1002 ways to goof up (continued)

493. Get out of your car to pump gas without pulling the lever that opens the door to the gas tank.
492. Forget to put your gas cap back on.
491. Forget to close the door to your gas tank.
490. Forget to close the door to your gas tank.
480. Forget to put a memory card in your camera.
479. Forget to push the record button on your tape recorder.
478. Forget to secure your laptop in the case with the Velcro straps.
477. Forget to zip your laptop case.
476. Lose your grip on the soap.
475. Misstep while jumping rope.
474. Accidentally dip your nose into the whipped cream on your hot chocolate.
473. Chew with your mouth open.
472. Drive with your trunk open.
471. Pull too far forward in a parking space, so that you're car juts out too far.
470. Drift off while typingggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg and keep pressing one key.
469. Fling cake batter around your kitchen by pulling your electric mixer up too high.

Note to self: Don't guess about your guests

We have Bandies in the house.

Translation: We're hosting two students attending the PMEA Region III Band Festival being held at the Hollidaysburg Area Junior High School this week.

It's our family's first time hosting students for a special event like this. So naturally when we picked them up, there was all kinds of nervousness and hope that we wouldn't say anything stupid and make them hate us and hurt our chances of being named the Festival's Number 1 Host Family.

I was so smooth. For about six minutes. Then we were in the car and I said, "So you guys are in the ninth grade?"

"Um, we're both juniors," came the polite reply.

See, I, uh, well, because the event was in the Junior High School, I had it in my head that all of the kids were Junior High age ... and my eyes are bad ... and I hadn't really paid attention to the paperwork ... and uh, I didn't actually look at these guys closely and certainly didn't form the opinion that they looked as young and dorky as the two junior high students who are permanent fixtures in our house and ... uh ...

Sorry, dudes. Be kind when it's time to vote for Number 1 Host Family.

Maybe you could also overlook my asking you to pose for the picture below playing air trombone (Cody Way, left) and air euphonium (Mark Goncher, right).

The time of her life

It's about 9:30 pm. Janet just got back from doing some work in the office at the Library. When she left at about 7:00 pm, she said she'd be about half an hour.

So she was right five times!

1002 ways to goof up (continued)

494. Wonder why your computer mouse won't work, and then realize that you haven't connected it.

This side down

My family had to be taught the truth about the frozen pot pie, which is ...

After you heat it, you can take it out of the pan.

When my brother and sisters were growing up, we had frozen pot pies regularly. I think we favored Swanson. They only came in aluminum pans back then, and you had to bake them for dozens and dozens of minutes. I know, I know—the horror.

Anyway, it never occurred to any of us—two parents, two girls, two boys—to take a hot pot pie out of its pan, even though you always lost a little of the crust to those blasted aluminum ridges. Not knowing any better, we were eat-it-right-out-of-the-pan people.

The light bulb switched on for the entire family at once, during one memorable dinner. It was the doing of Curt Koonz—now my brother-in-law, then the boyfriend of my sister, Tina—who was eating with us. When the hot pot pies came to the table, he immediately turned his upside down onto his plate. Plud!

The rest of us stared at him—six pairs of eyes as big as pot pie pans. You could cut the enlightment with a knife. We had always used plates with pot pies only to protect the table—as big coasters, if you will.

Curt froze. "What?" he said.

Then came the sound of a half-dozen flippings. Plud! Plud! Plud! Plud! Plud! Plud!

I haven't eaten a pot pie from the pan since.

And I have five people in mind besides myself right now when I say: YaGoof!

P.S. I had a brain-freeze while writing this. Emmett had to help me with the word for the tight little folds that run up the sides of an aluminum pie pan. Hint: Six letters. Keith, YaGoof!

1002 ways to goof up (continued)

495. Fail to register your name as a web domain when you had the chance.

I'm still me

Twice this week, I've been mistaken for someone else. That about doubles such instances for my entire life.

The first time was over the phone on Tuesday, when it snowed all day. The phone rang at dinner time. It was a thin older voice.

"Keith?"

"Yes."

"Are you coming to do my driveway?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"This is ____ ____. Don't you still do snow removal?"

____ ____? I thought. "I can't place your name, ____."

"I'm at 56th Street in Altoona."

Hm.

"How did you get my number?"

"The phone book."

Hm again, because I'm the only Keith Eldred in the phone book.

"Right here (he must have been pointing to my name in his phone book)--Keith Elder."

Ah, there it was. Elder, not Eldred.

I let him down gently. He gave me a surprising amount of information before I extricated myself, including that his driveway is 75 feet long. I hope he found the right Keith.

The second incident was tonight in the grocery store. I was looking at "Best and Worst Bikini Bodies" on the cover of a publication at the checkout.

"Did Cosmo win?" I heard this out of the corner of my ear, but it had no meaning to me so I assumed it had to be addressed at someone else and finished looking at the Worst Bodies and was moving on to the Best Bodies.

