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Thursday, November 15, 2012

Bulls, China Shops, and Ridiculously Fragile Tables

As per request, here is a Buzz classic from a retired blog! Thanks for reading.  

  I am pleased to say that we don’t have any actual bulls on the acreage. If we did, I am certain that I would have scars resembling those of an appendectomy (if it had been performed by a nine year old using a chunk of cut glass).
     That being said, I should probably tell you now that I am a huge man. I stand at 6'-4" tall, and weigh between 280 and 300 pounds depending largely upon the proximity of the calendar to Thanksgiving. My better half frequently refers to me lovingly as her “own private bull in a china shop". You would probably expect something far more original from such an intelligent girl (she is the smartest person I know, honestly), but that's what she calls me.
     I should probably also share with you that our living room coffee table is about a hundred years old. I'm not being funny and saying that it is just old either. It quite literally is about a hundred years old and of the time and style when they made furniture with legs like toothpicks. For that reason, it is a rather fragile antique and she frequently worries that I will stumble and fall upon it, or simply look at it, causing it to explode into a thousand tiny pieces due merely to my person being in the same room with the piece. For my part, I respect that she worries about the table and go out of my way to avoid breaking it (I'm really quite dainty and delicate for a big guy).
     So it came to pass that recently we were lying about on the couch watching a movie. Because I am so large, we weren't completely lying, but more or less half sitting with our legs up. I should probably also tell you that due in large part to a youth spent working construction that my back tends to be pretty stiff after lying for a long while, and sometimes I prefer to sort of let myself fall onto the floor and pull myself up with my arms. It sounds much worse than what it actually is though, because I am so delicate and generally graceful in my movements.
     As the movie ended, I lowered myself onto the floor and crawled to her end of the couch where I planted a light kiss upon her cheek. She smiled at me as I began to rise from the floor and then glared at me with pursed lips as I placed a hand on the couch and the other on her coffee table to pull myself to my feet. She thought I was going to break it, using the thing to steady myself. I knew that she thought that too, and gave her a look of confidence and superiority. Sure, a lesser man in this body might not be able to control the sheer size of the thing, but I have been in this body for quite a while now and I know exactly what I am doing with every part of it. I might be big, but I like to think of myself as being very agile, nimble...almost cat-like really. And I knew that the vast majority of my weight was on the couch. The coffee table hand didn't even bare any weight upon it at all. But she couldn't have known it while she sat there with her scowled face watching the spindly legs of the old table for signs of buckling. She couldn't have known that I am master of my body and that I knew exactly what it was that I was doing at that moment.
     Sooooo...I showed her. I proved it to her as I was coming to my feet by removing my left hand from the table. "See?" I said with my eyes as I moved my hand to show that it was not even resting upon the table. I was right too, because the table was just fine. But...as I moved my hand (as luck would have it), my middle finger caught the inside lip of her full glass. As I exaggeratedly motioned to show that it wasn't resting upon the table, I knocked the glass over, sending a sea (it was a very big glass) of ice cubes and Diet Mountain Dew across the coffee table and onto the living room carpet. You might be wondering (like I was) why she would have such an unusually large and ridiculously full glass in the house even...but she insists that this is beside the point and that she has never spilled it. An ounce of prevention I say, but still she blamed me as sticky soda made its way through every crack in the table and soaked the rug beneath it.
     While I may, at times, be quick to make a mess, I am even quicker at the ready to clean it. I rushed to the kitchen, retrieved a towel, and I returned hell bent upon cleaning it up before she could even think to complain about it. I like to consider myself a domestic superman of sorts. As I ran back around the corner into the living room, I quickly grabbed the huge bag of Girlscout caramel corn from the pop puddled table just before the ever expanding lake of liquid reached it. I will also share with you at this point that the GirlScouts make some really great stuff aside from just those little chocolaty cookies with the cocoanut on top of them. As I snatched the fifty pound bag of caramel corn from the table and lurched toward the growing lake with my towel, a twirl of sweet caramelized goodness shot out in a circle around me. Really though, in my defense, who could have known that the re-sealable bag was unsealed or that the thing was upside down when I grabbed it? She would later argue that I should have known it since I was the last one eating it and had sat it there only moments earlier...but since we have no security cameras in the living room recording our every move, it is difficult, if not impossible, to know who really had touched the bag last. There is, after all, still such a thing as the burden of proof in this country, right?
     Finally, I fell to my knees in defeat amidst a sea of soda, and a living room covered in sticky popped, caramel covered corn. "I didn't break the table," I said. "I knew what I was doing!"
     "I see that," she said. "You've made your point and proven me wrong again, haven't you?"
     "Yep," I replied. "Yes I have."
     And truly, the coffee table was fine. If you ask me, the coating of pop gave it a real nice sheen, almost like a good furniture polish. The table is better than ever, some would say. So, I guess if you are looking for a moral to this story...if there must be some conclusion to be drawn...it is probably to buy heavier duty furniture that you needn't worry about. Because really, if she hadn't bought such a fragile thing and stuck it right in the middle of the living room in the first place, none of this would have ever happened at all...would it?

1 comment:

  1. Love this story. So sounds like the things that happen in our own living room.