Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Chicks dig scars

I just returned from a successful trip back home for Christmas. It was a bit short but I got much done, saw as many people as I could and I made it back intact. Mostly.

My Grandparents have a hill in their backyard with a lake at the bottom. Occasionally the conditions will be right such that there is both a good coating of snow on the ground and the lake is well-frozen. This happened on Christmas day so the whole family was out enjoying the excellent sledding.

We got in all the great sledding moves like the sled-snake, the sweep-your-unsuspecting-cousin's-legs-out-from-under-him, the run-over-the-dog-that's-trying-to-chase-you, and the dock crash. Then, my uncle, who grew up at the house and knew all the secrets, and managed to shoot down the hill and completely across the lake. That became the new challenge and no one else seemed to even come close. In my quest to match this feat, I got a great running start and proceeded to do this to myself:



It turned out, when I dove onto the sled while running roughly at mach 0.80, the sled did not move and I shot off the front on my face. I shaved off a small layer of skin and my lip got bashed and swelled up pretty good.

Rather than have to tell this story over and over I decided to come up with some alternative explanations. And I really had to be quick with them too or else whenever someone shrieked in horror and exclaimed, "What happened?!?!" someone else would chime in with a stale "You should see the other guy. Yuk yuk yuk." Here are my favorite responses to the "what happened" query.

  • If you think this is bad, you should see the badger!

  • I was carrying a steak home from the grocery when I crossed paths with a bear in a dark alley. I should have been fine since I was wearing bear repellent, but it turns out that I forgot to spray some on my face.

  • The orphanage by my house caught fire again and all the orphans were trapped inside. Naturally, I went in and picked up as many as I could. The flames in the disintegrating building backed us into a corner. Since I was holding an orphan in each hand, one one my back, and had one on each leg, I was forced to headbutt my way through the nearest wall to safety. It was made of brick.

  • We were out sledding when my brother, Harry, fell through the ice. I jumped in to save him and ended up scraping up my face and losing the hearing in one ear. Harry later went on to be a war hero. Who knows what would have happened if I had not been there?

  • What do you mean 'what happened to my face'? This is the way I've always looked, jerk!


Moral of the story: I dig my new rugged good looks.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

000, Licensed to Bitch

Yesterday the temperature dropped to -19o F in Denver, and it marked the first time I was subjected to my most hated phrase of the winter season: "The temperature is -19 degrees, but the windchill is..." Temperature is a measurable quantity with a physical meaning, and windchill is an arbitrary, made-up metric to describe what it "feels" like. It just gives people a license to bitch when its cold. It's just like saying, "If you think this low temperature number makes my life difficult, take a look at this much lower number!" Boo hoo.