Not Disaster
What do you call it when you melt your phone in the oven while trying to drive the water out of it that was spilled last night, and at the same time the delivery men are telling you your wonderful, new refrigerator, which is a gift from your mother, will not fit up the stairs, which is where your kitchen is since you live in bizarro-house?
Send in your punchlines, no purchase required.
I laugh, and the more I laugh, the more grumpy the man gets because he sees his house falling down around him and there is always one more thing to fix, and one more bill to pay, one more child whining at his feet.
Can I fix any of these things in the next five minutes? No. I cannot. So I make lists, devise plans, set aside money, and laugh.
Because how silly is it? A phone melted in the oven. Really. These things don’t happen to normal people, because normal people do not put their cell phones into ovens.
He is lucky to have such live entertainment in his home every night, and I am lucky to have come so far that disaster elicits giggles instead of tears.
I’m alive! I’m alive!
Ooooh yes, you may revel in the fact that I dropped my cell phone in the bonfire Friday night and it was unretrievable. I share your… ambivalence?
awesome. At least you didnt put it in the microwave, only to have it spark up. People are dumb.
My friends and my sister all swear by using the hair dryer on the phone, simply because they used to drop their phones into liquids so often, that the phone company has THEM on speed dial! *BADOOM CHING*
in all seriousness, its good to see you blogging again. Your adventures are as wacky as bobs were/are!
-Rick