When I was about 18 we moved house. We’d only been in the new house a day or two and I was at home by myself, probably during university holidays. There’s a knock at the door and a Salvation Army representative tells me he’s here to pick up the mattress. I know my parents have ordered a new bed, so I show the two men upstairs and they gratefully take the mattress away.
Later I go out and eventually end up at a bar with friends (yes we can drink legally at 18), where I stay till about 1 or 2am. When I get home, there’s a note on the kitchen counter reading “Can you solve the mystery of the missing mattress?” It appears that someone else on our block had called the Salvation Army to donate a mattress and my parents simply got home to find they had nothing to sleep on. Apparently they searched high and low. I imagine them opening cupboards in the vein hope of finding something so large it couldn’t possibly be hidden out of sight.
Of course, this was before mobile phones. Wouldn’t be so funny now.
I used to attend a day camp held in the basement of a Unitarian church. One day, someone left several of their dogs shut in one of the basement rooms. It wasn’t being used by the camp, but somehow they got out and were wandering around. A few of the campers, including me, decided we should take them back to the room. The dogs started to run, and we started to run after them. Somehow, they wound up cornered, got understandably upset, and that is how I wound up being chased through the basement of a Unitarian church by a pack of Russian wolfhounds. (Nobody got hurt, since we shut ourselves in another room. I no longer remember where the counselors were.)
I’m picturing this framed by a doorway, with the first shot of you chasing the dogs past the door quickly followed by a shot of you running back past the door, chased by the dogs. Good stuff!
I’m loving this thread and I just know I’m going to regret posting this, but what the heck. I’ll share my embarrassing story.
Ages ago when I still smoked, I was leaving my desk for my smoke break and decided to use the restroom first. So while I’m sitting there, I decide to spit out my gum and raise my right cheek and throw my gum in the toilet. Finish up, pull my panty hose up and go on out for my smoke.
10 minutes later, I’m walking back to my desk and something feels weird. I go back to the restroom only to discover that I have glued my hose to my butt with my gum.
Got a flat tire on my way to my wedding. Granted, I was driving up the day before, so it wasn’t a crisis, but still.
Shortly before our wedding, my then-fiancee and I were driving up to Wilson, NC, to collect a washing machine her parents were handing down to us in a truck borrowed from a friend. Somewhere just south of Lumberton, NC, we had a flat. Against her insistence that I was going to make us late, I stopped in Lumberton and replaced our now-defunct spare tire.
We made it to Wilson without further incident, but about 45 minutes into our return journey, we had a second flat tire. To her credit, she never again questioned my car maintenance instincts for the 17 years we were married.
I had no idea what it meant, POS is common so I checked SLQ, my apologies if you found it offensive. I was genuinely attempting to fight my own ignorance.
Thanks to The Other Waldo Pepper for the assistance.
I don’t know if this is sitcom-like enough, but here’s my story.
I went to the movies with my brother. He tells me he’s going to the restroom, I volunteer to go grab us good seats. But since the theater is almost empty I decide I can go to the restroom too. When I’m done in there, I notice that only one stall is occupied: obviously it has to be my brother. So I bang loudly on the door and say in a deep voice “Excuse me sir, you have spent quite enough time in there, we need to mop the floors, please come out at once.” Cue some lome loud swearing and questioning of my sanity and/or fitness to treat the customers appropriately: it turns out that it wasn’t my brother! I go back to sit in the theater and wonder what happened to him? He shows up five minutes after the movie starts and finds me in the dark.
His story: he was in a hurry so entered the bathroom in a rush and went straight to the stall. Once he was in there, he heard other people coming in and talking. He had gone to the women’s restroom instead! The women’s facilities were popular, young ladies were continuously going in and out. He had to wait until he was sure it was empty before he dared to come out of his booth.
And in fairness, Sam A. Robrindid say “ex-POSSLQ”, which suggests your definition might be closer how he currently thinks of the person in question :).
Or it could just be the sit-com-y goodness that’s also making me and Mum completely misunderstand each other at least twice in every conversation. We’re blaming the last traces of flu as hilarity ensues.
I had never golfed before. My husband took me to the driving range. Apparently I wasn’t following through with my stroke properly. He moved behind me to correct my swing…I swung, followed through and whacked him in the head with the club.
Luckily no concussion, but he’s never taken me to the driving range again.
