Goofy things you've seen or overheard

What street was this on??

Rob

Here's my favorite:

I was taking a playwriting class in Boston and one week we got an assignment to use a piece of overheard dialogue in a scene. On the way back from class, I'm on the T and two fashionable old women get on and sit directly behind me. I'm trying to read some homework, so I'm not really listening. Until one of them say to the other, "And that's when I saw that he was wearing my best fur coat and I don't think he was wearing anything else."

Naturally, that got my attention.

After a moment of devoted eavesdropping, I gathered that the woman caught her landlord's son in her apartment one afternoon, playing dress up with her clothes.

Needless to say, I had found my homework assignment.

I'm not sure which story to tell!

My life is a series of "You're not gonna believe this" tales. One that my current landlady says she is going to include if she ever writes her memoirs (actually she says I am going to have to have my own chapter!!) is the time I came home to find one of my dogs, Monster, passed out....on top of the dryer!

First off, let me say that when I left for work, my dogs Monster and Sinner were in the back yard. I came home and went directly to the back door to let the doggies in, only to see that Monster was out-cold on top of the dryer in the laundry room. The ceiling was completely caved in and loose insulation was everywhere.

Here's what happened: There is a set of stairs to the attic in the backyard, but the door was locked, or so I thought. Monster broke into the attic...went traipsing around until the floor of the attic/ceiling of the laundry room caved in. He landed on the dryer...knocked his poor little self out like a light and there he stayed until I got home. I have no idea how long he was there, but he did get a GOOD bath and a spot on the sofa that evening. Amazingly enough, the vet said he was none worse for the wear.

Now I am wondering if I should have told the story about the time my landlady's son dropped a stove on my head. THAT was fun!

Fertility Advice from my Husband's Grandmother

My husband and I were married for nine years before we found ourselves able to have children. (Now, we have two--and one due in 15 weeks, give or take!) But in the early years of our marriage, there were some in our families that thought it was okay to give us advice or "coach" us.

Case in point: We'd been married about three years, and we were celebrating Christmas at my in-laws'. I was helping with the dinner preparations, and out of the blue, my husband's grandmother came to me and said, "You know, I had a lot of trouble getting pregnant. Then one night, Ed and I were having sex, and I climbed on top! And that's how I got pregnant!"

If I'd had the presence of mind at that moment, I'd have said, "On top of what?"

Oooooh, now I'm eternally haunted by graphic in-bed pictures of my husband's grandmother.

Okay, I'm feeling gabby. One terrifically funny moment I had was three years ago at a friend's 30th birthday party. For some godawful reason, she decided she wanted to go ice skating. I am the world's worst ice skater, but a very game girl all around, so I said "fine."

A new friend to our circle (coven, whatever) came along and she was nearly as bad as I was. We stumbled about, never finding a stride. But, of course, I had to be the first one to lose it. She tried to help me, she really did. I was toppling and she reached out for me and in my Darwinian attempt to keep from busting my a$$, I grabbed for the closest handhold I could find: my new almost-not-friend's breasts.

We struggled and I had two choices - fall or cling. Sadly, I chose to cling and gaze into her eyes and apologize, "I'm really, really sorry and as soon as I get my feet under me, I promise to let you go."

Luckily, she's a game girl too. She's still my friend and her husband really likes that story.

My turn.

I was in the band in high school, and during basketball games, we were required to sit in the stands and play during the first, second and fourth quarters of the game, and halftime. During the third quarter of the game, we were free to do what we wanted.

During this particular game, two friends of mine and I decided we needed to go to the restroom. Instead of going to the student's restroom, we decided to check out the teacher's lounge. It was quite nice - a couple of couches, a couple of chairs and even a mini-refridgerator. We made the decision to spend our entire free time in the teacher's lounge where we could talk free of the annoyances of little kids and people we didn't like (catty, weren't we?). Anyway...

About five minutes into our "break", there's a knock on the door. Assuming it's a teacher or the principal to tell us to vacate, one of my friends (let's call her "K") opened the door. Instead of an authority figure, we found a few young (10 or 12 year old) boys grinning up at us. K told them to go away and shut the door. They kept knocking and knocking. Finally, K got fed up with it, and slammed the door in their faces.

It locked.

