"I Smell Gas"

A friend of mine called me the other day and said, "The weirdest thing happened to me yesterday."  He was right.  Weird barely describes it.

The day before he called me, he noticed the smell of gasoline as he was getting into his car to leave for work.  He didn't give it much thought and drove on to the office.  As he was leaving his car when he got to work, he could still smell gasoline.  He looked under his car and saw gasoline pouring in a steady stream from somewhere under his car.  It's a new car, so he called the car dealership and they told him they would send someone to get the car.  He told them he would drive the car to them.

"You DROVE a car that was leaking gasoline?  That was POURING gasoline?"  I asked.  "You weren't afraid someone would throw a cigarette out of their window and blow you up?!"

"Yeah,"  he said.  "I didn't think about that until later."

"What about the gas in the parking lot?  Did you call somebody to clean it up?  Did you tell anybody?"

Did I mention that we work in the same building?  Which we also share with the FBI?

He said, "I didn't think about that until later, too.  Somebody could have dropped a cigarette ten feet away and blown up the whole parking lot, if not the whole building.  It could have been an international incident!  My family would have been left to prove I wasn't some sort of crazed FBI hating suicide bomber."

"Holy shit!"  I said.

"Then, as I was driving to the dealership, it suddenly occured to me that I was trailing gasoline down 11th Street and somebody with a lit match or dragging a muffler could be in for a big surprise."

"But, you made it, obviously."

"Yeah, I made it.  When I got to the dealership, they told me the leak was coming from ABOVE my fuel tank and that they thought they knew what it was and wanted me to stay to see it myself, because this had happened before and people don't usually believe them when they tell them why their car is leaking gas."

"And...?"

"So, they start taking my car apart.  Did you know the fuel tank is in under the seat in the middle of your back seat?"

"Uh, NO!"

"Uh.  YEAH."

"That doesn't seem safe," I said.

"When they took the seat out, they showed me the fuel line...chewed through."

"What the fuck?"

"A rodent.  Either a mouse or a rat or a squirrel.  Who knows.  A rodent.  They said it happens all the time."

"I never heard of such a thing," I told him.

"Me neither."

"Well,"  I said, "I'm glad you didn't get blown up.  Or blow me up.  Or blow up the FBI."

"Rats.  Squirrels.  Mice.  Crazy."

"Crazy."

Ain't that just grand?

Ain't this just the icing on the shit-cake that was 2009?

Rumors are swirling that Simon Cowell will leave American Idol after this season. Paula is already gone. I don't like change, but it keeps being thrust upon me. Bastards.

Susan Sarandon and Tim Robbins are splitting up after 23 years. I hate, hate, hate hearing things like that. Hate it.

How A Bone Disease Grew To Fit The Prescription : NPR

This is unbelievable. I take that back. Totally believable.

How A Bone Disease Grew To Fit The Prescription : NPR

Why didn't YOU think of that?

From our WTF Department comes this story of looking for love in all the easiest places. The wannabe massage therapist had to have known that the 21-year-old woman who so easily allowed a "field" massage therapist into her home was easy prey.

If he had come to my door with promises of free massages and instructions to gradually remove my clothes, I...well, I...never mind.

DENTON, Texas (AP) - Denton police are looking for an assault suspect who posed as a massage student to touch a woman and then ask her out.

A police report said the 21-year-old Denton woman answered a knock at her door by someone who claimed he was doing field work for a massage class.

She let the man into her apartment and allowed him to massage her, but became suspicious when he asked her to keep taking off more clothes Monday.

Police say the woman finally got the man to leave, but not before he asked her to go on a date.

She declined.

She called the massage school and was told the man was not enrolled. She then called police.

A detective did not immediately return a message Wednesday from The Associated Press.

(Copyright 2009 by The Associated Press. All Rights Reserved.)

From our "WTF" Department

A local blog did a post about these today.

The device is called the Kush and it's supposed to support your breasts while you sleep and comes in three handy sizes. My friend Carly pointed the blog post out to me and asked me if this is the miracle product I've been waiting for. I told her that this thing would do nothing except annoy me and end up wedged in places that don't need wedging.

However, if someone invents something that would keep my breasts from sliding into my armpits when I lay on my back, I want to be notified immediately.

Why?

Saturday at Kroger, I saw a middle-aged man running from Kroger with two huge containers of cooking oil. What exactly would constitute a cooking oil emergency?

Things That Make Me Smile

I just saw a Federal Express truck leaving the post office.

Why?

Last night, I woke up at about 4:00 a.m., sat up in bed and said, "I feel like I should say something."

I looked at the dog, looked at the wall, tried to remember what I was dreaming, then went back to sleep.

The weirdest part is that, when I woke up this morning, I still remembered doing that.

WTF?

The "Fun" Continues

Monday, I did a post about a chaotic hour I had after I left the office. Part of my problem was that my debit card wouldn't work.

I went to my bank Wednesday and the girl there had no problem with my card. She ran every test she could including going out to the ATM machine and trying it herself. I had tried the ATM machine ten minutes before she did and my card wouldn't work. For her, no problem.

I went back out to the ATM machine and, at first, my card wouldn't work. On my second attempt...MONEY!

Last night, I went to Hallmark and tried to use my debit card. Wouldn't work. I told them about my problem Monday and she said that the problem Monday was with the Pulse network and not a Hallmark problem. This was a Hallmark problem. I dug to the bottom of my purse, dusted the cobwebs off my checkbook and wrote a check...something I haven't done in months.

I left Hallmark, drove across the parking lot to Popeye's and was confronted with a sign that read, "Cash or checks, please. Credit card machine not working." WTF?! I placed my order and drove up to the window and told the girl about my trouble at Hallmark and suggested it might be the same problem. She said, "No, the machine up front works fine. It's only at the drive-thru."

