Epic Fails

I was a little more than an hour away from Little Rock when the first fail of the weekend occurred. I changed lanes to pass a semi when the all too familiar sound of a flat tire distracted me from Gerard Doyle. I was hoping that the flat belonged to the trailer truck, but when the decibel level went up to eleven, I knew I had a problem. I was trapped in the left lane, a third of the way around the semi, and a car was closing in on me. I briefly considered passing before getting off the road, but i doubt that Betty or I would have lived through that. I turned on my blinker and hit the brakes hoping that the driver behind me had noticed my tire disintegrating. I made my way to the road's shoulder in safety.

The next fail was mine. I have only been writing here for eight months, but that should have been long enough for me to learn to photograph all of the interesting moments of my life. As a result of my incompetence as a journalist, there are no photos of what was left of my tire. Any thoughts of blogging that I may have had were driven from my mind by the fear of changing a tire on the edge of I40 with nothing between me and 70 mph traffic except the wake-up strip. After I changed the tire, my phone found a tire store just a few miles away at the next exit.

Side note: I think my phone needs a name. My first instinct is Giles or Wes, but my phone is not British. I can't think of any other name that represents the entirety of human knowledge. Oh well, that's a topic for another day.

My next epic fail was that I could not keep the invalid out of the kitchen. As usual, I got distracted by the Internet, but this time I had a good excuse. ESPN3 was showing Murray State's 39-0 win at MVSU. I was partially able to make up for my mistake by washing the dishes after every meal.

The most epic fail goes to the Dallas Cowboys for blowing a 14 point fourth quarter lead. It was so epic that the bards will write tales of the hubris that lead to their humiliating defeat and will sing them for all the world to hear. The ballads about this lose will spread to the ends of the earth, so that everyone will know that Tony Romo can't finish off an opponent. To put that another way, I will incessantly mock the dozens of Cowboy fans with whom I work and will continue to make jest until the Cowboys can win a meaningful game, which means forever.

My last fail of the weekend was on Monday when I drove past the Dairy Queens without stopping. I stopped for gas in Holland and had only been back in the car for an hour when I got to West Memphis. I didn't want to stop again so soon. By the time I got to Forrest City, I could smell home and was unwilling to make a ten minute stop, even for DQ.

For the greater part of the weekend there was at least one snuggler in my lap. That was worth going through any number of failures.