My MP3 player: 2006-2006
Well, there's a recent addition (unwelcome) to my list of Annoying Things to Replace.
First were my sunglasses, which, if we're going to be technical about it, really should occupy numbers one through five, as I seem to have an uncanny ability to step on/drop/lose/unwittingly fling into traffic my shades. Then was my bike, which was dutifully reported some weeks ago. Now my beloved little Camnex MP3 player (or the UniPod, as one sage observer christened it) has met with death, and I must acquire a new one on the double.
Unlike (arguably) the other two items, this one was entirely my own damned fault. While leaving the office on Friday, I decided to tuck the little guy into my jeans pocket rather than root around for my armband. "Why," I thought to myself, "this is truly a clever idea indeed. Not only will your hands be free to do what they please, your impeccable style will not be hindered by an ugly old armband." Feeling quite chuffed with myself, I set about to cross the street, and, not wanting to walk the 12 steps to the light, cockily trotted out between passing cars.
As I was doing so, I felt a tug and heard a gentle clack. Not wanting to stop mid-street (and not really realizing what was going on), I finished my crossing. Almost immediately, I realized that my player had fallen out. I turned around, saw it laying on the pavement, all forlorn and abandoned. Just as I was planning to go fetch it, a car entered my peripheral vision, approached my poor little gizmo and ran over it with a sickening crunch.
So now it's dead. Done. And now I find myself with an unbearably silent commute into work and with absolutely no one to blame but myself.
But it's not all despair and loss around here. My dear old grandfather got hitched on the weekend, which was a pretty neat thing to see. It meant I got to go home and spend some time with my drunk drunk family. Tell me, have you ever been to a wedding for a septuagenarian where guests a) ended up clothed only in underwear, b) dropped a full bottle of rum on the side of the road, c) passed out in a hot tub or d) DROPPED THE BRIDE while dancing?
I guess we ain't the Cleavers after all.
First were my sunglasses, which, if we're going to be technical about it, really should occupy numbers one through five, as I seem to have an uncanny ability to step on/drop/lose/unwittingly fling into traffic my shades. Then was my bike, which was dutifully reported some weeks ago. Now my beloved little Camnex MP3 player (or the UniPod, as one sage observer christened it) has met with death, and I must acquire a new one on the double.
Unlike (arguably) the other two items, this one was entirely my own damned fault. While leaving the office on Friday, I decided to tuck the little guy into my jeans pocket rather than root around for my armband. "Why," I thought to myself, "this is truly a clever idea indeed. Not only will your hands be free to do what they please, your impeccable style will not be hindered by an ugly old armband." Feeling quite chuffed with myself, I set about to cross the street, and, not wanting to walk the 12 steps to the light, cockily trotted out between passing cars.
As I was doing so, I felt a tug and heard a gentle clack. Not wanting to stop mid-street (and not really realizing what was going on), I finished my crossing. Almost immediately, I realized that my player had fallen out. I turned around, saw it laying on the pavement, all forlorn and abandoned. Just as I was planning to go fetch it, a car entered my peripheral vision, approached my poor little gizmo and ran over it with a sickening crunch.
So now it's dead. Done. And now I find myself with an unbearably silent commute into work and with absolutely no one to blame but myself.
But it's not all despair and loss around here. My dear old grandfather got hitched on the weekend, which was a pretty neat thing to see. It meant I got to go home and spend some time with my drunk drunk family. Tell me, have you ever been to a wedding for a septuagenarian where guests a) ended up clothed only in underwear, b) dropped a full bottle of rum on the side of the road, c) passed out in a hot tub or d) DROPPED THE BRIDE while dancing?
I guess we ain't the Cleavers after all.
posted by D. at
3:48 PM
1 Comments:
That is a sad story, but also quite amusing. Isn't it always the case that a giant semi runs over something while blaring the horn. Oh do tell me that it was a semi...
By
Lawyerlike, at 1:24 AM
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