On Saturday night I attended a semi-fancy work-related soiree, at a person’s huge and beautiful home. I don’t generally enjoy such things, on account of my social awkwardness, and was apprehensive about going. But… I didn’t feel like I was in a position to say no.
So, I made sure I had the right clothes ready to go, got dressed, and punched the address into my phone. But the neighborhood is so new, it stumped Google Maps. Eventually, however, I found an area where a shitload of cars were lining the street, and figured I was getting warm.
It was dark, and I couldn’t see very well. So, I parked and started walking. I noticed a mailbox with an address on the side. I walked over to investigate, slipped on ice, and fell flat on my back. I mean, it was like something out of the cartoons; I think my right foot was above my head for a split second.
My skeleton was jolted, and I lost my breath. But, it seemed like I was OK. I didn’t hit my head, and my pelvis hadn’t turned to dust. So, I wallowed around on ice, a fat ass in dress clothes — directly in front of the party I was supposed to attend. And it felt like the wallowing went on for quite some time.
When I was finally upright again, I checked to see if my clothes were ripped, and everything was good. I wasn’t even covered in slush or mud, or anything. I’d slipped on solid ice, which is fairly clean.
So, I went inside and awkwarded up the joint for a few hours. The end.
How long has it been since you fell flat on your ass? I fell coming out of work a couple of years ago, and jacked-up my left wrist. But I’m usually super-cautious about such things. Do you have any stories to tell, about slipping and falling? Please use the comments section above or below, or whatever the hell.
For the past three or four years I’ve received at least one phone call per month for a person named Carlton. Literally dozens of calls. And it’s not a situation where this Carlton person used to have my phone number, it’s people mis-dialing.
It seems like Carlton is a very powerful man, because everybody who calls him seems eager to please. Possibly even shitting themselves a bit. I might be imagining it, but I suspect they have to psyche themselves up before dialing the numbers. Then they screw it all up and call me, a fat road-wallower with no social skills.
I’d like to get the story on this guy, and might start asking questions. The next time I receive a Carlton call I think I’m going to try to get to the bottom of it.
What do you think? Should I launch an investigation, or could it lead to trouble? Perhaps I don’t need to insert myself into Carlton’s world? What are your feelings on the matter? Could I be opening up a whole Hitchcock series of events? Maybe he’s a professional hit man, or a drug kingpin? And maybe it could lead to someone saying, “This Jeff Kay character… he’s asking questions.” What do you think?
Yesterday I had to renew a bunch of domain names with GoDaddy. Man, I hate paying money for stuff like that… In fact, I let one go. But I still had to renew seven or eight — including this one, TheWVSR, and the title of my next novel. Important addresses.
The thing, though? GoDaddy has many, many discount codes floating around in the universe. So, I spent at least an hour trying to get one to work. One lowered the cost by 10%, but I was convinced I could to do better. And I went down a rat hole of promo codes that had me teetering on the edge of sanity.
I’m NEVER convinced I got the best deal. Never! Eventually, however, I pulled the trigger on it. I had to, I was losing it. It’s still nagging at me, though. The next one I tried, I know, would’ve shaved a full 30 bucks off the price. I just know it!
Oh, I have a love/hate relationship with internet discount codes. There’s nothing like the feeling when a good one takes hold. But yesterday I was denied. Almost all of them did nothing, and I ended up paying roughly $12 per domain. Grrr…
I need to go to work now, my friends. I’m trying to get this site back on schedule, starting today. So, check back on Thursday for something new.
And have yourselves a great day!
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Heh !
I could have this wrong, but I believe Carlton is a doorman.
jtb
I don’t think I ever took a spectacular fall until after I stopped drinking. Who knew I had ethanol-powered gyros?
John
The last nasty fall I recall happened while I was crossing the street downtown. A person coming from the opposite direction muttered something and stiff-armed me right across my forehead! Suddenly I was laying in the middle of the street, blinking at the sky trying to figure out what happened. To this day I don’t know what possessed the guy to do that, but he’s lucky that I am too fat to get up very fast!
I did the up-in-air-cartoon move last winter. Right now there is a a sheet of ice in front of where live – it’s a wonder I have not went down this year.
About 2 years ago I tripped over a curb in front of trader Joes and went right down on the knee that was operated on so I rolled over onto my ass and spent a solid 5 minutes rocking back and forth muttering obscenities. Not a single person stopped to ask if I was ok but hurried past me in the hopes of securing their soy milk and curried rice.
