It was amazing to me, that after I wrote about idiots, how many idiot stories came flooding in to the According To GF Home Office. While sitting in my plush leather chair on the 30th floor, I often chuckled to myself as I poured over the fan mail and sipped on my French Roast coffee. Anyway, here are a few more stories. Some are true idiot stories, and some are stories about people acting like idiots.
I was invited to go to a visitation at a funeral home for a Senior who frequented a local business where I occasionally volunteer. Visitation was held at a small funeral home, that is housed in what used to be the old high school for the African American children in Douglas County (a historical landmark!). There were very few people there, but it was a privilege to visit with the family and friends.
A coworker let us know that she too was going to the visitation and might see us there. We never saw her, and figured that her plans had just changed. While inquiring the next day why she was not able to attend she, told her story.
She said that when she arrived the place was packed. She walked right up and signed the guest book. After viewing the body, she made a note to herself that it really did not look like the gentleman that she had come to pay respects to. Brushing that off as an oddity, she continued visiting with friends and family, some that she actually knew. She chatted for about a half hour and left.
She did not realize that she had gone to the wrong funeral home, and the wrong visitation.
Go ahead, say it.
Urban Redneck Kayaking shot in "Avatar Mode" by Douglasville GA's finest idiots.
I personally know these idiots and I can vouch for their idiocy. I think hitting the car could have been avoided if the paddles had been properly utilized. Note that "Aw hell naw.", "Aw s*#t, and F@3%*ing, would have been deleted had I known how to edit. This is a good documentary on how idiots talk as well. Consider it an idiot education. Snow and ice in the Deep South brings out all of the idiots.
There is no other pleasure that I will have in my life but to share an idiot story from my beloved high school friend Beth.
She VOLUNTARILY submitted this story via fb:
"eight months pregnant and loading the wood stove - log gets stuck half way out and begins to rapidly burst into flames, I try to push it in to no avail so I pick up a glass jar of pennies that we had sitting near by- thinking only about how heavy it is -I slam it into the log ...needless to say the log didn't budge - glass and pennies go everywhere, as I watch the pennies melting in the fire I realize my brain just simply did not have enough blood to formulate wise decisions...."
A family friend got "put" into a tree by his 6' 9" friend. He fell out of the tree after he asked for an icy cold alcoholic beverage. That is because a family member threw a beverage, that hit him square in the head, and knocked him out cold. Drunk idiots; an excellent segue into the last idiot story.
Summer BBQ's are a great opportunity to spend quality time with family and friends. My daughter was at the house, and we planned a day of rib cooking. I take great pride in my meat cooking skills, and I looked forward to showing off a bit, and showing my daughter the finer skills of BBQ. I got the grill ready, wood chips, good charcoal, cleaned the grates, and rubbed the ribs. I loaded the ribs onto the grill, settled into the lawn chairs, and that is when we both realized it was rather warm. "Hey, do you want a beer?" This was the beginning of a very bad day of BBQing.
Beer has a way of vaporizing time. Beer time warp is a subject that needs to be explored, but at a later date. A half an hour past the time when I imagine the ribs were done, we noticed that we were out of frosty beverages. This had to be remedied. Off we went, escorted to the grocery store by a very loving wife. We shopped for our beverages oblivious to our wardrobes. I sported a sunburnish face with specks of ash, and the famous white T shirt smudged with BBQ sauce, charcoal, and beer stains. My daughter had a bikini top / booty shorts combo, with an ankle wrap that was not secured, flopping along her bare feet. We brought our selections to the register. The cashier and manager asked if we were driving. We pointed to the car outside where the lovely and gracious wife was now waving.
Upon returning from the store I carefully calculated that the ribs needed a couple more hours of slow cooking. This just happened to be slightly longer than it took us to finish our beverages. We then prepared for the feast.The loving wife had graciously cooked up the side dishes. These lovely side dishes ended up being the entire meal, as the ribs were black, hard, and uneatable.
We have an idiot dog who savors the delicate flavors of trash cans. He would not even eat the ribs. My daughter sent me to a BBQ cooking class for a Christmas present that year. BBQ tools, books, and other gear are now regular Christmas and birthday gifts for me from my family.
Note to self: Drink beer with the ribs after you cook them; not while you "cook" them.
Thanks for the read,