"Did Cosmo win?" Still no meaning for me. Still had had to be addressed at someone else who didn't realize whom she was addressing.

"Did Cosmo win?"

I looked up. A woman older than my mother was looking at me.

"Did Cosmo win?"

"I beg your pardon?"

The woman looked at me quizzically. "Aren't you ____ ___?"

"Sorry, no."

"You look just like ____ ___."

Now, I've met ____ ___, and I was surprised to hear that I look like him. Not only surprised. Flattered. Still, I'm not ____ ____. And I still didn't know who Cosmo is.

"He entered Cosmo in the big dog show."

I'd heard on the radio earlier that the Westminster Dog Show happened this week.

"The Westminster?"

"Yes, that. It cost him $_____. And that was just in fees, not his travel and everything. And the dog has to travel, too."

"Well, I don't even have a dog," I said. Wanting to smooth over her mistake and show no harm had been done, I added, "I did hear a good joke about the Westminster today."

"Oh?"

"Well, you know how a beagle won for the first time?"

"Oh, yes."

"Well, it was proclaimed a victory in the war against terriers."

You may think that I manufactured this post just so I could work in that joke. I agree that it's pretty good, but believe me, that would have been more work that it was worth.

I'll have to get some more jokes ready to repeat to confused people, in case I have to defuse more cases of mistaken identity.

(Next person who misidentifies me), Ya Goof!

1002 ways to goof up (continued)

496. Slide the deadbolt on a door and shut it behind you. Try to get back in through that door and realize that now it's locked with the knob's button lock.

Uh oh, she's startin' for my carton ...

FedEx delivered a box to me today.

Just a box. Nothing in it.

Okay, okay, it did have some packing material inside. And some instructions.

It was a box sent to me to ship out our older laptop for warranty service. You open the box, fill out the enclosed form; gather your laptop, power cord, adapter and original system disk; put everything in the box; cover the original shipping label with the label that's enclosed; and finally you seal the box with tape that's also enclosed. Voila, prepared for return via FedEx.

The box that you end up with looks almost exactly like it did when it arrived. So it would be completely understandable if Janet wandered into the house, saw the ready-to-ship-again box unattended, and, after having originally brought the box into the house on her brief lunch break from work down the street, opened it up again. Especially since she has a long-time habit of opening the lioness' share of deliveries that arrive in my name as if they'd arrived in her name. She takes this marriage-makes-two-people-one-flesh thing quite literally.

Thankfully, that didn't happen. She left the box alone. But it could have happened. Easily.

Never has there been more potential for me to say: Janet, Ya Goof!

For letting my guard down and leaving the box vulnerable, I must self-administer an actual admonishment: Keith, Ya Goof!

Mmm, know what I could go for? A double dip of ...

This local institution has the best frozen custard on the planet. The place looks great, too. Right out of the fifties.

Complete with a towering neon sign that unfortunately is on the fritz about 10% of the time. See below.

Doesn't the second flavor in particular sound tempting? Also a great candidate for the name of a punk band.

Whoever's behind this finicky beast--YaGoof!

Double trouble

I know a set of twins, Samuel and Andrew, who I can't tell apart, and I'm not the only one.

These young gentlemen took part in a youth service at our church recently. One of them did a reading, followed by a speaker who referred to the reading by saying, "As Samuel or Andrew just said ..."

(Name withheld), YaGoof!

C'mon, does Harry really know who's who?

Hangin' in there

I have no choice but to give my wife a double YaGoof on this one.

Janet had me hang a plaque at the Library a few weeks ago. On the back was a slot as shown above. I did a good job on that task, if I do say so myself. I screwed in the hanging screw to just the perfect amount of protrusion. I inserted the screw head into the slot and slid the plaque over for perfect leveling, but it was still plenty snug against the wall. Satisfying.

Yesterday, Janet called me at work to say that she needed some information from the back of the plaque (the contact from the group that had had the plaque made), but she couldn't get it off the wall.

"It has one of those slots, you know?" I said. "With a hole that's bigger than the slot to let the screw go in and ..."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it."

"So just slide the plaque over until it comes off."

"Okay." She said this in a way that tried not to let on that she knew that I knew that she probably wouldn't be able to do it. I know my darling pretty well, and this mechanically-oriented task wasn't up her alley.

I called the Library on the way home.

"Did you get that plaque down?"

"No."

"I'll be over."

"Thanks."

I slid it over and off.

Janet, Ya Goof!

The contact info was on a card that was taped to the back of the plaque. I removed it and took it to Janet's office--just as she could have done before giving me the plaque in the first place. But then, when I was hanging the plaque so skillfully, removing the card didn't occur to me, either. So I'll join in on the rebuke in that regard.

