That Moment...

TMW the following conversation happens:

Me: This may be a ridiculous question but why is there a sheep skull in the bucket by the sink?

Dad: I just wanted to see what it would look like when it was washed.

Me: Fair enough.

Dad: It's probably rubbish but it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Me: Were you drunk?

Dad: No, I was just walking.

Okay, dad...

 

When I was a Marine in a foreign land, my team chief found the skull of a pig. "Asch, you need this?"

"Oh yes I do."

Put it in a bucket of Clorox overnight, then got some comm wire and tied it to a stick. The next time we headed out to the field, I had the thing at order arms during morning formation.

First Sergeant. "Asch, what the hell is that?"

"It's the Wilbur, the team seven mascot, first sergeant!"

"Yes, but what is it?"

"It's a pig's skull, first sergeant!"

"Why do you have a pig's skull on a stick?"

"Team seven needed a mascot, first sergeant!"

He wandered off, muttering under his breath about lance corporals, and we headed to our tent in the woods, where we decorated Wilbur with fetishes and inscriptions worthy of his rank and position, and placed him where he could guard and protect us in the days and nights that followed...

 

That moment you are doing federal security and you encounter a skateboarder wielding a machete bolted to the head of a pole.

Pretty sure I could use my life in my writing and half the time people would say it's not realistic enough.

 

Capitalize "Pole" and it's really weird.

 

TMW you realize that if you can't have too much of a good thing, can you then have too much of a bad thing?
Seems almost paradoxical, when you think about the saying.
So maybe it is possible that you can have too much of a bad thing?

 

That moment when I realise after I have been hard-working, I will always fail.

 

Something just occurred to me about my fantasy's prologue, and I may be overthinking just a tad, but...

TMW I realize I've no clue how a six-year-old is supposed to react to being lost in the woods, being founded by an enemy army, tended to by the commander of said army, eventually opening up and talking to said commander, before finally being taken back to the enemy country under the care of a local priestess.

 

And the finished product! Gingerbread cupcakes with molasses-marscapone buttercream, topped with candied fruit!

 

I always wanted one! Did it really work? Even as an adult with shiny kitchen toys like baking molds and copper eggwhite beating bowls I um...still kind of want one. Is that wrong?

 

Those are gorgeous!!!! Gimme!

Ahem. I mean, may I please have a cupcake?

ETA: Damn. I saw the word buttercream and became mesmerized and missed the word marscapone. I'm allergic to cheese. Well, they look pretty!

 

It's okay - they were all gone within an hour anyway!

 

It did! Took about 60 minutes to make a cake the size of a coaster, but I did have success with it. I was awfully glad when Mom started letting me use the real oven though.

 

My mother insisted on intensive supervision for the EZ Bake Oven. Kind of negated the point. I think I got to use it once.

 

Y'all, let your kids bake and cook and generally mess up your kitchen. I have a 20 year old who is light years ahead of me as I was at her age because I let her loose at the stove and oven. Keep a fire extinguisher and first aid kit handy and let them soar. They'll totally surprise you, I promise!

 

Back in the world, when I was a car owner, we had a particularly cold winter that just played hell on my car's ability to start in the morning. Cold batteries don't provide much juice, cold oil slows things down rather than smoothing them out, etc.

But I'd heard that putting a shop light (screened lightbulb on a weatherproof cord) under your hood overnight would keep the temps in the engine bay up enough that starting wouldn't be a problem. Being an idiot, I decided to put the bulb by the battery, then cover it over with a space blanket and some towels to keep the heat in.

I didn't burn the car down.

I did, however, melt a big hole in the plastic top of the battery, exposing the acid and all the lead bits, and creating a generally unsafe situation which required me to get a new battery before I could use the car. Fortunately, I'm mechanically competent enough to change not only the CD, but also the battery, but that's about it. Disposal of the wrecked battery wasn't a problem either, as I was working at a tractor shop at the time.

Dealing with the laughter of the mechanics when I told them about my impromptu EZ Bake Oven, on the other hand...

 

actually, was a mug of daddy's warm piss - standard practice re eviction sofa slugs/malingerer happy daddy types sniffing round one's own hard-earned wife, seen it myself in Devon

 

Ah, that's better. I finally have a keyboard here in the windswept North, and time to write my many novels, until January 2nd, at least, when must visit employer/not reveal new location. I mean frankly, what's a six hour drive to the office?

[Indeed], time to drive this Northern powerhouse I invented, hurl Southern ways to those winds, check out the check out opportunities for me.

 

LAST WILL & TESTAMENT

...and lo, finally, upon mentioneth 'burny bitey' a mug of my preservateth urine furnished to every house guest, by order, this day 2012.

Nigel [Barny] Battle-Salisbury esq, VC

 

Back in the day, before global warming, we always used pumps that circulated warm water through the cooling system when parked. Worked great, and it was very nice to start a warm car when the temperature was below zero. Many parking meters in Michigan's Upper Peninsula are still wired with 110-volt outlets for that purpose. 'Course, the fire hydrants up there are six feet tall, so they can be seen above the snow.

 

If my stove wasn't an $1100 stove I'd say go for it. Luckily I have a separate small kitchen set up in the garage where I can plug in a stove when I have a kid who wants to learn to cook.

 

TMW you walk in to your doctor's office and the overhead Muzak is playing an easy-listening instrumental version of God Damn the Pusher (accompanied by the whirring sound of Hoyt Axton spinning in his grave).