Standing at the bus stop and waiting for the 214 when a rather trashy human being strolled up and took a seat on the bench in front of me. Her bra had been removed and I only noticed because it was hanging from the waistband ... from the back with both cups dangling below her sizeable and thoroughly unattractive ass cheeks.
She was also showing more crack than an entire plumber's union at a drug bust.
I had to turn around and stare directly into the sun in an attempt to burn the image off of my corneas.
She managed to get on the bus before mine and I thanked The Lord Our God for sparing me from the absolute rank stench and sight of her.
One of the other men at the stop reached over and tapped my shoulder.
"You okay, man?"
"No, I don't think I'll ever be okay again."
Without words, he nodded his sympathy and I went back to planning on how to lobotomize myself at home.
Every few years or so I head to the dermatologist clinic to get my moles checked as my family has a history of melanoma. In this particular instance I was in clinic I had never gone to before, because I had just moved out of my hometown.
These instances are always a little awkward due to the fact you need to be completely naked. Even though I have been doing this for years, I was still a little nervous about having a new doctor inspect me instead of the cool, casual, and familiar doctor I had grown used to back home.
I step into the examining room and the nurse informs me that the doctor will be with me shortly. I know the drill at this point, so I strip down and stand in the middle of the room with my back to the door. After a few minutes I hear the door open and the doctor enter. I turn around and sure enough the doctor is a woman. A gorgeous woman at that, maybe just a few years older than me.
Fuck, so now I'm nervous for completely different reasons and I totally get inside my own head. I tell myself to be cool and I try to zone out and think of anything and everything that would prevent me from displaying even the slightest hint of arousal.
She starts by checking my head, then arms, then chest. About halfway down my chest she stops at what I had assumed was a tiny birthmark this entire time. She prods it a bit and squeezes it between her fingers before muttering an inquisitive "Hmm.." and jotting something down in her notes before moving on down. I was already in an elevated state of nervousness and panic so now I start thinking "Oh god... She has found something... This is it man... This is the beginning of the end for me."
I continue being in my zoned out state of panic for another minute or so as she finishes her inspection. I snap back out of it as she taps me on the shoulder and smiles.
"Everything looks fine. You have nothing to worry about. It just looks like you have an accessory nipple."
TLDR; So that's the story of how I found out I have roughly 50% more nipples than I should have.
Älter on
That's the sound of my shoes.
+28
Shortytouching the meatIntergalactic Cool CourtRegistered Userregular
this is the awkwardest thing I've done that I can remember right now
Boyfriend has this really ominous way of speaking sometimes that just makes me paranoid. He sends me a message this morning:
"Sooo...I just found what you left in my house..."
Wait. What did I leave? Was it something cute? Was it something I shouldn't have left?! Was this something another girl left behind that he thought was mine?
"Uh...What did you find?"
"Peanut Butter Cheerios."
"...Oh...Haha yeah those. That was such an ominous sentence!"
"It is. Because I may have to marry you now."
This is the second almost accidental proposal in as many months. The first came when I made a joke about not using anniversary to describe us dating for a month since that means year. I turned around while I was in the kitchen and he was getting down on one knee and grabbing my hand.
Fiancée's out shopping and calls me to discuss something. She then goes, "And, uhhh, I think I have a problem..."
And the phone cuts off. I think, "Oh shit," call her back, text her, and sit in a tizzy waiting for her to get back in touch.
Turns out the "problem" is that she likes buying clothes too much, which would have been obvious if the signal hadn't dropped out mid sentence while she was explaining that she was buying (gasp!) two dresses that weren't that much money and filled a need in her wardrobe.
I did not know Peanut Butter Cheerios were a thing.
The Fruit flavored Cheerios (basically fruit loops but with cheerio base) are delicious, but as @Fuselage can attest to, Apple Cinnamon Cheerios will always remind me of visiting my Grandma
You don't already have PB? And if you're having cereal, you're getting milk anyway, so that's a wash, same either way.
And now you have an option of PBCheerios or NoPBCheerios!