I'll be helping Cory and Jamie move this weekend, so I'm not sure when my next post will be. That post will be about retrogrades. You can read ahead and do your homework in preparation for that post by clicking here. A friend told me about mercury retrogrades about fifteen years ago and I'm telling you, it's not my imagination. During a mercury retrograde, things tend to go to s-h-i-t.

Oh, yeah. The voice mail at my office quit working yesterday afternoon.

It's Not What You Think

Laurie: You want some?

Nameless guy friend: Sure.

Laurie: Give me your hand.

Nameless guy friend: Have you sucked it?

Laurie: Ew! No!!

Nameless guy friend: You should. It's hotter that way.

Laurie: This one's hard.

Nameless guy friend: You have to squeeze it.

Once again, "What the hell?"

My fortune cookie today...

Whatchu talkin' about Confucius?

Feel Lucky, Punk?

Chance
Uploaded by titounetsan

Thank You, Ms. Obvious

On tonight's local evening news, the reporter made the following statement regarding recent thefts of expensive guages from oil drilling sites:

"Authorities believe the motivation behind the thefts is profit."

You think?

Caffeine...too little...too late

This morning, I accidentally put my lip-plumper-upper cream under my eyes and my anti-puffy-eye cream on my lips. So, I had plump eyes and skinny lips. Not the look I was going for.

The "I Told You to Quit F*cking With Me" of the Year Award

Friday, October 17, 2008

Associated Press

LUCKNOW, India —

A woman chopped the head off a man who allegedly tried to attack her and then paraded the head through a market in northern India, police said Friday.

Police arrested the woman late Thursday after receiving calls from frightened witnesses who reported a blood-soaked woman holding a severed head was walking through the village, said police officer Ram Bharose.

The woman, 35, told police she had gone to a nearby forest to cut grass for fodder for her cattle when a man attacked her from behind.

"In a bid to save her dignity she beheaded him with a sickle," Bharose said, adding that the woman had bite marks on her neck and cheek.

The woman also told police that the man had been harassing and stalking her for three months and she had no regrets about killing him, he said, adding that she would probably be charged with culpable homicide.

The incident took place in Makkapurva village, some 125 miles southeast of Lucknow, the capital of Uttar Pradesh state.

Et tu, NPR?

I was listening to NPR this morning on my drive to work and the Market Watch segment came on. As I listened to their description of how markets all over the world are headed straight down the crapper, the announcer introduced a new segment in which a reporter travels the United States questioning people about their views on the economy.

I like to listen to NPR in the morning because their voices are so soothing. No matter what the crisis, their words and tone are always serious, yet never dire. They're never overly dramatic like those idiots at Fox News.

I almost wrecked my car when the soothing announcer said the title of the new on-the-road segment:

"The American Economy: The Road to Ruin."

Holy f*ck.

Nooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I ran out of cash last Friday and never had time to stop and get more. No problem since I have my trusty debit card. It's like a little cash security blanket.

I had to go to Kohl's last night which is right by my credit union, so I pulled into the ATM lane to get some cash. I put my card in backwards and it got stuck, but I was able to pull it back out. That is what we writers refer to as foreshadowing. I turned the card around, reinserted it and THE MACHINE KEPT MY CARD! WTF?!

I pulled out and sped into the still open drive-thru lanes where the "helpful" teller told me that the credit union does not service that ATM (once again, WTF?!) and I would have to go inside and get a new card. Of course, by now the lobby was closed.

Ergo, I have no cash. I have no debit card. I can't buy gas. I can't buy fast food. I can't get cash without actually getting out of my car, walking into a grocery store, standing in line and writing a check. I had to purchase birthday presents last night on my Mastercard which I paid off last month, so I don't even get to receive a Mastercard statement showing a zero balance which I was really looking forward to.

I love my debit card. I miss you debit card, my trusty companion.

Rat bastard ATM machine.

Shut My Mouth

As I was walking into my office building this morning, I noticed a construction worker type guy looking at me. I smiled at him and thought he looked familiar. He smiled back and I suddenly realized why he looked familiar and stopped myself just before I said...

"You remind me of my gynocologist!"

This is one weird-ass song

I have a Bobby Darin CD that I love. Every time I listen to it, when this song comes on I think to myself, "That's a weird-ass song right there." (Actually, I think to myself, "That's a weird fucking song," but I thought I'd clean it up a little.) Listen to the whole thing.

"What number is that?"

I just called my optometrist's office. When I told the girl who answered the phone that I needed to order some contact lenses, she put me on hold and never came back. When I called back and she realized she couldn't get rid of me that easily, she took my order. Here's the conversation:

Operator: What is your name?

Me: Laurie Anderson

(She put me on hold for a while to get my chart.)

Operator: What is your name again?

Me: Laurie Anderson

Operator: Oh, Anderson is your LAST name?

Me: Yes

(Put me on hold again.)

Operator: Okay, I found it. How do you want to pay?

Me: My debit card.

Operator: Um, okay. What's the number?

Me: (blahdy, blahdy, blah...giving her my number)

Operator: Expiration date?

Me: October, 2008

Operator: What number is that?

Me: Excuse me?

Operator: October. What number is that?

Me: Um, ten?

Operator: Okay. October...ten. 2008?

Me: Uh, yeah.

Operator: Hold on.

(Put me on hold for the third time in about 2 minutes.)

Operator: Okay, we'll call you when they come in. CLICK.

Me: (hanging up the phone mumbling to myself) Oh...my...God. What number is that? WHAT NUMBER IS THAT?! Oh...my...God...