My blind great-grandmother once accused my deaf grandfather of being some sort of pervert as, while left alone in her company, he made all sorts of funny noises. What she probably failed to consider was that, due to her blindness, she is more aware of the noises around her than most and that, due to his deafness, my grandfather doesn't ever actually know what kind of noises he's making because, as it turns out, the deafness leaves him unable to hear.

When friends buy new homes, I like to help them with making the transition into their new residence by sending them anonymous letters that tell them I am watching them and/or want to do them bodily harm.
Sure, it's not exactly a traditional house warming gift, but it is unique.
Nothing says "sorry I couldn't make your house warming in Owen Sound" like a threatening letter written hastily on a piece of paper torn out of a notebook.

The fireworks were loud and bright. So bright, in fact, that I briefly worried that they would trigger a seizure in someone in the vicinity.
The four of us had purchased two boxes of pizza and driven my car out into a field to watch the display. We would soon find ourselves under a rain of fire, quite literally, as burning ash pelted my vehicle from above. Luckily, I had the sunroof closed.
"I hope the ash doesn't hit any of those tents pitched behind us," I remarked absently.
"If I were you," came a voice from the backseat, "I'd be more concerned about the tent pitched in the seat beside you."

My grandfather has declared his intentions to die within the next two months. Always the optimist, my grandfather.
Having had open heart surgery during the 80's, he spent most of the 90's insistently telling anyone who would listen about his certainty that the AIDs virus was slowly ravaging his system. So slowly, in fact, that not only were doctors unable to find traces of it in his body during the years immediately following his surgery, but to this very day they have yet locate the evidently well-hidden virus.

"Thank you," I said, as my supervisor held the first set of doors open for me. "Here," I added - because I am so funny, as we approached the automatic sliding door, "let me get this one for you."

1 comment:

Joe K-M said...

Your dates are like that of a funky Euro-peon. Go Megan, go!