We couldn't get out, and the fourth quarter buzzer had just sounded. We couldn't get it open from the inside for some reason. As the minutes ticked by, K got more and more hyper. Apparently, this girl doesn't like being confined for a long period of time. The other girl (we'll call her "T") and I didn't much mind it, but before long, K was in total freak-out mode.

Then, the end-of-game buzzer sounded. We could hear the crowd leaving the school, and we were still locked in the teacher's lounge. We beat on the door, hoping someone would hear us. Finally, the door clicked and our principal was standing there. His face looked like he was trying to decide whether he wanted to lecture us or break into hysterics. He chose the latter.

WVWG

melodychef said:

Finally, after much twisting and indecent exposure, she was clothed again. As far as I know, no one spotted her.

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Would you like me to send you copies of the photos?

DaveKuzminski said:

Would you like me to send you copies of the photos?

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What, no video??

Rob

Of cars & clothes

melodychef said:

Emergency Shirt Swap
... she pulled onto a side street and said, "Cover me, Melody. I'm going to change my shirt."
...
Finally, after much twisting and indecent exposure, she was clothed again. As far as I know, no one spotted her. Then, as she drove off towards the mall, she started making fun of me for being a prude, as if everyone is constantly changing their shirts in suburban side streets and I'm just a fanatically modest goober. Jeez.

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Something similar happened on my wedding day in London ...
For whatever reason, we ran late at the hairdressers -- and rather than the nice, leisurely dress-up time I had originally scheduled -- I had to get dressed in the car heading toward the hall.

Naturally, when I say "get dressed on my wedding day," I mean from the underwear on up!

A special pair of panties and bra for the occasion, first off -- thank God my friend had the foresight to rent an extra-large Rolls Royce. Unfortunately, said Rolls did NOT have tinted windows, and I pretty much flashed everybody as we drove through Hyde Park!

[The Rolls-Royce driver promised me he wouldn't look in the rear-view mirror as I engaged in my own "much twisting and indecent exposure"... and no blackmail pictures have turned up ... yet]

Shwebb said:

My husband and I were married for nine years before we found ourselves able to have children.

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That's an endless source of funny/creepy stories. It never fails to amaze what people will feel comfortable telling you on the subject. I recently had a friend tell me the best way to get pregnant was to give up sex (of all kinds) for a month. I suppose it should have been obvious that he meant that afterwards, it would be easier to get pregnant, but all I could say was "wow, you really are Catholic, aren't you?"

Love in the back seat

When I was sixteen I was madly in love with a boy who had a cool car. It was a 65 chevy BelAir, white with baby blue interior. I don't know which I loved most. One night we were parked way out in the cornfield going at it in the back seat. A police officer shined a flashlight in the window and said in a billy goat gruff voice--"Hey! Are you kids naked in there?" My boyfiriend replied calmly--"No officer, we have our socks on!"

LOL! Holy cow, Melody - is that it?! I find it hard to believe that's the most outrageous thing you've seen. In the nineties I used to get naked in public all the time.

Once I ran naked through the Flats in Cleveland on a Friday night during Riverfest. The Flats is the nightclub district and I don't quite know why but I wound up hanging outside some nightclub in my underwear chatting amiably with anyone who came out. I had a bunch of friends with me and they were having a helluva time watching me until one wise guy buddy dared me to take it all off. Since I'm pretty easy once I've had a few in me - I took off my underwear and proceeded to run through the crowded streets. The funny thing is that by the time I made it to the end of the strip I turned around and discovered I had hundreds of people running with me and cheering me on. So what did I do? I jumped up on some trailer or something and started swinging in celebration for the crowd.

My friends had a special shirt made for me to commemorate that event.


Another time I was doing a job in the Stow-Kent area and the only bar nearby was a stripclub. My crew and I frequented it often during the week or so I was there and me being the friendly fellow I am, I came to know all the ladies, bouncers and the owner.

One night (once again, I don't know why) a song came on that I must've really liked because I jumped up on one of the empty stages and began to do a strip tease. Well, the girls began frantically waving me down before the owner or one of the bouncers decided to kick me out (that sort of thing seems to be frowned upon in those places) but I looked over at Tony behind the bar and he laughed and waved me on.

