sharp pencils, because that's all I found at the desk . . . Naturally, I could not remember a single song, let alone six, let alone six that I liked . . . so, after thinking, I compiled a list and headed off to my personal stash of pencils. Alas, they too were broken and dull.
Eventually I found the pencils I needed, but by that time, I couldn't remember why I needed them.
Ah, life!
The Chimp
I learned this lesson the hard way. I came to my computer desk to retrieve a couple of nicely sharpened pencils. My dad was seated at the computer, he suddenly mad eme stop my task to ask me to list my six favorite songs. Something about the pyramid method and he needed six volunteers, forced volunteers of course. So . . . I obliged him. Naturally, as I stood there with a handful of broken, non-sharp pencils, because that's all I found at the desk . . . Naturally, I could not remember a single song, let alone six, let alone six that I liked . . . so, after thinking, I compiled a list and headed off to my personal stash of pencils. Alas, they too were broken and dull.
Eventually I found the pencils I needed, but by that time, I couldn't remember why I needed them.
Ah, life!
The Chimp
Things I know Today . . .
I have a blog! Oh, wait . . . I did know that yesterday. I could lie and say I forgot, or that I have been living in a weird spacial anomoly, or that my computer crashed, or even simply that I have been too busy. But, alas, the truth is . . . It's such a hassle to post. I have to log on, and then type, and then submit. Okay, maybe it's not such a hassle . . . I guess I really don't have an excuse. But, I am back now! Try to contain your shouts of joy.
After Kiwi Boy's uninspiring post, I had to come back. Besides, I'm the one who shoots for mediocracy! Aiming for perfection is so overdone!
Wow, months of not posting, amusing stories and occurances, and I decide to come back on a day when nothing amusing has happened. Sorry about that. More mediocrity. I think this is even less then mediocrity. Ah! It feels good to fall short of your goals! Especially when you've set them so low!
Well, now that I've made my not so triumphant return, perhaps I'll have something interesting to post tomorrow . . . That is if I post tomorrow . . .
The Chimp, returned from exile!!!
Self imposed exile though it be . . .
After Kiwi Boy's uninspiring post, I had to come back. Besides, I'm the one who shoots for mediocracy! Aiming for perfection is so overdone!
Wow, months of not posting, amusing stories and occurances, and I decide to come back on a day when nothing amusing has happened. Sorry about that. More mediocrity. I think this is even less then mediocrity. Ah! It feels good to fall short of your goals! Especially when you've set them so low!
Well, now that I've made my not so triumphant return, perhaps I'll have something interesting to post tomorrow . . . That is if I post tomorrow . . .
The Chimp, returned from exile!!!
Self imposed exile though it be . . .
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
Mediocracy and Tedium
It feels really, really, really good to finish a project that you been getting annoyed with. At least, until you get the next project that you get annoyed with. C'est la vie! (For those of you who don't speak French, 'Such is life.'
Anyway, I finally finished backing up all the files yesterday. Life was good. Then I had to go clean covers at the Opelika office. This is a job which has all the tedium of copying files, but with out the air conditioning . . . and with exposure to potentially dangerous chemicals. Granted, I don't quite know how they're dangerous, but it has been 'suggested' that I wear heavy rubber gloves while I do it. The funny thing is even with my annoyance with the task, I was in a very good mood today. Maybe it's because I know I have tomorrow off. Maybe it's because I've returned to the Djere.net forums. Maybe it's just because. Oh, well, life is good.
So, that wasn't quite as amusing as I hoped. I could rewrite it, but, like I always say, 'Why shoot for perfection, when you can settle for mediocracy?'
Wait. I don't really say that, do I? No, I suppose not. Maybe I was just hoping that a witty, pessimistic, off-beat, uninspirational saying could redeem this post. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I should stop typing now. Except to sign this post.
Flaming Kiwifruit
Anyway, I finally finished backing up all the files yesterday. Life was good. Then I had to go clean covers at the Opelika office. This is a job which has all the tedium of copying files, but with out the air conditioning . . . and with exposure to potentially dangerous chemicals. Granted, I don't quite know how they're dangerous, but it has been 'suggested' that I wear heavy rubber gloves while I do it. The funny thing is even with my annoyance with the task, I was in a very good mood today. Maybe it's because I know I have tomorrow off. Maybe it's because I've returned to the Djere.net forums. Maybe it's just because. Oh, well, life is good.
