I had a basketball coach in high school who once called me and another kid “two pieces of (bleep)” because he didn’t think we were cheering loud enough while on the bench. Obviously he became a high school coach because he loved kids. Either that or it was one of the terms of his parole.
As part of a job, I recently had to take one of those personality tests. “According to these results, you have no personality.” Based on how you answer a series of questions, you are told whether you are extroverted, introverted, creative, analytical, lactose intolerant, Asian … They get a strange amount of information out of some multiple choice questions. “Based on your answers to the questions about justice, we believe that you have a low sperm count.”
Most questions are fairly straight forward. “When you have free time, would you rather sit and read or steal a city transit bus?” Some are a little more esoteric. “True or false: The current economic crisis is best represented by a medium-sized zucchini.”
Somehow, with a few questions like these, the creators of the test can look into your soul.
“Thank you for completing the test. We have alerted the authorities.”
“What? Wait! Can I change my answer about mufflers?”
Our child woke up multiple times last night. As a result, my wife and I are slightly less coherent than someone who has been anesthetized. In fact, you could probably perform major surgery on us and we wouldn’t notice for at least a half an hour. “How long has my chest cavity been open like that?” And maybe small hospitals can use this technique in emergency situations. “Unfortunately our anesthesiologist is out of town, so we are going to prep you for the operation by having you spend the night with our sleep deprivation expert. Bring in little Timmy.”
Because of movies like “The Sixth Sense”, whenever I wave my hand in front of a restroom’s automated towel dispenser and nothing happens, I worry that I might be dead. And at that moment I am both sad that I died and sad that my last experience on Earth was standing at a urinal.
Our son had a massive nosebleed yesterday. It was the kind that makes you reach for not just tissues, but towels . . . and a bucket. At one point I wondered why we had never put a drain in the living room floor.
We had a hard time believing that it was just a nosebleed. Based on the volume, it seemed more plausible that someone had fired an arrow into one of his nostrils. Although, it’s rare that we come across an archery tournament in our own home.