story time, children!
Two stories today.
So I'm sitting around yesterday, minding my own business, reading the never-ending textbooks. Suddenly my dad comes flying upstairs, from where he had been fetching the frozen pizzas (for those of you unawares, Tuesday is Frozen Pizza Night in the Connolly household.) He comes bearing the startling news that, um, the deep freezer isn't working and obviously has not been working all day.
Oh fuck. All our venison is stored in there. (For those of you unawares, if we could use our venison as common currency, or as collateral against loans, we would do it. Venison is gold.)
So, my dad starts running around like his ass is on fire. He instructs me to call my mother to get her advice on what to do, then promptly disappears. Of course my mother has lots of panicky questions, which I can't answer, because my father has disappeared. I reassure her, get her advice, then run downstairs.
Dad has discovered the source of the problem - a blown fuse. He disappears upstairs again, while I ascertain the damage. To make a long story short, most of the stuff was ruined. I went back upstairs (where Dad is wandering around muttering and the Teeny Little Super Guy is sitting on the computer like a half-wit) and announce that I am going out to get a bag of ice. I drove, went and got ice, came back, put it on the salvageable food.
Dad and TLSG were still debating what to do about dinner.
I swear, if I hadn't been there, they would still be staring at the freezer, scratching their heads and grunting like cavemen. I have decided I need to move out as soon as humanly possible.
Every summer, my neighborhood has a big meeting to discuss "neighborhood crime issues". This meeting happened this past Monday, and my mom went. There were about 40 people crammed into this little East Side bungalow, along with one very tolerant cop and a gladhanding politician. People were asking questions, and at one point, this woman beings to tell a story, to follow up a question she asked about neighborhood gangs. This is her story:
One night, around 1 in the morning, she heard all this noise going on across the street. So, like any self-respecting East Sider, she called the cops and then went to do her own investigation. She peered out the window, and as her eyes adjusted to the dark, she could see all these people dressed in black. They were all about three and a half feet tall, except for one, who was average height. As the squad car came down the street, all the little people "laid on the ground and curled up" and the cops couldn't see them. The woman suspected that this was "gang training" on how to hide from the police.
So, for all you people on the East Side, you better watch out for those midget gangs. They're getting more organized.
So I'm sitting around yesterday, minding my own business, reading the never-ending textbooks. Suddenly my dad comes flying upstairs, from where he had been fetching the frozen pizzas (for those of you unawares, Tuesday is Frozen Pizza Night in the Connolly household.) He comes bearing the startling news that, um, the deep freezer isn't working and obviously has not been working all day.
Oh fuck. All our venison is stored in there. (For those of you unawares, if we could use our venison as common currency, or as collateral against loans, we would do it. Venison is gold.)
So, my dad starts running around like his ass is on fire. He instructs me to call my mother to get her advice on what to do, then promptly disappears. Of course my mother has lots of panicky questions, which I can't answer, because my father has disappeared. I reassure her, get her advice, then run downstairs.
Dad has discovered the source of the problem - a blown fuse. He disappears upstairs again, while I ascertain the damage. To make a long story short, most of the stuff was ruined. I went back upstairs (where Dad is wandering around muttering and the Teeny Little Super Guy is sitting on the computer like a half-wit) and announce that I am going out to get a bag of ice. I drove, went and got ice, came back, put it on the salvageable food.
Dad and TLSG were still debating what to do about dinner.
I swear, if I hadn't been there, they would still be staring at the freezer, scratching their heads and grunting like cavemen. I have decided I need to move out as soon as humanly possible.
Every summer, my neighborhood has a big meeting to discuss "neighborhood crime issues". This meeting happened this past Monday, and my mom went. There were about 40 people crammed into this little East Side bungalow, along with one very tolerant cop and a gladhanding politician. People were asking questions, and at one point, this woman beings to tell a story, to follow up a question she asked about neighborhood gangs. This is her story:
One night, around 1 in the morning, she heard all this noise going on across the street. So, like any self-respecting East Sider, she called the cops and then went to do her own investigation. She peered out the window, and as her eyes adjusted to the dark, she could see all these people dressed in black. They were all about three and a half feet tall, except for one, who was average height. As the squad car came down the street, all the little people "laid on the ground and curled up" and the cops couldn't see them. The woman suspected that this was "gang training" on how to hide from the police.
So, for all you people on the East Side, you better watch out for those midget gangs. They're getting more organized.