04-19-2004: I went to see Kill Bill Volume 2 on Friday night, and as expected, it ROCKED. It's a different type of movie than Volume 1, hopefully I'll get my thoughts on the series online tonight.
Now, the movie on Friday night was awesome, but it wasn't the weirdest part of the weekend. When we got out of the theater, there was almost constant lightning, almost a strobe effect. Obviously, a pretty snazzy storm was rolling in, but it wasn't raining yet.
I dropped my buddy off, and headed for home, with the storm getting closer. The lightning was constant now, and the wind was getting very strong. As I was driving, the temperature dropped about 15 degrees over three blocks, so I figured it was time to roll up the windows. As I turned off Lincoln Way onto South Dakota, I drove into a monsoon.
The wind was so strong that the rain was literally horizontal. I really couldn't see crap, so I inched along, trying to find my way from the bright flashes of lightning. Happily, I was only a few blocks from my place, so it wasn't too far to go.
I pulled into the parking lot, and distinctly remember saying to myself, "Self? I think maybe it might be a good idea to put the truck in the garage tonight." Recently, with all the good weather, I've been parking in the lot. But with this storm, I pulled up to the garage and opened my door.
And that's when the hail hit.
Keep in mind, I just bought my truck in the fall of 2003. I let loose with a bloodcurdling string of foul oaths that would have made any drunken pirate proud, and dashed for the garage door. The rain was still horizontal, and now, so was the hail. I got the door open and rolled up, and sprinted back to the truck, cursing with every step.
Luckily, the hail was only about the size of dimes, so they didn't do any damage to the truck. But man, those little bastards hurt. Anyway, I got the truck in the garage without incident, so I was pretty happy about that. Just one obstacle remained - the 30 or so yards between my garage and my apartment building. And it wasn't looking good for the home team.
I rolled down the garage door, and stood there for a moment, looking at the storm. The rain and hail were still horizontal, the lightning was doing its strobe thing, and the wind was rocking me from one foot to the other with gusts. I finally uttered a final curse, and sprinted for the door. It only took a few seconds to get there, but when I finally ducked inside my building and pulled the door closed, I was soaked. It was raining so hard, it actually soaked my jeans in just a few seconds.
So, I get changed into dry clothes and towel my hair dry, and realize that I don't have my cell phone. I ponder braving the typhoon again to get it from the truck, but opt for sanity instead. "I'll get it in the morning," I say to myself, as my body temperature finally climbs back above 90 degrees.
Much to my chagrin, my cell phone wasn't in my truck. I had managed to drop it in the mad, cursing sprint from my garage to my building. And the next morning, someone had picked it up. *sigh*
So, it was a good movie, and a damned good storm. But it sucks that I lost my cell phone (actually, my employer's cell phone) and the 110+ phone numbers in my address book.
04-05-2004: So, there I am, minding my own business...
I was plopped down on the couch last night, catching up on some TiVo watching, and my candles were pissing me off (I like pillar candles). Two of the three that I have on my coffee table were burning straight down into the wax, and the sides were intact. This creates kind of a "tunnel" or "cave", and the wick starts burning weird. The light output gets very low, and they flicker a lot. Very annoying.
So, I grab a serrated knife and hunker down to trim the wax. I've done this a billion times, no big deal. I sawed away on the first one, finally slicing off a ring of wax about four inches long. I put it back on the holder and relight it, and it was much happier. Nice big flame, no sputtering, etc. So, I grab the second candle.
About half way through the second pillar, I realize that the angle I'm cutting at is kind of bad, and if the knife went through the wax and I wasn't ready for it, I'd probably get my hand. Approximately 3 milliseconds later, the knife went through the wax and I wasn't ready for it.
I've seen a lot of horror movies, but I've never seen blood squirt like that before.
It was a gusher. It was really quite amazing - I could actually see my pulse from the spouts of blood. In the timeframe of about three seconds, I already had a pool of blood on the floor. I grabbed a Kleenex (they were right there on the table) and clamped down, while simultaneously dashing for the kitchen, cursing as I went.
Mind you, it was a tiny cut. I'm looking at it right now, and it isn't even a quarter of an inch long. I was just lucky enough to tag a vein in that quarter of an inch.
So, I get out to the kitchen and get my hand over the sink so I don't ruin everything surrounding me, and finally get a paper towel wrapped around it. Once the gusher subsides, I got a bandage on it and went back to survey the damage.
There's a puddle on the carpet in front of the couch. Yay. There's also a spray across the top of the coffee table, as well as several on the carpet between the living room and the kitchen. I tell ya, folks, when I do something, I do it right.
A couple more curses, some paper towels, and a LOT of blotting, and it's all cleaned up fifteen minutes later.
Don't try this at home, kids - I'm a professional idiot.