It hit me the other day that things happen to me and that’s normal because things happen to everyone. Only I tend to share them in a forum for many to laugh at. I find comfort, however, that their laughter is marred by the deep-recessed knowledge that shit happens to them too.
This epiphany happened on Friday when a little kid accidentally peed on my leg at the mall. Let me paint the picture with words.
I was in the Spokane Valley mall this past Friday and after the long 130 mile trip from Moscow, two bottles of water and a coffee proved too much for my tank to hold. So, I went to the restroom. Quickly.
I don’t know about most other guys but when choosing a urinal I always try to pick a far right or left one just to lower the probability of having to pee next to someone. There is always an awkward period of silence and if it is broken, the awkwardness is increased exponentially. Here are three scenarios that happened over the past few years causing me to choose pee-solitude.
2004 Salt Lake International Airport: An elderly guy is peeing next to me and explaining that the first sign of prostate cancer is when the pee-stream goes “that way”, briefly taking his hands away from control position to demonstration position causing him to lose control, piss the front of his pants and scream, “DANG FUCK!”.
2009 Patty’s Too, Post Falls, Idaho: Guy peeing next to me farts and begins to fake cough. I couldn’t help but start to laugh which caused me to fake cough as well.
2002 US Naval Air Station San Diego: A drunk sailor steps up to the urinal next to mine and states as soon as he’s done he is going to punch me in the face. I finished first and calmly left, passing two Marines to whom he declared the same intention. You can guess…
So there are three perfect examples of why, given the choice, the urinal decision is important. But sometimes trouble comes to you and on Friday, trouble came in the form of an eight year old kid. This actually happened.
I walked into the empty mall restroom and before me where four urinals; two tall ones on the left and two shorter ones on the right. I chose the tall one on the far left. Shortly after an eight year old kid comes in and chooses the one right next to me and while I thought that was weird, I found it even more weird that he managed to pee positioning himself in such a way that his back was to me. Now it’s not that I was trying to watch a little kid pee (you perv) but there are some things you just can’t help but notice. Especially if it’s weird and kind of funny.
This little kid obviously wanted to use the “big guy” urinal and had no choice but to pee next to me. So, he tried as best as he could to do so discretely and he would have been successful but he forgot that there is a possibility of other people coming in the restroom. And people did. Realizing he was completely exposed by peeing with his pack to me, he freaked and quickly turned to his entire body position hard left, overshooting the urinal and crossing the stream over my leg…and then back again. With two lines of warm piss soaking into my pant leg I heard the kid let out a faint and defeated, “oooooh”.
You can not be mad at this. If you get mad at this, then you are a bad person. I know he didn’t mean such a faux pas and a faux pas of this epic scale usually involves a “talking to” but knowing that this kid was on the verge of tears over friendly fire, all I could say was “don’t worry about it, buddy”.
I walked over to the sink and proceeded to paper towel the accident away without making him feel worse. I fully expected him to sprint for the door, but God bless him, he remembered to wash his hands.
So I moved this past week and it was quite they event. Of course it was an event! If I am involved, it’s going to be an event. So let me start this epic tale of how I moved an entire apartment alone in under two days. I know that might not seem like much of a feat but to a person like me it was so BACK OFF! ….sorry.
I live, as many of you know, in a small town in the northern sector of Idaho that is home to a huge University. During the summer months the town drops in population by about….everyone. The only ones around are the locals and the neurotic students who live in academia and refuse to accept that summer can be for fun too. I fall into the latter. But balancing a full-time job and research doesn’t leave much time for beer drinking and river floats. I am okay with that because really, summer vacation died years ago as well as it should have. If I am drunk at noon on a Tuesday sitting on a raft I need to reevaluate my commitments.
