Bradezone

Reception. Observation. Perception. Emotion.

Splashed

Why is it that every time I accidentally splash water, it all flies directly into my crotch area? It is perturbing. Excuse me if I want to be sanitary and wash my hands or clean a dirty dish. For some odd reason water has this pent-up angst towards me, and it never fails to make its point by giving me a wet patch right where I don’t need one. Then of course I have to be all discreet about it, or attempt to make some joke like, “Well, looks like I’m not quite ready to wear big-kid pants after all!” And no amount of “wiping down” takes care of the problem. It’s basically one of those stupid things I have to wait out. But the whole time I’m thinking, “Just you wait, water. I am so going to enjoy the next time I get to use the commode.”

Another question I’ve been pondering is the role of pineapple. For some reason pineapple has been deemed worthy of inclusion in non-sweet dishes such as pizza and stir-fry. Why does everyone just accept that as a standard reality? You might as well put strawberries or grapes in your stir-fry. Or hey, how about a scrumptious slice of blueberry pizza? Man, forget that. Just because we added Hawaii as an official “state” doesn’t mean we need to put pineapple on everything to show our acceptance. Look, there’s nothing wrong with being a key part of various cakes and ice creams. So come on, pineapple, know your role.

Posted on in Bread

6 Comments

  1. Just be glad the pineapple doesn’t try to act like the water.

  2. This post hits all kinds of nails on all kinds of heads. Water does that to me, too, though it usually waits for the really egregious splatters until I’m on a date. I’d never really thought about how out-of-place pineapple is in virtually any meal. And good point about Hawaii–statehood was probably just a bone we threw them because of Pearl Harbor. Thank goodness the Japanese didn’t bomb Puerto Rico.

  3. Oh, the pineapple thing. I like to buy a can of pineapples that are cut up and eat all of the pineapple and then pour all of the pineapple juice on my crotch. Deal with it.

  4. Hey, as long as you’re not combining it with tomato sauce or rice, I say pour away.

  5. Ah, yes, splashing. I did that to myself driving down Pleasantburg last night. I went for a pen in my cupholder area and ended up with sticky leftover Coke on my fingers. No problem, says I, I’ve got a bottle of water here. I’ll just splash some on my hands – problem solved! Right hand was fine, I think because I did it at a stoplight. Left hand, while driving (which is a two-hand, two-foot operation)…not so good. Instead of splashing some water on my hand, I ended up pouring it…right into my lap.

    As intelligent thoughts go, that ranks right up with my great idea to “rest” (close) one eye at a time while driving down the highway, thinking that after one is sufficiently rested I can open it and close the other one.

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