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December 12, 2005 - Monday | 8:13 AM, CST
It is currently one degree Fahrenheit, which is nearly negative twenty on the Celsius scale. You're probably asking yourself "So, yeah, there's this picture on my wall." And if you were me, you'd be correct. Except that its not really a picture, its more of a painting. Except that its not really more of a painting, its more like a print. But you see why I had to give you the different degrees of separation? So you'd understand... Anyway, she has long, red hair, and a tight, low-cut dress showing off ample cleavage. There's even a flower vase on the table.
What table?
The one in the print! With the attractive Victorian lady! Under these circumstances, its no wonder I offered to keep it when work was going to throw it out a few years back.
But on to more important stories... Wait a minute... Did you just hear that?
Yes, I did!
There's all these fucking people in my house and I can never see them. But occasionally I can hear their conversations. Strange.
Anyway, on with my story. There I was in the middle of the pancake and sausage breakfast the fire department was hosting. I decided it'd be a good time to go take a number one, so I got someone to watch the cash box and away I went. After I had finished making use of the facilities, I reached for the knob and unlocked the door, and with my other hand, I pulled the light switch. But when I twisted the knob, the door wouldn't open!
"Damnit!" I said, assuming that I hadn't unlocked it entirely. I fumbled around in the darkness for not quite a minute until I'd located the light switch. Trying yet again to exit the bathroom, I twisted the lock and horrifyingly realized it was broken. In vain, I tried using brute force to budge the door open, but didn't want to risk a broken door frame in the process. I pounded on the door and shouted for help, hoping one of the other dozen or so firemen in the building could come and lend some assistance.
Mind you, about five minutes has gone by of fiddling with the lock and pounding on the door for help. I finally gave up and decided to make myself as comfortable as possible given the circumstances. Another few minutes went by and I heard footsteps outside the door.
Me: Hello?! Is anyone out there?
Female Voice: Uhh... Yes?
Me: I'm stuck in here, I can't get out.
FemaleVoice: You have to unlock the door...
You can imagine at this point it went against my very nature to not say something extremely flippant, but I resisted...
Me: The lock is broken. Go get Bryan.
By this time, some other firemen had heard what was transpiring and gathered to watch as someone with a screwdriver was summoned to rescue me. I was harassed and teased for the rest of the day, but at least I got out of that shitter.
I'm looking forward to Christmas break. Nathan and I had a fajita dinner during Thanksgiving, which unfortunately Zach was unable to attend. Hopefully this time we can try our plan again, with the inclusion of Zach. This time, not only do I have some Mexican cookbooks to use, I also have the special Mexican cornflour used in making homemade tortillas. It promises to be interesting... and as usual with our hot and spicy meals, don't forget your protective gloves and eyewear.
And Jodie: I used to read your website... but since you hadn't updated in so long, it is no longer available.
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