Tuesday, November 08, 2005

Not a Good Weekend for Fingers and Toes

I didn't get home from D.C. until around midnight on Saturday, and when I went out to get the paper the next morning, I discovered a bag full of fast-food garbage sitting on my curb, as if someone had parked there, eaten their Burger King crap, and then dropped the bag out the window before driving away.

Later that day, I happened to be practicing my trumpet in the living room when I peered out the window to see an SUV parked in front of my house. The people inside just happened to be eating fries. Now, I'm no private investigator (at least, not licensed) but I'm pretty quick at the whole "cause and effect" thing, so I sat down by the window and put the suspicious car under fast-food surveillance. Roughly fifteen minutes later (how long does it take to eat a burger anyhow?) a guy got out of the back seat, looked up and down the empty street and blatantly dropped his trash on my lawn.

Faster than you could spit at a frat boy, I was down the stairs and out the door with my best "oh no u dinant" attitude, minus the finger snapping. The guy didn't seem to speak any English, and the girl he was with who was still in the car tried to convince me that he had just dropped his trash on the ground while he got out, and was going to throw it away at home. Not buying this for an instant, I watched like a hawk until he had picked up his trash, said goodbye to his ride, and wandered down the court to wherever he lived (he swaggered of course).

In my haste to confront them, however, I smashed two of my left toes on the front door and had to bandage one of them up while I hobbled around so I wouldn't bleed on the cats. If there's burger boxes on my lawn tomorrow, I'll just snap a picture of their car and phone it in as having been involved in a bank robbery somewhere in West Virginia.

Later on, I was looking at my silverware when I realized that my forks had permanent black spots on them from years of dishwashing. I decided it was high time to open the complete Oneida silverware set I'd bought four years ago but never got around to using. Of course, every utensil was individually wrapped, and I managed to slice open my left index finger on a butter knife about halfway through the unwrapping process. As a public service, I would like to warn you that Oneida butter knives are steak knife hybrids, serrated and quite sharp, and trying to remove the plastic wrapping as if it were a restaurant straw is the definition of a bad idea.

Proof positive that the Japanese are even more messed up than we thought
Never piss off an ex with glue
Patrons got a coupon for a free movie.

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