In which I once scared my dad to death…

So dad was here fixing something and I remembered an incident from childhood I still feel guilty about to this day.  I had gotten this fake wound kit for halloween and still had a latex gash I hadn’t used.  So a few weeks later, I did up a nasty looking cut on my forearm.  To make things realistic as possible, I went down to his workshop (where he did actually let me build things) and turned on a power saw for a few seconds.  I then wrapped my fake wound in a towel and walked up to dad in the kitchen.  “Dad, I think I need to go to the emergency room.”  I pulled off the towel, and in a heartbeat, from the look on his face, realized this was not quite an appropriate prank to play.  I pulled it off in an instant before his blood pressure dropped to his feet. “I had one more left from halloween,” I said immediately followed by an uncomfortable laugh.  I was 20.  

Kidding, I was 13.  Over the years I’ve come to realize that dad was the wrong guy to do that do.  He is intensely squeamish.  Blood, needles, any type of internal anatomy, or the thought of, makes him nauseous.

So today I asked if he remembered.  He did.

“Sorry about that.”

GPOYW: shrink’s waiting room/confidentiality violation edition

Also… I have a cute dog. (compete with THAT @gesteves!)

When there are no handicapped spaces available, I have to find two spaces in order to have room for my ramp to open. In this case, the nearest two were far away. This is why I should lobby the ADA to require a couple of handicap spaces about ten rows back in all lots. That way, people with walking issues, or even abusers of the tag, have no incentive parking there over any other space, yet, for people in wheelchairs like me, the distance isn’t the issue, it’s the availability.

Me at Reagan National Airport. on my way to Orlando to visit @lorisays.

This is NOT an Onion story.

Athletes.