So, since there are not too many people around that means there are not too many people to help me move. No matter. I found a better place closer to campus and that’s a good thing since the 2010-11 winter forecast for the Northwest calls for something like an apocalypse of snow and my Georgia driving skills still don’t cut it for such weather. I can literally hit the campus with a football from my front porch. However…I must have been high when I toured the inside completely over looking the pink carpet and a wall color that brought up images from a Beatles song lyric “…yellow custard dripping from a dead dog’s eye…”. I get to that later.
Whenever I tackle a large project I tend to stand in a spot and stare, not knowing where or how to start. I know that things go in boxes and boxes go in a truck but the details overload my brain and if you stand close enough to me, I have been told, you can faintly hear the same alarms that a 737 has before it slams into the ground after being batted down by windsheer.
I do everything wrong while packing, like stack all my books in one astronomically heavy box and this is only after I get distracted halfway through by reading one of them because I forgot I owned it. Then I will pack another box with tissues and my collection of helium balloons. There is a reason I was never a bagger at the grocery store growing up. Guaranteed I would bag your milk, cat litter and eggs together and then tell you to go long.
I will say that I had help with the boxing of stuff and if I didn’t have that help, well, I would have a lot of broken shit. I even learned through observation how to do it! It’s somethin’ to add to the resume’. I am pretty grateful for that but unfortunately the hardest part was yet to come because the new place was not yet available and I would be on my own.
The day of the move was here and I was strategically set to transfer my stuff from apartment one, to truck, to apartment two without total confusion and minimal hernia. I really felt the only problem that would occur would be navigating the two section couch out the front door because it requires a certain angle and twisty motions to make it fit. While I was contemplating this geometrical dilemma there was a knock at the door. Peeking through the peak(p?)-hole I saw the type of visitor I really didn’t have time for: Jehovah’s Witnesses. Cheesus! It was 9am on a Saturday so who else could it be? I reluctantly opened the door and was greeted with a, “hello brother, do you have a few minutes to talk about the Word?”
“What word?”, I thought. I came so close to replying, “yep, I know the bird is the word, everybody knows that the bird is the word. Don’t you know that the bird is the word?” But instead I stood there and patiently listened to their mission and looked at their pamphlets. And then it hit me that perhaps there could be a barter between us.
I did this. As if I learned nothing from karma lessons in life, I conned the Jehovah Witnesses into helping me move my couch in return for a bible discussion later on in the week. Oh, and I gave them a made-up number too. Double farts.
Well, retribution was swift and immediate because when I went to move the Uhaul truck later in the day it completely died and I had to wait the next day for a replacement truck. Boppa Ooma Mow Mow.
Without going into a novel about the two-day war against gravity, stairs and knuckle-smashes I will just highlight a few key issues that will haunt me for time to come and why my next place with be a purchased ranch-style home and include professional movers.
I was given a TV from possibly one of the greatest people I have met during my time here in Idaho. It was a very generous gift but for a brief period of time I was certain that this gift was not out of love but sheer hate. The TV is an older model that has a 52″ screen give or take a few. But I don’t know what goes into the construction of this piece of technology because it’s 200 lbs of awkward weight displacement leads me to believe that it is full of water, lead and a dead midget that used to power the reception before everything went digital. It is quite possibly the worst thing to move in the history of pushing, pulling, lifting or setting down and doing it by one’s self up stairs is what I could only imagine to be like reverse child-birth. Once I have this thing set up in the den I think the first thing I am watching is porno because I feel that this TV needs to give me something back.
The funny thing about a futon is how many moving parts the frame has to make it transform from couch to bed. No matter which way you turn the damn thing to negotiate an obstacle, a lever or panel will come crashing down on a finger and cause you to involuntarily speak in tongues. I think I made noises similar to beluga whales mating because on my way up the stairs to my new apartment I heard two girls say “Oh my god, let’s take the other stairs. Something is wounded down there.” Remind me to light dog shit on their front door later, will ya?