LOL!! Once my crew saw that they all jumped up on tables, chairs, stages etc and started dancing and taking their clothes off. The strippers all sat down and started cheering us on and the whole place broke up laughing and cheering.

These are a just a few of the many reasons why my friends think I'm crazy for staying home so much now.

Sigh... the sacrifices one must make for one's art....

I just got back from a very interesting drive home from the grocery store. I'm thinking there are a lot of people out there this afternoon who are talking about the "goofy thing they've just seen" -- a middle-aged, female, nutcase, drag racer. ME!



On my way home, my car started acting up--I have a 99 Saab 9-5. My husband fondly calls it a "Swedish beer can". It's been a temperamental pain in the butt since the day we bought it, but we've got too much invested in it now to let it go. So like I said, it started acting up AGAIN, this time doing something it's never done before--it won't idle! So here I am late afternoon in metro Hotlanta traffic, and I'm reeving my engine at every stop light so I can make it home without having to call AAA AGAIN! I turned the air conditioning off too, because that seemed to be making things worse. I can just imagine how goofy I looked with my windows all rolled down, reeving my engine, and then gunning the gas pedal (at nearly $3 bucks a gallon) and burning rubber all the way home. I do have to admit it was fun and definitely goofy looking. It's a turbo charged six too, and I'm happy to report, I did actually manage to outgun an older Porsche, and a little red BMW!

I get to repeat the process one more time tomorrow morning when I take my "Swedish Beer Can" in for yet another repair. That's when I get to make yet another "goofy" face at the service manager when he tells me how much this little service call is going to cost me.

I have a story something like pconsidine's...

I was in Lil' Peach, which is a little mini-mart thing that we have a lot of in our area, in the candy aisle. A woman about three feet away from me answered her phone, and the following ensued.

"Hello?"
(pause)
"No, she's dead."
(pause)
"No, this is her lover."

Keep in mind, this woman is being completely casual. Talk about getting rid of unwanted callers! Then she left and I didn't hear the rest. Shame...

Oh, man,

So sorry for your car trouble. When I was growing up, we barely had the money to pay for the basic stuff, let alone the myriad repairs cars need to keep running well. So my dad was constantly pulling "McGyvers" on them--he once made brake pads out of plywood because he couldn't afford to buy them until payday. They didn't last but a day or two. When the accelerator pedal went out on the car, he took a length of twine and fastened it to the carbeurator through the driver's side window--he controlled the accelerator by pulling on the string.

My stepmother lost the gas cap once, so she stuck a Wendy's paper cup into the hole to keep the gas from spilling. The cup got sucked into the tank. Every few miles, the paper from the cup kept clogging the carbeurator filter, and the car would stall. Dad would have to get out of the car, climb underneath, and use a hose to suck the paper out. This whole process was going on once close to a fender bender, and the cop came over to my dad lying under the car and asked him, "Sir, are you part of this accident?"

Another tale from the inside...I can only imagine what this poor woman or any passersby must have thought!

I was pregnant...heavy pregnant with my second son. My older son was in the habit of hugging my belly and patting my belly and talking to his little unborn brother. "Baby baby baby" he'd say and then giggle.

We were in the grocery store, my belly, my son and I, and he was riding in the buggy. While we shopped, he'd occasionally pat my belly and do his thing, "Baby baby baby".

Then this rather heavy-set woman rounded the aisle and quick as a wink, my son reached out...patted HER on the belly and said, "Baby baby baby" and laughed hysterically.

I thought I was going to die of embarrasment, but I think that woman beat me to it. She was obviously horrified and ran back out of the aisle.

So I needed to pee. I went to the restrooms in this cinema and went straight to one of the booths. Standing there, doing my thing and contributing to the liquids volume of planet Earth, I saw w the corner of my eye a young lady walking down the aisle between the sinks and the booths. Of course the door of my booth was opened, what did you think?

Calmly, w/o turning off my "faucet" (men will understand me), I said to her that she's not in the right place. To that she retorted equally calmly and not in the least rattled that I am not in the right place and proceeded to go on to one of the other booths as if nothing happened.

Well, when I finally finished, I went out and checking if the place had the regular men's standing open space pissoirs, to my great horror I saw that it doesn't have them. It was the women's restroom into which I went accidentally.

