AR-336: A Copier Odyssey, Pt. 3.141592654

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'

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

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

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

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!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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

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 . . .

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

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

Ah, Children

It's east forgot what a . . . joy it was to have small children around. I has it's ups and down. My nephew and neice have been at our house for the week and I've had some time to catalogue the more interesting observations from thier stay since Saturday:

Legos are great. Kids love them, and having kids around gives adults a reason to play with them. Admit it, you love those little colorful blocks too.

Children 12 and under should not even be allowed to look at a hatched. While building a treehouse I turned around to see Tyler, my nephew, valiantly chopping down a branch . . . approximately 6 in. from my head. I quickly explained to him that the hatchet was for myself and his grandfather. (And I wasn't quite sure about his grandfather.either.)

Children have . . . novel approaches to getting the job done. Once when Tyler returned to the treehouse telling us Holli, my neice, did not need his help I turned to see her raising an 8 foot landscaping timber straight up and then letting it fall. This was her plan for moving it. I quickly explained the finer points of construction and the proper way to do a job . . . with help.

Here are some of my favorite quotes from the week so far:






Okay, so I can't think of any right now, but as soon as I do, I'll post them. Have a nice day and a happy middle-aged year.

Flaming Kiwifruit

I Made a Stupid Pun!

I remember doing something today. It was quite amusing and I learned a rather humorous lesson from it. It also had this long intricate story with it. It would have been immensly amusing to all involved. If I ever rember what it was, I'll tell you. Instead, I give you this less amusing, but still entertaining post.

Be careful what you wish for. I didn't have much to do at work. Mostly, just answer phones, which rang approximately every half hour. So, I wanted something to do. Now, I'm making back-ups of all our important files, the hard copies that is. Well, it's something. I'm almost to the "N's" now, but . . . It was "L" for a while there . . . Sorry, dumb pun. That happens when work drives you crazy. Until next time.

Flaming Kiwifruit

(Don't quite know who I'm gonna be next time.)

The Really, Really, Really Dark Side

George Lucas is like Darth Vader. This point was, again, brought home to me by my father. See, in the movies, Vader starts out good, then he gets merged with technology, causing him to become evil. Similarly, Lucas used to be a great film maker. Then, he got technology. Now, he is, to put it nicely, or not, on the dark side, out of touch with audiences who want to see a good film, not a bunch of cool special effects tied together by poor dialouge and bad acting (with the exception of Ewan McGregor). Granted, acting with Hayden Christianson could make Al Gore seem interesting, but it's impressive that McGregor managed to pull off such a convincing act in an unconvincing world. In case you're wondering, I just saw Revenge of the Sith. It was better than the first two, and worth seeing once, just to complete the story, but it doesn't hold a candle, or even one of those cheap Fourth of July sparklers, to the first three. My advice, see it once, then forget it exists.

On a more spiritual note, I learned tonight that Abba was more of a proper name for a father and slave were not allowed to use it. Thus when Paul say we can say "Abba, father" it is a symbol of our freedom and acceptance as children of God. Okay, deep thought over. Have a good day, night, or whatever it is when you read this.

Flaming Kiwifruit

Your Call Is Very Important to Us . . .

If your boss leaves you to answer phones, and they don't ring for a long period of time, get suspicious. Here's what happened to me yesterday.

(All times approximate)
8:30 am - Our office manager, Bobby Ray, leaves me to answer phones.
9:15 am - Jim, one of our technicians shows up, prompting, by his mere presence, a sudden influx of calls.
9:30 am - I field the last of the influx of calls.
11:00 am - Scott, another technician, shows up and I help him unload copiers. He notes the lack of service calls. I explain it's been a slow day.
11:30 am - Bobby Ray returns, asking why I wasn't answering calls. We quickly determine that the phones are dead.

So, anyway, it turns out they were doing construction down the road and failed to tell anybody what was going on. If you're wondering why I didn't catch on, going that long without any phone calls isn't really unusual.

Flaming Kiwifruit

WHAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!

There are some problems that can only be solved with an eight pound sledge-hammer. So says my dad. He didn't elaborate, but I see what he means. Here are a few of my best times to use said sledge hammer:

When the lawnmower won't work.
When the toaster won't work.
When the computer won't work.
When the stupid employees won't work.
When the cats won't work. (All the time.)
When imprisoned in a Soviet prison camp by the evil Communists! (MacGyver could've done it)

Yeah, I think that's it. Hope I didn't miss anything.

Flaming Kiwifruit

Disclaimer: Neither this blog nor my father in any way promote violence, real or percieved, against employees, animals or Communists, with or without a sledge hammer.

Bringing Down the House

The only thing scarier than my Dad with my Dad's power tools is my Mom with my Dad's power tools. Or maybe it's turning on the stove and watching a pot holder catch fire . . . with my whole family in the kitchen watching. No way to hide that. Well, at least the house is still standing.

At least I made a really good cake from scratch with whatever just happened to be around the house. Flour, sugar, milk, coffee grounds, mint chocolate hot cocoa mix, pecans, walnuts, and chocolate chips. What a combination.

