Its the little things that get you

ROFL!!! :rotfl: :rotfl:

My brothers and I were playing in the car once when we were young. It was one of those cars where the back seat folded down to allow access to the trunk. My brothers thought it would be cool to put me in the trunk . . . then lock all the doors . . . then shut all the doors . . . THEN check to see where the keys were. The keys were sitting on the back seat. They yelled at me to kick the back seat or reach through the gap to the release. Neither worked. My mother had to call the sheriff to get me out of the trunk. The sheriff had to break the passenger door lock to accomplish it. If that car hadn’t had a fair sized rust hole in the bottom of the trunk I’m sure this would be a much more traumatic memory :rolleyes:.

As for everyone else’s stories :rotfl: :clapping: thanks I needed a good laugh :D.

Ok, here’s one…just one, mind you…well maybe I’ll confess to more, but for now…

I was seeing a very nice man who owned his own home, and he had been spending a lot of time at work. I wanted to do something nice for him, so I offered to stop by his house and mow his lawn…(seriously, I kind of enjoy that:rolleyes:). He sort of acquiesced, so I asked him where the gas can would be found, and he told me it would be easy to find, it would be in a red can in the garage. OK, I thought, this will be great!

I go to the garage, open the door, and spot a gas can. I grab it, take it to the mower, and try to pour. Nothing happens. After puzzling for a moment, I looked inside and saw a dark, thick liquid-NOT GAS by any stretch. I look in the garage. HE HAS 5 RED CANS!!! Finally I find one that seems right, pour the mower full, and pull the starter.

Nothing. And the cord won’t pull all the way.
I try again.
I prime it…again?

It was then that I comprehended that I had just poured kerosene into the mower…in my panic, I turn the mower UPSIDE DOWN to drain it…(I KNOW BUT YOU HAD TO BE THERE!!)

I felt so bad, I jumped online and googled whether or not it could be fixed…according to most websites, no. I ran to Lowe’s and bought him a new mower…but of course I couldn’t fit it into my car. So I needed a way to present him with this new mower.

Once at work, I called him and told him he had a surprise waiting for him at Lowe’s and he should go pick it up with his truck…

My phone rings…“Ummmm is it supposed to be a mower?” “Yes, it is…” “but I HAVE a mower” “Well, yeah, kinda”
“Ummmmmm, did something happen to MY mower?” I’d rather not say, but let’s just be glad for the new mower:o"…

sigh, never let me help with anything after that…:blush::frowning:

I’m so glad it’s not just me!!!

I was coming out of a CVS a few weeks go, and actually remembered (surprisingly!) that I had my husband’s grey car, rather than my white one. I strode briskly up to the car, reached for the door handle…and scared the heck out of the poor girl sitting inside, talking on her cell phone. I quickly backed away and pointed to my car, which was one space over and up, mouthing "Oops…sorry.!) :blush:

About 2.5 years ago, we had just moved into this house. I headed out to the deck, fairly early in the morning, to water some plants. My husband had left for work unusually early, and my younger daughter was gone all day in class, so I was home alone. I was wearing ratty clothes, no makeup, etc., as I hadn’t yet showered for the day, wanting to get some chores done first. I closed the door to keep out the heat and proceeded to prune and water plants. When I was done, I went to open the door and realized it had locked. We virtually never turn the doorknob lock, as we rely on the deadbolts which we have on every door throughout the house, but someone had done so. I tried not to panic, figuring that one of the doors or windows somewhere in the house would be open (I hoped!) so I tried all of them. No luck. I couldn’t call anyone, as I hadn’t brought my phone outside. So, I figured I’d try to find something to pick the lock with, and looked around the yard. Nothing. I got up my courage and went to the nearby neighbors…no one answered the door (I likely wouldn’t either, if I saw a sweaty - it was HOT - , wild-eyed looking woman in ratty clothes at the door.)

By this time I was panicky, as it was about 10 am, with no hope of any family member getting home until about 4 pm. I figured my best bet was to try to smash one window pane near the doorknob, stick my hand in and open the door. I took one of the bricks from around a garden border and started smashing…and smashing…and smashing. I don’t know what kind of glass it was, but it wouldn’t even crack. Then I stood back and started throwing the brick, all of which made a horrendous racket, but STILL didn’t bring anyone running. The glass stayed absolutely intact. Finally, I resorted to beating the doorknob to death, which took an ungodly amount of time, until I had demolished it enough to make the innards fall out and allow me to unlock it.

