The Dino-Aspie Cafe (for Those 40+... or feeling creaky)

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That deserved a LOL.

Thanks everyone! Just writing this has pissed me off again. I'm going to go to the gym to take it out on a bag. I'll be back when I've calmed down. Thanks Merle. I'm glad my other 'personas' helped you too!

Actually from the front. Same (belatedly learned) technique would have worked adequately.

As it's a moderately interesting story...

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I took my mother and aunt to see "Fist of Fury". (On thinking back, I guess my family did have rather strange tastes). Anyway, we went to the pub afterwards. I drank two pints of Young's Special (maybe three), so I didn't really want to stopped by the police.

About 11.30pm, Returning home along a dark quiet side street, off Brixton Hill, I was following a car that seemed to be about to turn right as we approached the main road. I tried to pass on the inside (in Britain, we drive on the left, undertaking is illegal). As I was beside the other car, it moved to its left and we scraped together a little. A bit of trim on my car came off - no damage to the other car. We stop.

Out steps the driver - a slightly portly, unfit guy: "You hit us!". Out steps the front passenger. A wiry sort of guy.

I say "Yes, I'm sorry. My fault. Any damage? I'll happily pay for anything that needs fixing."

"You hit us!" says the driver.

"Yes," I say, "My fault. I know. Is there any damage?".

The wiry guy has gone round to the back of their car.

The two gorillas from the back seats get out.

The driver says "You hit us!".

My mother and aunt are now trying to get out of my car to join me. I tell them to get back in. I'm a little bit confused as to exactly how I'm failing to communicate, and a little concerned about what the wiry guy is doing - the big guys are also a little worrying. I won't be letting any of them anywhere near my car.

"Is your car OK? My fault. I thought you were turning right."

"You hit us!". The driver seems to have a three word vocabulary.

The wiry guy has reappeared. He's carrying something. It's a jack handle. I look at it. I think for about five seconds (it takes that long, because I'm trying to keep my eyes on all four of them). I walk over, take the jack handle away from him (without breaking his wrist), and throw it across the road under another car. I walk back to where I started. It's evens again. No, that should read "it's four against one again". Sorry, I lost count there.

They're a little confused by losing their jack handle. None of them go to fetch it.

My mother and aunt haven't sen this bit, I don't think, because they're staying in the car, like I told them. They do seem to be trying to attract my attention, but I'm a bit busy.

"You hit us!". The driver has got back in the swing of it. He comes over to me. Why has he suddenly gpt brave? I guess he's only now noticed how much hair I've got. I must be some kind of fairy. The jack handle must have slipped his memory. This is where he grabs my hair.

Now I'm stuck. It's a bit awkward trying to keep my eyes on all of them, because I can't easily move my head and the fat guy is in the way. The driver has now got himself into very, very, very deep sh*t, because I don't know "The Technique" yet. (It's nothing particularly secret or clever. Just fiddly to describe here.)

So I'm working this out. If he makes a fist with his other hand and starts to draw it back (which is what idiot fighters do, to get "more power" - pointless if you never get to deliver the punch), I will have to break his ribs and possibly kill him. The other three will then get the same treatment, immediately, because I don't have the leeway to leave them standing after I kill this one.

I'm not sure exactly how long I dithered - seconds I suppose - it felt longer. I choose to let him keep the hair he was holding. It wasn't much. I had enough to spare.

Back to standoff. I'm not sure exactly what went on at this point (I'd guess my mind was totally tied into defend/attack/adrenaline high). Something about going to the police station. They all got in their car and drove off.

At this point, a black guy and white girl came over. They'd apparently watched the whole thing, but hadn't come to my aid. I don't blame them. In their position, I probably wouldn't have. They gave me their address and said they'd act as witnesses.

So... I drove to the police station. They were pretty good about it all. Took all the details. They didn't test me for alcohol. I'd guess i would have failed, but there again, I metabolise fast and with neat adrenaline in my veins, where's the space for the alcohol?

The only annoying bit was that when I told the officer about the jack handle he said "You needn't have worried about that. They usually just go for the car." Please. I ask you. They "usually" just go for the car?

Anyway. Nothing ever came of it. I didn't get the number of the other car. They never went to the police about it. What my mother and aunt had been trying to tell me was that they were all drunk in the other car. In retrospect, me and AS again - no eye for body language.

