11 June 2012
540
R. Linda:
Did ye ever have a moment in time when everything stopped and stood still for an excruciating amount of time (though it be only seconds) where the memory of it made a chill run down your spine and your heart sort of skipped a beat? Well, I had that moment I did upon me arrival home, several times as a matter of course, when trying to explain why I looked and smelled the way I did.
This morning, I was driving me good self to Portsmouth to do a bit of local reporting on the bridge that is being taken down and to be evidently replaced in future. Most of it be gone but for some unknown reason the public wants to know the status, so off I went to find out.
Now I got me an early start I did, and I needed to fill up the old clunker with petrol so as I stood there watching me hard earned money go into me gas tank, I spied the Dunken Donuts next door, and you know me, right away soon as the car was tanked up, I ran on over to tank meself up on a Turbo cup of Dunks . . . and a chocie donut. Yes, indeed, I got me long lanky self in me mobile and off I took slurping me java. Once I had lubricated me pipes enough I fished that chocolate treat out of its bag and right to the old cakehole.
I was driving along munching, the radio going, and me singing along with the Purple who-zees singing Smoke On The Water, I know, I know, terrible song, but it be the only one I sort of know the words to and it happened to come on and well . . .
So I got up to a light as me song ended along with me super fantastic donut, and while I sat there I thought a sip of joe was in order, but then I noticed I had chocolate all over me palm. What to do? I neglected to get a few napkins at Dunk's and I had nothing in the old clunker to wipe it off with. I sat there for a few seconds muttering, "Wot the feck?" when I decided the only thing to do was lick it off. So I started to do that when I heard something. Twittering it sounded and as I took another slurpy lick, I looked to me right and two young things were looking at me and laughing. Yes, they were! They thought yours truly was a laugh riot they did.
Sheepishly I shrugged and this just led to more laughter, so I rolled down me window and started to explain to them, "Sure that's what happened," "Oh yeah we believe you." And you know they didn't. So they turned off (thank God) and I continued on. But now I had a wet hand full of me own saliva. I tell ya, I just can't win. I wasn't about to wipe it on me jacket so as AC/DC's Thunder came on, I lost meself in the song and was whipping me hand in the air in time to the thunder part of the song, trying to dry it that way. Well, I be sure I looked the right interior decorator. I must have because I came to another light and at the time I was the only car there, when suddenly the guy behind me in his Hemi Ram pickup started honking at me. I rolled down me window and put me head out as he did the same and he yelled at me, "Why don't you go back to San Francisco and do that?"
I got it, It took a moment because you will remember me short stay in San Francisco -- well that at first was me thought until I realised I didn't know that guy and he had no way of knowing I once lived there, when it dawned on me he thought I was a gay man. Stupid me explained about the hand, and he yelled back as the light changed, "Likely story," and zoomed on by giving me the finger. I tell ya!
And for most of me drive I was right behind him. I was hoping he'd turn off, but no we went all the way to Portsmouth! He occasionally raising the one-finger salute as we went. Gees.
So I get to the place where I be to meet the interviewee and I be told to have a seat he'll be available shortly. I sat down in an office that had old government posters from the WW2 era on the walls and these vinyl and chrome chairs (the old fashioned kind) where the seats sag in the middle and your hinny be subject to numbness if you sit too long. You know what I mean. Anyway, while I be sitting there I saw a dispenser for germophobics filled to the brim with antibacterial hand wash. Well, to keep me bum from numbing so bad I'd be walking funny, I went over to the dispenser and gave it a push and well, I must have been the first user of the day because there was a SPLAT and it spits out germicide all over the front of me trousers! I don't have to tell you what that looked like. Oi!
I had nothing to wipe it off with (naturally), so there I was, the gloppy stuff dripping down me trousers. I tried to wipe the excess off with the heel of me hand, but that just made it worse. UGH! I took the excess on my hand and rubbed me hands together just to get rid of it. Meanwhile, the receptionist was standing in the doorway looking at me with a very frightened expression on her face.
I got it! Instantly I knew what she was thinking, so I stammered out, "It isn't what you think, I can explain!" To which she backed up and ran for her boss. I was left alone for a short few minutes thinking desperately about what I should do, should I run out? Or, should I stay and try to explain? I decided on the first, but too late, there he was Mr. Bossman looking angry. AT ME!
