Some people call it insane
Ok so I saw something odd as I was driving home today, which brought back the absolute WTFery of last friday which I completely forgot to share. Now pay close attention 'cause there will be a test on this later (I kid ^_^).
So for the most part the day seemed fine, no abnormalities, no catastrophes. In all honesty, it was kind of slow. The day passes in it's usual way, evening finally comes and 99% of the office clears out, leaving me and my supervisor. My supervisor waves as he walks out . . . then walks back in ten minutes later and offers me his cell phone number. It's not in a flirting way but more of a 'oh yeah by the way' sort of manner so I'm sort of left blinking and scrabbling around for a something to write on. While I'm digging for a post-it, my supervisor casually mentions that the gate had been closed and locked. Meaning production had pissed off to parts unknown without checking to see who was still inside and I could have been locked in with no way to contact anyone. So yeah I have my supervisors number now.
He leaves again and I grab a dollar and head to the back for a candy bar thinking Wow I really dodged a bullet there! . . . which is apparently like saying it's a piece of cake in the labyrinth. I stepped through the door to the back half of the building and noticed too late that the light that is usually green was now red, meaning that the door automatically locks behind you. I spun around to late and could only whimper unhappily as the door slammed firmly shut. At this point I said fuck it and went to grab my candy bar figuring I'd need the comfort of chocolate later. I wasn't wrong. See, to get back to the offices the long way around you have to go through production. Except that all the guy's back there had already gone home. Which means I had to go through this large, empty, mostly dark room alone with the thought that if all the doors had auto-locked then I wouldn't be able to get back in at all and (bonus!) I couldn't call my supervisor because the newly acquired number was sitting on my desk. Thankfully it only took me two tries to find a door that was still open.
I finally leave work, shaking my head as I head out. Things cannot possibly get any weirder today, I think as I get on the freeway. Of course that's when the van decorated with christmas lights goes cruising by. Thoroughly distracted, I almost don't notice the slow down of traffic until I'm right on top of it. Of course, this isn't the narrow-pass-watch-your-speed type of slow down this is the accident-in-a-bad-place slow down and I decide that I don't want to deal with it, so I detour further down the 5 where it rejoins the 10 directly. Just as I reach the exits for the 10 some asshole cuts across two lanes and almost clips me. Distracted by the adrenalin rush and in overwhelming need to cuss the bastard out, I miss my exit and end up going onto the 10 east.
I won't bore you with the details of the navigation it took to get on the right freeway. Suffice to say that by the time I finally did all I really wanted to do was go home. Which is, of course, the moment that I remembered that I'd promised my mother that I would go to the store. Whining like a puppy stuck in the rain, I forced myself to blow pass my usual exit and take the one that would put me closest to the store. I decided that, if I had to do it, I would get it done as quick as possible and just go home. Unfortunately, fate is a bitch and wasn't finished with me quite yet. I make it to the register and get rung up with maybe a handful of words passing between me and the checker. It's as she's bagging my groceries that she, prompted by the cat toy I had snagged for Toby, suddenly feels the need to tell me about her dog. Apparently she has this little chihuahua which has a bad habit of running away, but only for a few hours at a time after which it always comes home but in that time it can wander up to miles away and that's why her neighbor gave her the dog in the first place, including giving her the dog bed because otherwise the dog would just go back to the neighbors house but because she has the dog bed the dog comes back to her every time and- I, mowed down by this conversation like a rabbit in front of a mac truck can only stare at her, smile, and nod in the right places. The woman had been helping me load bags and, by this point, is now standing in front of the cart expounding on the frustrations of canines.
Just as I've reached the point of either running her down with the cart or committing ritual suicide with the stylus on the card scanner, the phone at her till rings. Free at last, I breathe a silent prayer in gratitude, wave good bye, bolt for my car and manage to make it home without further incident.
So what prompted this recap? I was cruising along on the freeway tonight when this slow moving little flatbed truck signals to get in front of me. Now normally I don't like to get stuck behind slow vehicles so I either speed up and let them get in the lane behind me or I sort of trade lanes with them. This time I was too distracted by the trucks cargo to do either. So what exactly was this truck carrying?
Church pews.
Dude, I shit you not. There were about six or seven wooden benches roped together in the back of this truck. Now really, this wouldn't have bothered me quite as much if they had been tied down in the conventional manner, as in laying down in the truck bed. But no. Whatever Einstein had strapped those puppies in had decided to stand them up on end. So imagine: this little old flatbed with a bunch of church benches strapped together and standing up in the back cruising down the 110 freeway with about a two and a half foot clearance between the tops of the benches and the bottoms of the overpasses. I was only behind the truck for about three minutes before my imagination overwhelmed my utter bewilderment with visions of church pews bouncing loose to send me to my maker. I quickly and carefully changed lanes and took myself straight home before anything else could happen.