When I was in 8th grade, my class took a trip to Tremont, TN. Pretty fun trip, but I have always been an overweight dude. Hiking wasn't really my "thing," but I would be damned if I didn't participate in the trip. So there's chubby little me, walking through valleys and little rocky trails around the cabins where we were staying. Pretty low impact stuff for the first couple of day, no problem.
Then we have an all day hike. Up and down mountains, across some beautiful pastures (where we met a very friendly horse that walked with the class), across streams and brooks. A really lovely hike, one of my favorite memories, but also a very tiring hike. We had taken a bus to the start/end point of the hike, which was at the top of a particularly steep hill. By the time we had gotten back to the top, I was totally worn out and had a strong need to use the restroom. Luckily, there was a public toilet at the top of the trail.
So I go to relieve myself, along with most of the rest of the class. I'm sitting in the stall, and my legs cramp up. I'm incapacitated. I've finished my business but I'm unable to get up. I'm in there, furiously massaging my legs, trying to break up these cramps. My dad was a chaperone on this trip, so he come up to the stall and asks if I'm alright.
I explain my situation and he just starts laughing and laughing. I'm feeling pretty terrible at this point. Everyone else is out of the bathroom at this point and back on the bus. I finally get the cramps worked out and can leave the bathroom, some 25 minutes after I had entered.
The bus is pretty quiet, the kids aren't really saying anything but they're all kind of looking at me awkwardly. The bus driver looks over at me with this shit eating grin.
"You OK kid? I was worried that you had pulled an Elvis!"
The bus erupts into laughter. For the rest of the year I was known as Elvis.
I never understood middle names so I never really thought too hard about mine. For years I only wrote it down as an initial, never in wondering why my particular middle name was half of my given Chinese name.
Then while updating my passport, I realized I'd been wrong for years as it turns out my middle name is both syllables of my Chinese name.
For some reason, my family was talking about my brother's newt while his girlfriend at the time (who I'll call "Jennifer") was eating dinner with us. She made some comment about how she can't believe how he had a sixteen year old newt.
My brother shrugged, "Yeah, we thought they'd die after a couple of years, and one of them did. But Jaguar just keeps going."
I blinked, "What? No, Jaguar's the dead one."
My brother disagreed and insisted the living newt was Jaguar.
"Oh come on! Jaguar had more markings on it's stomach, Cutesy only had a few."
My mom agreed, "Yeah, *brother.* That's Cutesy. We've got labeled photos upstairs if you want to check."
Jennifer looked at my brother, "You told me the newt was named Jaguar and you couldn't remember the dead one's name."
"Did you mix them up or something?" I asked.
That's about when my brother gave up and angrily snapped that he knew the newt upstairs was Cutesy, but when Jennifer had asked him about the newt when they were first going out, he realized what an embarrassing name Cutesy was, and decided to pretend like Jaguar had lived, Cutesy had died, and he didn't remember Cutesy's name.
All that, and he could have just renamed the darned thing.
When I was in sixth grade we had to do a presentation and science fair-type booth for a foreign country. I chose Italy. We would have three judges come around to the booths so we could give a presentation and talk about what we learned. We were also encouraged to make and bring food from the country. Being Italy I brought in pasta.
I don't know if you've ever tried to set up a booth by yourself, but it isn't easy. As I'm trying to setup the booth, I dropped the pasta every where... I'll let the gif tell the rest.
I was the source of someone else feeling awkward the other day. For once.
I was at the gym, having my smoothie after the workout and this hand clamps onto my shoulder while I'm checking my phone.
"Is that how you work out? Just your thumbs? Ho ho ho" a booming voice chortled.
I look up at a middle aged dude, with a big smile on his face. For once, I'm smooth.
"Sure is! Look how much I'm sweating!"
Laughing and shaking his head he turns away and starts walking to the lockers, "What a friendly guy," I think.
Suddenly he stops, and sort of pivots back at me with a still smiling but now confused expression on his face. I get to watch his smile slowly fade and be replaced by abject mortification.
