Ok, this is starting to worry me. After this stupidity episode, I followed it with yet another: I went to cut up the card that had arrived in July, and . . . you guessed it . . . I cut up a totally different credit card instead, the main one that I use all the time. So now I have to get a replacement of that one too.
What act of idiocy will I do next?
Hmm, must be something to do with turning 64 - have your partner keep a close eye on you. 
Seriously though, argh, how frustrating.
I’m preparing a pot roast and added water and some seasonings to the crock pot before adding the meat and vegetables so I could get the water nice and hot. I’m putting the glass lid on and it doesn’t fit, what the hell? I’m thinking somehow the aluminum has warped so I’m bending and pushing to try and get the stupid lid to fit. I then turn around and glance in the sink. The ceramic insert is sitting there in the sink waiting to be washed. Talk about dumb.
Same thing, except I left $400 which is for my room rental. Fortunately no one took it for themselves but I spent a whole week screaming at myself.
My wife has done this twice.
I’m working on my dissertation. I made a point, and needed to find a primary source to reference to back it up. I look at my notes, which lead me to this modern book that talks about it, and I go to the footnote in the book. It references a really obscure Latin text that I don’t even have out from the library. It’s never been translated into English to my knowledge, so I go to the library and start slogging through the Latin - but I can’t find the reference.
I go back to the footnote and realize - I was looking at the wrong footnote. I look at the right footnote, and it has references to five or so different texts - all of which are already scattered around my desk. I look up the first, which is in a book I’ve been reading for the past couple of weeks, and find that I have (within the last month) written a gigantic exclamation mark next to the line I’m looking for.
Brilliant. And they’re seriously considering me for advanced degrees?
And another one:
I was visiting my friend in Boston, and she had some of those as-of-yet-unassembled cardboard boxes when I picked her up. I ended up putting them on top of my trunk as I was getting all of my stuff arranged. We then drove to another friend’s house and when we got there, ha ha! How dumb are we? The carboard boxes are still on the trunk! We all have a good laugh.
It was either more or less funny when we finally got home and discovered - you guessed it - even after we realized that we were driving around with the boxes on the car, we never put them in the trunk and had continued to drive around Boston.
Another one:
I was cooking something in a pot, over a low flame. When it was done I moved the pot to another burner to cool, and placed the lid onto the original burner. A while later I went to place the lid back on the pot.
YEEEOOOWWW!!!
I had neglected to turn off the burner, and the lid was a whole lot hotter than I had expected.
On a similar note. I once grabbed the wrong end of an soldering iron.
Chopped open my foot with hatchet
Set fire to an island
Set fire to my testicles
Froze my tongue with a banana dipped in liquid nitrogen
Burned up the coffee pot
Grated off my knuckle (2 days ago)
I’ll think of more.
A friend of mine fell asleep during surgery as an intern and fell into the patient. That I have not done.
She melted a melitta? Bloody hell!
I’m currently living in a university dorm. My kitchen sounds like either a UN meeting or the start of a joke: a Spaniard, an Iranian, an Indian and a Nigerian.
The Iranian isn’t much of a cook but he’s learning and he cleans up after himself. He doesn’t talk much.
We do have a baking pan (mine), several pans (I’ve discovered that keeping oil in mine prevents their borrowing it, hallellujah), a cutting board (mine), two very sharp knives (the Iranian’s), a toaster (mine), several pots (all scored by now, see below). We also have a kettle (came with the kitchen) but it doesn’t work; a cursory examination shows that the contacts are smashed and, since we have a small pot suitable for boiling a cuppa and given how delicate my kitchenmates are, I’m not bothering to ask for a replacement.
The Indian and the Nigerian can’t even make a bologna sandwich, they make the Iranian’s grilled inventions and my tossed salads sound like haute cuisine. I’ve been told that eating salad is “strange,” that eating pasta is “strange,” that an European eating rice is “strange because Europeans eat mostly wheat” (were you expecting us to eat it ‘in the grain’ as it were? most of the wheat I eat is in the form of pasta), that toasting bread in the toaster is “strange” (that was the Nigerian, he toasts it on a pan, which he then proceeds to scrub with a fork, followed by a second scrubbing with the big knife). I’ve been offered fresh pasta which its owner had decided he didn’t like; when I poked it, found it hard, asked “how long has it been open,” was told “a month” and tossed it away, he asked whether I though it would be bad, as it didn’t smell bad. Well, no, but it doesn’t count as “fresh pasta” any more, it’s dried up.
