There are some dangerous intersections in our neighborhood, where trucks come barreling through after the light turns red. This morning, Kelly and I were waiting at the light when she dropped her sunglasses. "Fuck beans," she muttered, unbuckling her seat belt and leaning forward just as the light turned green. With trepidation, I glanced both ways, then rolled forward and coasted through the intersection, reaching the other side safely. When she buckled up again and I breathed a sigh of relief, she asked me what was the matter. I told her I had a terrible vision that we would be hit by a truck and her last words on this Earth would be "fuck beans."


One Reply to Crash

Justin Conner | September 12, 2009
Thats Hillarious, I can just picture that whole event.


Logical Operator

The creator of Funeratic, Scott Hardie, blogs about running this site, losing weight, and other passions including his wife Kelly, his friends, movies, gaming, and Florida. Read more »

PS3: First Impressions

On Tuesday, which happened to be Denise's birthday (we celebrated the night before), an acquaintance sold me a brand new Playstation 3 and I hit Best Buy to choose carefully from among the whopping half-dozen titles available. When I unpacked the system with a friend, I found it to be much bigger and heavier than I expected, but it's sleek and doesn't have any buttons; you just wave your finger over it to turn it on. The far left edge of the screen is cut off on my TV set, since the system doesn't include any display-centering option, but I hope to figure out a solution. Go »

Weakened

A friend (new GOO devotee Aaron Weiss) once said he had read about a psychological study that found people don't feel like they've had a weekend if they didn't have free time on Friday night. That was my experience this weekend: At the office till eight, then sitting down with pizza and a DVD only to nod off on the couch by nine thirty. I may have woken up refreshed on Saturday morning, but there was this crushing feeling that the weekend was almost over, that sort of numbing dread you feel every Sunday night an hour before bed. Go »

Survivor Guilty

As a longtime Survivor viewer, I've been bothered by its slow decline. Some of the show's problems are apparent on its surface, like Jeff Probst's appalling gender bias and the show's overemphasis on tacky "themes" for the season. But I got to thinking about what's wrong under the surface, on a conceptual level. Go »

Det är inte så farligt

Yesterday, Kelly and I joined friends who had free passes to shop at the new Ikea store in Tampa before it opens to the public. It was our my first time in one of those stores, and it was every bit the harrowing shopping marathon I'd heard it was. For a store that boasts so frequently about how efficient everything is, having you proceed through the store in one long winding line for four hours sure doesn't feel that way, but every store has ways of getting you to buy more than you came for and Ikea has come up with a unique one. Go »

Windbag

I don't know what Polaroids he has of whom, but somehow Tom Skilling has elevated himself to some kind of all-important weather-broadcasting god. When I grew up in Chicago, I watched him gradually get a bigger and bigger budget for his animated graphics, and gradually get a larger and larger timeframe to deliver his dull reports. By the time I left town, he had a whole 20 minutes of the hour-long midday newscast for the fucking weather, and boy did he find trivia to fill it: Average dew points across Cook County on this day in 1854, theta-e temperature predictions for every Cubs home game next season, you name it. Go »

February 10-16

I don't really blog much about my day-to-day existence because it feels too mundane. But life is made up of those little days, and we don't get an accurate picture of each other's lives if we only discuss the big events. Here's a snapshot of my life last week. Go »