"Oh...um... I'm SO sorry... I thought you were... someone else."
"It's cool! Don't worry about it."
"No really I'm so sorry..."
"Seriously I wasn't bothered, it's cool."
"Yeah... ok..."
He sort of slumps over, and walks to the lockers, like a defeated man. I felt pretty bad for him.
I remembered another awkward story about my brother (who I'm calling "Shawn") and his former girlfriend ("Jennifer".)
So when my brother was younger, he had a black lab stuffed animal that he was very attached to. But sometime in Junior High, he pulled a Toy Story with the dog. It fell under his bed and he basically forgot about it.
Until he started dating "Jennifer" and they went through a sickeningly cute phase. And that Valentines Day, "Jennifer" decided that my brother's dog needed a girlfriend of his own. Realizing that he didn't know where the dog was anymore, my brother started asking around for it.
Luckily I'd found it several years ago, washed it, and was hanging onto the dog in the event that my brother wanted to give it to his firstborn child or something. My mom knew I had it, and asked me to dig it out. So I located the plush, and handed it over to my brother.
"Here you go!" I chirped. "Told you I knew where Prettygreen was."
"Yeah, thanks. Man, I haven't seen him in forever," my brother said, taking Prettygreen. He paused, and looked at the stuffed dog. "Why'd you guys name him Prettygreen? That's such a weird name! I mean, "PrettyGreen?" he's a black lab. He's not green!"
Mom and I looked at each other. "Shawn ...YOU named him that."
"What? No, that wasn't me!"
"Yeah, it was. You said you wanted to name him "Prettygreen" because he was a pretty dog and your favorite color was green."
"Oh my god, seriously? Why didn't you try to talk me out of it! That's such a stupid name!"
"We DID. We fought all day about it, Shawn," my mom reminded him. "I kept saying that in fifteen years, you'd be mad at me for letting you name your dog something so ridiculous. And you swore it wouldn't happen!"
I'm both dreading, and anticipating with morbid curiosity what will happen when my brother has to name his children.
I remembered another awkward story about my brother (who I'm calling "Shawn") and his former girlfriend ("Jennifer".)
So when my brother was younger, he had a black lab stuffed animal that he was very attached to. But sometime in Junior High, he pulled a Toy Story with the dog. It fell under his bed and he basically forgot about it.
Until he started dating "Jennifer" and they went through a sickeningly cute phase. And that Valentines Day, "Jennifer" decided that my brother's dog needed a girlfriend of his own. Realizing that he didn't know where the dog was anymore, my brother started asking around for it.
Luckily I'd found it several years ago, washed it, and was hanging onto the dog in the event that my brother wanted to give it to his firstborn child or something. My mom knew I had it, and asked me to dig it out. So I located the plush, and handed it over to my brother.
"Here you go!" I chirped. "Told you I knew where Prettygreen was."
"Yeah, thanks. Man, I haven't seen him in forever," my brother said, taking Prettygreen. He paused, and looked at the stuffed dog. "Why'd you guys name him Prettygreen? That's such a weird name! I mean, "PrettyGreen?" he's a black lab. He's not green!"
Mom and I looked at each other. "Shawn ...YOU named him that."
"What? No, that wasn't me!"
"Yeah, it was. You said you wanted to name him "Prettygreen" because he was a pretty dog and your favorite color was green."
"Oh my god, seriously? Why didn't you try to talk me out of it! That's such a stupid name!"
"We DID. We fought all day about it, Shawn," my mom reminded him. "I kept saying that in fifteen years, you'd be mad at me for letting you name your dog something so ridiculous. And you swore it wouldn't happen!"
I'm both dreading, and anticipating with morbid curiosity what will happen when my brother has to name his children.
I've been turning over whether to share this one or not, because it's kind of my weird story trump card. But re-reading that super weird Scott Kurtz Facts thread convinced me to share about how Scott Kurtz cured my cancer.
Well, him and Brad Guigar.
Ok, mostly other people did the actual important medical parts. But those two thrust me in the path of the other people.
