Please welcome John Bryson to Meno Mama's site today with lots of comment love and enjoy his tale of the lost keys. Thanks!
Key
Findings
It's
quite an honor being asked to guest-post for Meno Mom on this Wacky
Wednesday. Actually, it's quite intimidating. Marcia
writes for Huffington Post, appears In The Powder Room, has been
featured on a podcast, and has her writing immortalized in a book.
And her blog has actual readers, the human kind with two eyes
and a pulse, that aren't just her hitting refresh a lot of times on
her home page or creating elaborate fake internet identities, such as
J. Bryson, Bryson, J., J.B., or John B., to boost her total
readership.
While
Marcia's list of accomplishments is most impressive, about the
biggest credit I can feature on my resume is my stint as a featured
writer for Lethargy Monthly. I was two weeks late submitting my
article, "Lunch - The Final Meal Before Bed," but they
didn't seem to mind.
Now
that I'm being featured in the big leagues I know I have to come up
with something huge - an exciting story that will keep Marcia's
readers on the edge of their seats, drawing from the most compelling
moments of my rich and textured life.
So,
this is a tale about how I recently lost my keys.
As
much as I'm all about not losing my stuff, I will admit that on
occasion, I have misplaced a minor object or two, including $1,800
worth of Disney tickets and irreplaceable court documents confirming
the legality of our most recent adoption. So, it came as no big
shock to realize that, over the recent Memorial Day weekend, I
misplaced my keys.
My
wife and kids were away that weekend feeding the mosquitoes while
camping with the in-laws, leaving me unsupervised and to my own
devices, most of which were of the electronic variety, but also
included renting movies, eating fast food, and losing my keys.
Upon
realizing what I had done, my first plan of attack was to search
every room of the house that I had gone into while my family was
away. I checked the bedroom, bathroom, and family room,
including under the big recliner where I rested my widening hind-end
the bulk of the time.
The
one room I didn't have to check was the kitchen. Due to my
disdain for meal preparation and tendency to enjoy eating out, I
didn't touch an appliance in the kitchen all weekend - the only thing
turned on in that part of the house was me after seeing some Betty
White cleavage on the cover of an AARP Magazine which I found sitting
on the counter for some reason.
Convinced
I had searched the house thoroughly, I remembered that besides
watching the latest installment of the Die Hard franchise, A Good Day
To Cash In On The Die Hard Name With A Vengeance (And A Side Of
Tartar Sauce), I had cut our lawn. Fearing that the keys had
slipped out of my pocket while riding my orange Husqvarna up and down
the weedy acre of patchy grass, I commenced walking around my yard,
head down, trying to pick out the shiny gleam of a lost keychain.
Having
less luck than a drunken younger version of myself at a Vegas
blackjack table, I decided to retrace my steps around town. My
first stop was the video store, where I had no luck with finding my
keys. On the bright side, the clerk did offer me anything from their
lost and found box, which included an array of sunglasses, six
umbrellas, a pair of dentures, and a stack of Florida presidential
ballots from the 2000 election.
My
next stop was the local Jimmy John's, which I had visited twice,
ordering a #9 with easy mayo both times. I walked in and asked
about the keys and was told they didn't have them. Both times.
I
headed back home ready to give up. I plopped down into my
recliner and heard an unusual jingle amidst the usual creaking of my
body and the chair's protesting springs. Further investigation
revealed the missing keys had fallen down the side of the chair and
had gotten wrapped around one if the aforementioned springs. After a
not-so-good good half hour of operating on the underside of the
overturned chair, I was able to liberate the keys with a pair of
pliers, a dozen obscenities, and three bandages for my scraped
knuckles.
I suspect
this is the last time I'll be left at home alone for the weekend.
BIO:
John Bryson
is a big fan of Meno Mom and can be found at his occasionally updated
web site Smack Of Ham Presents
and on Twitter @SmackOfHamBlog.
Most recently, John has published his first book, The
Blackout! And Other Tales From Around The House, a collection of
nine humorous adventures that you can read on your Kindle, computer,
or iPad.
I'm with you John - there's nothing like a TV chef's cleavage to stimulate the males juices. Here in the UK, Nigella Lawson does it for me.
ReplyDeleteAs for losing items around the house, I'm not too bad, but my wife's a nightmare - car-keys, mobile phones, purse, shoes all seem to disappear on a regular basis.
** The link in the Writers Group didn't work for me; I had to access it through the homepage**
I never used to lose anything until the kids came along - they siphon my brain power, me thinks. Thanks for reading!
ReplyDeleteI find it interesting that your first two comments both have BJ in the names :-) And are awfully darn close. Men can't find things because they don't have a uterus which is the device used for finding lost items. Mystery solved. Cheers!
ReplyDeleteBut Lindy, it is my uterus-carrying wife who loses things in our house.
DeleteThat settles it, Lindy. I gotta find myself a uterus. Thanks for stopping by :)
DeleteI can't find anything anymore. The combination of booze, stress, and age have made me lose my mind. Losing my keys is the norm. I got batshit cray when I can't find my cell phone!
ReplyDeletePhil, the cell phone truly is the most infuriating thing to lose. My wife and I play that game of calling the lost phone and wandering the house like zombies trying to figure out where the ringing is coming from. Thanks for checking this out!
DeleteThis was sooo funny. Are you Bill Bryson's son? I've visited the blog, liked it on FB, subscribed to your emails and followed you on Twitter just to make sure I don't miss any posts!
ReplyDeleteThank you MM for having such amusing guest bloggers :)
Pinky, no relation to Bill Bryson but always hoped for some connection to Peabo. Thanks for the nice comments - I'll be sure to follow you back!
DeleteNothing makes me crazier than lost keys. Holy hell..that will drive a person batty.
ReplyDeleteMy husband, who is legally blind without his glasses, was stomping through the house ranting because he couldn't find his glasses. I asked him if he could see. He said yes. That's because his glasses were ON HIS FACE. haha. I still tease him about that.
John, you're a funny guy and a talented writer. I enjoyed this piece immensely. I have short legs and when I sit down most everything in my pocket falls out, particularly change. The last time I collected all the spare change beneath cushions at my house it amounted to over $135 dollars. So far this has been the only way I've been able to save money. I hope you'll visit me sometime. Thanks to MM for bringing you to my attention.
ReplyDeleteHaha... I am forever putting my keys in one place to only freak out when I can't find them there... then I remember I put there somewhere I would be sure to remember... yeah... not so much, I never remember the second place.
ReplyDeleteWouldn't you know they would be where you thought they would be but of course you couldn't find them until you looked everywhere else... lol
I LOVE John and his stuff! It's always gold and this didn't disappoint. I do want to hear more about Betty White's cleavage though....
ReplyDeletePlease tell me you found the adoption papers. Please.
Next time you go to Jimmy John's, get #12. It's awesome.
And might I suggest a hook on the wall by the door for your keys? They work great for us!
There is not even therapy or class A drugs, that will EVER rid me of the mental image of Betty White's cleavage.
ReplyDeleteLord, I enjoyed this. An absolutely hilarious post, to end the week on.