The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Archive for the ‘Weekly Wacko’ Category

Weekly Wacko (2)

My junior and senior years of high school I consistently volunteered at a Youth Center at Hunter Army Airfield. I worked with elementary school kids, helping them to figure out their homework, or if they didn’t have any they would have me touch the ceiling (my lanky 6′3 frame was an easy source of amusement).

One of the employees at the Youth Center was Miss Grant. Miss Grant enjoyed having me around, and she was (as well as the other folks who worked there) great to work with. One day Miss Grant came up to me after I’d been helping some kids for a while.

“Well?,” she said, with a heavy dose of expectation on that word.

“Uh …,” I said, not sure what I’d missed.

She stared me down for a while, “aren’t you going to congratulate me?,” she finally said, again with the implication that I should be ashamed I hadn’t said anything first.

“Uh …,” I said, no less confused than before, but now feeling guilty.

She rubbed her belly.

“Uhhh …,” again, still unsure, but the way she rubbed her belly could only mean one thing, “you’re … you’re pregnant?! Congratulations!”

Trapped.

“WHAT?! I’m pregnant!?!”

Terror, fear, horror, guilt, worry.

“How dare you say I’m pregnant! I know I could lose some weight but -”

Then, she cracked up.

“That was fun,” she said, smiling, and walked away.

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Weekly Wacko

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Weekly Wacko (1)

10/30/09

The bathroom is, generally speaking, not hysterical. This is exactly why I was laughing so hard.

I went up to a urinal and I was the only person in the bathroom. I was talking to myself in my head and began to make fun of myself. One of the things I said caught even me off guard (tricky, but it happens) and I smirked about it.

I realized it would look very odd if someone walked in right at that moment. Me, smirking, standing at the urinal.

This made me grin.

I couldn’t shake it. When I went to wash my hands I saw myself in the mirror and starting laughing even harder – not good. I couldn’t stop picturing someone walking in and seeing me, by myself in the bathroom, cheesing it big time.

I didn’t have to picture it very long – because someone walked in right when I was leaving.

Thinking quickly, I played the part of a guy who couldn’t be happier to have his bladder relieved and I said, “phew” (while still cracking up).

I can’t guarantee it, but I’m pretty sure I’m the smoothest guy who ever lived.

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