I just realized the back up light bulb sockets in my car made an attempt. Fortunately although they managed to get out of the holes they belong in, they didn’t far due to the wire to them. I just had to put them back in place.
Why do my doorways shrink over night? :dubious:
On the other hand, or foot, how about the way a rope or cord can hang on to your foot for dear live?
Yes, I agree that ceramics (especially cups) are definitely suicidal.
If you drop something while getting out of your car and there is a puddle 10 feet away, the object will bounce and land in the puddle.
Cords have an evil life of their own. My iPod cord or cellphone charger will wrap itself around things, unbeknownst to me, and when I get up, it will pull 5 things off the table with it. :smack:
Cords? Are they sexual like snakes and earth worms and have cause to wrap themselves together?
The underside of the cabinet overhangs in the kitchen are, I’m sure, chock-a-block with raisins (or what used to be grapes), coffee beans, nuts, bits of cereal and the dessicated remants of cherry tomatoes. I refuse to bow to their macho head games by bending over to retrieve them after they’ve scurried under there to practice whatever sordid little fibrous perversions they engage in once they’re on their own.
I’d forgotten about tag-teaming. They do raise it to the level of high art. Although since it would technically be performance art, I can’t be sure there isn’t a contradiction lurking in there somewhere. 
So . . . both evil and kinky. How worried should I be that I find that combination enticing? :eek:
Not in any house with a dog. The only thing left would be pills the dog should have taken.
Nice try, but age and dye lots will defeat that.
I’ve had good results with the use of diaper pins (the kind that LOCK). Regular safety pins won’t hack the job, and then you have two socks and an open safety pin at large in the wash.:eek:
You people are too fussy. They’re both technically black, right? Close enough.
I have to report an incident of aportation.
I found a poker chip in the kitchen.
where did it come from??
The dryer eats my socks. I was going (more) crazy not knowing whether it was the washer or dryer. Counted pairs while putting clothes from washer to dryer…AHA!! It’s the dryer.
I’ve tried that! The pins tear big holes in my socks, it’s awful. I’m not sure whether the pins are sock-haters, or the socks tear themselves in their struggle to be free…
another escapee, that print of ben franklin, pilfered for pilsner or tucked in a book, or in my childs hot little hand?
Fucking silverware. I drop silverware all the time and it makes the most obnoxious noise when it lands, and I swear to god it does this on purpose. Especially forks. Fuck forks.
And I don’t hit things with my elbows, knees and other extremities, things hit my extremities!
Once I shoot the bastards, they never try it again. (Hard to shake some of those Texas traditions.)
Also, this remote just loves–LOVES–the floor. The floor must have the best drugs, or something, because that remote always finds its way there. No matter where on the table you set it, it WILL fall off. Of course, this may just be due to its shitty design, but it also may or may not be evil. You decide.
Yes, how does that happen with the chains? All of my necklaces are on seperate hooks in the jewelry box, but when I go to get one out, four more try to come with it!
My ipod earbud cord manages to catch itself on anything and everything. Especially the dishwasher latch. I can be five feet away from the dishwasher and all of a sudden my earbuds are forcibly removed from my ears by the dishwasher latch! The cord isn’t that long!
For some reason I seem to have ended up with seven different types of socks. I can’t figure out how. Maybe other people’s socks like living with me? 
I caught one of them in the act today. There was a knife on the little sliver of counter top between the sink and the edge. As I walked by, something didn’t seem right. The knife should have been flat on the counter, but instead, it was listing toward the floor making one end stick up slightly.
The pointy end was the part hanging off of the counter. I know it wasn’t ready to jump though. Instantly I saw it’s diabolical plan. It would wait until I was standing by the sink and then, at just the right moment, it would do the old heave ho and plant itself in one of my metatarsal bones.
I hate to say it, but I think this shit might be gettin’ real.
I put it in my pocket nicely wound. When it comes out, the cord has knots in it. Actual knots! Knots that Captain Cook wouldn’t recognise!