Don't Worry. The Smurfs Will Catch You!

I just have a few short stories for today, none of which have anything to do with the ones I already have written up, but have yet to proofread. I should get on that, shouldn't I? (Hey, don't get pushy. Gees.)

The first short story is about my favorite person ever, and her accomplice. Of course I'm talking about Aunt Bev and my Mom. The only two people who can cause debauchery without actually doing anything at all. They made it so obvious again today.

Earlier today I had called my mom who was over at Aunt Bev's. I don't know why I do these things, or why I expect to get an honest, normal response from either of them when they're together. Yet somehow, I still do. With this in mind, I asked my mom a very innocent question.

"Are you coming home soon?" The answer I got; not so simple and innocent.

Prepare yourselves for this, people. Really, you can't say I didn't warn you. Take all the food out of your mouth, set your drink down and make sure you don't have to pee prior to reading this.

"No. I'm babysitting Bev right now so she doesn't fall in the pond."

*Gives you all a minute to take this in*

Now please understand that Aunt Bev's pond can not be anymore than a couple of feet deep, and it is a very small, three foot round, man made Koi pond. I do not know why she needed supervision to not fall into the pond. I could understand if it was a bottomless ocean, or something, but a pond? Really? She's a grown adult. I'm sure whatever she was doing could not have been dangerous enough that she would have fallen in her own pond.

And let's be honest, even if she did, what's the worst that could happen? Her pants would get wet and she'd scare the heebie mcboogers out of a few Koi, but after that, I'm sure she could fish herself out and find dry ground again.

My mom points out that knowing Bev's luck she'd fall in, slip, and smack her head off of something. This may be true, but the fact that they decided a grown woman needed a babysitter around her pond just really scores a ton of points in my book. Oh, those two.

Aunt Bev, I have faith in you to not fall in your own pond and drown. I'm just telling you this right now. I believe in you! (Unless you went back out after my mom left and did fall in and drown. In that case, disregard this. Or, you know, in that case, you wouldn't be reading this.)

I also watched the movie Wild Hogs today. You know, the one with John Travolta, Tim Allen, William H Macy, and Martin Lawrence, where they take a road trip on motorcycles across the US and get in bad with a biker gang? I have never laughed so hard in my life. I really think everyone should watch this movie.

It had everything. It had one man teaching another how to do the Lindy Hop to prevent him from doing the Sprinkler. It had Extreme Makeover: Home Edition rebuild a bar for a rebel biker gang. It even had a gay ranger who the four very straight men had a really hard time shaking. I mean, let's be honest, the thought of the four actors in the cast riding motorcycles and making their own "gang" is just amazing to begin with. All these other factors involved just make for an epic win!

My friend Silver Stripes and I were discussing how sane is vastly overrated. She is also the one who contributed to my other site, It's Traffic Time. In case you all have missed that, click on the name of the blog and get your butt over there and begin sharing your own story. It's about traffic blunders and I know you all have them. Don't even try to lie to me.

Anyway, in doing this, I thought about some of the most "sane" people that I know and their behaviors. Sane really is just a social standing. What is socially considered sane is sometimes so far from it. I mean, the way I see it, this is how it works.

Sane is way overrated. I mean, if you're totally sane you become one of those boring people who has the same daily routine and flips out if his Friday underwear go missing and he has to wear his Monday ones. You know what I'm saying?

For those of you who actually do this...all you CEO's and office workers of the daily bump and grind, you definitely know what I mean. Hats off to you, because you are no more sane than anyone else, and that's what makes you who you are. It's amazing to be a little fun, wild, and crazy sometimes. Please, wear those Monday underwear on a Friday. See how it feels. I promise you that you will not be disappointed!

As I'm sitting here typing this, my mom is watching TV. A commercial came out where this guy was using the voice dialing feature on his cell phone to make a call. My mom brought up a very short story that I don't think I've ever told on here. That, my friends, is a crime.

Ages ago when I worked at Hallmark, one of my favorite people to work with was Katie. She was smart, and funny, and really close to my age. She was also pretty awesome with technology and had one of those phones that did everything but clean the house. As we were leaving work one night, she got out her phone and hit the voice dialing feature. Just as she was about to say the name of who she wanted it to dial, the door to the store in which we were trying to lock up, got in a fight with us. And out of her mouth came an "oh, shit." Automatic reaction, understandably, but this is where it gets hinky.

Her phone then goes "now dialing oh, shit." We cracked up immediately, but the worst was yet to come. About five seconds later the automated voice answered back with "can not find oh, shit. Ending call." To this day I don't know if I've ever laughed at anything so hard in my life, or if I could recreate a situation as funny ever again. Just the fact that the automated voice actually said "oh, shit" and then tried to find them to dial, just totally made me wonder how smart technology actually is.

But the moral of the story is that Katie got technology to swear. I should totally be a fifteen year old boy to appreciate this properly, but I am not, and I assure you I appreciate this more than any teenage boy ever could.

This concludes the blog for the day, but before I go, I was just reminded that I love smurfs! You know, the little blue things from the 80's. They rock my socks in ways I can't explain. Ah, smurfs!