I actually got to learn what I would do in such a scenario this past week when it happened to me.
Well, in all honesty it did not exactly happen to me. My mom was the one preparing biscuits for breakfast the next day; I was just an onlooker that jumped into a state of panic. We had noticed that the inside was lighting up and my mom had opened the door to see what was up (which I then chided her for because fire and new access to oxygen is a big no-no) and was greeted with sparks, smoke, and the first hint of flames.
While my mom and her husband were busy with stopping it from getting really bad, my first instinct was to grab Boo, Charlie, Max, and Shiva and head towards the door frantically. I am still trying to figure out if that is a good thing or a bad thing. Luckily, that doesn’t matter because they managed to stop it before it actually got bad. Unluckily, that meant the biscuits had to get thrown out. We also had to get a new oven because the reason it started to ignite is because the bake element had somehow snapped in half – probably because it was kind of old.
My mom and I went to pick out a new one the next day, and that is when I learned that some of the best stories come from furniture store sales representatives. The salesman – whose name I have already forgotten – managed to turn a boring trip to find an oven into about 30 minutes of the three of us snickering in his office as he tries to explain the lease agreement while suddenly going off into short stories about former customers. And him going off on a goofy rant about “their neighbors across the street” (Rent-A-Center).
I usually hate shopping for appliances and boring stuff like that – I mean, if it is not a book or movie store then what’s the point? – but if an employee turns it into story time with hilarious little tales, I could stay there all day and listen. And if an employee starts one of these stories with a passionate, “I have been working here too damn long,” I know that I absolutely do not want to miss it.
I think my favorite part was when my mother asked if she could sign a short version of her last name (which is unusually long) and his answer was, “If you want, you can just draw a chicken with a happy face there as long as you acknowledge that the line is for your signature. We don’t care.” He then went on to tell us about how a woman once purchased a 40″ TV and, instead of signing her name, wrote “I do not agree with this” on the signature line of each page. Apparently, no one had noticed this until it was time to file it, so no one could question her about this. After a few months of not paying, she was contacted about setting up a new payment arrangement. Her only response was that she did not agree with the terms. In the end, they sued her and she had to pay twice as much as she owed to cover the TV along with legal fees and all that. Is it wrong to enjoy the banter?
Aside from rescuing my pets from a potential house fire and having story time at a furniture store, I have been pretty busy with school and my aggravating allergies. I wish I could say that I was allergic to Math, but unfortunately such a thing is not possible. It sucks that we can be allergic to certain types of pie, but not to the infinite ratio that is pi.
Oh yeah, my local library is hosting a “Pizza and Comedy Night.” The nearby college’s improv group will be performing, and afterwards there will be an open mic. Part of me is seriously considering participating and I have thought up almost my whole act, but another part of me is not having any of it and would rather sit off in the back. If I actually do participate in the open mic, I think I will record it for whoever might stumble upon this blog so you guys can laugh at how weird and awkward I sound with my strong southern accent and lame humor. Wouldn’t that be fun?
Anyways, that’s all for tonight. I have to get up in four hours and need some sort of sleep.