Hey gang wish me luck. I have an interview at a law firm tomorrow morning. On their website, they quote George Carlin so I’m feeling really good about this!
I’m guessing it’s the law firm of Shit, Piss, Fuck, Cunt, Cocksucker, Motherfucker and Tits, LLC.
Good luck!
.
I’d hire them.
To be fair, the TJs Curried Rice is excellent. And had I had TJs proof-at-home pain au chocolat on my mind, and you’d had a bleeding head wound, I *still* might have walked past you, they are that good 🙂
and the ham/cheese/onion flatbread, and the chicken samosas. There are some meh products at TJs but the good ones are GOOD.
My last fall was this past saturday, on snow covered ice, at the autowreckers. Shoulder checked a car on the way to landing on my ass. Hurt my shoulder for a couple days, but at least seems to have full range of motion without causing a wince.
Good luck Madz!
I’m actually an internet discount code guru… Should have asked, got one here for Go Daddy reregister one domain get the rest free….
The last ass-fall I can recall was sometime in the 90s, while skiing at Hunter Mountain. My feet went out from under me and I fell over backwards, smacking the back of my head on smooth glare ice. With a lightly-rung bell, I was then faced with making my way down the rest of a black diamond called Hellgate.
And for domain registration, I’ve been using Gandi. They’re not the absolute cheapest, but they’re good and the price includes a few things that Godaddy charges extra for – like DNS and a bunch of mailboxes; I forget what else. But I only have six; I guess the more you have, the more price matters.
.
Thanksgiving week a couple years ago we went to NYC. Daughter wanted to go on an architectural boat ride around the island. Husband figured it was a mile walk so off we go…..3 miles later in 35 degrees and high winds we’re a block away . I’m bitchin’ my ass off and notice a little dog park with a chihuahua just having a party. Watching the dog I snagged my toe on the curb and went down on my knee. My frozen knee!! Fuck I couldn’t breath it hurt so bad and my asshole daughter was laughing her head off. On Thanksgiving day we discovered the hotel was on the parade route!!. The walls of the building were about 2 feet thick so I decided I would sit in the window and watch while husband and asshole froze on the street. I fell out of the window onto the pull out couch. The bar in that couch fricking killed me. I didn’t share that fall with the family. Crap I just remember Jeff asked for “slip and fall”. Oh well it was cold.
In 2010 or so I took a header on fresh ice outside of a whattaburger in okc at about 4am. Drunk. I’m pretty sure I fd up my rotator cuff. Still badnto this day. I just walked out the door and immediately went down with a full hot coffee. Dan that hurt.
Interviews a few weeks ago seemed to go well. Was told they liked me but we’re going with an internal candidate. That’s just cap for thanks but no thanks right?
Last winter I had a cartoon-like fall on the ice. My feet went forward and I found myself lying on my back on my driveway. Fortunately I had a thick coat on, so the damage was relatively minimal, but I had to lie there a few seconds to catch my breath before I could get up.
A friend had just dropped me off, but she didn’t see me go down, so she drove away as all this was happening. Good thing I didn’t need help!
Well done. I slipped on a lemon in a cracker barrel a few weeks ago. I wasn’t hurt. But the manager saw it and FREAKED. He comped my meal and gave me a $50 gift card as well. So the humiliation of falling like an idiot in front of 150 people was almost worth it.
Fell on my ass?
1993: Bike accident, burst fracture T12.
2006: Socks on freshly waxed oak stair case, burst fracture T9.
I’ve got serious bad luck falling on my ass, but it sounds like you come from sturdier stock.
You bastard.
I feel your pain on the GoDaddy code situation, I went through it recently myself. The thing is, they used to have good codes out there for both purchasing domains and for renewing domains. Now they are just putting out deal codes for purchasing domains. Codes for renewals are scarce and seem to not have much value. I guess they figure once they have you locked in most people are not going to go through the hassle of switching registrars.
Back in 2005 or so I slipped (not drunk) on a spilled drink at a qdoba. The manager freaked. No gift card and I was pretty spry still.
Went ass over tea kettle about 5 years ago at work in an icy parking lot. It was so bad I lost a shoe. If that wasn’t humiliating enough not 1, but 2 co-workers drove past me while I lay flat out in the parking lot without stopping! I cursed them with diareahha — hope it worked.
