Under Attack

I have a habit of leaving my socks laying around on the bedroom floor after I take them off. Gllen particularly hates the nylon knee-highs I have been wearing all winter. He calls them "land mines" because he will step on them and they will stick to his bare feet (he really should exfoliate more). So this morning, as Gllen was shuffling out of bed, I noticed that he unknowingly stepped on one of these socks and it was attached to his heel.

Trying to get his attention as he meandered off, I called out "Bomb! Bomb!" because I couldn't remember the term "land mine". This message took a while to get to him and he was already down the hall entering the kitchen before it caught up to his sleep-clogged ears. I couldn't see him anymore, but I could hear him freaking out: "Aaah! What the...Aaah!" (scuffle, scuffle, scuffle)

I followed the commotion and found the sock lying in a wilted heap on the floor and Gllen standing a few feet away staring at it in shock. He glanced up at me and accused "I thought you were shouting 'BUG!' and I thought some giant bug was attacking me!"

I looked at the murdered sock and said, "No, I was telling you that you stepped on a bomb."

"It's called a land mine." He growled. He sidestepped the sock and went to his office. I picked up the sock and brought it back to the bedroom, absentmindedly dropping it back on the floor.

Dexterity

I accidentally ended up at the Circuit City liquidation sale yesterday and on impulse got all the necessities for Guitar Hero. Actually, I'm pretty pleased that the game and two guitar controllers only cost me $44.00. That's leet. Anyway - Gllen and I got it all hooked up and started to play the game. Literally, after 1 SONG his hand started cramping up. Let me point out that Gllen sits in front of computer all day has developed some serious carpal tunnel syndrome. So, the motion of playing the guitar buttons was really causing some pain in his pinkie finger.

I wanted to play the game, so I had to devise a solution: I grabbed two q-tips and a bandaid. Cut the bandaid in half. Created a splint on Gllen's pinkie finger with the q-tips secured by the two pieces of bandaid.

Gllen experimentally wiggled his finger and grinned. We played a song and afterward Gllen exclaims "It worked!"

Two minutes later he started complaining about his thumb hurting. I'll probably have to start giving him hydrocortisone injections in order to get him to play this game.

3 Hits - NOT Poetry in Motion

Gllen managed to burn at least three things in the course of 30 seconds of smoking.

On our way to a romantic lunch date at 20*21, he decided to smoke a cigarette. Within seconds of it being lit, he dropped it in between the seat and the emergency break. It was a harrowing 15 seconds, and I was freaking out because I know how many gum wrappers and gas station receipts get stuck in that particular crevice. He managed to save the smoldering cigarette, but received a phone call at that same moment. During the course of pulling his hat off (I'm already cursing this hat) and answering the phone, he managed to burn a huge chunk of my passenger side visor AND melt a spot of his jacket - two things that are more than three feet from each other, and BOTH he didn't notice until AFTER the phone call was over. Did I mention that he threw his cigarette out the window seconds after answering his phone?

After all this, I was pretty sure that the car would be in flames by the time we got done with lunch.