Odds and Ends
When all the big items and boxes are finally moved, the little details are left in the old place and I have come to find out that this is the part that will cause fist-itches. I never knew how many pennies one can collect in a year but they are everywhere. God I hate them so. Because of the Uhaul dilemma I found myself in a race against the clock to do one last clean before the landlord showed up to do a final walk through. I was vacuuming like Charro on a four-foot coke rail. Right up to the point the vacuum found a penny causing the vacuum to go from “VROOOOROOOO” to “VROOOREEEEEEE”.
There is nothing like sacrificing a late move-out charge of $100 over one cent. But I made it just in time. I even got the deposit back too. I guess they where surprised that I was a neat tenant since this place was full of college kids that treat these units like Motley Crüe treats a Hyatt room.
So getting settled a new place is taking time. Well, that’s not true because I have collectively been in the place for a day since I have been on business trips since I dragged in the last piece of furniture. But yesterday I was able to come home and begin the second phase: unpacking. This is when I find out that little things like the stubby leg of the coach actually is important and not to be discarded. Oh and wires for all electronics shouldn’t be thrown into one box and tied in a knot. And that in a rush, I probably should have just thrown away my bananas rather than placing them in a box marked “random” and forgetting about them.
Also, dimensions are not always universal. Take my drawers.
For about 6 hours yesterday I painted the place because living with the current color is like living with your high school science fair awards displayed on the wall; people will notice and most likely not tell you there is a problem. I went to Home depot and $200 dollars later I have a weekend project. The pink carpet however will be a fight worth fighting. I just need to be in the same time zone for one fucking day to do it.
Oh! One more lesson I learned. No matter how careful you try, you will get paint on yourself so don’t wear your favorite pants. Actually, if it’s a latex based paint, do it in the nude. It washes off skin but clothing gets screwed. If you need me I will be freaking out the neighbors while painting with my windows open. Chao’!
I don’t think that means anything but it’s my new “boy wonder” exclamation. I say it when you will least expect it so stay on your toes. So today I am going to give you a “catch up shot” or ‘ketchup shot” if you prefer. You’re gross.
Changing the VM header so I have been playing with images and old photos when Wicket and I locked eyes. My God, he has dead eyes. No soul. I still believe that Ewoks must have smelled like 20 year old moldy shag carpet. Those matted hairy butt bears.
The VSA went out on my Element the other day. My friend was with me when the warning light came on and I asked her what she thought it meant. She said it was my car telling me to “fix the Vehicle Shit, Asshole”. To which I left her at the bus stop.
Went to see Megadeth on Monday. Amazing. Probably one of the better shows that I have seen in the past few years and I really went all out. I moshed, spit beer, think I broke my jaw, sang every song, got a nod from Dave Mustaine as I crowd surfed in my work clothes. But I was upstaged by a guy crowd surfing in a wheelchair. What a dick.
It has been so mild this winter I can not believe it. It has actually snowed more in Atlanta than it has here in the Northwest. Not that I am complaining but it is such my luck that I move on a mountain the year Idaho has the worst winter and to a low altitude plain during it’s mildest. Karma! Fuck you! Wait. I take that back. Nice karma.
I have been consistent in my weight lifting over the past couple of months and I have almost regained everything I lost this past year. That scares me because lifting 250 this quickly means an injury is just around the corner. But I am too obsessive to stop. Maybe when I can flex out of a shirt I will stop.
Last night I made pork chops and cataclysmic colossus of clout. Told ya to stay on your toes! Just when you least expect it.
I can’t stay silent anymore. I will never again sit back and act passive when someone wants to watch The Kardashians, Brothers And Sisters, that show after Entertainment Tonight and any other show in that category. They are so stupid and idiotic. That’s right I said it. I know why people hate Americans and it is because we watch insane shit like this. Who can actually be taken seriously when you decide to give up an hour, a minute, a second that you can never have back again watching spoiled and shallow people have life altering problems like throwing a party and not finding the DJ they want or talking gossip about people they don’t even know. F that.
Broke my second iPhone right after I spent $40 on a “protective” case. You are welcome Steve Jobs.
