It was the norm, back in the ’80’s

By admin April 20th, 2010, under Farts

Ok, ok, here it is…I’m farting back to the days of really big hair.  Like, biiiiig hair-80’s hair.

I’ve had some big hair, lemme tell you, yessirreee! Wow, did I sport some hair.  I guess what’s got me thinking about it now is just that I got back from my hairdresser today and I’m still having a hard time getting used to the way these girls wear their hair now.  This flat look is in.  I really do have a problem with that.  I much prefer to have some fluff and height to mine.  Now, maybe I don’t need quite what I had twenty whatever years ago, but I’d prefer a little bit more than what my hairdresser puts in when she styles it.  It does look good, but it doesn’t seem to be me. 

I’m working really hard to do what she wants, and she’s very patient with me.  I’m slowly molding to her form.  Slowly is the operative word.  Now, I haven’t had the massive “do” I had all those years ago in many years, but I haven’t gone flat either!  Now, I’m NOT sitting here with the layered look and the bangs, and the pouf on the top of my head…nooo.   Don’t get the wrong idea.

I’m working with her to do the current style thing.  I think I’m coming along.  I think I am…it’s just so haaaaaard!

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I look at some of my old pictures and remember all of the work I used to put into that head.  Wow.  What did I have to do, get up before the crack of dawn or what?  Jeeze.  And hair spray.  I would’ve bought stock in Aqua Net back then if I’d have had a drop of common sense.  I’d be rolling in dough right now.  Honestly, I went thru a can a week.  No joke.  My theory was, and actually still is (although to a lighter extent) do your hair once in the morning, spray it and let it go.  I don’t like to have to fool with it throughout the day.  Maybe I took this to a little bit of an extreme back then.  You think?  Heh.

I certainly didn’t have to worry about fooling with it during the day.  That hair was NOT going anywhere.  It was hurricane proof-totally awesome.  Just like a helmet-all except the bangs.  Oh, wow, did I get upset if my bangs got out of place.  It’s as if the world came to a screeching halt.  I look back now and think, what the heck?  But yep, that was apparently a priority.  Alrighty. 

Nowadays, hair is much healthier than it used to be.  I know mine is anyway.  Back then I’d be getting perms like, 3 or 4 times a year, frosting on top of that the same number of times.  And, the perms weren’t the gentle waves…nooooooo way!  They were the TIGHT ones!  The ones that totally trashed your hair!  Try a few of those on your hair every year for size…yep.

Then, every day, when I’d do my hair, I’d bring out the blow dryer and curling iron.  I found out, early on, that healthy hair did not cooperate. So, what to do?  Damage it of course!  I’d mousse my hair, or gel it, then hold the blow dryer on it until it smoked.  Wrap it around that curling iron and hold it ‘til it sizzled…oh yeaaaah… crunchy hair is your friend!

Needless to say, this left the hair dull.  Never fear, there was a quick fix for this-in a bottle!  There were plenty of spray shines all over the counters to shine up the damage done.  Wow.  All that.

What a stark contrast to how it is nowadays.  Me, myself, I haven’t singed my hair in over a decade and a half; I’m sure it was accidental when I did.  At least I’ve learned that-not to kill my hair.  I still go thru a blow dryer about every two years…I’m pretty hard on it.  That’s one of my essentials in life-my blow dryer.  I’d probably croak if they went extinct! 

I guess I’m destined to continue my lifelong struggle to obtain the un-80’s hair.  I believe I’m gaining ground.  Slowly.  It’s a fight I’m still fighting, and probably will be fighting until the day I die…

For all who are in the same boat…GOOD LUCK!

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Happy Birthday, Granddad

By admin April 18th, 2010, under Farts

Tomorrow is my granddad’s birthday.  Or, it would’ve been.  He died several years ago.  I miss him badly.

I always looked forward to seeing my granddad.  He had a sense of humor in him as well as a streak of creativity as well.  One of my favorite pictures of all times is from about 1972; it’s of him and I in front of the Vietnam Memorial.  He looks like I remember him-young and strong.

