Family Observations Blog

Why is it there are 37 Allen Wrenches, but only one of those is used for virtually everything? And it’s always the only Allen Wrench that’s missing from the set.

I have 3 sets and not a single useful Allen Wrench. those other 36 wrenches may as well been a set of french fries, a tea set, or a swing set.

The reason why they just don’t sell that one useful wrench as a single…..Allen is Latin for Prince of Darkness.

I’m sure he was thinking,”I know, I’ll create a tool that’s useful and cheap. Then I will make everyone sign a contract that it can only be sold as a set amongst 36 useless duplicates of varying sizes. MUAH HAHA!”

All that to say,”Can I borrow someones set of Prince of Darkness Wrenches? I have a desk, swing set, and entertainment center to put together.”

When I am holding that little cracker and tea party cup for communion it almost feels like spiritual handcuffs.

One thing i miss about being a catholic, is you take care of the communion upon pick up. Kind of like eating your drive through meal before you pull out of the parking lot. 

I mean if your cell goes off, your kid grabs your wallet, or heaven forbid you have to sneeze. We are talking about the possibility of an inter-sanctuary incident. You can not put that stuff on the pew and for some reason even though it is smaller than a pocket knife you can’t put both the cracker and cup in your hand at the same time.

 The longer the pastor strings out the partaking of the sacraments the closer we are to communion armagedon.

A couple of months ago has I was going back to my seat with the cargo I had a slip up.  While passing an acquaintance, I gestured to him with my cracker hand.  At that moment, the cracker became a wheat gluten projectile and popped his fiance in the chest.  As I gasped, I almost caused a communion line traffic pile up of epic proportions by almost diving for the dry bread.  But common sense took over and allowed me to laugh my way back to the pew.  I just hope his fiance did not have a wheat gluten allergy.

How do you think handicap people feel when they see an unhandicap person walk out of the handicap stall?

I have to admit, I give in to the temptation of the luxury of the “penthouse stall.”  Unless I get better 3G reception in a different stall of course.

So is that the equivalent of taking a handi parking spot? If so, there needs to be a cop in the bathrooms handing out “stall fines” for illegal dumping/parking.  

Speaking for myself, I know seeing a cop in the john woud serve as a visual deterent for sure.

Just think, you are hurriedly approaching the last stall and you catch a glimpes of a blue shirt, a badge, and a cop-stache in your peripherial.  You would probably hit the breaks, breaking hard enough to slow down but not hard enough that he could tell you’re breaking. You might try saying something witty to distract him like,”Oh. Hi officer, I bet that’s not fabreeze in you hoster is it?”  Then you would make a deft U turn and quickly retreat to the general population stalls.  But you would still have a nervousness, so you would check your rear view to make sure you did not see any blue lights coming after you.

More than likely, you escape without a fine and a court date.  Which is great because who wants to choose between those two fates and a defensive bathroom class.

When a man is having a sit down in the restroom he won’t come out until the room has cleared out. (Literally, cleared out.)

I’ve tried to stall/flush a guy out before and he treated it like a hostage situation.  He just got comfortable and waited for his demands to be met.  An empty indoor outhouse room.
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I mean it’s not like we can’t do the detective work and id your shoes when we see you in the hall.

So men, come out and claim your scent.  It saves us from playing the match the sent to the shoe game.

(Note: There’s a dude @ work who chuckles everytime he looks at my feet. What’s that about?)

My snoring is so loud that I’m worried about getting a “disturbing the peace” violation stapled to my forehead. Due to my lack of peaceful sleep. Well to be truthful, more due to the lack of peaceful sleep of others and out of respect for my wonderful wife’s right to be unconscious, I wear the sleeper’s snorkel gear, aka the CPAP (Constant Positive Air Pressure) machine. It feels like strapping on a muzzle and sticking your head out of the window and sticking the little ends of two funnels in your nostrils. Which cause a nice wind tunnel effect. But it keeps me from unconsciously calling all the wild boars in the area to our back yard.

Last night I experienced a first using the CPAP. I awoke abruptly to an awful smell. The air intake had sucked up my bunk mates flatulence. He apparently “sleep farts”. The scenario played out like so:

1st breath – I awoke confused….but conscious of what I was smelling.

2nd breath – “Ok…he farted. It should pass shortly.” (So i try to wait it out patiently, like driving behind a garbage truck and waiting for it to turn out of your path.)

3rd breath – “Dear Lord……..(gasp) I can’t breath……and it’s in my mouth now.” (As I jerk the snorkel gear off so fast I almost give myself a rhinoplasty.)

After that I check out the machine to make sure he didn’t attach something biological to the air intake. I mean the smell was so strong in my nose tubes that it felt as if he’d confused the air intake for the 3rd stall in the men’s bathroom.

For the rest of the night, I tossed and turned and waited for the “Freddy Kruger” of flatulence to return. But he was done for the night…..and hopefully for a while. Word to all the night time snorkelers. The next time you take the top bunk, invest in a car air freshner to defend the gate to your air intake.