My sister once performed the Hoover Remover on my cat when he was choking on pepperoni.
She was insistant that this procedure was not called the Heimlich Maneuver.
What, did she suck the pepperoni out of his wind pipe? 
My mom admitted to that same mistake. The bad thing is that she didn’t know she was pronouncing it wrong until she was right up on her 50th birthday. 
Every day a message waits for me on my answering machine at home. “Hello, we are trying to reach you today. It is important that you return our call. Please call us at 1-866…” I get that call every weekday morning, and occasionally on a weekend. I’ve been getting these calls for about two months now. The recorded message never says what company is calling, or why “it is important that” I return their call. I called once from a pay phone (so they couldn’t get my phone number on caller ID and think I was actually interested in their product) just to see who was being so persistent. They wanted me to hold for the first available representative, so I hung up. I listen to that voice every single day when I get home from work.
Today, the friendly voice wasn’t there. He stood me up.
Bastard.
Oh, now that’s just gross.
Uhh, I hit “New Thread,” I swear.
:smack:
The irony is so thick I can taste it (and mmm does it taste good! 
)
Aw, jeez, my third entry on this thread…
Several years ago, my wife had a stall at the Blackrock Market in Dublin, Ireland selling pajamas, lingerie, etc. I volunteered to man the stall the day before Christmas so she could get some shopping done.
All day long, I stared at a sign at the entrance to the market. It apparently was for language lessons, for it had the word
FRENCH
on top, with the word
POLISH under it.
Odd choice of languages to be teaching, I thought, and by the afternoon, my curiosity was well and truly piqued, so I had to go and check it out.
Oh.
It’s a nail salon, where they specialize in giving ladies’ nails a French polish.
sigh
Heh. One time I got flustered when trying to give someone the signal that they could go ahead of me. So instead of flashing my lights, I sprayed windshield wiper fluid all over.
The most destructive one was when I parked right next to a telephone pole and then forgot about it when I came back out in the dark. I of course had my music up loud so didn’t hear the gouging sound until it had done a couple of feet’s worth of damage.
And once when I was driving I saw a skunk up ahead and (don’t know why) thought it would be a good idea to just keep driving and get away from it. That is one strategy, but it shouldn’t include stopping over top the skunk, paralyzed by the idea that I need to get away but not sure just how to do that ?!?!? The smell went away after a few days.
There’s a salon near my place with a sandwich board that reads “FRENCH POLISH – TEEN FACIALS.” It all sounds very seedy.
That’s not as disturbing as the next line, though: “NAIL REMOVAL.” :eek:
This morning I went to take the metro and got winded when I walked right into the turnstile, which didn’t turn when I hit it.
Yeah, turns out it works better if you actually take your pass out of your pocket and swipe it in the reader thingy. :smack:
But I gave blood yesterday so I blame it on reduced oxygen delivery to the brain.
I’M NOT THE ONLY ONE!
Thank you, thank you, thank you!
I hope someday you will join us.
This morning I went in the bathroom to wash my face like I do every morning. I squeezed a small amount of face wash onto my hand, and began scrubbing my face to make suds- but no suds came. It was then that the smell hit me. I had covered my face in hair gel.
Oddly, the hair gel and face wash bottles are NOTHING alike. I’m just retarded. :smack:
When I was about seven, I was over at my aunt’s house and had to go to the bathroom. Hitched up my skirt, sat down on the toilet, and went, then when I stood up, I realized I had forgotten to pull down my underpants. :smack:
Well, how else does one do the Hoover Maneuver?
That reminds me of a time when I was out and about with my grandmother (Fran).
Driving along in the car…
Fran: “Alright, this is driving me nuts. How do you spell ‘minute’ (min-nit)?”
Me: “M-I-N-U-T-E.”
Fran: “No, that’s minute (my-noot).”
Me: “Hey, you’re right. Gosh. How do you spell ‘minute’?”
So we pulled into a gas station. Fran asks the gas station attendant the same question.
Gas Station Attendant: “Isn’t it M-I-N-U-T-E?”
Fran: “That’s how you spell my-noot.”
GSA: “Yes, but min-nit and my-noot are spelled the same way.”
Fran: “They are? Are you sure?”
GSA: “Pretty sure, yeah.”
Me: “You know, I think he’s right.”
Fran: “Hmm. OK, thanks.”
And off we went. But when we got back to her house, we looked it up in a dictionary. We laughed about that one for years.
Okay, one more, and it’s not mine, and it’s not really a brain fart…
A girl I knew in college suffered from a brain disorder that would create disruptions between her thought center and her language center, so that any given thought would come out with completely wrong words replacing the correct ones. I can’t remember the name of the condition, but she was on medication for it which controlled occurances 99% of the time. One time it didn’t, though.
We were walking together, and were about to jaywalk across a busy street. Dumbass that I am, cars are coming from the left, so I look to the right and step out into traffic (that’s a brain fart right there, I know.). She’s more on the ball than I, so she pulls me back to the curb, shouting “Look out, goldfish bowl!”
I asked her, “Okay, what did you mean to say instead of ‘goldfish bowl’?”
Her: “Huh?” (not aware the slip has been made)
Me: “Just then - you said ‘Look out, goldfish bowl.’ What word were you thinking of?”
Her: “Oh! the word should have been ‘jackass!’”
I love this thread, and I love you all. I have tears running down my face.
I do these so often that it isn’t worth remembering them for any length of time. But here’s a recent one.
I recently ran into a girl that I had known three years ago, Allie. I’m horrible with names; there are people at work who I’ve seen every day for more than a year now, and I still don’t know their names. I obviously can’t ask them now, because I’d look like an ass. So when I met her, I admitted that I’d forgotten her name, and thankfully she had forgotten mine, so we re-introduced ourselves. For the rest of the day I was very deliberately remembering her name, because I really didn’t want to forget it. Allie.
Then, walking out to the warehouse, it just hit me that I had completely forgotten her name. I wasn’t going to see her again that day, so it didn’t matter that I had temporarily forgotten, I knew that it would come back. But no, I had forgetten her name, and now I was writing zeros over that spot in my memory trying to dig it back up. Alf? Amy? Alex? Aargh!
It randomly came back later that day.
“Doohickey” might as well be my middle name. I’ve noticed that I only lose words when I’m on the defensive side of a conversation. If I’m showing someone how to do something, I can be eloquent as hell, but if I’m trying to ask what part goes where I’m straight to thingamajigger and doohickey.
Doing.
Isn’t that supposed to be “Doing!”?