Being told off as an adultWhen was the last time you were properly told off? You know: treated as an errant child rather than the sophisticated adult you are.
The sort of thing that dredges up an involuntary teenage mumble of "Sorry, Miss" whilst you stare at the ground.
Go on, tell us what childish thing you were up to when you got caught.
Oh, and can we have more than one-line answers this time? Cheers!
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chthonic, Thu 20 Sep 2007, 17:18)
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The Dog's BollocksI think the reason I don't get told off very often is that apparently I have a good line in evil stares. This however, isn't because I have secret Jedi powers and can prevent people from admonishing me, it's because I'm horrendously shortsighted and am usually desperately trying to focus.
Earlier last year when I was between jobs, I was living at home and got to spend some time with my best mate who was pregnant. We used to take the dogs for a walk every afternoon, her with her docile labrador, me with my fat as a barrel, lunatic samoyed. We walked down the path near the beach where you can take the dogs off the lead and no one will mind.
As we were heading back, I saw an old chap with a doberman walking towards us. Now my dog is the most over friendly creature in existence, but she's very well behaved and always comes to heel when called. But she can be a bit much and this old chap looked fairly frail, so I called her back so she wouldn't jump up at him.
However his mutt took this as me calling it and so started galloping towards me. Some altruistic bit of my brain (and there aren't many) kicked in and thought "shit, fast moving large dog, pregnant lady. Could get messy," so I stuck my arm out in front of my friend hoping to block her from the oncoming pooch. The dog took this as a cue to jump up and smack me full in the face with its muzzle, sending my glasses flying and me crashing to the ground.
I struggled to my feet, feeling pretty winded and my friend found my now rather squished specs for me. I put my hand to my face to see if I was okay, bugger, blood pouring out of my nose. The old guy walks over and opens his mouth to speak. I'm expecting apologies, contrition, maybe an offer of getting my glasses fixed...
He starts shouting at me for scaring his dog and for getting blood on it.
And because I think I was in shock, I apologised.
So the moral is, never do anything to help anyone. I try to help an old bloke and protect a pregnant lady and and wind up with broken glasses, a black eye and wounded pride.
It's a wonder I remain so well balanced. What? Oh...
(, Tue 25 Sep 2007, 12:41, Reply)
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