Janet, Ya Goof!
Keith, Ya Goof!

Hey, slow down for that fast food

Today, one of the vehicles in the YaGoof! fleet went to a McDonald's drive-through, and the driver started to talk to the ordering microphone only to realize that the order-taker hadn't been ready yet.

Reminder to wait for the cue: WTMMITYO?

McCustomer, YaGoof!

1002 ways to goof up

499. Blow out a well-melted candle so that hot wax splashes onto your face.
498. Go for "one more run" on the ski slope.
497. Gather up papers at work that belong at home and put them in your briefcase--then carry them back to work the next day because you forgot to take them out at home.

Cutting it a little close

I don't mean to make light of the following, which involves safety in school. I just want to make note of an ironic sequence of events.

Ethan and Emmett reported that Junior High students were subjected to a routine search on Thursday this week. It was random; about every fourth student was searched. A pair of safety scissors were confiscated; the owner said she was using them for origami (this story came third-hand).

That evening, Emmett stopped in at the Library on the way home to do homework (and see Janet there), and Janet gave him some office scissors to open a bag of ice-melt before spreading it on the sidewalk. (By the way, Emmett had to print something out while at the Library, and Janet held his print-out hostage until he completed the chore.)

Emmett absentmindedly put the scissors in his coat pocket, and they stayed there through his school day on (day). He discovered them that evening when crossing the Wal-Mart parking lot.

So just one day earlier, and Emmett came close to having to do some serious 'splaining.

Emmett, Ya Goof!

Don't throw out the fry with the fish water!

What's with this post's title, you ask? Well, a baby fish is called a fry, we've found ourselves with a fish, and I'm about to explain the throw out part.

He was a wedding favor. Really. We walk into the reception, there's a fish bowl on the table, and the other people at the table say "You get to take the fish home, and we don't want him." So we walk out with a fish and some starter fish food.

I figured he'd be dead by morning. Not due to malevolence, that's just what's happened with other fish that have had the misfortune to enter our home.

I started in immediately with jokes related to fish death. Example: On the way home, Emmett named the fish "Jo Momma" (in honor of Jo, the bride, our neighbor), and I suggested adding on references to fish preparation and untimely demise, namely (pun intended) the full name of "Jo Momma Sauté Doomed." Has a nice ring to it.

But lo! Jo! That was a month ago, and he (maybe she) is still alive! I'm told the little bugger is a Betta fish, which are hardy enough to survive temperatures that dip below 60 degrees overnight because that's the temperature we like it in the winter and we really don't care if Jo likes it or not.

Emmett feeds Jo; I change his water every morning. I got a little net-on-a-handle at Wal-Mart to make Jo easier to catch at changing time, but he's getting more elusive. Some mornings I give up on poking around after him and simply tilt water out of the bowl and net Jo Mama as he slides out. I have to make sure the sink is empty and the plug is in the drain because twice now, Jo Mama has missed the net and fallen into the sink.

For which instances, I must say to myself: Keith, Ya Goof!

P.S. I also feel like saying that for ending up with a fish in the first place, but as you see, we just didn't see this swimming our way.

This just in

Ethan and Emmett walk to school on most days, but Ethan had to take his guitar today, so I gave them a ride.

Freezing rain, as forecast, was falling as we left the house. About halfway to the school, it occurred to me ...

"Did anyone listen to the radio for school cancellations?"

Nope.

I turned on the radio.

Steve (of the Charlie and Steve Show) was saying " ... so give us a call and report in on what the roads are like out there. Must be bad, because all of the schools are cancelling."

The guys and I looked at each other. I prepared to swing around.

Keith, Ya Goo--

But wait.

Steve continued, "--except for Altoona and Hollidaysburg."

Never was there a more rapid cycle from goof to non-goof.

Stop the cycle of cordiality now!

Every once in a while I do this:

(I come upon you, a friend, in a store.)

Me: Hey, how are you?

You: Fine, thanks, you?

Me: Great, yourself?

(Awkward pause) (Because I already asked you're doing) (And betrayed that I wasn't listening to what you said)

Keith, Ya Goof!

1002 ways to goof up (continued)

504. Mistakenly click "Enter" when you're almost done with an online sign-up form, thereby erasing all of the information that you already entered.
503. Click back and re-enter the data and then prematurely hit "Enter" again.
502. Realize at that point that you didn't have to click back, you only had to scroll down and enter the informaiton that you hadn't entered yet.
501. Take care of an errand at one store in the mall, then proceed to other errands, then realize that there was another errand at another store in the mall that you could have taken care of when you were there.
500. Get your mixes worded up.

1002 ways to goof up (continued)

507. Forget extra batteries for the camera.
506. Listen to audio from your laptop with your headphones in--and then realize that you have the headphone jack in the wrong hole.
505. Sign and email with the name of the person you're emailing--instead of your own name.