Yeah. . . I hate going to Germany now, because I've come to count on those 5-10 Leberwurst pounds. . . ;-)
Good, good. So you already had one of those thingamajigs on before we posted?
SealPoet -- The only thing I could think of reading your Hungarian Adventure was.. at least it was a ruby.
I hate stab wounds. When I was young & foolish, I was told to empty the dishwasher by my mum. I didn't want to and flounced about, including sort of throwing my hand into the dishwasher. Ouch. My hand came out with a fork stuck in it. Literally, all the prongs were stuck into the outside edge of my palm. I hate that.
Ugh! I could never be a doctor or a CSI or anything that required frequent dealing with such injuries. . . I'd die.
And once I did some searching to figure out how one applies said closure, I put one on. Say, an hour or so ago. It's a very new and exciting experience!
I was going to recommend super glue, but then remembered THAT was for splinters.
well, at least it would hold. . . :-)
Oh, I once sliced my left index finger along with the pork roast. Deep. Omigod. Stared at it as I ran cold water over it. Ever so quietly I said to my husband, "John?" "I've cut my finger..." Three hours later after an emergency room wait with my hand in some iodine solution, the orthopedic surgeon on call (he was a friend of a friend, all those guys used to moonlight) stitched it up, cut tendon and all.
That was twenty years ago. That finger looked and worked a little funny for the longest time, but now it matches the rest of them.
Oops, that wasn't recent. Will be back with something more up to date in my list of stupid osso moves.
Delete stupid repeat of post
I guess the most recent stupid thing I did was lock my keys in the car. Argh. Was a bad zoomy day, trying to get too much done, zoomed up to Trader Joe's to get some food for dinner, did the whole auto-lock thing (ya know, click the one button on the inside of the driver's side door and that locks 'em all and all you have to do is shut the door), AFTER the sozlet was already in my arms, thank goodness, won't even go there, change subject change subject so went about shopping in Trader Joe's happily and cluelessly as my keys swung ever so gently from the ignition.
Finished shopping, went out to car, espied said keys. I have a weird panic mode now that I'm a mom, where instead of screeching or hyperventilating or doing any of the things that come naturally I look levelly at the sozlet and say, "Gee, looks like we have a little problem."
Went back to TJ's, had a very nice lady call E.G. at work. He wasn't there. She left a message. Had her call him at home -- it was right around when he was likely to be on his way home, figured he might have arrived already. Not there, left a message. Hmmm.
Decided to check my email pager for anything from him, realized battery was dead. TJ's doesn't carry batteries. Regular grocery store nearby. Wheeled whole entire Trader Joe's cart into it, sozlet carrying a Trader Joe's balloon, grocery store people looking at me askanse. Explained battery situation. Ah. Got battery. Whew. Put it in. Pager vibrates. See, new messages from E.G. Great.
"I have to take the seminar speaker out to dinner, sorry. Will be gone a few hours."
Dated 20 minutes ago.
ACK!!
Remember that I have AAA service on the pager. Email AAA. Another half hour of member number, where I am, blahbedy blah ensues.
Get a promise that local car-break-in folks will be there within an hour.
An hour.
It's cold.
We have this whole cart of groceries.
I decide to go to a restaurant that overlooks the parking lot, with the whole cart of groceries, to wait. "Within an hour", in my experience, means 59 minutes.
So we push in the whole cart, more looks, explain, nice people, they even let us sit all by ourselves in the section that actually overlooks the parking lot rather than the part that they want people to sit in. Coverage is wonky, I need to put out the email pager as far as I can reach in the window display so I can get new messages from AAA or maybe E.G.
Sort of eat.
Keep an eagle eye on car in parking lot, but it's dark, there are all sorts of reflections, hard to see.
I'm expecting some kind of a tow truck with flashing lights, nothing, then I happen to look UNDER my car, because it's kind of backlit there, and I see feet! Next to my car! Silhouetted evil feet breaking into my car! They saw the keys!!
Throw down my credit card, grab sozlet, run out there.
"HEY!" I yell.
I eventually get within eyesight of a nice affable guy with a big beard who is there to HELP me get into my car. He was just finishing. I grab my keys, my precious, beautiful, wonderful keys. I kiss them. I kiss the sozlet. I don't kiss the bearded guy. Though he probably deserved it.
Then, go back, finish eating, pay, get groceries, get HOME.
Geez.
Sozlet, bless her, thought it was all a captivating adventure.
I am now obsessively checking my purse for my keys BEFORE I shut the car door.
Oh, lord, what an ordeal. . . thank god my car won't let me lock it without the keys, or I'd spend a lifetime in grocery stores. . .
That's why I like my old Volvo. It won't let me do that. The driver door won't lock without the key...
I want one of them there vee-hickles.
OH and P'ash sorry about the knife incident! Eek!
I think I'm healing! But I'm leaving on the splint. . . not taking ANY chances. . .
I want my stupid act for tomorrow to have nothing to do with this here wound :-)
ugh, Soz, what an aweful ordeal. I lost my sole key to my car 2 times this fall. i don't usually do that, but there it is - TWICE.....
Anyway, once I misplaced them in a very strange place at work and couldn't get home to my little dog who was likely, I thought, peeing on the floor. I found out that it would cost 200 bucks to have them make a key for me. At a loss, I said ok. They'd be at my car in 1.5 hours. Great, little dog was now laying little dookies down on the livingroom rug, in my mind. Someone found my keys, called off the local-break-in-guys (love that) and went home.
Next round: friday evening I come home and me and the housemates were all trying to prepare, frantically, for a party that evening at our house. One housemate picks up MY keys and takes them hostage in her bedroom. She then tosses them into her bag and doesn't find them there until I'm already late for work monday morning.
Last week I got 2 spare car keys made.
Okay, this one is for Cav.
I don't cook that much. Not that I don't know how, mind you, but I'm one of those if-it's-a-party-or celebration-I-will sort of cooks. Not the everyday stuff. (Hubby prefers to do that. He's one of those terminally skinny types that thinks about food constantly, day and night. Drives me crazy.)
Anyway, I had the electric mixer out, making real whipped cream to go on top of my baked fudge (it's killer). And you all know how whipped cream tends to fly all over the place when you use an electric mixer, right? So when the cream was all nice and fluffy, I took the beaters out of the mixer and naturally, licked them clean. Everyone does that, right? No sense wasting real whipped cream. Then I noticed a big blob of whipped cream on the mixer...right where the cord went into the machine. I licked it off, too, but some of it stayed on the cord. So I unplugged the cord from the mixer (forgetting that it was still plugged into the wall) and stuck the end of the cord in my mouth to get the last dollop. Shocked the hell outta myself.
Would it help if I said I did this about ten years ago?
Nope, didn't think so.
Have you put one of those spare keys in a magnetic box and hidden it on your car yet?
