Apparently, the average Josephine Soap is more likely to come running to your aid if you shout out ‘Fire, fire!’ as opposed to ‘Help, yelp!’. Apparently. As long as you don’t make it sound like you’re daring your mugger with a gun to shoot. In which case you might be screwed. Another similar sounding word which makes me run, around like a headless chicken, is ‘Fine’. It is an annoying word to be true. Implying one thing. In reality another thing completely. Depending if an ‘a’ is used before it or not. That’s fine. Yeah, that is fine. The weather is fine. It is a fine day! One fine day! No, you idiot. I said that’s a fine. Oh Jesus. Head off. Chicken on.
Towel: $270. Deal!
Yesterday morning I was woken at about 8 bells by my roommate. Literally, as if a bolt of lightning shocked me out of bed. The night before I had decided I really must buy a towel for myself. Even though there were plenty in the house, I needed a few of my own. My car is in the, eh, garage, so I borrowed my roommates to go down a few blocks and buy a towel. For $20. Seemed like a good deal at the time. Came home. Found parking. Same spot as my roommate had it a few days before. Good to go. Time to go try out this towel! Shower. Writing. 5 o’clock. Bed.
8 bells. Knock on the door. ‘Mark?’ Yes. ‘Em, where’s the car?’ Top of the street. ‘Up the top?’ Yup. ‘That’s fine.’ Good to hear, it’s fine. Back to sleep for me. ‘No, that’s a fine. That’s a tow-zone if they’ve been there this morning ‘ Bolt. Up. Sprint. Half-naked. Neck up. Knees down. Top of the street. Car. Car? Car?! No car. Noooo. Tow. Tow-me?! How could you?! This is not fine!!!
Who Spilt My Milk?!
Waking up to a $250 dollar fine is an absolutely magnificent way to start the day. Absolutely superb. Walking to the tow-yard a few blocks away. Hoping at least for the sake of the blog that the guy who towed your car was called Tony. So you could work it in with your joke about a man with no shins. Getting there and being greeted by Rodrigo. No Tony. No Tow-Me. Worse still, Rodrigo was a nice guy. Killing me with kindness. Making everything seem fine.
The minute I realised I was wondering about working a Tow-Me related joke into my Twitter or Facebook status, I was over the hump. Firstly realising, no. Don’t want to be one of those apes complaining. What are they called again… a complaining ape. Still though, that fine, this early, injustice, disgrace, world is agai… actually, no, none of that crap. Copping on that the fact if I was actually thinking about Tweeter and Spacebook or my blog, then I knew there was no injustice here. Showing me the light. Split milk. That the fine was actually fine. Deal with it. Only one person’s fault. Muggins Malone. Dumb and done.
In my dumb side’s slight defence, the parking signs here are kind of ridiculous. I think the people in charge might be a tad indecisive. Or their star-sign is Gemini. As if they decide on one thing, quickly stick it up on a pole, then change their mind straight away. So they stick up another sign. Another twist. Then another. Twisting. Weaving. Confusing. First sign at the top is your best buddy… ‘Parking allowed. Whenever you want. For as long as you want. And by the way Mark, I must say, great job with the reversing in, it was a tight spot!’ Cheers sign, park on! Wait, there’s another one below… ‘Except on Sunday from 8 – 9.’ No worries. Wait. Another one again… ‘Or Mondays. All day’. And again… ‘Or today. All day today. Whatever day you’re reading this, that is the day being referred to. Except if it is tomorrow.’
What day is today? Tomorrow or today?! Signs?! You said I was good to go! And now… wait, hang on, there’s one more… ‘If you are still reading this, then your car has been towed. Don’t believe me? Turn around.’ Ha, good one sign, we’re buddies, remember, you said at the top, I’m only turning around for the sak… Noooo. Tony! Rodrigoooo! Not again! Don’t tow me!!!
What Do You Call A Man With No Shins And Is Broke?
All in all though, getting a kick in the sphincter that early in the morning is a good way to motivate yourself to burst onwards and upwards. Make sure it is turned into a fine day. Towing fine was just a blip. Write on. DJ gigs on. Head down and plough on! As long as it was limited to one fine a day, it would be one fine day. (A horrendous sentence that I had to let out of my head, apologies!). Eventful old day from the word go. Turned out to be a good one though. Well, until last night. When I went to play 5-a-side. I think it was a punishment for me playing so poorly. That when a guy blocked my foot with his studs, I broke my toe. Oh no. My big toe. Again. Fairly sore. Even if people hear it’s ‘only a toe’ and it’s quickly dismissed. They’ve never broken a big toe. ‘Ah shur, you barely need them anyways.’ Yeah, not like I walk around on it or anything.
So, em, yeah. Great day? As in Tony the Tiger? No. Good? Eh. Fine day. Besides being towed. Paying a tidy little fine. Then breaking my big toe. Which now looks like a baboon’s ass. At least I have it in my head they are purple and bloated. Not sure why. Or why I’m telling myself it was a good day. Look, at least I got a blogaruu and a horrendous heading out of it. Fine by me.
Every Dog Has His Day – Real Ones