My last “oh crap” moment was related to my never ending big mouth.
I’m doing a sound install in a fancy-pancy yoga studio. Real new agey stuff. So I’m in the main area where the yoga classes are going to be and I’m chopping some square holes in the ceiling for speakers. The owners are around the corner fuzzing with this and that. The woman who hired me for the job is helping me. We’ve known each other for about a year before this job and she knows I don’t buy into new age stuff. She also knows I take my job serious but little else.
So I’m lining up the template where I’m going to cut and for some reason say “I think I’m going to mount these all off center and fuck up everyones feng shui.”
Then I realize I said that kind of loud. Like, loud enough for the owners to hear me.
Luck for me they didn’t.
I think I’ll stop with the new agey jokes from now on.
We have two offices on opposite sides of the floor and I found myself all by myself. Everyone seemed to have gone home. Since we do not leave the offices open while unoccupied, I had to open and close each as went back and forth. At one point, I had to use the restroom which required me get a key left on the wall. As I was washing up, I realized the office keys were on my desk. :smack: Fortunately the cleanup crew came.
The TSA is actually pretty cool with needlework and crafty stuff now that things have mellowed out a bit. My socks were on five 20-cm double-point aluminum needles, for example, and the screeners didn’t bat an eye.
Make sure your scissors have a rounded tip, and avoid unusual metal items that have pointy bits, because stuff they don’t recognize makes them nervous. This is usually a bigger problem at smaller airports where they don’t see the same volume and variety. On one trip, I’d breezed through security on the outbound leg in Kansas City, among other places, but they confiscated my stitch holders in Dubuque. The TSA screener told me three times that my 14-inch, much thicker, straight, equally pointy, aluminum knitting needles were okay because they’re knitting needles, but I couldn’t take the stitch holders because a) they were metal, b) had a (very, very dull) point and c) they weren’t knitting needles. :rolleyes: Check out the picture. Don’t they look menacing? “Fly this plane into that building or I will . . . hang on, I have to straighten this out at little . . . I will give you such a poking!”
Oh, and an update: I stopped by my Friendly Local Yarn Store this morning, and naturally they’re out of the green sock yarn I need! Crappity crap crap crap. I can’t believe how lame this is. pouts
This happened over a year ago, but reading the thread title brought it back like it was yesterday so I have to share…
Coming off of an all-night roleplaying session with some friends, I’m getting in my car to head home. I set my laptop on the roof of the car so that I can unlock the door. I get in, settle the books on the passenger’s side, put the key in the ignition and go. I get to the end of the block and suddenly remember what’s sitting on the roof of my car. Oh, crap!
I lose my head and break hard. The laptop obeys Newtonian physics, screeching down the windshield, across the hood, and into the street. Oh, crap!
I rush out and grab it, noting in passing that it had stopped maybe three inches from a storm drain (!). Back in my car, I observe that it boots fine. A year later I’m using it to send this message. Say what you like about the Thinkpad’s graphical abilities, it’s built to last.
:eek: For some reason I love this. I want to work it into a lyric…I can almost hear the rhythm behind it. I’m just not sure if Complicated Socks should be the name of the song, the band or the first album.
This reminds me of an oh crap moment of days gone by. I was taking a studio lighting class. Which involved some big, serious, no shit, mega watt flashes. Serious electricity. All synched up through a central…synch. That connected them to the shutter. Anyway, we were warned repeatedly that you never never never unplug the lights from the synch while the power was on. And it could cause you to, ya know, die.
So the first time I took the equitment out by myself…well you guessed. Of course my “oh crap” was swiftly followed by “oh…I’m not dead”. But it certainly would have been an embarrassing way to go out.
Had a good one today, largely because of my own stupidity: I was going to go catch a bus, but it got to the stop before I did, and I was on the other side of a busy street. There was a gap that was just big enough for me to run through without forcing anyone to come to a screeching stop. Assuming I stayed on my feet, of course, which I did not. I went down like Gerald Ford. I look up, and there’s a red sports car aimed straight at my head. That got me off the ground and to the other side of the street pret’ damned fast, I tell you what. Didn’t miss the bus, neither, but once I was sitting down, I realized I had a gaping hole in my elbow. The nice woman one the other side of the aisle happened to have some band-aids in her purse. Not quite big enough to cover the wound, but at least it saved everyone else from having to look at it until I could get home and but a proper bandage on it.
