Jon Reimer 7:15 p.m., June 28
- Community Blog
- Daily Crasher
Lovely Bones (when they're not broken)
A lot of bizarre things happened yesterday.
It started with me going downstairs to get the newspaper, and not seeing that my dog left one of his beef stick treats on the floor (sorry all you Vegans…my dog eats meat). It’s similar in color to the hardwood floor. Well, okay…it really isn’t. It just blends in with the floor a lot better than his toys, which are all kinds of wacky colors (which I find, since I’ve read dogs are color blind).
So, I tripped and almost did a Greg Louganis down the stairs.
When I got the newspaper, I had thoughts of whacking the pooch on the head with it. But it wasn’t his fault.
I also thought about my childhood, and how I had broken my arms four times. I didn’t need #5 as an adult.
I got to my racquetball game 45 minutes later. The guys I play with brought a co-worker.
At one point, I hit a dink shot (one of my specialties), and he ran full speed towards the front wall trying to get to it. None of us are sure what happened next, but it looked like he lost his footing.
He hit the wall full speed and broke his hand.
Always bizarre how everyone else reacts when something like this happens. One guy was telling him to go put ice on it. Another was making a joke about who scored the point. The guy was good spirited about it, and even drove himself to the hospital.
That immediately got me thinking about Harry, one of the best outside shooters I ever played basketball with. He broke his finger during a game 15 years ago, and this tall hippie we played with, drove him to the hospital. This is a guy that usually just rode a 10-speed and talked about how bad cars were for the environment.
As they were off to the hospital, he couldn’t figure out how to turn off the car alarm. Harry told me they were cruising down the 163 with his alarm blaring.
I went to my banks drive-thru to deposit a few checks and get a few hundred bucks. The person helping me asked if I was in the market for a new car. I looked around, wondering if they had some kind of videocam that showed the inside of my disgusting vehicle. I have magazines and newspapers strewn on the floor, as well as an apple I munched on that morning.
I told her no, and she talked about some auto loans they’re doing and the interest rates…blah blah blah. I wanted to interrupt and say “What part of ‘no’ did you not understand?” Instead, I just listened, nodding my head (even though she probably couldn’t see the head nod).
I was so distracted, I didn’t realize she gave me two, hundred dollar bills instead of 20s or 50s. That’ll be fun the next time I want a Dr. Pepper at 7-11 and they don’t want to make change for a bill that size.
The evening ended with a movie premiere my girlfriend and I were going to. We met a few of her co-workers who really nice, and we all had a blast in line talking about a variety of topics and people watching.
The theatre filled up, and a few women showed up late trying to get in. When they were told the theatre was full, a woman in line got an evil look on her face and said to her friend, “I love it when that happens.”
One of our friends went to get popcorn, and a few women in their late 50s came in looking for seats. It was slim pickins, with an occasional single seat here or there. There was an empty seat behind us, and one of the women said “I’ll sit here, you can sit in that row.”
The woman asked us if our seat was taken and we said it was. She replied, “No it is not.” We said it was, and she continued to quiz us about where the person was and why wasn’t she there. My girlfriend was laughing. Her co-worker smiled and said “Look…I don’t save seats that are empty just so nobody sits by me. We really do have a friend.”
I couldn’t believe this conversation was lasting more than five seconds. It went on for a few minutes.
I watched where the woman sat down. It was about 8 rows behind us, off in a corner. Our friend showed up a minute later, and I stood up and got the old broad to look at me. I said, “Our friend is back. Do you want to come over and verify that we know her? Do you want to see the tub of popcorn she brought?” At this point, the woman was looking uncomfortable.
I continued, saying “Come on over! Say hello.” At that point she looked down. And I stood there looking at her for a few seconds, before I finally sat down.
My girlfriend leaned in and said “You know, you’re the one that ends up sounding crazy when something like that happens.”
She did have a point.
So when the old people directly to my right kept saying “I don’t hear what they’re saying,” or “I hate these Irish accents. They’re hard to understand.” I refrained from saying anything. And besides, “Leap Year” was such an awful movie, it actually made it more entertaining.
A couple of women behind us, probably in their 50s, acted as if they had never seen a better movie. A castle would be shown and they’d say, “Wow, that is a beautiful castle. Ya know, Ireland really does have beautiful castles like that. We should think about going sometime.”
My girlfriend commented on the drive home, that they sounded like the old muppets that would sit in the balcony commenting on the show.
I said, “The difference is, those old guys were funny. And they hated the bad entertainment. Those ladies were loving every second of a horrible film.”