The Restless Soul Finds Protein

I am rather restless. I was about to go crazy tonight, so I took a walk. Turns out that was all I wanted. I walked the neighborhood and felt better. I just can't stay still I suppose.

Also, nearly everything has protein. Black beans, cheese, donuts, soft pretzels, milk, pudding, potato chips, even our laundry detergent. Okay, just kidding about the detergent, it was more high in the folic acid area. The highest I found was the cottage cheese with a whopping 13 grams per serving. That's three grams higher than my turkey I make sandwhiches with! Yes, I actually checked all these things, and went around the kitchen giving Rachel and my father a play by play. Weird, huh?

Flaming Kiwifruit

Worlds Collide (In a Good Sort of Way)

You can play power chords along with bluegrass and still make it sound good! Also, a banjo accompaniment can sound good on Caedmon's Call's 'April Showers.' It was a fun night all around. Sitting around playing music with all my our fellow yankees and eating venison burgers. Wow, it's good to be home.

Flaming Kiwifruit

Um, yeah

Um, yeah . . . If I learned something today, I forgot it. Traveling 8 hours will do that. Well, I guess I learned that using one of those nifty headsets for your cell phone is really cool. I was talking to my mom while carrying loads of junk from my car to the house. Tommorrow is Mother's Day. I don't know what that has to do with anything, but I am really, really out of it. Um . . . yeah . . .

So, Borghy asked me to post this song on my website, so I will. Don't steal it. Yeah, that would anger me. And you probably wouldn't even have the right tune.

Broken Halos

Broken halos litter the ground
Like diamonds in the sand
And innocence is shed like so much
Garbage along the roads of our land
In your eyes I see reflections of a man
Who's seen angels fall
And the tulmult of your soul
As you wrestle with it all
I can hear you pray

Is there grace for fallen angels
To learn to fly again

Broken souls, like dust
Cling to the soles of my feet
But I've no answer for you
I can offer no relief
So what am I to do
For you my friend to make you whole again
But pray that the grace of God
Teach you to fly again
For I know

There is grace for fallen angels
To learn to fly again

Have you ever seen a shooting star
Streaking through the night
Have you ever seen falling angels
Returning to flight

Pray for grace for fallen angels
To learn to fly again
Pray for grace for fallen angels
To learn to fly again

© 2005 FlamingKiwi Music

Yeah, that's it. Hope you like it. Good night.

Flaming Kiwifruit

Is This a Dream?

You just never know . . . You think you're asleep, so nothing else interesting will happen, and then you get suprised.

I was quite sound asleep approximately 20 minutes ago. Then the sound of loud music, from outside and the sudden turning on of my light, woke me up. I promptly yelled to my roommate, who I thought had turned it on to no avail.

So, what else could I do? I dragged my self out of bed and turned my light off, quite in a daze. Matt, realizing what he had done quickly apologized from his room. He didn't know I was asleep, so I quickly forgave him, and was headed off to bed, when I heard it.

It was that music again. Coming through my door. I thought to myself, "This isn't going to do at all." So I went outside, where the music almost leveled me. Turns out it was my a bunch of guys from the door. Without missing a beat, Gabe told me it would just be a minute. He thought I was going to complain, and the truth is, I had intended to. It was, after all, after courtesy hours, and I was quite tired.

But I didn't. See, once I saw them all gathered around, jamming away on thier guitars, I was really impressed. I guess is one thing to wake up because someone's banging on the wall, or blaring a stereo, but this was art. So, all I could say was, "Sounds good," with and approving smile.

So, I turned to walk away, thinking my strange night was over, when I saw someone watching me from the stairwell. It was Diana, one of my co-workers, shaking her head slowly with a laptop on her lap. I stopped and looked at her for a moment, perplex. "What are you doing outside my door with a laptop?"

Diana seemed quite amused by this, so she explained to me that she was using Matt's laptop, and invited me to see here PowerPoint presentation. After this, I returned to bed, but it just seemed like this needed to be cronicled. So I did. Now, I'm going to bed.

Flaming Kiwifruit

On a Roll

When you go to take off a flat tire, make sure the parking brake is engaged. I didn't. It was fine until I actually went to turn the lug nut. That's about the point when the car started rolling towards the hill. Naturally, I valiently grasped onto the special tire wrench thing to stop it and held back the force of the car.

So, there we were, me and the car locked in perfect tension, neither willing to budge. Thankfully, my mother had recently purchased me a nifty cell phone holder that clipped to my belt. It was on the side with my free hand. I swiftly pulled the cell phone loose and dialed my house, which was only about five feet away. The conversation went something like this.

Ian: Hello.
Me: Ian! Come out and put the parking brake on my car!
Ian (confused): What?
Me (vehemently): COME OUTSIDE AND TURN ON MY PARKING BREAK!!!!!!!!
Ian (still confused): Okay . . .

Thankfully he rushed out and put on the parking brake saving me from imminent danger. I certainly won't make that mistake again.

Flaming Kiwifruit