With a side order of...
The first pic is one of a kid from England (who it seems is a huge Harry Potter freak) who found a traffic cone and put it on his head. Then it got stuck. And they had to call the fire department to cut it off of him. The thing that I love about it is that the parents thought to snap a pic of the kid while waiting for him to be freed. And then sent it into the newspaper. HAH!
It is even more poignant to me because when I was about the same age as that kid, I got my head stuck in the railing at the new house we had just moved into. At the old house I could stick my head through the railing no problem, but here it was apparently a different story. I am not going to get into ALL the home remedies that my mother and the lady who lives in the house that abuts our back yard tried (but I will admit that butter was involved. Or to be more precise, margarine. Which I am pretty sure is one of the reasons I cannot stand the stuff now) before eventually calling the fire department at our locale, who used some crowbars or the jaws of life or whatever to get me free. 30 years later I can laugh about it, especially now that I don't see the aforementioned lady on a regular basis (to tell the God's honest truth, I love her to death, and she and her family have been true friends to our family for 30+ years. But that being said, her constant reminders of the day when I was 3 and got my head stuck in a railing, as well as when I was a kid and used to pronounce iced tea as "hiced tea", something I learned to correct through school and self imposed voice training, well, it could get a bit grating after a while).
Now on to the Borgnine. Asian Mustard Lady just stopped by (remember her?). Within 10 seconds I was longing for JabberJaws (because JJ I can block out pretty easily, or at least direct her inane, constant banter on someone else with a well placed statement / question. It is kind of like a game, like pass the potato, but with a blathering human as the root vegetable). First of all, she speaks in a very cloying tone. Second, she snaps her gum and chews with her mouth open. That is another one of those things that I got from my parents, but this one I don't mind nearly as much. If you are in a field chewing cud, go ahead and chew with your mouth open. If you are not, close your damn trap. It is up there with people scuffing their feet when they walk. DAMN that annoys me. But finally, every time she sees me she asks me if Wifey is pregnant. But she does it in that annoying, cutesy way that makes me want to kick her in the ovaries so SHE can't spawn any more future annoying little bastards. She asks how EVERYBODY in my family is doing (sometimes one at a time just to prolong my agony), then starts asking if I have any news. I answer that I do not. Then she asks at least 2 or 3 more times just to make sure I know what she is talking about (because she is so fraggin' subtle). By the 3rd variation on the theme, while she stands there leaning on my cubicle walls cracking her damn Satan gum and invading my personal space, it is ovary-kicking time. So far I have abstained from going American History X on her internal X's, but I cannot guarantee future deferment if this continues.
It is 1, and I need to go get another cup of coffee (slight insomnia last night). I might post again later. Might not.
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