From the time I can remember, he was always fishing. He had his funky, ragly fishing hats with the flies stuck I them.  In the ‘70’s he bought a row boat that he used to lug back and forth to the local lake to go bass fishing.  It was always a treat to go fishing with granddad on the boat-except for those darned life jackets! Those orange things that used to hug your neck and sit up next to your cheeks and make it so you couldn’t turn your head…  I realize now, how much patience he had to deal with us kids at the lake, being as young as we were.  I know I wouldn’t have been able to do it.  I have  a vivid flashbacks in my mind of the lily pads on the water and the large night crawlers he would put on our hooks.  One after the other, he’d put them on the hooks, we’d toss them out and lose them.  He didn’t have a problem with replacing them.  He loved to spend time with his three grandkids. 

Years later, when granddad got too old to use the boat anymore, my husband and I inherited it.  We got so much fun from that old row boat.  It definitely earned its keep.  Unfortunately, after about 6 years of constant use with us, it developed a leak.  I had to give in and say that we had to quit using it when we had a puddle inside the boat almost a ½’ deep.  Being in the middle of the lake with that much water on the INSIDE of the boat is not the most reassuring feeling in the world!

Something else about him-he painted his own cars!  It was funny.  If he didn’t like the paint job, he’d get a can of paint and a paint brush and get to work.  He was fond of a putrid green color.  I really didn’t like this shade of green myself, but apparently he did.  He had a lot of items around the house that were painted this color, including a car!  Eventually, I carried on this tradition when I turned 21.  I had a ’79 Celica that looked like a piece of poop.  I painted it with 13 cans of spray paint-purple.  It looked like the red buds that bloom in the spring.  The tape job I did was excellent, if I do say so myself!

I watched my granddad get into his 80’s and strike up a close relationship with my oldest dog, Buddy.  Those two understood each other.  Granddad would bring soccer balls to my parent’s house when he’d visit and have them there so he’d be able to kick them around with Bud.  Bud and Granddad were like kindred spirits.  They would both sit outside on the porch and relax in the evening.  That was something to see, they were so comfortable in each other’s company.

My granddad developed cancer and moved in with my parents.  As he began to deteriorate, I watched him go downhill right before my eyes and there was nothing that could be done to stop it.  This once strong man now had his clothes hanging off of him; his pants barely staying on his hips, cinched by a belt pulled tight.  His face was so thin and his eyes were sunken into his face.  His voice was getting fainter and fainter.

My youngest brother and I tried to schedule visits together.  We would drive up together to see him as often as possible.  Eventually, granddad was transferred to the VA Hospital.  He was there for Christmas that year.  My dad, my little brother and I went to spend Christmas day with him.

I called granddad again a little later and his room mate picked up the phone. He thought I was his granddaughter.  My granddad was on the line as well.  I was trying to tell granddad that I would be coming out to see him the following weekend.  I’m not sure if he heard me, he kept saying “ok, ok, ok”.  I tried to make it clear to him that I wanted to come and see him over the next week.  I hoped he heard me.  Granddad hung up after he said goodbye.

A couple of days later my mom called me to say granddad had died. 

I never got to say goodbye.  Did he know what I was trying to say on the phone that last time?  Did he know how much I love him?  Had I made it clear over his life, especially the last few months, when I tried to spend the most time with him?

It’s really a shame that it takes a jolt like this, a death or severe sickness to make us appreciate those that really mean something to us.  I miss my granddad terribly and think about him all the time.  I want to try to appreciate the people I love in my life on a daily basis and not wait until a tragedy occurs.  That’s one of those things that are easier to say than to do, isn’t it?

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Death by Bear Mauling?

By admin April 7th, 2010, under Farts

My fart today is about death by bear mauling.

I was up this morning at 3:45am and my dogs were going ballistic. I figured it was probably some deer or one of the neighborhood dogs that loves to come and crap in my yard.

That’s another thing that gets me: dogs seem to come from miles around just to take a dump in my yard. Why should I be so special? Who the heck knows? What I do know is that I’ve got turds in my yard that don’t belong to my pack. I had a former neighbor who’d let her dog come and crap in my yard as she watched. I was so tempted to go to her house one night and take a dump on her front step, but I didn’t. I behaved.

