I shot myself shooting myself

Tina left for the weekend to have a girls weekend up in Lake Geneva. She left on Friday and returned on Sunday, which flies by faster than I would like.

I look forward to the weekend as it gives me an opportunity to be reminded how much I love her. 😍

No kidding, the weekend flew by. While she’s gone, I take care of our dog Talulah by my lonesome, and it’s remarkably more challenging than you might think. Especially this past weekend. Talulah ended up with an upset stomach due to some butternut squash leftovers we gave her that included a few onions. The poor dog woke me up all night long on Friday with explosive diarrhea.

Saturday I was exhausted from taking Talulah down all night, so I ended up hitting the hay at 9 or 9:30.

Sunday is my long run day (±10 miles). And by the time I finished my run, made breakfast and looked at a few blogs, Tina was back and we were canoodling again as usual.

Talulah’s explosive diarrhea wasn’t the only weird thing that happened while Tina was having her weekend retreat.

On Friday afternoon, our assistant Nikhil and I went over to the studio to tape this idea I had (above). He leaves at 5 every day, so I stayed behind to record some other ideas I had. If you look at the video above, there’s a garage door on the left side of the frame. When it’s warm, I crack that door about 2 feet and also another garage door at the other end of the space.

If you don’t know, we share a space in a private garage that houses a collection of vintage motorcycles and some cars. It’s a working garage with two motorcycle lifts, a car lift, and all kinds fun, man’s man stuff.

I like the space, but it gets hot in the summer and it’s tough to warm up in the winters. It’s around 10,000 sq. ft.

So when I’m in there, and the doors up are up a little, usually it’s fine. I can even raise the doors up five or six feet and most people just walk on by. In the event someone looks in and wants to take a look, we’re pretty gracious about letting them in.

But on Friday, the doors were only up three feet at most. I noticed while I was recording that the same set of black shoes were lingering outside the door. Then I noticed that the person did that dance people do when they are trying to look under a bathroom stall to see if anyone’s inside. I walked over and called Talulah because I wanted them to see the space wasn’t empty and that there was ferocious dog inside.

All the sudden the guy started dipping in under the door and I said, “Hey man, you can’t come in here.” I could see he was a taller hispanic male. Probably M13. 😳

Not really. 

I explained the space was private and closed. He said he thought it was a gym, because there is a marquee out front advertising a gym. I said “The gym is down the block and it’s owned by the same guy who owns the garage. He just uses the commercial exterior to advertise his other business.”

“Oh, okay,” he responded. “Thanks. Sorry about that …”

So off he went and then I went back to recording. I was laughing because that was the first time someone mistook the space as a gym. “There’s a first time for everything,” I texted Tina.

No more than five minutes later, a person was walking toward me from the back of the space which is around 100 yards away. It was the same mother fucker who was trying to get in the front garage door!

I approached him with Talulah. She barked at him, which I was hoping would startle him. So not only did the guy case the joint from the front, he knew that the back was open, too. I wasn’t immediately scared, but I was apprehensive.

He was asking a question, but he was so far away and it was so echo-y that I couldn’t understand. I had him repeat himself three times before I understood he was asking, “Do you restore motorcycles here?”

I explained that I don’t, but that the guy who runs the place can.

“I have my dad’s old Harley that needs some work done,” he told me.

I told him I would give him the phone number for the guy who could help him out and he could call back and make an appointment. While I dictated the phone number, the guy was sweating so badly and so nervous that he couldn’t type the number in the phone correctly. I had to repeat it several times and he was accidentally hitting the wrong number or the pound sign over and over and over.

As he tried to type, I was scanning him up and down. He was wearing a light shirt and brownish red jeans. In his front pocket, there appeared to be a large tube. I’m not talking about his penis. It was definitely something largish in the pocket and it appeared to be weighing down the front of his jeans.

I found myself getting puffed up, stretching my spine and flexing my arms and clinching my fists a little bit. I was getting ready for this guy to attack me. I know there are all kinds of heavy wrenches everywhere, and I have all kinds of heavy equipment that I could use as a bat, and I was trying to do the math of how long it would take me to grab. There’s also a BB gun that looks pretty realistic, but I imagine if I wielded that, it could get me killed if he had something that actually shot bullets.

So I started walking him toward the back door, from whence he came. I hit the garage door up button to let him out and I said, “Give us a call if you want that work done.” He was getting into a car he parked back there, a silver little coupe. As he walked, I noticed his pants in the back were lower than his butt crack and he didn’t appear to be wearing underwear.

His car was a little Toyota, I think. I didn’t get his plates. I was too scared to do anything else. I dropped the garage door all the way and breathed a sigh of relief.

“I almost got jumped!” I told Talulah. She chased her tail.

I raced to the front and closed that door, too. I’m glad I made it without a fight.

 

2 thoughts on “I shot myself shooting myself

  1. You need to get a T-shirt that says “The only way to stop a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with a super-adorable Pit Bull.”

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