I’ve informed the Indian that you grab the sponge-scrubber by the sponge side. I’ve asked the Nigerian to please use the scubbers and not the sharp knives to do the washing. I’ve walked in on the Nigerian using the baking pan as a cutting board (gee, guess I know how it got scored!). I have no idea which of them uses the scrubbers on the sharp side of the good knives, but I assume it isn’t the Nigerian (I should have taken pics of that scrubber… if another suffers the same fate, I will).
So far neither of them has managed to burn the house down, though, although the kitchen next door to ours smells like burnt food most of the time.
I had previously shared kitchens with people from half a dozen nationalities and several additional ethnic origins - but never before had walking into my kitchen felt like I was stepping into uncharted territory armed with nothing but a keychain!
Here’s a minor one which I have been making all over the years. Ladies and gentlemen, when checking dates for an appointment, make sure you remember the time now is before midnight or after midnight.
There has been countless times like I look up my medicial appointment card and it says “10am 6th Oct 2009” and I look at my watch and it says “5th October” and the next morning I’ll be rushing down to the hospital. Only to be dumbfounded when I told I had no appointment booked.
“But it says 6th October!” I will protest.
The nurse will then smile bemusedly and say today is 5th October.
This is because, dear friends, when I check my watch ‘last night’ it was already past midnight.
What did I do, shortly after reading this thread?
Lock myself out of my bedroomm, of course :smack:
That’s going to get a while to get used to, it’s the first time I live in a place where you need to grab the keys to open any doors. Pain in the behind when you’re carrying something, too.
A friend of mine once missed a flight by a day.
He was perpetually late, to the point that the airport personnel knew him well and expected him to be running in at the last minute. So one day, he decided that he was going to make an extra effort to be on time. He was flying on New Year’s Day; his flight left at 12:30AM on January 1. He figured that an hour early would be perfect. So he very arrived, feeling very good about himself, at 11:30PM… on January 1.
Black knitting bag, black car, dark night, no flashlight, armful of stuff. Put bag next to car, unlock car, put armload of stuff in car, get in car, drive car to cabin down the hill. No knitting bag. Remember thunk noise when backing out of parking space. Damn. Walk back up hill, find knitting bag with Camry tire mark across middle. Luckliy, I only lost 1 wooden circular needle, a pencil, bent my magnetic pattern board (it was salvagable) and broke a pipe stem. Husband sad about pipe stem. I’m happy my knitting wasn’t actually in the bag.
This morning, my finely honed electrical skills came into play again. I had turned on the small electric heater (1500W) to warm up the ol’ RV doncha know and promptly forgot that it was running. Plugged in the toaster, punched down the lever and…nothing. WTF? So I’m fuming and cussing and my wife says, tiredly, did you shut off the heater first? FUCK!!
to paraphrase Jack handy. It’s better to curse the darkness than to light your testicles afire.
Got in the car, started it up, looked down at my iPod screen, and it was all wavy colors with dark, unreadable spots.
“Damn! I should have listened to the warnings that you should never leave it in the car overnight because it might get too cold. I’ve ruined the screen. Aaaargh.”
I was annoyed at myself all the way to work for ruining the iPod.
Then I looked at the screen when I wasn’t wearing polarized sunglasses. :smack:
Ironing a shirt, I switched the iron to my left hand to get the iron at a particular angle. Somehow, my brain decided that because I was using the opposite hand, when I set the iron down, I should also face it in a mirror-image direction to how I’d previously set it down on the board (having to contort my wrist in an odd way to do so, even). Fast forward five seconds, when after repositioning the shirt, I reach over to grab the iron without looking… and my fingers hit hot metal instead of the handle. :smack:
Yep, I’ve done that. The only logical conclusion is that Microsoft hates lawyers.