I hate getting bad health advice. Now, when I say "bad" I don't mean that this is health advice that will hurt you. It simply doesn't do any good. Like someone saying, "In order to be healthy you should live a healthier life."
That's bad advice. Perhaps LAME advice is a better term. But I'll stick with bad.
So Yahoo had an article titled: 5 Foods To Never Eat. I was expecting it to say something like, The new 18,000 calorie Deep Fried Bacon Burger, or The Supreme Chocolate Pizza Smoothie. You know, stuff like that. But these were the 5 things you should avoid eating:
1. Sugar
2. Other Unhealthy Foods
3. Fats
4. Carbs
5. Processed Foods
Seriously? "Other Unhealthy Foods?" Are we so stupid that we need people to tell us that in order to stay healthy we need to not eat unhealthy foods? And frankly, shouldn't "Other Unhealthy Foods" be the bottom of a list of bad foods to eat? I mean, stylistically speaking, can you really say, "Other Foods" and then go on to list still other foods? Doesn't "other" capture everything that hasn't been mentioned thus far?
This teaser article was meant to get you to watch a video to get more detail. I didn't watch it. If you want me to have better health then you need to have better writing skills.
Here, I'll give you 5 Things Never To Do When Writing:
1. Never excessively repeat yourself too much
2. Never write not good
3. Do/Don't contradict yourself/others.
4. Never excessively repeat yourself too much
5. Always end by repeating one of the things you said previously to drive the point home never excessively repeat yourself too much
Master these 6 key things to never master and you'll be on your way to writing an article I'll never read with more respect.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Monday, April 11, 2011
The Masters - A Review
I went to the Masters (golf) this past weekend at Augusta National. My father asked if I wanted to go about a month ago and I jumped at the opportunity. I've never seen a professional tournament and I thought it might be a once in a lifetime opportunity. Even if you don't like golf going and sitting out in the beautiful sun among the immaculately landscaped fairways is not a bad way to spend your Saturday.
I don't know how they do it, but the grass at Augusta is just slightly lower than ground level. And that is in the "rough" area. On every single course I have ever played the "rough" is basically an inch tall and it will swallow your ball. Or, on the really bad courses, it's just crab grass. At Augusta there was scarcely a difference between the rough and the fairway.
One thing I was not prepared for at Augusta National was the outrageous percentage of men smoking cigars. Nasty.
Almost no one smoked a cigarette, but there was no less than one in ten men smoking cigars. Which, as you can imagine, sort of spoiled the wonderful, green experience I was having. Just as I was about to watch a beautiful drive on a par 3 a cloud of smoke came creeping along on the tail of a dirty joke being told by one 40+ year old who must have been thinking that his joke was too funny for everyone around him to notice that he was tugging a bit to frequently at his genitals.
PREDICTION: I see a clinic visit in his future.
He and his buddies were chatting up a storm and looking much like industrial revolution London, except that they were wearing modern cotton blended fibers that "wick" the sweat away from your body. And they clearly all had waxed their eyebrows.
Our 40 year old was telling his joke to this 20-ish year old woman who looked to me like she didn't want to be disgusted by the smoke, the man or the joke, but despite her efforts she was, all three.
Seconds later, after I finished gagging on smoke, and after I missed the awesome drive, a pretty lady with a very large hat came and sat down right in front of my dad. His entire view was obstructed. We chuckled at first, but then she proceeded to tell the guy she sat down beside about all of the things she had purchased at the golf shop. I swear, she paid $100.00 for what amounted to a white T-shirt with the Masters logo on it. "A great deal" so she said. I won't blame people for being rich, because I usually wish I was. But I will blame them and make fun of them for being stupid.
Anyway, she talked about her purchases for no less than 5 minutes and then segued into the things she wished she could buy, and by chance did he know what what's-her-face would like, because her birthday was near and she wanted to get her something from here. The guy said that she would like a shirt and if she was going back to the store could he get an extra one and he would pay her back. She said yes. I thought he was doing us a favor by getting rid of the little chatterbox, but ere she was standing to go he grabbed her arm and began a completely different conversation that lasted 15 minutes! Two groups of golfers passed as they chatted. Finally, she asked if he was enjoying the match and he said that he wasn't and he was about to go to his cabin and watch it on TV. She asked if she could join him and I assume they both went and spent a buzillion dollars on Masters coozy cup holders and had adulterous sex while smoking cigars - the Masters on ESPN in the background. But what do I know. It could have been innocent.
