It Can't Be Real

I keep going back to the Landover web site. It's too funny to not be a parody of a church site. You should check out the stuff they have for sale. Bumper stickers saying things like 'Who Would Jesus Bomb?' and 'Jesus Is Watching You Masturbate'. There is a Christmas card to send to your heathen friends and relatives. In the center is a big sappy picture of Jesus. On top it says "Jesus Is The Reason For The Season' and on the bottom it says 'And Why You're Going Straight To Hell'. I bet you can't really get the free Playstation, but can you order the other merchandise?

I had fun the last few days. I went back in time to the beginning of this blog and read the whole thing through. If I must say so myself, and I feel I must, this is a DFB, Damn Fine Blog. I wish I had started blogging while I still cooked in a restaurant. There was always some kind of scandal or rumor or something going around that I could have blogged about. If you've never worked in a restaurant you don't know what you missed. The latest bloggable material from 411 is I've had two little kids calling in wanting Santa Claus's phone number. I just sent the calls to the higher-ups. Let them tell the little kid there isn't any Santa Claus.

One thing I noticed when I went back and read the old entries is there is one I forgot to make. I blogged about the day I thought I had to be in at 9 but didn't have to be in until 12, but I didn't blog about the time I thought I had to be in at 3 and it was really 11. I was minding my own business, cleaning my bedroom, when about 12 I decide I should check the schedule and see if I was supposed to go to work at 3 or 3:30 or 2:45 or what. Imagine my reaction when I saw that I was supposed to be at work an hour ago. I called work and let them know I was coming in and flew-ass down the highway.

I parked my car, got out and shut the door. Right on my middle finger of my right hand. You know how some cars have doors without the top half, and some have the doors with a metal frame surrounding the windows. It would have been nice if my car had the plain, 'no metal frame crushing my finger into the doorframe' type doors, but of course I wasn't that lucky. And to make it even better, I always lock my door, so I was standing there with my finger smashed in the door and couldn't open it. Luckily, my car has the keyless entry deal, so I didn't have to dig out my keys, which of course were in my right pocket and would have been a bitch to fish out with my left hand. I just punched a couple of numbers and opened the door.

My finger was just barely caught in the doorway, only down as far as the end of the fingernail. I looked at my fingernail and it didn't look too bad, then I noticed the blood coming from the other side of my finger. I had a couple of napkins in the car from the last trip through the drive-thru, so I wrapped up my finger and went on inside.

Personally, now that I look back on it, smashing my finger in the door was a stroke of genius. When the ladies working the desk saw my poor finger they took pity on me and went into the computer and tweaked my schedule. Instead of getting there 2 hours late I just stayed 2 hours later than I was originally scheduled. No harm, no foul.