Holy crap in a Bundt pan... Due to the recent well-publicized shortage of
amateur websites produced by assholes who consider themselves to be clever, I
have been called into action. My name is Jeff Kay, and I’m an Ugly American living
on the cusp of a mid-life crisis, near Scranton, PA. And I’m here to serve, baby.

The View From Down Here
A journal of sorts, updated every once in a while.

King's books are WAY too big

August 24, 2007

-- Last night my parents experienced a catastrophic air mattress malfunction. 

My dad has a history of back problems, and is very particular about beds and mattresses, and whatnot. So they travel with an ancient old air mattress that meets his approval, and they break it out whenever faced with a questionable sleeping surface.

We always offer them our bed when they visit, but they never take us up on it. Probably too many horrifying visions to deal with… No, they just fold out the sleeper sofa, and put their air mattress on top of it. And that does the trick, I guess.

Until last night, anyway.

They were asleep, my dad was telling me, when something popped and woke him up. The hell was that?! He didn’t know, but wondered if the bedsprings were giving way. He remained very still, and it happened again: POP! POP POP!! What in the living crap?! 

Then he realized his feet were now going uphill, and my mother’s torso was elevated in an unnatural manner. Her head and legs were still at normal bed-level, but the middle of her body was way up in the air. And she never woke up during any of it.

He got up to investigate, and found that the little buttons across the mattress, which gives it a pillowy effect, were popping loose. Apparently they’d over-inflated the thing, and it was just saying screw it.

They left it as-is for us to see, and I busted out laughing. It looked like a regular mattress, but with several incredibly large bubbles here and there. Hilarious. I ran to get my camera, but by the time I returned they’d already let all the air out of it. Grrr…

And so, they’re out shopping for a new travel-mattress, which is the only reason I’m able to tap out this half-assed update today…

-- Yesterday we went to Knoebels again, and it was lots of fun, as usual. I rode The Phoenix roller coaster (twice), the bumper cars, the haunted mansion, and some sort of log flume deal that throws up an incredible amount of water. 

The kids hit those, and plenty of others. And I’m tellin’ ya, Knoebels is a blast...

My mother climbed aboard some sort of apparatus (The Intervertebral Foramina Krusher?) with the oldest Secret, which I wouldn’t ride if somebody pressed a gun to my temple. It’s really old, like something out of the 1940s, and whips round and round, and up and down. No friggin’ way.

I was a nervous wreck until both of them exited the ride of their own volition. My mother had brain surgery a few years ago! Is it really a good idea for her go hurtling end-over-end into the sky like that? I had my doubts.

But there was a happy ending, and a splendid time was had by all. I won’t bore you with a bunch of pictures very similar to ones you’ve seen before. But I do have a couple worth highlighting, I think.

This is a dog wearing shoes. I asked the owner if I could snap a picture, and the guy shrugged his shoulders as if he couldn’t give one tiny shitlet what I did, and said, “Knock yourself out.” A very charming fellow.

And here’s a scary-ass shack called the Babies Aid Station. I don’t know what that means, and don’t care for that painting either. Its eyes seemed to follow me, no matter where I moved. In fact, I think it’s looking at me right this minute, somehow. Shit!

-- I’d better start wrapping this thing up, I have a feeling the mattress-shopping expedition is almost at its end. Luckily for all of us though, we’ve got something new and good from Brad, to take up the slack. Right here.

I’ll also use his update as the basis for a loosely-defined Question of the Day. Use the comments link below to tell us your bully stories, won’t you? Everybody’s got a few, I’m sure, so let’s hear ‘em.

I don’t have time to get into all the details right now, but almost all of my bully-encounters happened during the Jr. High School era. I got in more fights during those three years than the other forty-one combined. And that’s not an exaggeration.

Please help compensate for my half-assery today, by telling us some interesting tales. I’d be much obliged.

And I’ll get back to it on Monday. 

Have a great weekend, folks.


Last updated
01/17/12 12:14 PM

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