There’s Bound to Be a Story Behind This

Giraffe on the HighwayMy drive down Route 32 each morning is often eventful, usually tedious, and sometimes there’s just crazy stuff. It’s a major roadway, so as with any major roadway, there are often critters who just weren’t fast enough to outrun one of the vehicles.

Deer seem to be the most cocky. “I can beat that thing,” they think. But they’re usually wrong. About a year ago, one who must have been especially bad at timing his entrance to the highway, smashed into the door of the Lexus in front of me, showering the driver with glass and crushing her door. The deer? Yeah, he didn’t fare well. But in addition to the deer, I’ve seen raccoons, foxes, vultures, and heck. . . I’ve even seen a small black bear once, adorning the shoulder of Rt. 32.

But today was the strangest. The first thing I saw appeared to be a very small deer, which wouldn’t have been at all unusual, except a hundred yards down the road, there lay a giraffe. Another hundred yards, a small bear. And then a hundred yards later, a large yellow emoji (I couldn’t tell whether it was still smiling). You’ve probably figured out that these were stuffed animals. Well, and a stuffed emoji.

So what’s the deal with that? The first thing I thought of was that the Eggman Movers truck from Toy Story was somewhere in front of me and the animals were escaping. I was being extra careful just in case RC was zooming up behind me trying to catch up to Woody and his friends.

Then I thought, well that’s silly. It was probably a pickup truck full of boxes of stuff, and the lid from the stuffed animal box blew off and animals were bouncing out along the highway. I was sure the driver’s wife had told him to tie the boxes down so the lids wouldn’t blow off. I imagined the driver telling his wife that she worried too much, and that there’s no way the lids could blow off. She looked at him, the way wives really look at their husbands when the husband is absolutely confident that they’re not about to make a big mistake. Before you say it, no I . . . okay, yes, I’ve been in almost exactly this situation. Never mind that!

But, what I decided to believe was this—there were two kids in the back of a Tahoe, the older boy (they must be boys) was sitting by the open window, and he was tossing his little brother’s toys out the window. Yes. That’s my final answer. I have no proof of this, but I watched intently the right side of the Tahoe in front of me hoping to see the stuffed projectiles arcing toward the shoulder. But, I didn’t see that at all. Not for real, anyway. In my mind, I imagined seeing a stuffed Olaf, a Mickey Mouse, or maybe Mom’s purse launched out the window. This is how I make this drive bearable every day, pardon the pun.

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Potty Humor

We have had indoor plumbing in our country for about 150 years. Suffice it to say, the plumbing we have today should work pretty darned well, don’t you think? For the most part, it actually does. The plumbing in my house works just like it’s supposed to. Turn the handle, out comes water. Easy. Peazy.

So why, then, does the plumbing system at work have to be so complicated? Keep in mind, our building was built in the 60’s (the 1960’s), and we still have pull chain lights. But the plumbing fixtures in the men’s room are all relatively new. What got me in this goofy mood was Sink #2. It doesn’t drain, so someone put a trash bag into the sink (The universal sign for a broken sink. . . kind of like hanging a t-shirt from your car window to signal your car is broken, and not that you just decided to park on the shoulder at Mile Marker 27 and try to find a Royal Farm Store at Exit 12 fifteen miles down the road. But I digress.) The bag isn’t that funny. It was the sign fastened to the faucet that read:

“Do Not Use. Sink Broken.”

You see, I figured this out without the sign. Then I thought about the sign. Like the warning label on the hair dryer. . . a device used to dry hair. . . cautioning me to NOT use it in the shower, where my sole purpose is to get wet, never mind the fact that I know—even without trying—that electricity is no substitute for shampoo. Someone, somewhere, must have plugged that hair dryer in and walked into their shower, so now. . .WARNING!  I pictured someone standing at the broken sink, filled with an empty plastic garbage bag in the bowl and wrapped around the faucet, trying to wash his hands, getting frustrated. . . then pissed. (Sorry. . . you can use ‘agitated’ if you like)

WASHER: “So if it’s broken, I should NOT use it, right?”

OBSERVER: “Well, it isn’t that you’re not allowed to use it. It’s broken, so you CAN’T use it.”

WASHER: “Wait, I thought you said I could?”

And so it goes. . . It made me laugh. Sadly, it’s not the only thing in there that ever makes me laugh, so I’ve decided that it is socially acceptable to laugh in the men’s room. Also related to plumbing, Sink #3 only started working when Sink #2 stopped. I can’t explain that. But then there’s Sink #4. It has the sensor so the water starts when you place your soapy hands under the faucet. Once there’s a stream of water (coming from the faucet), the water itself is now triggering the sensor, so it runs on and on. Sink #5, as we all know, provides water hot enough to make tea, while #6 will turn your fingers blue.

But the other plumbing phenomenon is the waterless urinal. I know, it sounds gross. But there’s a sign over it that touts its water saving superpower. Something like, “This waterless urinal saves the environment 64,000 gallons of water every year.” That would be great, except the toilets flush three times before you can get out of the stall. It’s like they’re telling ol’ waterless, “Don’t worry, buddy! We got ya covered!”

This multi-flush tendency is well-known by the regulars, and we all know to avoid Stall #1. Stall #1, you see, flushes at random times. It seems to sense that precise moment when you’re distracted, and then suddenly, WHOOSH! It’s like Russian Roulette. Probably the best part is when a newbie is in Stall #1 and you’re in Stall #2. You hear the WHOOSH! And see the other guy’s feet come up off the floor. Now that’s funny right there, and I don’t care who you are. . .