So anyway, some reviews.
REVIEW: THE MASTERS
~too much for one review. must be broken down
THE GROUNDS OF AUGUSTA NATIONAL
A+
The are the nicest grounds I have ever walked on, and I have played at some nice clubs. I will never play Augusta National because I will never be able to afford and membership. And even if I could afford it, I wouldn't feel right about belonging to a club that still, in 2011, dose not allow women.
AUGUSTA'S GENDER POLICY
F
CIGAR SMOKING
F-
Why do rich guys smoke cigars? Aren't rich people supposed to be educated. Haven't they heard of cancer? I know that rich people belong to a secret society of semi-immortals, but still, why take the chance. And besides, I cannot be the only one who has noticed the clear phallic resemblance. What is the draw to putting a giant paper penis in your mouth and sucking on it for an hour?
THE ACTUAL GOLFING
B
I saw some really sweet shots, but mostly I saw plain golf. Tiger Woods shot par, which is terrible for a pro. Apparently he had to take 6 months off to learn a new swing because his biceps have gotten too big. I can't imagine what my boss would do if I told him I had to take 6 months off because my biceps had gotten to big and I could no longer type right.
I'm gonna try it and see what happens. Maybe if I do it while smoking a cigar and grabbing my balls a lot he'll think I'm a semi-immortal and he'll promote me.
I don't know how they do it, but the grass at Augusta is just slightly lower than ground level. And that is in the "rough" area. On every single course I have ever played the "rough" is basically an inch tall and it will swallow your ball. Or, on the really bad courses, it's just crab grass. At Augusta there was scarcely a difference between the rough and the fairway.
One thing I was not prepared for at Augusta National was the outrageous percentage of men smoking cigars. Nasty.
Almost no one smoked a cigarette, but there was no less than one in ten men smoking cigars. Which, as you can imagine, sort of spoiled the wonderful, green experience I was having. Just as I was about to watch a beautiful drive on a par 3 a cloud of smoke came creeping along on the tail of a dirty joke being told by one 40+ year old who must have been thinking that his joke was too funny for everyone around him to notice that he was tugging a bit to frequently at his genitals.
PREDICTION: I see a clinic visit in his future.
He and his buddies were chatting up a storm and looking much like industrial revolution London, except that they were wearing modern cotton blended fibers that "wick" the sweat away from your body. And they clearly all had waxed their eyebrows.
Our 40 year old was telling his joke to this 20-ish year old woman who looked to me like she didn't want to be disgusted by the smoke, the man or the joke, but despite her efforts she was, all three.
Seconds later, after I finished gagging on smoke, and after I missed the awesome drive, a pretty lady with a very large hat came and sat down right in front of my dad. His entire view was obstructed. We chuckled at first, but then she proceeded to tell the guy she sat down beside about all of the things she had purchased at the golf shop. I swear, she paid $100.00 for what amounted to a white T-shirt with the Masters logo on it. "A great deal" so she said. I won't blame people for being rich, because I usually wish I was. But I will blame them and make fun of them for being stupid.
Anyway, she talked about her purchases for no less than 5 minutes and then segued into the things she wished she could buy, and by chance did he know what what's-her-face would like, because her birthday was near and she wanted to get her something from here. The guy said that she would like a shirt and if she was going back to the store could he get an extra one and he would pay her back. She said yes. I thought he was doing us a favor by getting rid of the little chatterbox, but ere she was standing to go he grabbed her arm and began a completely different conversation that lasted 15 minutes! Two groups of golfers passed as they chatted. Finally, she asked if he was enjoying the match and he said that he wasn't and he was about to go to his cabin and watch it on TV. She asked if she could join him and I assume they both went and spent a buzillion dollars on Masters coozy cup holders and had adulterous sex while smoking cigars - the Masters on ESPN in the background. But what do I know. It could have been innocent.
So anyway, some reviews.
REVIEW: THE MASTERS
~too much for one review. must be broken down
THE GROUNDS OF AUGUSTA NATIONAL
A+
The are the nicest grounds I have ever walked on, and I have played at some nice clubs. I will never play Augusta National because I will never be able to afford and membership. And even if I could afford it, I wouldn't feel right about belonging to a club that still, in 2011, dose not allow women.