Wait… your OWN diarrhea? Seems like “I’ll show you – I’ll punch myself in the throat!”
.
Diareahha is an improv troupe in Akron
I understand they face the audience throughout the program.
I did multiple somersaults down a flight of outside basement steps several years ago, but no ice involved. Hit the concrete floor with such force that I saw stars and cartoon bluebirds circling my head for five minutes. Broke several ribs and could not inhale more than 25 percent lung capacity for a week or so.
My wife took a hard fall on our driveway many years ago carrying a trash can to the curb breaking her elbow. She was in her pajamas and waited all day for me to return from work so I could take her to the emergency room. She insisted I help her get fully dressed before we went. I recall doing a pretty good job with jeans, socks, and shoes. The bra was interesting as I could not figure out how to get 15 pound tits situated in 5 pound size cups, she was really raising hell about my ineptness and made me put one of my big sweat shirts on her since there were boobs sticking out four directions all at the same time. She still gets pissed anytime this story comes up, and this was about 15 years ago.
I think it fairly safe to say, that as males of the species, our specialty is taking bras off, not putting them on. I feel for ya.
I haven’t fallen any time in recent memory, but I will share that my phone number is one number off from a hospice/home health service in your neck of the woods, Jeff. Every week I receive at least one phone call for that place. Callers aren’t thrown by my standard Verizon automated voicemail message and proceed to leave messages to include confidential patient info (from a doctor’s office), requests for nurse visits to change bandages (from patients) and a bunch of other stuff my brain has forgotten to protect me…
It seems that I have the same name as a tennis pro in my area. I’ve gotten a couple of voice mails from people wanting to reschedule their lessons, or whatever.
In other news, several years ago I installed a video conferencing system for a civilian government agency (Agriculture or Commerce or something) in DC. They ordered their ISDN lines from Verizon and all was well. Shortly afterward they called to complain that their VTC system kept getting unwanted incoming calls. It turns out Verizon had given them a phone number that used to belong to a pizza joint.
.
Our number was one off from Bill and Tony’s liquor store. I’m sure they hated me when people came in looking for that great sale I told them about over the phone. Sadly they tore down Bill and Tonys and put up a Cum and Go. Ugggh.
I continue maintaining my domain with godaddy in spit of the fact that they supported SOPA a few years ago. Since I only maintain one, the cost is reasonable and the hope that someday there will be a bunch of rich people clamoring for the name and be willing to pay an obscene amount of money for it, I keep it.
A few years ago I kept getting wrong number call from people trying to sign up for some nurse certification course. I kept telling them they had the wrong number and finally one person who called told me the number came from a fax that they would regularly get and the training company had put the wrong number on it and it was mine.
I got a hold of the company and explained the situation but no one must have given a shit because people kept calling wanting to sign up. I finally started taking their names, credit card numbers and scheduling them for the class they requested. I guess after enough people showed up for class that they thought they had paid for that the company had no record of they finally made the change to the advertising.
After a while I kind of missed that part of my job.
Our American Bull Dog will only play fetch with a crushed water bottle weighted with a bit of water. A couple weeks ago, I stood on our ice and snow covered back deck in a little oair of flat shoes I wear around the house. I threw the bottle out into the yard underhand. My feet followed my arm motion and I fell like a dropped bowling ball. I’m sure if my neighbor saw it, she would have been doubled over. Had the situation been reversed, I would have been.
A few years back, I left a party store from geting St. Patty’s Day decorations. I caught my heel in a snow and slush covered hole in the sidewalk and did a perfect superman into the parking lot. I lost a shoe and my purse spun around like a windmill and slid a few feet in front of me. I was soaking wet and scratched up the palms of my hands. The two zitsters in the car in the first space were in hysterics. I got up…retrieved my shoe, then my purse and schlepped my soggy ass to my car.
I remember that!
Sir, I believe you just did a Steven Wright.
.
Several years ago I worked for a computer consultant in Marietta, OH. One day I had to call a non-800 number for tech support on a sound card. The number in the manual was a misprint and belonged to some old buy in Clearwater, FL. He was cool with it though and said he had talked to people from all over the world. Me, I don’t get interesting calls just scammers, telemarketers and bill collectors looking for the people who had the number before me even though I have had the same numbers for years. I hate those assholes…they won’t stop calling no matter what you tell them. I don’t have any good falling stories as I try not to stand up anymore than I just have to.
