A High-Brow Meal

, , , , | Related | July 26, 2017

My grandparents just bought a new propane barbeque grill, and Grandma decides to try it out before Granddad gets home. This is before electric starters were used, and you had to light a match and put it in a small hole in the side of the grill to ignite the flame.

She is having trouble lighting it, and after several matches, decides she’ll try a different route. She of course isn’t thinking about the fact that the gas was on the entire time, and building up in the closed grill. So, the predictable thing happens: she lights another match, and opens the grill cover to light it, and KABOOM!

A pretty big fireball goes off, and thank goodness she is OK… most of her, anyway. Her eyebrows and eyelashes are gone, and the hair at the front of her scalp is singed back pretty well, too. She is super embarrassed, but continues to make dinner like a trooper. She insists that NO ONE tell Grandpa what happened, because she doesn’t want him to get upset.

The fact she now looks like a Martian seems like a dead giveaway, but we say OK.

So Granddad gets home, and we are all sitting around the table eating, and trying our hardest to not even look at Grandma without any eyebrows and pretending everything is just perfectly normal. We’re also trying pretty hard to suppress the giggles. At one point, Granddad looks up from his food, over at Grandma, and kinda squints a double take. We figure the game is up for sure… but all he says is, “[Grandma], did you do something different with your hair?” And she answers, “Well… kind of.”

We burst out laughing.

Neighboring On A Bargain

, , , , | Friendly | July 26, 2017

My mom gets remarried. She lives and works in [City #1] and he lives and works in [City #2], about 40 minutes away. She moves in with him but he’s able to transfer to a position in [City #1] and they start to look for a place to buy together.

While they look for a place to buy, they rent a place for a year in a not-very-affluent part of town. As I’m visiting them, Mom’s husband tell me the story about how he loaned their neighbor $40.

Now, every time he comes out of the house, said neighbor quickly scrambles back inside. He won’t talk to or make eye contact with Mom’s husband. He calls it the best $40 he ever spent.

In Trouble With The Prints-iple

, | Winnipeg, MB, Canada | Learning | July 25, 2017

I am in the library, trying to print an essay for my history class. I go to retrieve it from the printer, only to see that it didn’t work. I spend several minutes trying to find the problem but everything seems to be working perfectly. I press print again but it still won’t print. I am getting increasingly frustrated and resort to hitting the print button over and over again. I finally give up and call a staff member to help. She does everything I just did (including continually pressing the print button) and can’t seem to figure out the problem either.

I an about to leave the library when I hear an announcement calling me to the main office. I go to the office and see a chemistry teacher with a large stack of papers, several feet high. I had been sending my essay to the printer in the chemistry lab the whole time and it was interrupting her class. I got a warning not to do it again. That was the last time I ever tried to print something at school.

You Darn Millennials And Your Historically-Varied Taste In Music!

, , , , , , , | Friendly | July 19, 2017

On a beautiful sunny day, as I drive into the parking lot at my local supermarket, one of my all time favourite pieces of music starts to play on the radio and so I, like most of you, crank that sucker up so that I can really enjoy it. Well, I drive around a bit, find a parking space and pull in, wait till the piece finishes then turn off my car, close the windows (handy feature of my motor; for about a minute after the engine is off the windows still work), and climb out. This is where things become fun. As I exit the car a little old lady (proper, feisty, granny mark3, iron gray bun and all) marches up to me and proceeds to give me a proper old fashioned haranguing. I’m talking a proper “you kids and your rock music, get orf moi lawn” raging while her inevitable companion (a noticeably more wrinkled granny with a walker) lurks behind her and smirks.

Now, anyone that knows me knows that I am, in many ways, an awful person and usually I’d have cut the old biddy off with some form of scathing comment, but I can’t. First, because it’s been such a long time since I’ve seen such a professionally delivered haranguing that I just couldn’t make myself break in; second, because both of these old ladies are clearly having such a great time railing at me that even a colossal ar*e-hole like myself can’t bear to spoil their fun, but mainly because of the huge, glaring elephant in the room…

You see, I hadn’t been blaring out Disturbed or Maiden or even a little Alestorm. The track that was playing when I rolled into that parking lot was Prokofiev’s Montagues and the Capulets, one of the most iconic and recognisable pieces of music ever danced to. Given that the piece was composed more than a century ago, ie. before either of these aged ladies HAD BEEN BORN, I was totally gob smacked to be told off for playing my “modern rock tunes” too loudly.

Half-Baked Parenting

, , , , | Related | July 18, 2017

I’m about six years old. I’ve been disabled since birth, so spending long hours walking around is too much for me. (Thank goodness for getting a wheelchair now! I’m free to shop ’til I drop!)

My mother decides that she wants to go shopping in a little town. I am less than enthusiastic, so she pops in to a bakery, tells me to sit, then leaves.

It takes a little while for the staff to realize she’s not coming back. They ask me where she is, to which I just shrug. I don’t know her number, nor do I have any identification on me. Unable to leave the store to search for my mother, they decide to keep an eye on me until she comes back.

Over the several hours she’s gone, I get bored. I look at the stuffed animals the bakery has for decoration, and (without touching them or getting out of my seat) I start to make up stories for them. The lizard is my favorite. The staff must have noticed, because the owner takes it down and lets me play with it.

Evening arrives, and my mother finally returns. She tells me to give the lizard back, but the owner insists I keep it. I don’t know what they said to my mother that day, but she was angry with me the rest of the way home. I didn’t get left anywhere after that.

To the bakery staff and owner, thank you for dealing with such an unexpected ordeal. I still treasure that lizard you gave me.

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