Hump-day funnies of a sort.

Wednesday afternoon, September 16th.
I've got a day off, and a desire to blog.

There's been a couple...funny...events to happen the last few days that, while (at least one is) embarrassing, they do deserve being posted to preserve for posterity...if you'll pardon the alliteration.

To wit:

Sunday afternoon, Julie, Cory, Jackie (Cory's girlfriend) and I were out for a late Summer's drive. We were headed to Jonamac Orchard for some apple goodness. Seriously. They've some of the best apple cider I've ever had, their apple donuts are yummy and the dumplings are delicious!

We'd visited DeKalb's Kite Fest earlier in the day (a little too late, I fear...it failed to impress me like it had, probably because there were no "cool" kites on display like the five-story one they had last year), and left about mid-afternoon to go to the orchard.

En route, we saw windmills off in the distance. See, there'd been plans for windmill farms around here for some time, but some of the residents are against the plan. I don't get it myself. I think they're graceful things of beauty that are cool to watch, but also generate electricity on nothing but air!

Folks tend to forget that electric generators are still oil or gas powered, and windmills are more environmentally friendly (until they rust out and fall apart, but what else is new).

I digress. Julie wanted me to drive over and see them, which I happily obliged.

The windmills (still under construction and not working) were in the middle of what used to be a corn field (a sight not uncommon in this part of the world). Turning onto a stone road (my poor car has taken so much abuse from such roads over the past year), we saw towers, nearly 400 feet tall, just sitting there.

Julie wanted to stop. I knew nothing good could come from this, but I obliged.

We got out (well, Julie and Cory got out first. Jackie and I stayed in the car for a minute because we're slightly more sensible) and they were looking around at these towering behemoths.

Did I mention they're building these near a corn field?
Did I also mention that Julie's been trying to get me into a cornfield for the past year?
Do I really have to spell out where this is going?

Julie grabs my arm. Cory starts pushing. I ain't no lightweight, and if I don't wanna move, I ain't gonna, but they were persistent. I put up a fight...but they shoved me into a cornfield! There I am...City Boy...standing two rows into a corn field.

What. The. Fuck.

Julie's all happy with herself and insists on getting pictures. Joy and rapture. Evidence that I was standing inside the field, no doubt trespassing on private property. Lesson One: NEVER GET EVIDENCE YOU'RE SOMEWHERE YOU AIN'T SUPPOSED TO BE! Even I know this.

But she's all happy, and so is Cory. I swear, they're gonna be the death of me one of these days...

At least I got an amazing apple dumpling out of the deal.

---

So I've been working for the past month installing new computers. I've been traveling around Northern Illinois, going from insurance office to insurance office, unboxing, installing and reboxing new computers. It ain't brain surgery, kids. It's a good, honest job that has me hustling and sweating but getting paid pretty well for it.

The last couple weeks, I've spent most of my time in the Rockford area. I'll admit, I haven't been up that way much since moving out here, but thankfully, I have my GPS & Google Maps to get me where I need to go.

I've done hundreds of installations in my day (I am not exaggerating that number, either). You get into a certain rhythm of doing things, and once you get the flow, you just don't think about it and just do it.

The only thing is, while working back at CMU, I was able to wear jeans. This job, my attire is "business casual", something I haven't had to have in my wardrobe for a long, long time. I've had to buy polo shirts and trousers, since it's been...ahem...some time since I wore my old pants, and they must've shrunk in the closet over the years.

Yeah, let's leave it at that, shall we?

So I'm at a client's site on Tuesday in Belvedere (just outside Rockford), doing my thing. I'm moving at a pretty good clip. I have five systems, six monitors, and six printers to install. (The printers are a bitch. They take 20 minutes just to initialize from when you plug them in, so I try and unbox two of them first thing in the morning to get them going before I do anything else.) I don't waste time. I don't sit around and wait for a system to reboot. I'm going.

Ahem.

It was shortly after lunch. I'd had my peanut butter and cinnamon apple jelly sammiches out in the car (on natural wheat bread...I'm almost eating healthy!) and was working on the fourth system of the day. I bent down to pick up the printer off the floor...

...when I heard a RIP!

I'd split the ass right out of my pants!

No one else was in that particular office when I split my seams, so I stood right up and felt my butt. It was a BIG rip, pretty much the whole seam split apart. Best part is, these slacks are brand new! I'd barely had them for a month!

My experience hadn't prepared me for this, and it sure as Hell wasn't covered in my training.

I went into the one agent's office and said "forgive my bluntness, but there's no other way for me to say this. I just split my pants apart and have to call my home office on how to proceed.

Belvedere's about an hour's drive North of DeKalb. It was too far for me to go home to get new pants and come back the same day. The install was scheduled to last a day and a half, but I was on a roll and didn't want to stop.

My office told me to find a store and buy new pants. Simple solution (even though it'd be an unexpected hit on my budget), but the closest store I knew of was a Wally Mart I'd past about 15 miles up the road.

The agent (whom I likely embarrassed, even though I told her she could laugh at me...since I was laughing myself) told me there was a department store at the other end of the business complex I was in, in the other direction.

This is where it gets interesting.

I excuse myself, get in the car and drive about 500 feet to the place. Walk inside (clenching my butt cheeks hoping it'll help hide the huge gaping hole displaying my boxers for the world to see) and find the mens wear department. After a quick look (despite current storyline in Cathy) I found a pair my size and high-tailed it to the fitting room.

They fit. Good enough for me.

I step outside, new slacks still on, and find a clerk.

I'm not sure what went on inside the mind of this poor sales clerk, but if I was her, I'd be laughing my ass off in some corner of the subconscious.

"Hi," I said, in my friendliest, no-I-am-not-insane voice. "This is gonna sound weird, I know, but I'm a contractor working at a job site down the street. I was in the office and bent over, and the seat of my pants split out completely. I just tried these on in the fitting room and I was wondering if I could leave them on to pay for them since I really don't have any place to change from my now-torn pants to these back at work."

I can hear the howls of derisive laughter echo through the Internets...

After a few seconds (certainly needed to regain her composure), she just said to remove all the tags, and she'd go with me up to customer service and we could check out up there. No doubt, she wanted to see the reactions of the customer service staff and savor their laughter as well.

Did I mention I'd called Julie before I got in the store and told her too? She sure thought it was hilarious as well!

Paid for the pants, thanked everyone for their help (understanding I'd likely made their dull day just that much better and gave them a great story to share) and made it back to the agent's office in about 15 minutes.

I got the install finished before they closed for the day, earning myself today off.

Late last night, I posted my Facebook status as worked hard today to earn tomorrow off.

My love, the woman I adore with all my heart, couldn't resist and posted a comment saying So hard you split your pants!

Truer words were never spoken.