Where was I? The dogs going ballistic, yeah. Ok. I almost went out on the deck to see what they were barking at during the commotion. I came this close…

It turns out our bear is back. I’ll have to check the cameras when I get home just to verify that it was indeed the bear and not a rabid squirrel, but at this point I’m going with bear.

I would’ve had the pleasure of being nose to snout with the bear. I’ve been in this situation before, however, the last time I was face to face with the bear it was one that was the size of a Volkswagen, I promise. It was a momma bear and her little (not really so little) cub was taking down my bird feeder 20’ to the left of where I was standing. I stood and stared at the big bear and she stared at me.

Now, in retrospect, I think I may be lucky I didn’t turn into lunch. If I’d have gone charging onto the deck this morning, I’m fairly certain I’d have bumped into the bear. I started thinking about a bear mauling because I probably would’ve cornered him. Now that I think about it, I believe this wouldn’t have been the optimal situation in which to put myself. Would he have charged me and taken a bite on his way to the stair OR would he have done an emergency escape and hauled buttocks over the railing? I guess, the world will never know.

So the bird feeders have been torn down and the bucket full of seed has been destroyed. I can say, interestingly, that this bear doesn’t like thistle. He left the whole bag. He was after the sunflower seeds and he got them. All 5 gallons of them.

This got me thinking about becoming a bear snack. Is this how I’m going to go out? I do have to say, if there’s a bear that’s gonna try to take a bite out of me, I’m gonna bite right back. I may go down, but I’ll go down chomping.

I used to think I’d be killed in a car wreck but now I have to wonder if my headstone is going to read that I was bear chow. One thing’s for sure, not too many people get to say that! Well, that Timothy Treadwell dude can. Grizzly Man…what a wing nut!

Has anyone else seen that “documentary” on that crackpot? This dude was smoking crack or something. What got me, he was dealing with his receding hairline by making sure his bandannas covered the bald spot. He carefully tucked his hair and positioned it so it didn’t look BALD.

This dude was following this group of grizzlies around up in Alaska. I tuned in one time to catch a glimpse of him scooping up some bear crap and sniffing it…”Bear poo”.

Nah, really? In his hands, a steaming pile of crap.

This fool wasn’t right in the head.

He was getting ready to go home to live with the people again, but got into a fight with a fat lady at the airport. He decided to turn around and go back to hang with his bear chums. Little did he know, these weren’t his peeps. They were the mean inner island bears that came around that time of year.

This ding-a-ling set up camp in the bushes and ranted about how people suck and bears rule. He felt so safe and secure around his bears.

CHOMP.

He and his girlfriend became supper that night. I guess those urban bears didn’t like his attitude. Maybe they weren’t into people sniffing their poop.

Am I going to be the next Timothy Treadwell? Ha. If I do, rest assured it wasn’t because I pissed off a bear by playing with his poop.

That’s my fart and I’m sticking to it.

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Pooping in a Bedpan

By admin April 6th, 2010, under Farts

I wonder how I’m going to die.  I don’t think it’s going to be a fatal disease that takes me out, I think it’ll be a car/motorcycle accident.  I’m sure I’ve got at least one more accident in my cards, I just hope I don’t get stuck in a hospital, confined to the hospital bed in traction, having to use a BEDPAN. 

Maybe I drive a little faster than I should lately, especially on two wheels.  I hope that if I did have a wreck, it would either be so minor I wouldn’t get hurt, or the extreme opposite.  It’s that ‘in between’ there that really sucks.

I know of what I speak, trust me on this one.  This fart is basically about bedpans. Why I’m thinking about bedpans today, I’ll never know.

Back say, oh, somewhere around 20 years ago I wrecked my first car.  I took out a telephone pole, went thru the closed sunroof and bent the car into a “v” so the wheels weren’t able to touch the ground at the same time. I was hooked to the traction contraption and was condemned to the bedpan for the month I was stuck in the hospital.

Any pride I may have had before the hospital stay went out the window at light speed.  Seriously, think about it.  How dandy would you feel if some one else had to wipe your butt?  Add to that, a stranger…ewwww!

After a while tho, no joke, it gets to be ‘normal’ to have to take your dump in the bedpan, and have someone else wipe your butt.