This story elicited tons of laughter from my husband and daughters (they weren’t stuck out in the heat for 2 hours!) At least I know we live in a fortress, apparently.

And then there was the time…

One day last month, we had especially pretty, cool-ish weather, and I headed to the grocery store in a very good mood. I saw an older (anyone more than about 10 years older than I am!) lady slowly pushing a grocery cart back to the store from her handicapped parking space. Feeling especially helpful, and deciding to relieve her of the chore of bringing the cart back, I smiled at her and said, “I’ll take that!”, putting my hand on the cart. I was surprised when she didn’t let go and looked a little startled. We had a bit of a tug of war, until she said, “No, please, I’m just going in to shop!” She thought I was trying to steal her cart!

I was reminded of this incident at work a few months ago. I woke up late, threw on a red flannel shirt and khaki pants then rushed to work where I had to spend the morning teaching a class. At the first break, I was feeling fine and did not avail myself of the restroom facilities. At the end of the four-hour class, everyone thanked me. I headed to the company cafeteria where I ran into some other folks I had not seen for a while and then had a nice conversation with the chairperson of the board of my company, an elderly lady. On the way back to the desk, I ran into a team-mate who was headed for his lunch. As he passed, he leaned over and whispered, “check your pants”.

I looked down and to see my red shirt-tail hanging out of my unzipped fly. :bigyikes: To my horror, I realized it must have been like that since I left the house that morning. Until my team-mate mentioned it, no one said a word. :blush:

I had been wondering why everyone I had run into that morning was in an unusually good mood. :shrug: Now I knew. :rotfl:

Oh, well. :o


This thread is providing me with great amusement - - not to put shame on anyone, I assume if you didn’t want me to laugh you wouldn’t have posted.

Thanks for the lack of shame - - or at least the willingness to share. :thumbsup:

Anonymity has it’s advantages.

:eek: :eek: :eek: :bigyikes: :bigyikes:


My DH and I actually have a term for that, an Uncle E… (DH has an uncle that seems to frequently do just that) when DH is leaving for work, I tell him “make sure you don’t have any Uncle e…'s going on.” :smiley:

Here is domino game of moments…

I was performing as the lead in The Mouse That Roared. I played the Queen. During the show, I had to get offstage and change in to a new gown, one that had a deep V in the front, which the costumers had fixed by using those small snaps that held a doily like piece of fabric in place. (It was high school, so, you know)

Well, I was standing offstage, and I was thinking to myself, gosh, it would be totally embarrassing to trip when I enter during the scene change (which was in total darkness by entering a set door that was left open by an existing character). WHY I was thinking this, I do not know.

Lights go out, I rush full force towards the stage (because I’d done this a million times, right?).

Tonight, however, the set door had not remained fully open. It was more like half mast.

I slammed into the door,:banghead: which of course affected the length of my body including my face, which felt like someone had cut me in two…as the lights came up the ENTIRE set was rocking forward towards the audience. I gasped, envisioning a melee, but the set rocked back and stopped.

I quickly entered and took my place on the throne, acting imperious. You know how something can strike you as hilarious and you can’t stop the giggles? Well I was trying…until I noticed my chief soldier staring at me. Not all of me, mind you, but PART of me…:blushing:

OF COURSE the snaps had popped from the impact, and I was about a thread away from flashing an entire audience, my parents, and teachers.:eek: Thinking fast, I ordered the soldier to do something (don’t remember what) that allowed me to shift and stuff the fabric in long enough to finish the scene.:rolleyes:

What a night!

ok, this isn’t that funny… just stupid on my part.

It had just snowed about two feet overnight. So early in the morning I go out and shovel the drive, go in and warm up, wake up the kids get them dressed and in the car we’re just out of our driveway when I turn on the radio and hear, it’s a… SNOW DAY. NO SCHOOL.

UGH! The kids were so happy, but as I pulled back into the garage I thought well if I was able to get to school, so should everyone else!!!

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