Impeccable Timing

You will never be able to convince me that my timing is dead-on. I'm always a day late, a dollar short, a step behind, and never more than ten minutes into a day with a clean outfit. If my hand is flying during an excited burst of storytelling, I guarantee somebody's glass/papers/face is gonna get in the way. If there is a mailbox or a parking garage support beam within ten feet of my Jeep, I'm hitting it. My timing is the opposite of impeccable...it's more like ironic.

For example, why is it that I can make dozens of sales calls and the second I take an afternoon off or a trip out of town, all of a sudden, clients are coming out of the woodwork? Why is it that my cell phone is within four feet of me at least 23-and-a-half hours a day and the moment I head to the bathroom or run out to get my mail, my phone rings and the caller dares to say, "How come you didn't answer your phone?" How is it that when I lower my gaze in Sunday School and silently think, "don't pick me to say the closing prayer...don't pick me to say the closing prayer....." Bingo. Oh yeah...I'm sayin' the prayer.

This can work in other weird ways. Today at a business meeting of several giveaways, my name was drawn. Naturally. That happens quite often in fact. But did I win the cool water bottle? the dinner for two? the basketball tickets? No way. I win the small business accounting book...donated by the very same dude who, a few months back, fell victim to my Are-You-Crazy look when he wanted to charge me a decidedly exorbitant amount of change to do my slightly-more-complicated-this-year taxes.

What are the odds??

That's gonna be my new personal slogan...

Further Confirmation of Al's Law

Just in case there was ever any doubt of the Bizarro-world that is my life, here is further proof.

While attempting to become more active at church, I obediently posed today for my entree listing on the ward "menu" (otherwise known as the ward directory). After taking down my name, number, hobbies, ingredients, etc, the two gentlemen organizing this information listed my picture on their spreadsheet as number 3666. Apparently, that was the actual number of my photograph on this guy's digital camera.

Now, this is either confirmation that I'm going straight to hell and taking everyone and everything I can down with me in a spinning vortex of evil........or.........it's the seven-millionth entry to evidence that I attract all levels of weirdness, inconvenience, and unusual activity.

I'm so used to these occurrences that I swear I'm dang near unshockable at this point. They should name Murphy's law after me... I'm going to start a petition.

"Hang on guys, this is the door to the food. Wait for it....."

I think we spend a disconcertingly-large chunk of our lives waiting. For those of us who aren't penguins, entirely too much precious time is spent waiting in lines at the post office, the bank, the grocery store, etc. I can already tabulate that in the last three days, I've spent almost FIVE HOURS waiting. Granted, that still left me with 67 other hours to waste at my own discretion, but I digress...

Due to some egregious error on Daimler-Chrysler's part, I spent the better part of my morning today (read: three-and-a-half hours) at a car dealership waiting on my precious Liberty in a hideously uncomfortable chair reading Dr. Phil's wife's book and annoying the other patrons with my constantly-ringing cell phone. Two days ago, I marveled at the fact that I spent 45 minutes in line at the post office with the people that time forgot, and my transaction lasted all of 85 seconds. I think the US Post Office is now the Bermuda Triangle. If you go in with the innocent intent of the presumably simple act of mailing a letter, you may never surface again.

(PS: I actually took the picture above...couldn't resist the irony I knew it would one day be good for....)

And here I thought I was smarter than a rubber ball...

After deciding that the exercise balls at the gym are the rubber equivalent of a cesspool, I recently purchased my own.

"How convenient! Now I can work out with one of these things at home! And avoid the inevitable exposure to more bacteria than a spinach farm! Eureka!"

Little did I know that the term "exercise" on the ball's box would refer to the effort it takes to inflate the thing. I'm totally convinced that I have just worked up a better sweat than the usual twenty minutes on a stationary bike.

And I still haven't gotten the f-ing ball inflated. Where is a dead monkey to shoot when you need one??

Coca-diet-coke-a-cola

Ok, I've been on this major health-kick lately, and I totally get the whole attempt-to-eat-healthy thing.

However, while at lunch this week, standing in line at the fountain patiently waiting to fill my too-big-to-go-cup, I watched this woman alternate filling her cup with Coca-Cola and Diet Coke. Half-a-second under Diet Coke...half-a-second under Coca-Cola...Repeat. Does this strike anyone else as weird? Shouldn't it be more of an all-or-nothing approach?

Last time I was at Bajio, some guy bought, i mean stole, my shrimp tacos. I swear I'm the only person in the world who attracts such weird experiences with food...