Luckily, the nurses at the hospital were usually the same ones at the same time, every day.  When it came to dumping in a bedpan, routine was good for me.  Maybe some people out there would like to live dangerously and have a new nurse wipe their buttocks every time, not me.  No way.  I’m all for familiarity. 

So, I got used to the routine.  I did my daily thing: breakfast, watched I Dream of Jeannie, Sally Jesse Raphael, the afternoon soaps, Oprah, Donahue…lotsa TV when you’re stuck in bed. I normally took my daily dump before I went to bed, that’s just how it worked out.

OK, so here I’d be around bedtime.  I’d get to brush my teeth, spit the toothpaste into the barf bowl, that lovely little barf bowl they give you in the hospital.  While I’m on the subject of the barf bowl, I have a bone to pick about that.  Really, who barfs only that much?  And, when the barf starts to flow, do they REALLY think it’s going to stay in that little bowl and not go slopping out the other side because of the force with which it was blown into the littlebowl? I had appendicitis in first grade and did a lot of barfing.  Every darned time I’d start to hurl, they’d give me a little barf bowl.  You know what?  Forget it.  Get me a 5 gallon bucket…

OK, so where was I?  Brushing my teeth and spitting into the little barf bowl.  Alright.  Teeth are done.  Time to take the nightly crap.  Ring for the nurse and wait…

Normally, this was no biggie.  Really.  At my hospital where I was housed, the evening shift nurse was pretty cool.  She was sorta a biker chick looking gal with a cool personality.  This was the norm, except for that one night… 

So, I’d do the ringie dingie and wait for the nurse, I was ready to poop. In walked a big hairy man nurse who looked like he was related to Big Foot.  I know my eyes had to pop open three times as large when I saw him walk in.

“What can I do for ya?”

“Oh, nothing,” I said, realizing it was going to be a looooooong night, “I just wanted to say ‘Goodnight’!”

This dude looked at me like I’d been eating paint chips.  He gave me a whacked out expression then turned around and left.

There I was, me and my poop, having to wait all night long before my mom would come to see me in the morning on her way to work. Tick tock, tick tock…talk about prairie dogging!

Mom came to see me on her way to work every day. 

“Good morning! How did you sleep?”

“Morning ma.  I gotta poop!”  It’s a good thing parents are supposed to love their kids. I think I really pushed the limits on parental love with that hospital stay.

There are other things I can say about the bedpan, but I think I’ll save that for another time.

That’s my brain fart and I’m sticking to it.

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Satellite Internet-Oh Yeaaaah!

By admin April 3rd, 2010, under Farts

My brain is farting like crazy right now. I’ve got to hold my tongue, keep my mouth shut…

We’re having Satellite Internet installed for my parents. I just got tired of the 19kb connection with their dial-up service. I had this worked out since January. Today is D-Day. The time for the “technician” to arrive would be from 9-11am.

12:15pm this guy rolls up the driveway. He apparently had a flimsy excuse about being late that his GPS broke, but now it’s better. Uh huh. Here’s another one he told my dad…he’d gone to McDonald’s and went to step out of the truck and there was a puddle of puke. And, uh, this made you late how? Was this puddle of puke somehow blocking your route of travel?

I was glad he was here finally. Let the install begin. OK Let the install begin. Hellooooo. Did you hear me, Mr. Satellite internet installer dude? What the heck is this guy doing? He’s walked around the house about 3 dozen times. Maybe it’s some kind of OCD thing he’s got going on.

What did I just hear? YOU DIDNT BRING ENOUGH CABLE?? How the heck can you come to a job and not be prepared? You didn’t bring enough cable? WTF? This bozo really is a piece of work.

Dad is pacing. If I hadn’t been the one to make the arrangements and be paying for it, he would’ve sent this ding-a-ling packing.

An hour and a half later nothing’s been done yet. Where is the chief? Standing out by his truck, smoking a cigarette, talking to my husband. My nerves are getting worked. I’m feeling the urge to go down and ask if anything is going to get done today. Dad tells me not to. I hate being at somebody’s mercy. I neeeeeeed this internet!

Something about this man is also bothering me. He won’t look me in the eye. I don’t like when people won’t look me in the eye. This ticket is in my name, I’m paying for it, so dammit, you look at me in the face. Once again, I’m sure he’s thinking I’m some un-techy fool who has no idea what he’s doing.