I am beginning to think that honesty is over rated. I was in a neuroscience class today and my professor has been on a workout kick involving only jumproping. He came in class today and said that he has been sluggish from being under the weather and hasn’t been jumproping. He claimed that jumproping with diarrhea was not the best idea he has had. Wouldn’t you know it, I was the only one to laugh. What am I, five? To make it worse, he asked if I was okay. I told him not really.
I have a park across the street from my apartment and occasionally I will take a stroll or walk to the university the long way just to enjoy it. Last week there was a tennis ball left by one of the random dogs that play there. Without thinking, I picked it up and aimlessly threw it without looking…right at two joggers that were jogging towards me. It was more than just awkward. Actually, I don’t want to talk about that anymore. I am the worst person.
Saw Phantasm for the first time. I loved everything about it. Kind of wish I had someone who enjoys campy horror as much as I do to have seen it with.
Going to Vegas, San Diego and LA for business and I am happy about that. Hopefully it will be filled with cool people and fun times but I have a feeling it will be filled with meetings and takeout. Wish I had an R2D2 unit to give my sales spew in hologram form. ‘Buy from us, Teledyne, Inc. You are our only hope.”
It is kind odd how I rely on non-verbal communication for over 90% of my everyday conversations. I suppose it is the “get to the point” way that attracts me to use it more often than making a personal connection. I just recently blogged about how I hate texting during dinner and personified a few people into one and ended up hurting someone I didn’t mean to. I feel very bad about that and I am sorry. But this isn’t a post about taking words back. This is my rant on auto texting because, once again, I can’t comprehend how iPhone replaces misspelled words with…embarrasing ones.
I balance work, the hospital and school by a thread. A thin, old and frayed thread. Any wavering and it will break leaving me in a state of utter shit. So I balance my time as best as possible and even though my social life is a joke, I can still get out to enjoy a few things. Like the dart league at work.
This is a pretty good way of having the employees and bosses get together for a friendly night of drinking and team cohesion. Every Thursday night we get together to toss darts and laugh about office bullshit that just hours before, was not very funny at all. But this week I have been working on a project that has me traveling so I needed to find a substitute for myself. I text the only sales girl we have, Mandy.
Back story: Mandy is a pretty tough girl but she is the only girl we have in the sales side of the office. She has to compete with ego-driven guys on a constant basis and I suppose that makes her that much harder of a worker. I have a high degree of respect for her. That’s why this next part really bothers me.
Before I was hired, she was in a meeting with all the said sales guys and they were ribbing her and making her laugh hysterically. So much so, she farted. I try to keep this site here clean of low-brow humor but that is what happened. From then on she has been teased and it has become a real sore spot for her. I pretend to know nothing about it. Until this…
I texted her to see if she wanted to throw darts. Why darts was auto replaced with this I have no idea but I firmly believe, this could only happen to me.
“Hey Mandy, want to do me a favor?”
“Hi Will! What can I do?’
“You want to throw farts?”
“Will, not you too. That’s not cool.”
(Then I become confused and reread my message.)
“Oh! Sorry, I meant darts. My phone messed up”
“Ha Ha I am sure. I can’t. I will see you on wed.”
“Seriously, I meant darts. I am not making fun! I am so sorry. It really is my phone!”
“Will, it’s fine. Are you with Dave?”
(Dave is the worst at rubbing her the wrong way)
“No, I am in Moscow! I really need a sub and wanted to ask you.”
“I will see you wed.”
I am so pissed at myself right now. For one, how did I not catch that? Two, how in heaven did it auto “fart” to the one person that could take offense to that? Is my karma that bad? I don’t know how to regain repor.with this girl but I suppose letting the issue go would be the best bet. Fuck my life.
That’s rights folks, I am back on the short bus going straight to Hardee’s, er, Hades with a front row seat reserved. I guess it is just a perfect end to an amazingly shitty-ass week. I mean, this week was a humdinger. Let’s recount this for posterity sake, shall we?