I’ll give you one for marietta. I once slid down the metal steps behind the town house in the rain.
I’ll get to the point of the posting tomorrow, but for now;
An open letter to anyone at Jimmy Johns:
The crap you sell serves better as roadside litter than it does food.
It’s a good thing that the only thing I can taste in a bite of your sandwich is lettuce, because your meat is so bland I can only expect that it was thoroughly rinsed after being boiled in unsalted tap water. Your fresh bread would suit pleasantly as shingles on an asphalt roof. Also, I didn’t know there was a tomato in my sandwich until it fell out the back of my hardtack roll.
No wonder you sell yourself on being fast rather than being good. But it doesn’t matter how fast you serve crap if the crap you serve tastes like crap; especially if it’s put together slowly. For a company that prides itself on production speed, it’s strange that there is a longer line waiting for their food than there is waiting to order food.
Maybe the speed you are so proud of is related to the rate at which I throw your shit sandwich away.
Go to a large empty field and bury all your recipes in a deep hole. Then use an earth mover to scoop that hole out of the ground and incinerate the whole damn thing. Eat the ashes, then make a sandwich out of the subsequent shit. Eat that shit (which would be better than any sandwich you’ve ever made) then hurl yourself into a sun. Not the sun that heats Earth, some other sun. I don’t want your crap sandwich ashes souring up my sun.
After all the chain burger and sandwich joints have run the last of the local burger restaurants and delis out of business, we might remember that the local places used non-corporate ingredients and that the best of them didn’t use fillers and salt in place of meat and cheese.
My town of 200,000 inhabitants has two family-owned non-chain burger places left and two family-owned delis. The burger places in particular use local ingredients when possible (for example, black angus beef from 90 miles east of here) and use locally-baked bread and buns. You can taste the quality difference in the burgers, shakes and sandwiches.
In both cases, the local burger places are owned by older couples: the next generation of the families has opted for other professions. When these owners die or retire, the corporate chains will have won the battle and the people who enjoy tasty, fresh, local food will have lost the war.
We’ll all be eating cardboard and salt after the revolution.
John
Or, you may have to start making your own burgers and sammidges. The humanity.
But I do like that Anguish Burger.
.
Is one of the burger joints you are referring to the Pick Quick on Pacific Hwy in Fife?
This is about all that needs to be said about slips in the snow and ice….
http://kardashy.tumblr.com/post/111437416038/this-man-fell-for-nine-seconds
Mrs. Cycle66 had a shindig at my house this past weekend.
It was terrible.
All these people were in MY HOUSE!
It was for one of her friends’ 50th birthday party. There were probably 20 people there, her friends and their husbands. Of course everybody looks to me to entertain the men. I knew two of the seven or eight guys there. How the fuck am I supposed to entertain them, stand on my head and juggle floppy rubber dicks?
The party started off pretty good actually. I holed up in my studio at the far end of the house while all these jerks filed in for a fabulous party. The problem is that my house is still pretty new and my wife found out a lot of people hadn’t seen it yet. Since she like to show people our private sanctuary there ended up being a mambo line of idiots walking through my space while I was doing and inventory on pedal parts.
Not too bad, they all passed through, “oohed” and “ahhed” at all my cool stuff and moved along. Then slowly all the men started trickling back to my space looking for either escape from their spouses or simply to be in my holy presence. This would not do.
I can’t have all these preened and aftershave scented idiots funking up my awesome tobacco and leather scented studio. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Have these fools crowding my room and touching my guitars and junk, or bring herd them back to the living room and …bleh, entertain them.
Since they were going to be bugging me anyway, I figured I’d cut my losses and get them out of my Tabernacle and move back to the front.
Now I’m standing there awkwardly, IN MY OWN HOME trying to distract a bunch of people I wish weren’t in my house in the first place. Luckily I’ve devised a neat little tactic for this. I do a quick triage of what these fuckers are interested in, then I get them talking.
Once you get some jackass talking about themselves you can easily replace yourself with a Ted Danson cutout and they wouldn’t notice. The skill is pairing these chum buckets off with each other and slinking away for a whore-derve and simply never returning.
It took about an hour before I was able to escape with my dog back to my room.