He offered to configure the router for an additional cost. My husband tells him no thanks, that’s what I’m there for. That’s what I do for a living. Now this ding-a-ling seems to see me differently. He tells me I’m the spitting image of his oldest daughter. Hey, alrighty. Don’t I feel special.

Doofus is on the roof doing something or another, Lord only knows what. Boy, I was hoping we’d have this done by the evening, so I’d get to screw around on my web sites. The way this guy works, I think my bed time will be coming faster than the high speed connection.

It’s gonna be dinner time before he’s done. Maybe we should set a place at the table?

I’ve got to relax and let him do his job, even if he is taking the job and dragging it out…at least I’ll have higher speed internet.

Deep breath. Relaaaaax.

That’s my fart and I’m sticking to it. Over and out.

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I Am What I Am

By admin April 3rd, 2010, under Farts

I think I’m thinking about being a klutz.

I’ll admit, I’ve got to be about the most clumsy person you’d meet. My legs are covered in black and blues, and they turn such beautiful colors and shades of purple. I just noticed a new one on my shin this morning, maybe that’s what started this fart.

I run into walls all the time. This actually is a little bit embarrassing considering the walls have been there a long time and I really should know where they are! I fall down the stairs and up the stairs, ain’t no big thing anymore.

It isn’t all about walking that I’m so graceful in my movements either. I have to try really hard to cover my dodo bird tendencies at the supper table as well.

Many a time I’ve gone to shovel a fork load of food into my trap and I’ve missed. That sure sucks, the food falls off the fork and all over the front of my shirt…not too cool.

What’s more dorky than that is when I’m drinking soda from a can and I go to bring it up to take a nice big drink…outta my nose. That doesn’t work! What the heck is wrong with me? Smashing the top of the can into my nose-doh!

I do have to say, while some of my “oops” episodes at the table are accidental, some of them are due to my bad table manners. Maybe I have some good ones hidden down deep in the depths of my guts somewhere, but they’d be so rusted over from lack of use, they probably wouldn’t be any good anymore. Well, at least, they’d need an upgrade.

Part of my problem is, I’m one of those people who wants to get what I pay for. So, if I’m chowing down at a restaurant and I’m snarfing a soup that really hits the spot, I’ll empty the bowl using the spoon, sure, but don’t put it past me to pick up the bowl and lick it clean.

I’m not snobby, I won’t put on an act. When I heard that it was a compliment in some countries to burp after the meal, that was like giving me the key to the city. I’ve been known to let one loose after a meal before, it does make room for dessert.

I have tons of burp stories, but those will be for later blogs.

I think that I’ve gotten older in age, yet regressed mentally. Maybe I don’t take things as seriously as I should? I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll commission a study on that. I do know that I want to try to have a little bit of fun with my life and not worry so much about what people think about me. I’ve got a sense of humor like a middle school boy. Potty humor is what’s been coming out of my mouth lately. I’m 41 years old, talking about taking “dumps”. Eh, you know what? That me. Take it or leave it.

That’s my brain fart and I’m sticking to it. Over and out.

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The Wrath of Ron

By admin April 1st, 2010, under Farts

I’m farting back now to what my parents used to tell me when I was really little…like, elementary school. “If somebody hits you, hit them back twice as hard.”

I think I only needed to take this advice once as a little girl when I lived in Iran.  A snot nose little diplomat’s daughter was screwing with me and started to hit me. I was probably about 3 or 4 years old maybe?  Mom gave me the ‘hit her back twice as hard’  talk- right in front of the brat’s mom, who said, “Go right ahead.”  Bratty came up and smacked me, so I knocked her lights out.

Really, I’m NOT a violent person at all.  All that stuff I tweet about smacking that bitch Pelosi in the back of the head, or slapping that stupid grin off her grill, or giving her a good swift kick in the ass-that’s my dream of stress relief. Truthfully, I’m not violent person.  That would take physical exertion; I’ve got to be the laziest person on earth. When it comes to getting revenge on some one, I’d rather play play mind games and screw with my victim that way.

