Actually I don't live in Dayton. I live in Springboro, a little bit south. Springboro is more like the nose of Ohio, because it's filled with snots.

Today's student error was a good one.

As a warm-up question, I asked them all what the strangest thing they had ever eaten was. Horse, snake, fried ants, semen ...

????

He meant cement. he really needs to work on his pronunciation. :lol:

http://cellar.org/2003/youatesand.jpg

You ate sand?

srsly, cement? What's the nutritional labeling on that?

Yes, after you entered all your info, you have to press 1 to continue... on to the real bank. :mg:

It's the same bank always the same menu.

To think about it hurts my head with ridiculousness because I really I don't know what the heck press #1 to continue is for except being redundant.

Or a security feature

or maybe it means if my finger is tired I can just hang up now?
* Long shrug*

edit [I just realized Bruce was making fun of me]

I should have to press a number to get into my checking account or some other menu option but it only requires another digit be pressed just for the heck of it. ah f.... it. I just thought it was funny.

I think he was implying that all the other stuff was scammers rather than mking fun....

That's what I thought at first then I thought well maybe yeah of course press the next button.I didn't know if I was being sensitive. Maybe I am so bored simply dialing the phone gives me amusement....and that's sad. :P

My friends are too busy to chat.

I am blah today bored beyond the norm so I got busy and vacuumed,dusted, washed a load of clothes, made some granola bars and all is well again.
I feel productive again. * big sigh of relief*

I just wordled the cellar index page and this was the result:

http://www.wordle.net/show/wrdl/1337630/Cellar

not a large cock in sight! I was mildy amused.

Guy I saw on the train this morning.

Polished black shoes, pressed black trousers, business shirt - no tie though - reading Atlas Shrugged; but still carrying his backpack from his student days with the Rage Against The Machine patch sewn on it. :lol:

I got sausages out to defrost for mini toad-in-the-hole today (sausages in batter pudding). There were only four in the freezer, and I put them in a bowl in the microwave (off) because it's a safe place at room temperature.

Dad moaned to Mum - he will never confront me directly - that we would only get one sausage each. Turns out when Mum makes toad-in-the-hole, she spoils Dad and gives him three sausages. Well tough. There were no more in there anyway, and we decided Dad could have two portions and we'd have one each, just heavy on the accompanying veg.

All a mild irritant, and very silly. If he just ate what he was given he'd feel full up anyway - this is cooked differently than the ones Mum does anyway. In his 70th year, he's pretty much stuck in his ways.

Anyway. Mum thought the sausies weren't defrosting quickly enough, so she took them out of the microwave and put them on top of the hob. Cooker wasn't on, just for some reason she thought there would be a temperature difference in the open air. Ridiculous, as when I checked them at 14.00 I deemed them defrosted, and anyway, any temperature difference would be negible, if it existed at all.

Cries and shouts from downstairs approx 5 minutes ago.
Diz got at the sausages.
He had one on the floor and had shredded it all over the kitchen.
Not only that, but Dad's first step into the porky madness saw him sliding on a piece and skidding across the floor in true slapstick banana skin stylee.

Dad not impressed. Mum and I both apologetic for our parts in the tragedy. The 'rents have had two scavenger cats (like Diz) so she should have known better. But he's my cat so I feel responsible.

Dad only gets one portion, and Mum and I still smirking now. The idea of Dad gliding over the kitchen floor on the extra sausage he was sulking about, like an older Tom Cruise in Risky Business is really quite amusing. If he'd slipped and hurt himself it wouldn't be funny. But he didn't, so we can smirk to our hearts' content.

Beautiful. :D

:headshake

I'm in the basement working at home today. Shila, our beagle, is on the floor above working on her morning nap. She's snoring like a diesel. It's loud even here in the basement.

Shopping in Sainsbury's with Ma today.

They were away for the weekend, and I'm always at risk of drinking then. I tamed the cravings this time by laying into the Ma's stash of Caffeine Free Diet Coke cans. About ten. Not great for the teeth, but I could sleep and didn't bump into anything.

So I promised to buy her replacements along with my usual fortnightly shop. She wanted to come into town without Dad anyway, to get his Christmas present.

We're at the checkout. Mum is putting light things in her bag and I am loading the bottles, cans etc into my shopping trolley.

All of a sudden, from the perspective of Mum & the cashier, something is squirting them. Their inital suspect is a little boy who has been running up and down making a ruckus. Nope. It was a six-pack of said Coke which had just been scanned and I was about to pack.

I knew where it was coming from - I was trying to contain it in a bag. Everyone else squirted was just in complete shock.

Now I hadn't touched it at that point. And the cashier certainly hadn't manhandled it. All I can assume is that one of the cans had been damaged earlier and it just took a while for the pressure in the can to erupt.

Now the six cans were bound together in a plastic sleeve. Which means the high pressure squirt action went in about three different directions. It hit Mum, the cashier, the cashier working back to back with her, the other people in the queue, people walking along and all the shopping on the belt.

The person most unscathed? Me. I was behind it to an extent, and was wrangling it into a bag to try to stop the arterial-style spurting.

Poor lady on checkout. EVERYTHING was coated in Coke. Her till, her hair, her uniform, the belt, the area for packing bags etc. It will dry sticky and I bet there'll be sticky parts becoming apparent for weeks to come.

We could go home and change. She had to sit there til the end of her shift! Good job it's December, so at least she doesn't have to worry about wasps.

Mum and I left the supermarket in a state of near shock. But we consoled ourselves in a local hostelry (actually this was always the plan - we called it our works' outing). The great thing was, no-one was really to blame. At least none of the protagonists. So our humour, when it came, was untainted by guilt or annoyance.

And every time we pictured the Coke going a gusher and drenching all those other people we did start giggling. We're simple people really.

Ahh, yes.

About 6 months ago, I was letting Minifob help me with the groceries. He tried to carry and subsequently dropped a twelve-pack of sodas. The thin cardboard paper wrapping tore open, and no fewer than four cans burst open and began spraying wildly as they rolled across the tile floor in opposite directions. Of course as they rolled they generated a sprinkler effect where the spray cycled up and around, and in the end I was cleaning soda off the hanging light fixture.

At the time I was not at all amused. :)