I was walking home from work, and my path took me by the emergency rescue helicopter landing pad of the local hospital. I had discovered a few days before a cache of old Webcomics Weekly podcast episodes that I hadn't yet listened to on my ipod, and was binging on them during my daily walk.
The episode was #76, "Laugh Track", wherein software problems make Brad Guigar's audio glitch out right in the middle of one of his iconic laughs, and for several minutes it plays a half-second loop of him going HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA like a demented robot in Hell, while in the background Scott Kurtz determines that this is it, he can't breathe, the world is ending, tell his wife he loves her, etc., and Kris Straub just sounds bemused and irritated.
The episode is funnier if you listen to it, I promise. And after a rough day of work as ISP Tech Support, I was in the right frame of mind for that segment to temporarily ruin me as a functioning organism.
I was laughing hard enough that I tripped over an uneven sidewalk section and careened head first into the sign that warns you not to get too close to the rescue helicopter pad. BAM! Head wound! Lots of blood! Disorientation! Glasses missing, in the grass somewhere! Still laughing, can't stop laughing! Need to breath! EMTs who had been loading supplies onto the helicopter rushed over to check me out, and I was too much of a mess to explain what was up, so I guess they assumed I was having some kind of Brain Problems? So they assisted me into the ER, where I calmed down enough to explain to the nurse what had actually happened, and she was very amused.
What she wasn't amused by was my admission that I hadn't been in for a general checkup in seven years. While my head was getting patched up (it was fortunately the kind of head wound that looks a whole lot nastier than it actually was), she badgered me mercilessly about getting a checkup scheduled. Then for the next couple weeks, every time I was walking past the ER entrance on the way to or from work, or from work to lunch, there was about a 50% chance she'd dash outside and ask me if I'd scheduled an appointment yet. Or if the helicopter crew were there, they would pester me on her behalf. Eventually my anxiety about peer pressure became more unbearable than my anxiety about routine medical checkups, and I scheduled an appointment.
Then, during the good old "Turn your head and cough" test, my doctor noticed a lump.
It was early enough that they could get it all with surgery, but it could have got a lot worse very quickly, if Scott Kurtz and Brad Guigar didn't make me slam my head into that sign.
I told Kurtz that story at this last PAX Prime, and then scurried away to hide, because it's pretty much my crowning awkward weirdo moment, in a lifetime rich with them.
Desert Leviathan on
Realizing lately that I don't really trust or respect basically any of the moderators here. So, good luck with life, friends! Hit me up on Twitter @DesertLeviathan
If I ever meet Brad Guigar in person, and he fails to make that joke after I tell him this, the disappointment will probably kill me.
Realizing lately that I don't really trust or respect basically any of the moderators here. So, good luck with life, friends! Hit me up on Twitter @DesertLeviathan
0
MalReynoldsThe Hunter S Thompson of incredibly mild medicinesRegistered Userregular
I was playing Richard III in high school one time during a truncated version of that play, and during the 'Now is the winter of our discontent,' speech, I farted really loud.
The acoustics in that theater were very complimentary to my butt flappery.
"A new take on the epic fantasy genre... Darkly comic, relatable characters... twisted storyline."
"Readers who prefer tension and romance, Maledictions: The Offering, delivers... As serious YA fiction, I’ll give it five stars out of five. As a novel? Four and a half." - Liz Ellor My new novel: Maledictions: The Offering. Now in Paperback!
+39
Metzger MeisterIt Gets Worsebefore it gets any better.Registered Userregular
Posts
She was also showing more crack than an entire plumber's union at a drug bust.
I had to turn around and stare directly into the sun in an attempt to burn the image off of my corneas.
She managed to get on the bus before mine and I thanked The Lord Our God for sparing me from the absolute rank stench and sight of her.
One of the other men at the stop reached over and tapped my shoulder.
"You okay, man?"
"No, I don't think I'll ever be okay again."
Without words, he nodded his sympathy and I went back to planning on how to lobotomize myself at home.
