Re-launched, but still slightly under construction. :-)

Wednesday, May 02, 2007

You Always Hurt The Ones You Love

A.C. once had an alcohol-induced gigglefest with a friend of hers. They bought a bunch of stuff out of a bar's bathroom vending machines, and decided to pack her husband's bike kit with it instead of rubber hosing and whatever bicycle racers keep in it for repairs. Jim had a race the next day, and of course he got a flat. While he was hopping off his bike to assess the damage, a race official walked up to him. "You need some help?" the official asked. "No, thanks," Jim answered, opening the kit. "I have everything right here." Which he did, if he needed condoms, lubricant, cheap cologne and French ticklers. The race official took one look at his "kit" and walked away.

Jim didn't talk to A.C. for two days.

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A few years ago, A.C.2 was refinishing the basement of her home with her husband. Their children made a bit of a mess leaving their toys around, and her husband snapped at them for it, and made them cry. Then he went off to band practice (guitars, not tubas and marching), and left his toolbelt on the dining room table. She decided to teach him a lesson.

She put the very heavy toolbelt in the trash can, with the intention of simply making her point once he saw it there. And then she forgot about it. Later that week, he asked for his tool belt. Oops!

She didn't confess until 6 months later.


  1. I had forgotten all about that. Now I'll have to be mad at her for another couple of days.

  2. Here's the crazy thing. As I was reading about my joyous mountain bike race, I just happened to be talking on the phone to the "friend" mentioned in the story. I hadn't spoken to her in months.

    But anyway, moral of the story: always check your shit.