"Honey, pass me one of those coasters."
[COASTER GLIDES ACROSS TABLE AND FLIES THROUGH THE WINDOW]
"I win, I win! One to nothin'!!"
Seriously though, when you go overly apeshit with the Pledge (or Pam for that matter) and get some on the floor by mistake, it takes years for the floor not to be slippery anymore. It's a death trap for anyone wearing socks. Suddenly you have small zones of floor all around your house, marked off with cones, that you know to be careful around, like hardwood black ice.
“Careful over there, there’s a slippery spot. Don’t wear socks in that room. You need to put on your cleats.”
Who are these people that wear shoes in their own house? Creepy. Ever accidentally done the splits because of a Pledgey spot on the floor? Me neither. My mother used to clean the kitchen table with Pledge and when she would call us down for supper (in Canada, we say SUPPER), we would come running down, excited, and then go flying across the floor like some kind of linoleum Slip N’ Slide. Except instead of a refreshing pool at the end, it was an open oven. That’s actually how we lost our cat, Mr. Majestyk. In retrospect we should have called him Mr. Tender N’ Delicious. I’m kidding, we didn’t eat him. But he ruined our fucking lasagna.
Slip N’ Slide was one of those disappointing toys, wasn’t it? The commercial was full of guitar solos and people having an absolute blast. In reality, you were lucky if you even made it all the way to the end without veering to the side, touching the grass and/or pavement, and doing a horrifyingly painful backwards somersault. I guess toys like that set us up for being disappointed by a lot of things in life in general as adults. Oh shit, remember Pogo Ball? How were those asshole kids getting so much air in those commercials? Again, guitar solos, turntable sounds, jump kicks, sideways or backwards hats and flying happy ninja children. I’ll tell you, my brothers and I barely got the thing off of the ground, let alone got three or four feet of air. Picture trying to jump with THE PLANET SATURN between your ankles and you get a bit of the idea.
“Hey guys, check this out, I can jump even higher if I throw the Pogo Ball into the garbage.”
There was also a brief yoyo craze when I was growing up, but my attempts at the “Around the World” trick ended when the yoyo tagged me in the balls. What a nice surprise (see: Quelle Surprise!). I always managed to get hit in the balls during sports growing up. I was the only kid that insisted on wearing a cup while playing hacky sack. I’d get hit in the nuts during Hide and Seek. Speaking of which, did you ever have a game of Hide and Seek that ended prematurely? You know, where everyone goes home before someone gets found, but no one bothers to tell that kid?
“Did anyone find Jeremy?”
“No, but, eventually he’ll figure it out. Let’s all go to our homes.”
Jeremy remained crouched in the garbage can seemingly forever, figuring that their cries of “come out Jeremy, come out wherever you are, we’re going home, the game's done” were just a lame ploy to lure him out prematurely. He was eventually found, hungry, shivering and holding a Pogo Ball for warmth. He sat there, in a pile of his own poopies, victorious. He was the clear winner.
In short, sometimes it’s better to lose.
That’s it. I'm trying to use this hot Snickers bar to remove this skidmark.