Now I'm sitting here contemplating just how frelling weird life can be while my cat thoughtfully gnaws on my arm.
. . . I think that says it all really.
So for the most part the day seemed fine, no abnormalities, no catastrophes. In all honesty, it was kind of slow. The day passes in it's usual way, evening finally comes and 99% of the office clears out, leaving me and my supervisor. My supervisor waves as he walks out . . . then walks back in ten minutes later and offers me his cell phone number. It's not in a flirting way but more of a 'oh yeah by the way' sort of manner so I'm sort of left blinking and scrabbling around for a something to write on. While I'm digging for a post-it, my supervisor casually mentions that the gate had been closed and locked. Meaning production had pissed off to parts unknown without checking to see who was still inside and I could have been locked in with no way to contact anyone. So yeah I have my supervisors number now.
He leaves again and I grab a dollar and head to the back for a candy bar thinking Wow I really dodged a bullet there! . . . which is apparently like saying it's a piece of cake in the labyrinth. I stepped through the door to the back half of the building and noticed too late that the light that is usually green was now red, meaning that the door automatically locks behind you. I spun around to late and could only whimper unhappily as the door slammed firmly shut. At this point I said fuck it and went to grab my candy bar figuring I'd need the comfort of chocolate later. I wasn't wrong. See, to get back to the offices the long way around you have to go through production. Except that all the guy's back there had already gone home. Which means I had to go through this large, empty, mostly dark room alone with the thought that if all the doors had auto-locked then I wouldn't be able to get back in at all and (bonus!) I couldn't call my supervisor because the newly acquired number was sitting on my desk. Thankfully it only took me two tries to find a door that was still open.
I finally leave work, shaking my head as I head out. Things cannot possibly get any weirder today, I think as I get on the freeway. Of course that's when the van decorated with christmas lights goes cruising by. Thoroughly distracted, I almost don't notice the slow down of traffic until I'm right on top of it. Of course, this isn't the narrow-pass-watch-your-speed type of slow down this is the accident-in-a-bad-place slow down and I decide that I don't want to deal with it, so I detour further down the 5 where it rejoins the 10 directly. Just as I reach the exits for the 10 some asshole cuts across two lanes and almost clips me. Distracted by the adrenalin rush and in overwhelming need to cuss the bastard out, I miss my exit and end up going onto the 10 east.
I won't bore you with the details of the navigation it took to get on the right freeway. Suffice to say that by the time I finally did all I really wanted to do was go home. Which is, of course, the moment that I remembered that I'd promised my mother that I would go to the store. Whining like a puppy stuck in the rain, I forced myself to blow pass my usual exit and take the one that would put me closest to the store. I decided that, if I had to do it, I would get it done as quick as possible and just go home. Unfortunately, fate is a bitch and wasn't finished with me quite yet. I make it to the register and get rung up with maybe a handful of words passing between me and the checker. It's as she's bagging my groceries that she, prompted by the cat toy I had snagged for Toby, suddenly feels the need to tell me about her dog. Apparently she has this little chihuahua which has a bad habit of running away, but only for a few hours at a time after which it always comes home but in that time it can wander up to miles away and that's why her neighbor gave her the dog in the first place, including giving her the dog bed because otherwise the dog would just go back to the neighbors house but because she has the dog bed the dog comes back to her every time and- I, mowed down by this conversation like a rabbit in front of a mac truck can only stare at her, smile, and nod in the right places. The woman had been helping me load bags and, by this point, is now standing in front of the cart expounding on the frustrations of canines.
Just as I've reached the point of either running her down with the cart or committing ritual suicide with the stylus on the card scanner, the phone at her till rings. Free at last, I breathe a silent prayer in gratitude, wave good bye, bolt for my car and manage to make it home without further incident.
So what prompted this recap? I was cruising along on the freeway tonight when this slow moving little flatbed truck signals to get in front of me. Now normally I don't like to get stuck behind slow vehicles so I either speed up and let them get in the lane behind me or I sort of trade lanes with them. This time I was too distracted by the trucks cargo to do either. So what exactly was this truck carrying?
Church pews.
Dude, I shit you not. There were about six or seven wooden benches roped together in the back of this truck. Now really, this wouldn't have bothered me quite as much if they had been tied down in the conventional manner, as in laying down in the truck bed. But no. Whatever Einstein had strapped those puppies in had decided to stand them up on end. So imagine: this little old flatbed with a bunch of church benches strapped together and standing up in the back cruising down the 110 freeway with about a two and a half foot clearance between the tops of the benches and the bottoms of the overpasses. I was only behind the truck for about three minutes before my imagination overwhelmed my utter bewilderment with visions of church pews bouncing loose to send me to my maker. I quickly and carefully changed lanes and took myself straight home before anything else could happen.
Now I'm sitting here contemplating just how frelling weird life can be while my cat thoughtfully gnaws on my arm.
. . . I think that says it all really.