These instances are always a little awkward due to the fact you need to be completely naked. Even though I have been doing this for years, I was still a little nervous about having a new doctor inspect me instead of the cool, casual, and familiar doctor I had grown used to back home.
I step into the examining room and the nurse informs me that the doctor will be with me shortly. I know the drill at this point, so I strip down and stand in the middle of the room with my back to the door. After a few minutes I hear the door open and the doctor enter. I turn around and sure enough the doctor is a woman. A gorgeous woman at that, maybe just a few years older than me.
Fuck, so now I'm nervous for completely different reasons and I totally get inside my own head. I tell myself to be cool and I try to zone out and think of anything and everything that would prevent me from displaying even the slightest hint of arousal.
She starts by checking my head, then arms, then chest. About halfway down my chest she stops at what I had assumed was a tiny birthmark this entire time. She prods it a bit and squeezes it between her fingers before muttering an inquisitive "Hmm.." and jotting something down in her notes before moving on down. I was already in an elevated state of nervousness and panic so now I start thinking "Oh god... She has found something... This is it man... This is the beginning of the end for me."
I continue being in my zoned out state of panic for another minute or so as she finishes her inspection. I snap back out of it as she taps me on the shoulder and smiles.
"Everything looks fine. You have nothing to worry about. It just looks like you have an accessory nipple."
TLDR; So that's the story of how I found out I have roughly 50% more nipples than I should have.
http://forums.penny-arcade.com/discussion/comment/27224809/#Comment_27224809
It says
"Sooo...I just found what you left in my house..."
Wait. What did I leave? Was it something cute? Was it something I shouldn't have left?! Was this something another girl left behind that he thought was mine?
"Uh...What did you find?"
"Peanut Butter Cheerios."
"...Oh...Haha yeah those. That was such an ominous sentence!"
"It is. Because I may have to marry you now."
This is the second almost accidental proposal in as many months. The first came when I made a joke about not using anniversary to describe us dating for a month since that means year. I turned around while I was in the kitchen and he was getting down on one knee and grabbing my hand.
And the phone cuts off. I think, "Oh shit," call her back, text her, and sit in a tizzy waiting for her to get back in touch.
Turns out the "problem" is that she likes buying clothes too much, which would have been obvious if the signal hadn't dropped out mid sentence while she was explaining that she was buying (gasp!) two dresses that weren't that much money and filled a need in her wardrobe.
They're pretty delicious. I really like them. I wouldn't propose to anyone over them, but I'm certainly not going to dissuade this adoration.
The Fruit flavored Cheerios (basically fruit loops but with cheerio base) are delicious, but as @Fuselage can attest to, Apple Cinnamon Cheerios will always remind me of visiting my Grandma
i'ma buy dese
I've done this with almost every cold cereal I ate a lot of as a kid. It's easy and yummy and doesn't require making an extra purchase at the store.
Except you have to buy three things as opposed to two so yeah it actually does.
And now you have an option of PBCheerios or NoPBCheerios!
:P
Steam ID - VeldrinD | SS Post | Wishlist
-Indiana Solo, runner of blades
Cinnamon Toast Crunch lasts you a minute tops before the soggies win
"Hey, you find girlfriend yet? No? I know girl, I introduce her to you. Nice girl."
"Uh, okay. How old is she?"
"Sixteen."
oh my god "N-no thank you! Not interested!"
missing the point entirely "Oh no, it's okay. She no look sixteen!" -puts hands in front of her chest-
My parents couldn't stop laughing after she'd left.
Then we have an all day hike. Up and down mountains, across some beautiful pastures (where we met a very friendly horse that walked with the class), across streams and brooks. A really lovely hike, one of my favorite memories, but also a very tiring hike. We had taken a bus to the start/end point of the hike, which was at the top of a particularly steep hill. By the time we had gotten back to the top, I was totally worn out and had a strong need to use the restroom. Luckily, there was a public toilet at the top of the trail.