That was embarrassing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the same note, in Israel, where I'm from, and where women are quite bold and direct, when a bus stops and unloads its human cargo, esp during gr's trips, everyone runs to the toilettes, like anywhere else. You can see an endless line in front of the women's restrooms and a few men waiting in a short line in front of theirs. Unlike anywhere else, though, in Israel, some women, and not just a few, but a bunch of them, would go to the men's restrooms to use them instead of suffering so long in their line, usually w/o asking, or just putting a show of asking and going in anyhow.
This can happen and happens, in concert halls, too.

So, sometimes, you have to look beyond your shoulder and make sure there are no women around.

I think that they ought to construct much more restrooms for women, anywhere. They have a hard time trying to hold their bladder, esp when there's a bladder's wall muscle collapse, as many women have.

Dan

WriteRead said:

I think that they ought to construct much more restrooms for women, anywhere.

Dan

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I think I'm in love. Are you married? Oh wait. I'M married. Will you at least consider speaking with my husband before we take our next road trip? Somehow he thinks I should be able to wait 12 hours like he can!

So what if we're married? Do we need to be punished ?

Yeah, there's a prob w you, women, and peeing.

I told my wife about your son and his "baby, baby, baby" thing. She had a laugh!

Dan

I'll tell you what. YOU carry two children, have a bladder the size of an acorn and then have your wife pass up every single gas station for 40 miles just so she can "make better time" on the trip.

What *is* it with you guys and making better time on a trip? I think there is a chip implanted in all males at birth. It's a vacation. V a C a T i O n. Does it really matter if you arrive at 4 p.m. or 5 p.m.? Any why is it that once you arrive, if you are visiting family, invariably the topic of "We really made good time today" will come up? or "Well, we would have made really good time if Whatzername didn't have to pee every five minutes.

~**~laughing~**~

But you loved me, didn't you? You know I'm all for you! Don't ask me, I don't know the answer to this question. Maybe your hubby?

~**~laughing~**~

Dan

Speaking of public restrooms...

Years ago my dad took us to London. We got hooked into one of those see-every-bloody-thing-in-the-city-in-three-hours tours, you know, where the schedule is tighter than Janet Jackson's bustier.

After lunch, we found a public 'wc' that had to have been built when Victoria adorned the throne. The 'urinals' -strike that, urinal - covered one entire wall, a gorgeous ancient ceramic trough embellished with hand-painted honeybees. Those with a classical education may understand the allusion.

We rushed in, anointed the afore-mentioned trough, and were about to rejoin the tour when one gentlemen at the wash basin remarked to his friend standing nearby:

"I'm so glad that in this country, you know, they teach us to wash our hands properly afterwards."

Well. I wish I could describe to you the sniff-snooty melodic tone with which this was delivered. The English gift for expressing scorn just by inflection is legendary. My dad stopped, and turned his head on the side like a bird listening for a worm, and slowly started to smile. We waited for it.

"Really?" he asked. "Strange. In my country, they teach us not to pi$$ on our hands..."

Paint said:

When I was sixteen I was madly in love with a boy who had a cool car. It was a 65 chevy BelAir, white with baby blue interior. I don't know which I loved most. One night we were parked way out in the cornfield going at it in the back seat. A police officer shined a flashlight in the window and said in a billy goat gruff voice--"Hey! Are you kids naked in there?" My boyfiriend replied calmly--"No officer, we have our socks on!"

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I have been caught not once, but twice doing um...that.

The first time, my boyfriend and I (he's now my husband) were parked on a dead-end road off an interstate. Apparently, he hadn't pulled far enough behind the bank that the road followed, because just as things were getting...interesting...a state policeman tapped on the window and asked us to move along. Luckily, his shirt was handy and I could at leat hold it up...

The second time, he and I were in a park/public hunting area. He had worked there in the past, so he knew where all the "good spots" were. We were doing our thing when a park maintenance vehicle pulled up right in front of his car. He knew the guy, so he decided to "have a little fun" with him, as he said. He picked up my brightly colored bra, opened the door and started swinging it. The guy turned beet-red, did a 180-pivot on his toes, hopped in his truck and took off. Hey, at least...well, never mind.

Once again embarassing herself,

WVWG