Take, for example, the fool I used to work with back around 1996.  This ding-a-ling had the habit of strolling through the office and snagging the bags of chips or snax that would be sitting on peoples’ desks.  He’d grab the bags, open them and walk away eating them.  How wrong is that?  Even if it was the person’s lunch, it didn’t matter to this doofus.  Somehow, he felt he had the right to peoples’  food.

I decided this idiot needed to be taught a lesson.  It turned out that this goober was a singer in some kind of country band.  Big whoop, right?  Didn’t turn me on, except for the fact that this dude had a “gig” on the upcoming Friday night.  Too perfect.

Thursday I marched myself to the store and got a couple of boxes of brownie mix and chocolate Ex-Lax.  Ya get where I’m going with this?

I threw the stuff together in the bowl along with the whole box of the laxatives.  It baked up beautifully.

The next day when I brought them to the office, I warned my co-workers not to eat them.  I left them out on the corner of a co-worker’s desk, looking tastefully alluring.

My plan worked beautifully.  The slob came along and grabbed the plate, shoved one in his mouth, and marched into the back office carrying the whole plate.  Good for him.  Chow down-enjoy yourself!

I sat back and waited.  I knew it wouldn’t be long, there’s no way it could be-not with that dosage!

About two and a half hours later he left for the day, complaining of stomach cramps.  I wonder how his show went that night?  I’m sure he was sh*tting thru a keyhole by the time supper time rolled around, so I can only guess how things progressed after that.  Heh heh.  The underside of the toilet seat must’ve looked like a piece of modern art by the time he was done working his magic.

I had intense feelings of accomplishment after that one, I’ve gotta say.  That was a victory that was enjoyed by my entire office as well.  Well, the entire office minus one.

That’s what my brain was farting this afternoon. I don’t know what made that one come up.

That’s my fart and I’m sticking by it. Over and out.

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Younger Siblings Are Made For Stress Relief

By admin April 1st, 2010, under Farts

I really don’t know why, but this morning, wedgies were on my mind. Go figure, huh?

You know how it is, or, maybe you’re lucky and you don’t-you get a pair of underwear that just keeps climbing. You spend your time digging it outta your crack. That really isn’t the most flattering look in the world, man or woman…grown adult…walking down the hall, yanking their underwear out of the butt…

I’ve been lucky growing up. I was never one of the kids that others pulled wedgies on. Maybe I was just too fat. Good thing for me, yea! OMG, did I just say I was glad to be fat when I was younger? Gosh darn, I guess I did. That must be the only good thing that came out of it.

I can say that I do have fond memories of giving my younger brothers wedgies. Aah, the good old days. We used to especially have fun with the youngest, who’s five years my junior. I can remember hanging him on the door knob by his underwear, or on the bunk bed post. The kicker was when we’d hang him there and go watch TV in the other room. Such fond memories of my youth, terrorizing my younger brothers.

I really don’t have any regrets for any of the hell I may or may not have put them thru; that’s what they’re made for, isn’t it? Younger siblings are there for stress relief.

That’s my brain fart and I’m sticking to it. Over and out.

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Wanna Get Away?

By admin March 27th, 2010, under Farts

I’m farting now to what we call at work, some of those “wanna get away?” moments. Those commercials just don’t do that phrase justice.

I work in IT and deal with people one on one. Sometimes, quite often, the user has no idea what’s going on with their computer. This can be a good thing, believe me.

 Too many times to count, I’ve gone to a user’s desk to back up files. This really shouldn’t be a problem; it isn’t rocket science, right? It’s about as straight forward as it can get, in a perfect world anyway! I’ve accepted the fact, many years ago, that my world ain’t the so called “perfect world” or anything that comes even close. So, naturally, on something so easy as a file backup, things can and often DO go wrong for me.

 You’ve gotta just love it when the user is sitting right next to you, staring over your shoulder, watching everything you do. It’s not as if the user is really comprehending what’s going on and understanding what it is that you’re doing, but they sure are watching earnestly. It makes me a teensy weensy bit nervous when they’re watching everything I do.