So I go to relieve myself, along with most of the rest of the class. I'm sitting in the stall, and my legs cramp up. I'm incapacitated. I've finished my business but I'm unable to get up. I'm in there, furiously massaging my legs, trying to break up these cramps. My dad was a chaperone on this trip, so he come up to the stall and asks if I'm alright.
I explain my situation and he just starts laughing and laughing. I'm feeling pretty terrible at this point. Everyone else is out of the bathroom at this point and back on the bus. I finally get the cramps worked out and can leave the bathroom, some 25 minutes after I had entered.
The bus is pretty quiet, the kids aren't really saying anything but they're all kind of looking at me awkwardly. The bus driver looks over at me with this shit eating grin.
"You OK kid? I was worried that you had pulled an Elvis!"
The bus erupts into laughter. For the rest of the year I was known as Elvis.
he was just looking out for him really
But it loses its thread
For some reason, my family was talking about my brother's newt while his girlfriend at the time (who I'll call "Jennifer") was eating dinner with us. She made some comment about how she can't believe how he had a sixteen year old newt.
My brother shrugged, "Yeah, we thought they'd die after a couple of years, and one of them did. But Jaguar just keeps going."
I blinked, "What? No, Jaguar's the dead one."
My brother disagreed and insisted the living newt was Jaguar.
"Oh come on! Jaguar had more markings on it's stomach, Cutesy only had a few."
My mom agreed, "Yeah, *brother.* That's Cutesy. We've got labeled photos upstairs if you want to check."
Jennifer looked at my brother, "You told me the newt was named Jaguar and you couldn't remember the dead one's name."
"Did you mix them up or something?" I asked.
That's about when my brother gave up and angrily snapped that he knew the newt upstairs was Cutesy, but when Jennifer had asked him about the newt when they were first going out, he realized what an embarrassing name Cutesy was, and decided to pretend like Jaguar had lived, Cutesy had died, and he didn't remember Cutesy's name.
All that, and he could have just renamed the darned thing.
I don't know if you've ever tried to set up a booth by yourself, but it isn't easy. As I'm trying to setup the booth, I dropped the pasta every where... I'll let the gif tell the rest.
http://stream1.gifsoup.com/view/180641/kevin-s-famous-chili-o.gif
I was at the gym, having my smoothie after the workout and this hand clamps onto my shoulder while I'm checking my phone.
"Is that how you work out? Just your thumbs? Ho ho ho" a booming voice chortled.
I look up at a middle aged dude, with a big smile on his face. For once, I'm smooth.
"Sure is! Look how much I'm sweating!"
Laughing and shaking his head he turns away and starts walking to the lockers, "What a friendly guy," I think.
Suddenly he stops, and sort of pivots back at me with a still smiling but now confused expression on his face. I get to watch his smile slowly fade and be replaced by abject mortification.
"Oh...um... I'm SO sorry... I thought you were... someone else."
"It's cool! Don't worry about it."
"No really I'm so sorry..."
"Seriously I wasn't bothered, it's cool."
"Yeah... ok..."
He sort of slumps over, and walks to the lockers, like a defeated man. I felt pretty bad for him.
STEAM
So when my brother was younger, he had a black lab stuffed animal that he was very attached to. But sometime in Junior High, he pulled a Toy Story with the dog. It fell under his bed and he basically forgot about it.
Until he started dating "Jennifer" and they went through a sickeningly cute phase. And that Valentines Day, "Jennifer" decided that my brother's dog needed a girlfriend of his own. Realizing that he didn't know where the dog was anymore, my brother started asking around for it.
Luckily I'd found it several years ago, washed it, and was hanging onto the dog in the event that my brother wanted to give it to his firstborn child or something. My mom knew I had it, and asked me to dig it out. So I located the plush, and handed it over to my brother.
"Here you go!" I chirped. "Told you I knew where Prettygreen was."
"Yeah, thanks. Man, I haven't seen him in forever," my brother said, taking Prettygreen. He paused, and looked at the stuffed dog. "Why'd you guys name him Prettygreen? That's such a weird name! I mean, "PrettyGreen?" he's a black lab. He's not green!"
