DON'T YOU JUST HATE IT WHEN...?

My friends, I have had three or four days of "Don't you just hate it whens?"

Don't you just hate it when an egg sticks in the carton?

This morning, I decided to make one of my world famous (at least edible) cheese omelettes. And I just hate it when an egg sticks in the carton. Don't you just hate that? I swear, this must be the fourth or fifth straight carton of WalMart eggs that have done me this way.

I reach in to pull out an egg, and it's stuck. So, I gently try to pry it loose (very gently, it is a fragile piece of equipment you know). It doesn't budge, so I get a little more aggressive with it, and (you guessed it) the darn thing breaks right in the carton.

Heck! I've gotta pull all the other eggs out of the carton...they're rolling around the countertop (they're shaped funny and hard to corral)...but I use good old American ingenuity and break a perfect hole in the top of the egg and pour it into the mixing bowl. Omelette saved. But it's aggravating...you've got to clean out the carton and everything, dangit. I am not buying eggs at WalMart anymore! Maybe not. I probably will.


Don't you just hate it when you loan out lawn equipment, and it comes back broken?

Last week I loaned my lawn blower to a neighbor. When he brought it back, he was apologizing all over himself for breaking my blower. The recoil was broken, and the cord would not retract. I told him, "Hey man, you did not break it. It broke. It would have broken on me the next time I tried to use it. No problem."

Well, he has a friend that fixes lawn equipment and says he'll take it to him. I say, "Okay." So, when he brings it back, sure enough it's all fixed. He felt so bad about it that he had graciously taken my two-cycle gas can, filled it up, and mixed the two cycle oil. I was grateful.

On Friday, I filled up the blower with the "gift" gas, and went to work. After about 5 minutes the blower began to rattle like crazy...I could hear the valves rumbling like a herd of longhorns...then...nothing. I later discovered that the gas was not mixed 40:1.

Did I mention that I bought a new blower on Friday?

Don't it purty?

And don't you just hate it when old pictures are discovered?

A friend of mine from high school, who shall remain nameless...okay, it was Chris Finuf, found some old pictures of our high school trip to Washington DC, 32 years ago. That's all well and good, and I had a hoot thinking back on that good time...and seeing how goofy we all looked. It's amazing, it seemed that we were really handsome cats at the time...hmmmm

But then Chris goes and broadcasts them all over Facebook. Now, Chris has something like 182 "Facebook friends," many of whom we grew up with. Actually I didn't really hate it so much...got some good nyuks.

(Click to see 'em big)

That's me in the back...the fat guy with the big zit, intent on running off my seat mates with bo.


That's me. The fat guy with the big zit and the fancy Polaroid camera. The Mrs. looked at this one and said, "It's a natural...you've got your mouth open." Can you believe a hot chick like her fell in love with a loud-mouth toad like this. I just love her. But the picture made her laugh, so my goal for the day was accomplished. (Thanks Chris)

And look what Chris did to another classmate...

I don't hate it when it's not me...


I don't remember, but I think that's at the National Gallery of Art in DC. It could be another building, we saw about a hundred of 'em. Actually, he did a really funny post with this photo. To understand it you need to know that the object of this ridicule was on vacation in DC at the time. (32 years later, of course).

And you know what I really, really, really hate?

I just hate it when I give someone completely unasked for advice, and they choose to ignore it!

Dangit...