I quickly got out the trouble with his dispenser and luckily when I pressed it again, it did the same thing! Oh, I tell ya, it wasn't me day. He sort of laughed, but I don't think he really believed me. The interview went fast. Not because of me, but he was in a hurry he said and more in a hurry to get me out of his office.
But it doesn't end there. No of course it doesn't. I limped home with me tail between me legs, completely mad at meself for being such a klutz, and in need of a drink, a strong one. So I rolled on toward me home (no I didn't even attempt to file me story at the office, I was too upset) and as I hit the common, I noticed the local establishment of strong and nasty drinks was open, so I pulled in and got out, knowing full well me trousers looked like I'd lost control of meself, but I wasn't letting that stop me from a straight up Paddys if I could help it.
Well, the place was dark when I walked in which was a good thing, no one knew. Up to the bar I get, I order me neat Paddys and get settled for comfort when some woman yells at the barkeep to slide a Sam Adams to her and he does. It went whizzing by me and I was impressed, until she gulped it down and then gave everyone at the bar a heads up, empty glass sliding our way. I moved me drink as did everyone else, but as luck would have it -- wham beer glass straight into me whiskey glass of which knocked me Paddys out of me glass and all over me face! I was sitting there dripping. She was very apologetic (everyone else got a good laugh), as the barkeep handed me a bar towel and poured me another "on the house bud, all right?"
I was able to consume me Paddys without further incident until I got home. Yup, I walked in, stained trousers, hair disarrayed from bar towel mopping up, smelling like the Paddys distillery and the wife be without a doubt, suspicious and not happy.
Try explaining what really happened to an irate wife. She didn't believe a word. Yup. Notta. I don't know what she thinks I was doing all day, but doesn't matter, I have no dinner coming tonight and no civil conversation either.
SIGH.
Gabe
Copyright © 2012 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
Did ye ever have a moment in time when everything stopped and stood still for an excruciating amount of time (though it be only seconds) where the memory of it made a chill run down your spine and your heart sort of skipped a beat? Well, I had that moment I did upon me arrival home, several times as a matter of course, when trying to explain why I looked and smelled the way I did.
This morning, I was driving me good self to Portsmouth to do a bit of local reporting on the bridge that is being taken down and to be evidently replaced in future. Most of it be gone but for some unknown reason the public wants to know the status, so off I went to find out.
Now I got me an early start I did, and I needed to fill up the old clunker with petrol so as I stood there watching me hard earned money go into me gas tank, I spied the Dunken Donuts next door, and you know me, right away soon as the car was tanked up, I ran on over to tank meself up on a Turbo cup of Dunks . . . and a chocie donut. Yes, indeed, I got me long lanky self in me mobile and off I took slurping me java. Once I had lubricated me pipes enough I fished that chocolate treat out of its bag and right to the old cakehole.
I was driving along munching, the radio going, and me singing along with the Purple who-zees singing Smoke On The Water, I know, I know, terrible song, but it be the only one I sort of know the words to and it happened to come on and well . . .
So I got up to a light as me song ended along with me super fantastic donut, and while I sat there I thought a sip of joe was in order, but then I noticed I had chocolate all over me palm. What to do? I neglected to get a few napkins at Dunk's and I had nothing in the old clunker to wipe it off with. I sat there for a few seconds muttering, "Wot the feck?" when I decided the only thing to do was lick it off. So I started to do that when I heard something. Twittering it sounded and as I took another slurpy lick, I looked to me right and two young things were looking at me and laughing. Yes, they were! They thought yours truly was a laugh riot they did.
Sheepishly I shrugged and this just led to more laughter, so I rolled down me window and started to explain to them, "Sure that's what happened," "Oh yeah we believe you." And you know they didn't. So they turned off (thank God) and I continued on. But now I had a wet hand full of me own saliva. I tell ya, I just can't win. I wasn't about to wipe it on me jacket so as AC/DC's Thunder came on, I lost meself in the song and was whipping me hand in the air in time to the thunder part of the song, trying to dry it that way. Well, I be sure I looked the right interior decorator. I must have because I came to another light and at the time I was the only car there, when suddenly the guy behind me in his Hemi Ram pickup started honking at me. I rolled down me window and put me head out as he did the same and he yelled at me, "Why don't you go back to San Francisco and do that?"