AUGUSTA'S GENDER POLICY
F
CIGAR SMOKING
F-
Why do rich guys smoke cigars? Aren't rich people supposed to be educated. Haven't they heard of cancer? I know that rich people belong to a secret society of semi-immortals, but still, why take the chance. And besides, I cannot be the only one who has noticed the clear phallic resemblance. What is the draw to putting a giant paper penis in your mouth and sucking on it for an hour?
THE ACTUAL GOLFING
B
I saw some really sweet shots, but mostly I saw plain golf. Tiger Woods shot par, which is terrible for a pro. Apparently he had to take 6 months off to learn a new swing because his biceps have gotten too big. I can't imagine what my boss would do if I told him I had to take 6 months off because my biceps had gotten to big and I could no longer type right.
I'm gonna try it and see what happens. Maybe if I do it while smoking a cigar and grabbing my balls a lot he'll think I'm a semi-immortal and he'll promote me.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Things Change
You know the kids in your house have finally conquered all when you and your wife find yourselves honestly discussing which of the Power Rangers actors has real talent and which are just overacting plasticy, pretty faces.
It didn't even occur to me when it happened last night. The whole evening continued as though everything were in its place. Life was balanced and aligned. Then today a friend of mine mentioned his favorite TV show currently and how last night it was terrible. I almost said, "Yeah, like whenever the Red Power Ranger has an overdub montage and he has to look like he's thinking about something, but instead he looks like he's forgotten how to blink."
Luckily I caught myself. "Yeah," I said, "The same thing happened on Wizards of Waverly Place."
I need to watch some grown up TV.
It didn't even occur to me when it happened last night. The whole evening continued as though everything were in its place. Life was balanced and aligned. Then today a friend of mine mentioned his favorite TV show currently and how last night it was terrible. I almost said, "Yeah, like whenever the Red Power Ranger has an overdub montage and he has to look like he's thinking about something, but instead he looks like he's forgotten how to blink."
Luckily I caught myself. "Yeah," I said, "The same thing happened on Wizards of Waverly Place."
I need to watch some grown up TV.
Tuesday, March 08, 2011
Sad News
Dangerous Ninja Speed Crash decided to give up the ghost on Monday.
This was the first of the warning signs.
Actually, the first warning sign was when the Water Pump broke three months after I bought it. My brother-in-law and I replaced it and for a day I felt like I was good with cars.
We will be donating Ninja Speed to charity.
Please don't send flowers as Ninja Speed did not like them. The pollen made him look orange.
This was the first of the warning signs.
Actually, the first warning sign was when the Water Pump broke three months after I bought it. My brother-in-law and I replaced it and for a day I felt like I was good with cars.
We will be donating Ninja Speed to charity.
Please don't send flowers as Ninja Speed did not like them. The pollen made him look orange.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Misplacement
I've transferred to the Department of Poorly Placed Things. Currently I'm working in the division Furniture Accessories and Painting Tarps. I don't really know how Painting Tarps got lumped in with Furniture Accessories. Basically my duty is to confuse the hell out of people; especially auditors. If people leave my office not knowing wth I do, then I've succeeded.
Our new commissioner has promised to run things better. None of my supervisors is really sure if that means we should be more confusing or less.
If I don't get laid off in the next year I'm hoping to transfer to Sundries, Test Results and Fingernail Clippers.
Thursday, January 06, 2011
Expired Bailey's Review
pre REVIEW:
Bailey's Irish Cream.
Yummy. You guys probably all know that. But have you ever had expired Bailey's Irish Cream?
Yes, indeed, this wonderful beverage can go bad even though it has alcohol in it. Bailey actually saw fit, apparently, to add an expiration date, should those out there wiser than me look for such a thing.
the real REVIEW:
Expired Bailey's Irish Cream.
First of all let me say that HOW expired your Bailey's is probably plays a huge roll in the quality of the taste. For reasons all my own I'm going to review Bailey's Irish Cream that is, oh I don't know, 18 months past it's expiration date.
Rating:
Not Good.
This I can guarantee.
It will, however, still get u drunk.
Kind of like mixing whiskey, chocolate and blue cheese.
Not for the lactose intolerant.
Or for anyone who wants to not throw up.
Advice:
Rather than trying to read the back of the Bailey's bottle through a blurry and fevered and cramping haze, check the expiration before you drink.
Bailey's Irish Cream.