So, that wasn't quite as amusing as I hoped. I could rewrite it, but, like I always say, 'Why shoot for perfection, when you can settle for mediocracy?'
Wait. I don't really say that, do I? No, I suppose not. Maybe I was just hoping that a witty, pessimistic, off-beat, uninspirational saying could redeem this post. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I should stop typing now. Except to sign this post.
Flaming Kiwifruit
Friday, June 03, 2005
The More Things Change . . .
The more things change, the more they . . . well . . . change.
My sis and I took our nephew and neice to the 'Monkey' Park today. It's the local municipal park we used to play at when I was a kid. Just being there with bright-eyed, excited children brought back memories. I can remember happily running around there, full of energy, content to spend the rest of my life there. Well, except that one time I was there with my VBS class all day, and I didn't bring any extra drink. Alabama summers are killer. But, I degress . . .
The point is, those days are gone. As I watched the kids running around happily, I felt like a child again. Then, I tried running around happily. Soon, I had an epiphany . . . I need to work out more. After a half an hour, maybe an hour, I was beat. I don't even think Rachel lasted that long. You have to understand though, this was no walk in the park . . . sorry . . . These kids were INSANE! They wanted to run up every playground, tree, or 50-foot gorrilla in sight . . . Not that there were any 50-foot gorrillas, but if there were, they would have climed up them. So, finally, I came upon the idea of throwing myself upon the giant concrete turtle and playing dead. This failed, as my sandal kept falling off and concrete turtles aren't that comfortable.
So I had a better idea. What better way to end a fun, fun night than by all going to the convenience store and getting sugary things in much to large quantities. Tyler jumped on the idea. Holly did not. It also reminded me of being a kid. "Just a few more minutes . . . PLEASE!" The truth is most kids have figured out that with enough 'few more minutes' you can stretch out to eternity. What they don't realize is that parents/uncles/grandparents/Godfathers also figured this out to use on the responsible/quasiresponsible adults in thier lives. Needless to say it fail. She also tried the most unique stalling tactic I've seen. "I need to get my leaf!" Which was of course on the other side of the play ground. We returned home, at which point, myself, Rachel, and Ralph Nader collapsed from exhaustion. Okay, Ralph Nader wasn't really there, but I just like mentioning him in my posts and I haven't in a while. This has been long. Now, it is over.
Flaming Kiwifruit
My sis and I took our nephew and neice to the 'Monkey' Park today. It's the local municipal park we used to play at when I was a kid. Just being there with bright-eyed, excited children brought back memories. I can remember happily running around there, full of energy, content to spend the rest of my life there. Well, except that one time I was there with my VBS class all day, and I didn't bring any extra drink. Alabama summers are killer. But, I degress . . .
The point is, those days are gone. As I watched the kids running around happily, I felt like a child again. Then, I tried running around happily. Soon, I had an epiphany . . . I need to work out more. After a half an hour, maybe an hour, I was beat. I don't even think Rachel lasted that long. You have to understand though, this was no walk in the park . . . sorry . . . These kids were INSANE! They wanted to run up every playground, tree, or 50-foot gorrilla in sight . . . Not that there were any 50-foot gorrillas, but if there were, they would have climed up them. So, finally, I came upon the idea of throwing myself upon the giant concrete turtle and playing dead. This failed, as my sandal kept falling off and concrete turtles aren't that comfortable.
So I had a better idea. What better way to end a fun, fun night than by all going to the convenience store and getting sugary things in much to large quantities. Tyler jumped on the idea. Holly did not. It also reminded me of being a kid. "Just a few more minutes . . . PLEASE!" The truth is most kids have figured out that with enough 'few more minutes' you can stretch out to eternity. What they don't realize is that parents/uncles/grandparents/Godfathers also figured this out to use on the responsible/quasiresponsible adults in thier lives. Needless to say it fail. She also tried the most unique stalling tactic I've seen. "I need to get my leaf!" Which was of course on the other side of the play ground. We returned home, at which point, myself, Rachel, and Ralph Nader collapsed from exhaustion. Okay, Ralph Nader wasn't really there, but I just like mentioning him in my posts and I haven't in a while. This has been long. Now, it is over.
Flaming Kiwifruit
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