Recently it would be the moment where I locked myself out of the house. While on the way to a home improvement store to buy some new patio doors. To replace the old ones which got broken. When I forced entry because I’d locked myself out of the house.
The other day, I bought a botthe of Gatorade out of one of the vending machines at school. I didn’t drink it all and since I didn’t want to throw the whole thing away, I put it in my backpack. Well, a couple hours later, I picked up my bag and noticed it was dripping. The whole rest of the bottle (it was about half full) had spilled in the bottom of my backpack, effectively ruining the bottom three inches of my Microbiology lab book (which cost 12 dollars) and my Microbiology atlas (which cost about 38 dollars). It also got the bottom of my Organic Chemistry notebook, in which I take lecture notes every day. That was definitely an “oh crap!” moment!
I also freak out about 5 times a day when I feel my finger and think my ring is missing but it’s always still there.
I was at Rosh Hanikra (sp?), a series of caves. We were doing a tour and I was at the top of a long flight of steps. Somewhere high above us on the mountainside, a rock came loose, tumbled, and nailed me in the back of the head. Over the side of the stairs I went. I saw the ground rushing up, and tried to yell, “Oh, crap!” but my mouth wouldn’t cooperate. All I could get out was ‘Oh!’. Thud. Face down. Blood everywhere. I remember thinking, “Hey, is that -my- blood?” I reached up to touch the back of my head. Luckilly, there was a soldier there instantly, who stopped me from fiddling with the wound, cleaned it off, and made sure I kept talking instead of falling into shock. Short trip later, I’m in the emergency room. More hillarity follows, including me forgetting what my native language is, me getting spacey from anasthetic and asking someone I didn’t know to marry me, and the pain -finally- hittting me three hours later in the middle of lunch.
To top it all off, when we got to the hotel after lunch, I called my brother at home so he could tell our folks. I forgot it was around 4 AM there. He took the message, went back to bed, and promptly forgot it. A week later my folks hear from one of the other members of my tour that I just got my stitches out. My folks, no dummies, realize that in order for me to have them out, they must have been put in at some point… ;j
My best one was many, many years ago…my mom and I were heading to Florida on Memorial Day weekend in her brand new Buick Regal. We had started out early in the morning, and I had gone to sleep. Mom wakes me up because she is very sleepy and wants me to drive. So we switch seats.
You can see this coming, can’t you?
I wake up driving up the side of an embankment on the side of I-75 South with my mother screaming “what in the hell are you doing?” ( I don’t remember saying anything, but she said I yelled back “I’m having a wreck, what does it look like I’m doing?” Brought the car back down the embankment, across two lanes of highway and into the median sideways on two wheels.
Fortunately no one was hurt, and the only damage to the car was the drivers side rear wheel, which was kind of folded over. Mom asked me if I knew how to change a tire. I said I did, and put on the spare. Two hours later, after we’ve replaced the tire and wheel and are back on the road (with Mom driving) she asked me where I had learned to change a tire. (I’d only had my drivers license for about 6 months.) I told her the truth - I’d never changed a tire before but I knew she would kill me right there on the median if I didn’t change that one!
In my case, I was jus’ jaywalking and trying to do it quickly.
On the ankle that just came out of a cast.
It was a red BMW sedan in my case. Good brakes, thank goodness.
I removed the skin from both palms on the first impact, and all the knuckle skin on the roll. My friend had to come pick me up in her car because I couldn’t walk on my ankle anymore. And that BMW had to come to a complete stop. :eek:
With so many broken parts, I had to get help to clean the dirt out from a co-worker. Me: “So…who doesn’t get fainty around blood?”
The best part?
The new girl at work asked me, “What happened?”
“Some bitch cut in line at the deli, so I hit her.”
She was scared of me for about 3 weeks until she heard the whole story.
It turned out to be great fun for the next month - I’ll tell the same thing to everyone, and about 10% would come right back and say “NO WAY! If you hit someone, you’d lose the skin on the other side of your knuckles.” It let me know who to take to a (future) barfight.