Yummy. You guys probably all know that. But have you ever had expired Bailey's Irish Cream?
Yes, indeed, this wonderful beverage can go bad even though it has alcohol in it. Bailey actually saw fit, apparently, to add an expiration date, should those out there wiser than me look for such a thing.
the real REVIEW:
Expired Bailey's Irish Cream.
First of all let me say that HOW expired your Bailey's is probably plays a huge roll in the quality of the taste. For reasons all my own I'm going to review Bailey's Irish Cream that is, oh I don't know, 18 months past it's expiration date.
Rating:
Not Good.
This I can guarantee.
It will, however, still get u drunk.
Kind of like mixing whiskey, chocolate and blue cheese.
Not for the lactose intolerant.
Or for anyone who wants to not throw up.
Advice:
Rather than trying to read the back of the Bailey's bottle through a blurry and fevered and cramping haze, check the expiration before you drink.
Caffeine
I was so tired when I got home the night before last that I made a promise to myself that I would go to bed early. At ten o’clock I realized early wasn’t going to happen with everything I still had left to do, so I said, “I can still get to bed on time.”
At eleven o’clock I was still sitting on the couch watching shows I’ve seen a thousand times with a pile of dirty dishes in the sink. Thirty minutes later I turned the TV off and dragged myself into the kitchen. I stared at the dishes for a good ten minutes before I decided I was too tired to mess with it. So, before going to bed I got a pot of coffee set to brew at 6:30.
When I got to my bedroom I couldn’t help but notice that my wife had cleaned the entertainment center and that my Super Nintendo was all shiny and new looking. “I’ll just play for fifteen minutes,” I told myself.
At two thirty I turned Legend of Zelda off and crawled into bed. Half a second later the alarm went off. I crawled out of bed and slunk down the stairs to the coffee pot. I poured a nice tall cup of coffee into my travel mug. Then I tossed a Coke into the freezer to chill for the trip to work.
After feeding the kids I spent five minutes trying to decide if I should shave. Then I stood in the closet for another five minutes wondering if my eyes were ever going to focus. Then I realized I was ten minutes late.
I flew downstairs, grabbed my travel mug and my bag and hit the door.
It never fails that when you are running late traffic goes to crap. Today was no different. A three car crash on a two lane road meant that I was barely going to make the bus. I pulled into the bus stop at 7:59. The last bus leaves promptly at 8.
I grabbed my coffee and my brief case and ran for the bus. Out of the corner of my eye I could see my coffee splashing a bit, but I didn’t have time to think about it. As I got to the side of the bus it started to pull away. Luckily for me someone on board must have seen me and told the driver to stop.
I stepped on the bus at 8:01. I fished in my pocket for my ticket. I couldn’t find it. I checked all of my pockets. It wasn’t there and I was fairly certain I didn’t have any cash. I opened my wallet and found a $5.00 bill. Bus fare is $4.00, but they won’t give you change. Still, I put the $5 in and as soon as the machine started to take it I saw my ticket crammed down in the folds of my wallet. “Oh yeah,” I thought, “I put it there so I wouldn’t forget where it was.”
I was a little mad at myself for using my $5.00. That was the money I had planned to use at work for an emergency cola, if my coffee and Coke failed to wake me up. But I had my coffee in my lap and my Coke in my bag.
Wait a minute! I rummaged through my bag, well knowing what the results would be. I had left the house in such a rush I left the Coke in the freezer. Frustrated, I went to take a calming sip of coffee, but when the cup hit my lips nothing came out. I tipped the bottom all the way up, but no hot, yummy coffee. I opened the lid and it was empty. I guess while I ran to catch the bus the entire contents had splashed out. I looked down and saw that my khaki pants were now spotted with brown from the knees down.
As you can imagine, a day with four hours of sleep and no caffeine passes by like a year. Meetings compound this sensation. The only positive thing I could think of for my predicament is that I was not struck by the mad desire to pee in the middle of the meeting. After an hour I realized that this was probably a bad thing after all, so I pretended I needed to pee and got up to use the bathroom.
The day never ended and part of my soul remains trapped there. Somehow the rest of me managed to escape.
When I got home last night the kids were hounding me to make pancakes for dinner, which was fine with me because pancakes are easy and I was sleep walking. I opened the freezer to get the pancake mix (I keep it there so the bugs won’t get in it), and I discovered my Coke that I had forgotten. My freezer looked like liquid fireworks had frozen mid explosion. The Coke can was shredded and most of what had exploded out had found some way to jump into the pancake mix.
