George’s 15 Minutes of Fame

I’m guessing that from a male perspective, of all the ways a person might attain celebrity, this would be at the top of their wish list…

And it just goes to prove; if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is…

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And the Stoopid Continues….

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Beating Myself Up, Literally

Part of my bedtime ritual includes applying HUGE amounts of hand lotion.

I need HUGE amounts of lotion because I wash my hands like six million-katrillion times throughout the day, which tends to dry them out.

So, night before last I climb into bed and grab the covers to pull them up under my chin.

Which begins another part of the ritual. I have to pull the top sheet up, then fold the top 7 inches over the blankets and quilt, which have to be lined up just right, or you wind up with 6″ of sheet in the middle and 8″ of sheet at the sides.

So you can see how critical it is that the blankets line up with the quilt.

So I grab the quilt to line it up, severely underestimating its weight (like every other night), therefore miscalculating the amount of pull I need…..and my freshly lotioned hand lost its grip, flew through the air, and I sucker punched myself right in the face. I never saw it coming, which is typical of a sucker punch, so I’ve been told.

After the initial shock of being struck wore off, then realizing it was me that did it, I just laid there eling-my-a-off;  grateful that #1 – after moving my jaw from side to side I was fairly confident I wouldn’t have to have it wired shut for the next six weeks and #2 – there were no witnesses, since Mr. Kewlstuff was still watching Speed Channel in the living room. 

Fast forward to this morning. As I’m towel drying my hair, the end of the towel flies up and gets me right in the left eye. I never saw that coming either…..so of course my eye was wide open. O.M.G. It felt as if I’d just lit my eyeball on fire. It watered profusely, and then I fancied that I couldn’t see out of it.

And now it kinda looks (and feels) like I got the proverbial poke in the eye with a sharp stick.

I’m sharing this with you so that if, by some strange circumstance, say tomorrow I happen to take a bath with the hair dryer, I’m hoping that the one (or two) people that actually read this blog will come forward when the police accuse Mr. Kewlstuff of causing my various self-inflicted bruises and contusions that will surely be discovered during the autopsy.

Hey…..it happens on Dateline all the time.

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