Mom and I looked at each other. "Shawn ...YOU named him that."
"What? No, that wasn't me!"
"Yeah, it was. You said you wanted to name him "Prettygreen" because he was a pretty dog and your favorite color was green."
"Oh my god, seriously? Why didn't you try to talk me out of it! That's such a stupid name!"
"We DID. We fought all day about it, Shawn," my mom reminded him. "I kept saying that in fifteen years, you'd be mad at me for letting you name your dog something so ridiculous. And you swore it wouldn't happen!"
I'm both dreading, and anticipating with morbid curiosity what will happen when my brother has to name his children.
This is Screaming Lump, and Ohmygod Whatsthatgoo!
Like a clumsy phoenix tripping all over its own ashes, arise Awkward Thread!
I've been turning over whether to share this one or not, because it's kind of my weird story trump card. But re-reading that super weird Scott Kurtz Facts thread convinced me to share about how Scott Kurtz cured my cancer.
Well, him and Brad Guigar.
Ok, mostly other people did the actual important medical parts. But those two thrust me in the path of the other people.
I was walking home from work, and my path took me by the emergency rescue helicopter landing pad of the local hospital. I had discovered a few days before a cache of old Webcomics Weekly podcast episodes that I hadn't yet listened to on my ipod, and was binging on them during my daily walk.
The episode was #76, "Laugh Track", wherein software problems make Brad Guigar's audio glitch out right in the middle of one of his iconic laughs, and for several minutes it plays a half-second loop of him going HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA like a demented robot in Hell, while in the background Scott Kurtz determines that this is it, he can't breathe, the world is ending, tell his wife he loves her, etc., and Kris Straub just sounds bemused and irritated.
The episode is funnier if you listen to it, I promise. And after a rough day of work as ISP Tech Support, I was in the right frame of mind for that segment to temporarily ruin me as a functioning organism.
I was laughing hard enough that I tripped over an uneven sidewalk section and careened head first into the sign that warns you not to get too close to the rescue helicopter pad. BAM! Head wound! Lots of blood! Disorientation! Glasses missing, in the grass somewhere! Still laughing, can't stop laughing! Need to breath! EMTs who had been loading supplies onto the helicopter rushed over to check me out, and I was too much of a mess to explain what was up, so I guess they assumed I was having some kind of Brain Problems? So they assisted me into the ER, where I calmed down enough to explain to the nurse what had actually happened, and she was very amused.
What she wasn't amused by was my admission that I hadn't been in for a general checkup in seven years. While my head was getting patched up (it was fortunately the kind of head wound that looks a whole lot nastier than it actually was), she badgered me mercilessly about getting a checkup scheduled. Then for the next couple weeks, every time I was walking past the ER entrance on the way to or from work, or from work to lunch, there was about a 50% chance she'd dash outside and ask me if I'd scheduled an appointment yet. Or if the helicopter crew were there, they would pester me on her behalf. Eventually my anxiety about peer pressure became more unbearable than my anxiety about routine medical checkups, and I scheduled an appointment.
Then, during the good old "Turn your head and cough" test, my doctor noticed a lump.
It was early enough that they could get it all with surgery, but it could have got a lot worse very quickly, if Scott Kurtz and Brad Guigar didn't make me slam my head into that sign.
I told Kurtz that story at this last PAX Prime, and then scurried away to hide, because it's pretty much my crowning awkward weirdo moment, in a lifetime rich with them.
I would put that on a shirt.
Steam ID - VeldrinD | SS Post | Wishlist
If I ever meet Brad Guigar in person, and he fails to make that joke after I tell him this, the disappointment will probably kill me.
The acoustics in that theater were very complimentary to my butt flappery.
"Readers who prefer tension and romance, Maledictions: The Offering, delivers... As serious YA fiction, I’ll give it five stars out of five. As a novel? Four and a half." - Liz Ellor
My new novel: Maledictions: The Offering. Now in Paperback!