My wife led me crying to the car where she took us all out for fast food. I had a large coffee. By the time I got home I had so much energy that I figured I could play some more Super Nintendo then do the dishes then clean the freezer. But the Nintendo should come first, of course.
This morning I woke up in front of the Nintendo blinking that my game was over. And someone had peed right in my lap.
At eleven o’clock I was still sitting on the couch watching shows I’ve seen a thousand times with a pile of dirty dishes in the sink. Thirty minutes later I turned the TV off and dragged myself into the kitchen. I stared at the dishes for a good ten minutes before I decided I was too tired to mess with it. So, before going to bed I got a pot of coffee set to brew at 6:30.
When I got to my bedroom I couldn’t help but notice that my wife had cleaned the entertainment center and that my Super Nintendo was all shiny and new looking. “I’ll just play for fifteen minutes,” I told myself.
At two thirty I turned Legend of Zelda off and crawled into bed. Half a second later the alarm went off. I crawled out of bed and slunk down the stairs to the coffee pot. I poured a nice tall cup of coffee into my travel mug. Then I tossed a Coke into the freezer to chill for the trip to work.
After feeding the kids I spent five minutes trying to decide if I should shave. Then I stood in the closet for another five minutes wondering if my eyes were ever going to focus. Then I realized I was ten minutes late.
I flew downstairs, grabbed my travel mug and my bag and hit the door.
It never fails that when you are running late traffic goes to crap. Today was no different. A three car crash on a two lane road meant that I was barely going to make the bus. I pulled into the bus stop at 7:59. The last bus leaves promptly at 8.
I grabbed my coffee and my brief case and ran for the bus. Out of the corner of my eye I could see my coffee splashing a bit, but I didn’t have time to think about it. As I got to the side of the bus it started to pull away. Luckily for me someone on board must have seen me and told the driver to stop.
I stepped on the bus at 8:01. I fished in my pocket for my ticket. I couldn’t find it. I checked all of my pockets. It wasn’t there and I was fairly certain I didn’t have any cash. I opened my wallet and found a $5.00 bill. Bus fare is $4.00, but they won’t give you change. Still, I put the $5 in and as soon as the machine started to take it I saw my ticket crammed down in the folds of my wallet. “Oh yeah,” I thought, “I put it there so I wouldn’t forget where it was.”
I was a little mad at myself for using my $5.00. That was the money I had planned to use at work for an emergency cola, if my coffee and Coke failed to wake me up. But I had my coffee in my lap and my Coke in my bag.
Wait a minute! I rummaged through my bag, well knowing what the results would be. I had left the house in such a rush I left the Coke in the freezer. Frustrated, I went to take a calming sip of coffee, but when the cup hit my lips nothing came out. I tipped the bottom all the way up, but no hot, yummy coffee. I opened the lid and it was empty. I guess while I ran to catch the bus the entire contents had splashed out. I looked down and saw that my khaki pants were now spotted with brown from the knees down.
As you can imagine, a day with four hours of sleep and no caffeine passes by like a year. Meetings compound this sensation. The only positive thing I could think of for my predicament is that I was not struck by the mad desire to pee in the middle of the meeting. After an hour I realized that this was probably a bad thing after all, so I pretended I needed to pee and got up to use the bathroom.
The day never ended and part of my soul remains trapped there. Somehow the rest of me managed to escape.
When I got home last night the kids were hounding me to make pancakes for dinner, which was fine with me because pancakes are easy and I was sleep walking. I opened the freezer to get the pancake mix (I keep it there so the bugs won’t get in it), and I discovered my Coke that I had forgotten. My freezer looked like liquid fireworks had frozen mid explosion. The Coke can was shredded and most of what had exploded out had found some way to jump into the pancake mix.
My wife led me crying to the car where she took us all out for fast food. I had a large coffee. By the time I got home I had so much energy that I figured I could play some more Super Nintendo then do the dishes then clean the freezer. But the Nintendo should come first, of course.
This morning I woke up in front of the Nintendo blinking that my game was over. And someone had peed right in my lap.
Wednesday, December 08, 2010
Jokes on me, I guess
So I was on the elevator with a guy I don't know. I pressed the button for floor 6 and he pressed for floor 5.