I got it, It took a moment because you will remember me short stay in San Francisco -- well that at first was me thought until I realised I didn't know that guy and he had no way of knowing I once lived there, when it dawned on me he thought I was a gay man. Stupid me explained about the hand, and he yelled back as the light changed, "Likely story," and zoomed on by giving me the finger. I tell ya!
And for most of me drive I was right behind him. I was hoping he'd turn off, but no we went all the way to Portsmouth! He occasionally raising the one-finger salute as we went. Gees.
So I get to the place where I be to meet the interviewee and I be told to have a seat he'll be available shortly. I sat down in an office that had old government posters from the WW2 era on the walls and these vinyl and chrome chairs (the old fashioned kind) where the seats sag in the middle and your hinny be subject to numbness if you sit too long. You know what I mean. Anyway, while I be sitting there I saw a dispenser for germophobics filled to the brim with antibacterial hand wash. Well, to keep me bum from numbing so bad I'd be walking funny, I went over to the dispenser and gave it a push and well, I must have been the first user of the day because there was a SPLAT and it spits out germicide all over the front of me trousers! I don't have to tell you what that looked like. Oi!
I had nothing to wipe it off with (naturally), so there I was, the gloppy stuff dripping down me trousers. I tried to wipe the excess off with the heel of me hand, but that just made it worse. UGH! I took the excess on my hand and rubbed me hands together just to get rid of it. Meanwhile, the receptionist was standing in the doorway looking at me with a very frightened expression on her face.
I got it! Instantly I knew what she was thinking, so I stammered out, "It isn't what you think, I can explain!" To which she backed up and ran for her boss. I was left alone for a short few minutes thinking desperately about what I should do, should I run out? Or, should I stay and try to explain? I decided on the first, but too late, there he was Mr. Bossman looking angry. AT ME!
I quickly got out the trouble with his dispenser and luckily when I pressed it again, it did the same thing! Oh, I tell ya, it wasn't me day. He sort of laughed, but I don't think he really believed me. The interview went fast. Not because of me, but he was in a hurry he said and more in a hurry to get me out of his office.
But it doesn't end there. No of course it doesn't. I limped home with me tail between me legs, completely mad at meself for being such a klutz, and in need of a drink, a strong one. So I rolled on toward me home (no I didn't even attempt to file me story at the office, I was too upset) and as I hit the common, I noticed the local establishment of strong and nasty drinks was open, so I pulled in and got out, knowing full well me trousers looked like I'd lost control of meself, but I wasn't letting that stop me from a straight up Paddys if I could help it.
Well, the place was dark when I walked in which was a good thing, no one knew. Up to the bar I get, I order me neat Paddys and get settled for comfort when some woman yells at the barkeep to slide a Sam Adams to her and he does. It went whizzing by me and I was impressed, until she gulped it down and then gave everyone at the bar a heads up, empty glass sliding our way. I moved me drink as did everyone else, but as luck would have it -- wham beer glass straight into me whiskey glass of which knocked me Paddys out of me glass and all over me face! I was sitting there dripping. She was very apologetic (everyone else got a good laugh), as the barkeep handed me a bar towel and poured me another "on the house bud, all right?"
I was able to consume me Paddys without further incident until I got home. Yup, I walked in, stained trousers, hair disarrayed from bar towel mopping up, smelling like the Paddys distillery and the wife be without a doubt, suspicious and not happy.
Try explaining what really happened to an irate wife. She didn't believe a word. Yup. Notta. I don't know what she thinks I was doing all day, but doesn't matter, I have no dinner coming tonight and no civil conversation either.
SIGH.
Gabe
Copyright © 2012 All rights reserved
5 comments:
omg you are crazy, LMAO
suuuure it was! hand sanitizer. LMAO I'll be thinking of you in wet pants for DAYS!LMAO
Uh ... LOL?
Ah come on, it's probably happened to you too!
ok ENOUGH! I need a big fan and a lamp in here! and a new dustrag!
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