9 AM today: At the dumps, throwing trash into dumpsters, the guy at the dumpster next to me threw some glass thing really hard into the metal dumpster and a million shards of glass came flying out at me. Somehow, nothing landed in my eye. I looked at the guy, who was sheepishly saying,
"Sorry!" and my California accent came out.
"DUDE!" It was the dude to end all dudes, the accusatory, "DUDE!" which implied, "You could've killed me there!"
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5 PM: As I was cruising down Main Street with the windows open and the family in the car, a guy was hanging out of a convertible across the way, leaning out the side of the car and puking some terrible red substance out onto the street.
"Look! He's doing a Fear and Loathing!" I said. BAH looked and laughed.
"He really is!"
"I do not like that, not at all," said Little Z.
Half an hour later, driving past the same spot, someone had already cleaned off the street. A red stain remained.
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10:30 PM: Watching Ghost Hunters International, the guy on the screen sees and hears things in the basement of a deserted castle in the Ukraine.
"IT'S A RACCOON!" I scream at the screen. He can't hear me, but nevertheless, "IT'S A POSSUM! IT'S A RABBIT! IT'S NOT A GHOST! CHECK FOR A NEST!"
Why don't they ever listen to me?
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