You know, people have called me animated. I thought they meant I'm a bit expressive and bouncy. Like Robbin Williams, on Ritalin. Because nobody is that bouncy. But it turns out they meant that my life is more or less a cartoon. One of those cartoons where a long string of unlikely events conspire to somehow screw over the main character. Confused? Well let me explain...
--------------------FIVE MINUTES AGO--------------------
So I'm in my kitchen, hanging out. Seriously, who hangs out in a kitchen? Seinfield did sometimes, but technically that was an extension of his living room. Anyway, a more accurate explanation of my actions was that I was staring blank faced into my refridgerator looking for food, closing the door, then looking again. As if food would magically appear that hadn't been there before.
So as I'm standing there I realize that I haven't done the dishes since...uh oh I can't remember when. Crap. Naturally it took me about 2 and a half hours to do. And created a lot of trash. Anything that was disposable I just threw out. The kicker is this, the last three things I threw away were (in order): a Propel bottle, a plastic knife, some mail, and the batter from when I cooked fish.
Seeing how full the trash was I pulled out the can to take it out when I noticed an orange behind it. I decided it would be fun to try to smash down the trash by throwing the orange into the can really hard. What I didn't realize is that the knife, bottle, paper, and crumbly batter crap had combined to become a catapult. As soon as the orange hit the knife resting across the bottle (which was hidden by the paper) the batter went everywhere. I looked like Caroline Holmes, THAT white. The rest of my kitchen looked like a deleted scene from Scarface.
Now I get to clean it up.
- Scott
So as I'm standing there I realize that I haven't done the dishes since...uh oh I can't remember when. Crap. Naturally it took me about 2 and a half hours to do. And created a lot of trash. Anything that was disposable I just threw out. The kicker is this, the last three things I threw away were (in order): a Propel bottle, a plastic knife, some mail, and the batter from when I cooked fish.
Seeing how full the trash was I pulled out the can to take it out when I noticed an orange behind it. I decided it would be fun to try to smash down the trash by throwing the orange into the can really hard. What I didn't realize is that the knife, bottle, paper, and crumbly batter crap had combined to become a catapult. As soon as the orange hit the knife resting across the bottle (which was hidden by the paper) the batter went everywhere. I looked like Caroline Holmes, THAT white. The rest of my kitchen looked like a deleted scene from Scarface.
Now I get to clean it up.
- Scott
I'd like to think that the series of events you just described was an elaborate practical joke played on you by God. If indeed it is, well played, God. Well played.
ReplyDeleteIndeed, hilarious.
ReplyDeleteAh Scott, You just had one of my favorite experiences ever. No, not being batter-baked, but you just had a "Cinematic Moment." I love to take note of these moments in my own life. Its when you have just the PERFECT comeback. Or you put your neck on the line doing something that could horrifically backfire but works out EXACTLY how you wanted it to. These are moments that don't happen in real life and you really just wish someone else could have seen it. Or better yet, gotten it on film.
ReplyDeleteCongrats my friend.
That's the term! I've had lots of those moments throughout my life but never really had a word for them. I just thought of them as me kicking ass like usual. The comeback, randomly doing something amazing, when you're joking around and you're just on fire, now I have a word for them. Schweet.
ReplyDelete- Scott
Well Scott, congratulations. You've gotten me to post something. I can no longer silently stalk you, now that you've brought me and my beautiful skin tone into it. I resent the fact that you compared my pigmentation (or lack of) to old fish batter. I'll let you know that all the beautifully bronzed people are going to look more like fish batter than me once they reach 30. However, I will give you a few points for catching my attention.
ReplyDelete-guess
p.s. Scott - For being as racist as you often appear to be, you should be honored to be friends with one of the whitest people in the world.