I have been having tire trouble with my right front for a while. Every so often it loses pressure and though I have had it checked, there was no indication that a hole was in it. So, I concluded that gremlins sneak air out of it in transit because any other explanation could only lead to ridicule from the Les Shwab tire dolts.
Well, I came back from a trip to find it completely flat in the parking lot. Mother fucker. At that point I knew I had to call it quits with the mystery tire and just change it. So I proceeded to get to work. The only issue was that I had a hell of a time trying to get the jack off (haha) the tire mount resulting in a great gash up the wrist. No biggie, I have had worse.
Long story short I managed to get the car jacked up and took the flat tire off. But before I could put the spare on I noticed a strange creaking sound. While I was trying to pinpoint the odd sound there was a terrific POW and the car came crashing down on an empty wheel rotor-thing, nearly severing my flip flopped wearing foot. The jack completely buckled and busted.
Holy shit I nearly shit a shoe! I kid you not that was more nerve racking than getting into a moving accident. Not only did I almost cut/crush my foot in half but now my car was crippled on pavement with a bent brake and tire mount. I have never heard of a jack completely failing like that. Have you? It’s nice to know that 28K car has a $5 jack in it. Someone is getting a letter!
So, yay for triple A. Car is in recovery and I am in credit card debt.
I like to say that I am a professional firefighter but in the spring, hours and shifts became hard to get so I was forced back into corporate America as an office solution consultant. This week the “said” boss from Vegas took off for his cabin and left me with the glorious responsibility of firing two people. And anyone who knows me, knows that if I, so much as bump into your shopping buggy at the grocery store, I feel like I should load your car, so one can imagine how much I have been looking forward to canning people who look at me as the “wiffleball tony” of the office. (wiffleball Tony is the guy at the picnic that everyone loves and is the one to start the wiffleball game)
One of the guys I really didn’t mind letting go because, to be honest, he sucked. I have about as much use for him as I do a 4 foot novelty monkey wrench and while that sounds harsh, it really is not. He told a client her breasts didn’t look real while fixing her copier. I fired him with extreme prejudice.
The other, it was difficult and when ever I am in a position of awkward difficulty, I get the giggles. Yup. It’s awful and I am definitley bus-bound to the 7th circle. But even though I handled that like a roller skating party for the Nealy School of the Mentally Challenged, I managed to find him possible employment from a competitor. Don’t ask. People owe me favors I suppose.
To cap it all off, yesterday sealed it for me that this week ranks high on the one out of 52 to forget. I was walking downtown and past a large window front of a small office space. On the window were pictures and at first glance I thought they were employees showing off how much fun it is to work there. I then stopped and focused in on a particularly funny photo that look much like this one:
I couldn’t help myself. I let out a thunderous laugh that scared birds from trees. It was one of those contagious laughs you see and while you don’t know what is funny, you find yourself laughing to share their joy. But soon my joy was replaced with a cold sweat of embarrassment and shame as I browsed the other photos and looked past the pictures to see people staring back at me with a look of disgust.
Remember how I mentioned earlier about the Nealy School for the Mentally Challenged? Yeah, I was standing infront of their school. When the realization hit me of what I looked like laughing at these pictures I would have rather been in these ten other places at that particular time.
Driving a Baptist Bus around Baghdad
Having a “meet in the middle” banana eating party with 62 year old Russian prostitute.
Farting in a yoga class full of girls
Setting up a PETA booth at the Idaho State Fair
Having a moped accident on live TV
Watching Boogie Nights with my Mom
Getting a job as a stage hand for the Hannah Montana Tour
Cursed with permanent sand grain in mouth
Teaching T Pain grammar lessons
Eating this laptop
I swear on all that is holy I did not know they were retarded. I really thought the guy was just caught in a bad picture. That didn’t seem to matter and any other week I would apologize and make amends but this week proved to be too much. So I ran. I ran hard and fast with tie flapping in the wind. I think karma owes me an IOU for this week.