 I won’t go into the details here, mostly because I don’t want to make myself look like a complete idiot even more than I do, but I can remember a time I sat down with a user to back up their email file. The good ‘ol .pst. Gotta love ‘em. I went thru the motions, did what I was supposed to do, copied what I was supposed to copy and was finished in a decent amount of time. Of course, the user was sitting next to me…so what’s new? I had the machine reboot and the user log in. I opened the email application and proceeded to attempt to map to the newly backed up .pst file, only to find that it wasn’t there. Oh, nooooo.

It’s at that point, with the user sitting there next to you, totally clueless to the catastrophe unfolding before them, that panic begins to set in. My ears began to ring and my cheeks began to tingle. A small little voice was screaming from my guts “YOU SCREWED UP! YOU SCREWED UP! IT’S ALL GONE! She’s lost 3 years of emails now because of YOU!” This is when a “poker face” is good to have. Keep the breathing steady, don’t get excited. Panic is welling from the center of my guts and spreading rapidly.

 Yikes! What to do! Don’t let on that you’re in MAJOR FREAK OUT MODE! Be cool. Be cool. Yeah, easy for you to say! I’m the one who’s lost this HR lady’s important employment emails for the last 3 years! Yikes! God, please let me shrivel up and blow away…

It’s right about that time that the commercial comes to mind. “Wanna get away?” Oh yeah! That’s the commercial that’s perfect for when your mind is in full blown panic mode but your body can’t portray anything other than the fact that you’re calm, cool and collected. Your brain is screaming “Help! Help!” but your face still looks at the user and smiles at what ever they’re blabbing about…sounds like a good place to laugh. Insert chuckle here…Ha ha. Panic-panic-oh no! What’d I do???? How do I fix it? CRAP! CRAP! CRAP!

Why meeeeee? The mind is racing a mile a second; you can’t form a cohesive thought to save your life. Escape! Escape! Run for your life! Get out while the gettin’s good!

 What I did at that point was make a flimsy excuse that I saw an error or something. I needed to go back to my desk to do some research. I ran out of there. Now, if you knew me, you’d know that’s a major feat. I don’t run anywhere, not even to the bathroom…

Now, out of the direct line of fire (the customer’s gaze), I was able to think. Eventually, I was able to restore the lost file and the customer didn’t lose anything.

It’s the sinking feeling at the pit of your stomach that you get when you realize that something has gone horribly wrong that got me thinking today. I was surprised to learn that other people at work felt the exact same way during those type situations, and we’ve come to laugh about them. They’ve since become know as “wanna get away” moments.

 “I just had a ‘wanna get away moment’!”

 “Oh no! What did you do! Were you able to fix it?”

 This is the type of episode that can easily discussed over the lunch table with active input from most members of the team. It’s pretty amazing to learn that other people make mistakes, too! 

That’s my brain fart for the day. Over and out.

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Premonition Haircut

By admin March 25th, 2010, under Farts

I’m farting back to another one of those ESP episodes I had this past week…these are so cool.

I get my hair done at a salon about 45 miles from my house.  I tell everyone who asks where I get it done.  I love my hair dresser; I let her experiment on my hair.  I’m her guinea pig.

One of my closest friends is one of the people I’d mentioned this salon to.  I must’ve mentioned it to her over 6 months ago.  Let’s call her Heather, just so we know who we’re talking about. 

I had a hair appointment last Friday and was running late, as normal.  I was sitting at the light, getting ready to turn into the shopping center where the salon lives when I suddenly thought about Heather.  “Wouldn’t it be funny if I were to see Heather drive by?”  Now, the last time I think I’ve seen Heather was in November, when we went to visit a friend, so I haven’t seen her in a number of months.

I went into the salon and got on with the hair fixing.  I’d been there for a few hours and was in and out of consciousness. 

Suddenly I heard my name.  I looked up and who do you think it was?  Holy crap! It was Heather!  She was just as surprised to see me as I was to see her!  This was her first time coming into the salon on my recommendation!  How cool is that!? 

Here I was, just out of the blue, sitting in the car this morning and I thought about her-only to run into her that afternoon!  Neat!  That kind of stuff is too neat!  She normally works all the time, so this was a freak occurrence that she was able to get off and go to the salon to get a haircut.  It turned out that the timing was just right!

It’s so funny how things turn out sometimes, isn’t it?  Anyway, that’s my brainfart for today.

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