Then we started chatting about the only thing you should ever chat about with people you do not know: the weather. Unless there is a pending tornado and/or you have some breaking news that might save a person's life or property it is one of the most boring topics you can discuss. Every time I talk about the weather with someone my mouth just goes on autopilot while my brain says, "What the crap am I saying? This is the stupidest conversation in the world." But then when I try and think of an alternative topic of conversation I realize that I don't know the first thing about the person with whom I am speaking. Which leads me to think about how I have very few friends with whom I can speak freely about anything at any time. Like 2. Ok, 1 really. And that makes me sad. And so I subsequently think, perhaps if I didn't put my mouth on autopilot when I chatted casually at work or in public I might actually meet people with common interests as I.
Ok, so I was in the elevator with this guy and I was saying something terrible like, "This past summer the weathermen got so bad at predicting that I actually started doing the opposite of what they suggested." Then I thought to myself, "This is awful, maybe now is a good time to branch out into casual conversation. But what should I talk about?
Before I could decide on a topic of conversation the guy with me said, "Is Field Services on floor 5?"
"No," I said, "It's floor 2." We had passed it.
Just then the door opened at floor five. Across the hall I saw an elevator going down, but the door was closing.
"Hey," I said, with some urgency, "There's one going down."
I leaped out of the elevator car I was in and ran across the hall with my arm outstretched to stop the doors from closing. What I didn't know was that once those elevator doors got within about 6 inches of being closed they shut pretty hard. The door slammed on my arm and I heard the bone snap. The pain was like a knife being jabbed into my arm. Finally the doors decided they couldn't close and they reopened. I turned around expecting to see a grateful man waiting to get on the down elevator. Instead I realized that he was still in the other elevator car and he was pointing at me.
"Ha ha!" he literally laughed as the doors closed, "You got off on the wrong floor!"
"Oh yeah," I thought to myself as my arm hung limp and floppy from my elbow, "That's why I don't talk to people."
I looked out the window and saw that against predictions it was pouring rain. Luckily I packed my umbrella just in case. Unfortunately I no longer had an arm to hold it.
ps. Ok, I didn't actually break my arm. But I did leap from the elevator to get a down car for this guy and he did laugh at me.
Then we started chatting about the only thing you should ever chat about with people you do not know: the weather. Unless there is a pending tornado and/or you have some breaking news that might save a person's life or property it is one of the most boring topics you can discuss. Every time I talk about the weather with someone my mouth just goes on autopilot while my brain says, "What the crap am I saying? This is the stupidest conversation in the world." But then when I try and think of an alternative topic of conversation I realize that I don't know the first thing about the person with whom I am speaking. Which leads me to think about how I have very few friends with whom I can speak freely about anything at any time. Like 2. Ok, 1 really. And that makes me sad. And so I subsequently think, perhaps if I didn't put my mouth on autopilot when I chatted casually at work or in public I might actually meet people with common interests as I.
Ok, so I was in the elevator with this guy and I was saying something terrible like, "This past summer the weathermen got so bad at predicting that I actually started doing the opposite of what they suggested." Then I thought to myself, "This is awful, maybe now is a good time to branch out into casual conversation. But what should I talk about?
Before I could decide on a topic of conversation the guy with me said, "Is Field Services on floor 5?"
"No," I said, "It's floor 2." We had passed it.
Just then the door opened at floor five. Across the hall I saw an elevator going down, but the door was closing.
"Hey," I said, with some urgency, "There's one going down."
I leaped out of the elevator car I was in and ran across the hall with my arm outstretched to stop the doors from closing. What I didn't know was that once those elevator doors got within about 6 inches of being closed they shut pretty hard. The door slammed on my arm and I heard the bone snap. The pain was like a knife being jabbed into my arm. Finally the doors decided they couldn't close and they reopened. I turned around expecting to see a grateful man waiting to get on the down elevator. Instead I realized that he was still in the other elevator car and he was pointing at me.
"Ha ha!" he literally laughed as the doors closed, "You got off on the wrong floor!"
"Oh yeah," I thought to myself as my arm hung limp and floppy from my elbow, "That's why I don't talk to people."
I looked out the window and saw that against predictions it was pouring rain. Luckily I packed my umbrella just in case. Unfortunately I no longer had an arm to hold it.
ps. Ok, I didn't actually break my arm. But I did leap from the elevator to get a down car for this guy and he did laugh at me.
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