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 »

Earth to Cat

What part of get down! are you pretending not to understand? Go »

Only in the Web Era

Victim's cell phone is stolen on subway. Thief takes photos of his own wife, family, dog, and home. Cell phone automatically uploads them to victim's Flickr account. Go »

Hungry Hungry Kitty

When you want your dinner, you want your dinner: (link) I do the same thing at China Buffet when they try to take the chicken lo mein off the line. Go »

No R'lyeh, I'm Not a Fan

I never thought of myself as a fan of H.P. Lovecraft. I don't think I've read more than a couple of his short stories. 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 »

That's All I Have to Say About That

Remember those somber anti-piracy messages before theatrical movies a couple of years ago? Like the near-weepy set painter whose wife and kids were going to live in the poorhouse if you illegally downloaded The Big Chill? They must have had an effect on me, because instead of sadness or sympathy, they were all I could think about when I read that the make-up artist for Forrest Gump killed herself and her husband. Go »