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"More hips" "I said, do it!... with feeling!"
"I'm here to fulfill my agreement with Kai... to bring him back to life."

I want to hear the "Rest Of The Story", as another old man says.

Not to sound too hippy and stuff, but Dude, you have got to get a bag for the garage.

It helps me tremendously, to be able to get a little quick energy stim, by beating the s**t out of a sand filled bag. I'm supposed to be almost out of testosterone, and that may be so, but in the mean time, it really helps!

Chuck, I'm not sure why people help me. They seem to do it all the time. I guess I look like I can't handle things on my own. The first time I had to travel at my old job it was the end of Oct. and I had to go to Madison, Wis. As any of you know who live up there, it can snow in Oct. (I grew up in MI so I know.) Well, it was a bad storm so when I got to Chicago I was stuck. I know it's not that far to Madison, so I went to get a rental car but they were long since gone. A woman was behind me in line with her two year old child who was crying. I told her, "I know there has to be a way to get to Madison, people go back and forth between Madison and Chicago all the time." She said, "I think there's still buses going. Come on."

So off we go, me and this complete stranger. She finds a bus going as far as Northbrook Illinois. By now I notice her child is freezing because their coats are in their baggage which is God knows where since it should have been going to Wis. I dug a sweater out of my luggage (which was carry on) and put it on the little girl. So she calls her husband and tells him to pick her up in Northbrook. Then she tells him he must take me to my hotel in Madison (which is where she was from) because I was a "nice lady." I barely had spoken to her. Well we take this crowded bus and I give the poor kid whatever I had in the way of snacks, put another sweater on her and let her play with stuff in my purse. When we got to Northbrook, I climbed into the car with these complete strangers (it's now midnight) and rode with them over ice covered roads all the way to Madison and my hotel (which I had no idea where it was, the husband called it and got directions). They waited until I went inisde the hotel and went on their way.

My husband had a heart attack that I got in a car with strangers. He again asserted that I lead a charmed life.

My German Shepherd is the third dog I've had since I've been married. My husband insists I take the dog with me. My last dog was a Doberman and she was very good. If a man she didn't like even walked toward me, she would step in front of me, stiffen up and lower her head. They always gave me a wide berth with her around. I couldn't read body language, but she sure could. I knew exactly who to be afraid of with her around. That dog was fearless and intelligent. She did put one man against the wall by jumping up on him and holding him there with her front paws, but she never bit anyone. She just barked in his face and scared him. My Shepherd is much more goofy but he's so big that he intimdates men. I walk with him right up to the ATM. If men drive up, they stay in their cars. A older lady stopped me a couple of weeks ago and asked me if I would walk her up since I always go to the ATM at the same time she does (it's that Aspie thing), so I told her yes. We met there this morning and I walked her up with my dog, she did her business at the ATM, I did mine and we went on our way. He's too big for her to handle, but she figured out a way to get her protection! I thought that was pretty smart.

The only thing I will say Chuck is if you get a big dog like that, have a behaviorist come in to work with your wife. Contrary to what people think, Behaviorists are really trained to show a human how to work correctly with a dog. That's what they prefer to do rather than get called in after the human has made a mess of things. I had one come in right after I got my Doberman and this dog. I never had problems handling them as a result. My Samoyed was very well trained when I got her. Working dogs like that are different and you really do need training to know how to work with them.

If you guys keep on talking about surviving fights, I may have to talk about some sickening stuff, too.

* turns up the music, too loud to think*

Of course! I have extreme respect for those who lay their lives on the line, for other people. I have a bro-in-law and a just-buried uncle who devoted their lives to law enforcement, another uncle who is a war veteran, a friend, best man at my wedding, who never saw war, but served his country between wars. I have nothing but respect for their service.

The dickheads who harrassed my wife, that day, do not fit into this elevated status. Those guys were (thugs) not out for anything, but their own gain, save for one of them, who I could talk to. Give a small man a badge and a flashlight and he becomes a General in his own eyes, but not mine. I offered the uniform respect, but the men wearing the uniforms, did not deserve to be so honored as to wear the uniforms of real civil servants. I hate feeling that way. Having something to believe in is hard enough, if you are ignorant. (I don't mean YOU, but we/us.)

Lighten up time. I was just reminded (on the Bizarre thread, by nutbag) of Victor Borge. I've only read half of them so far, but I'm pausing to recover from Memorable Quotes before I go back to read the rest.

"Grrrr...."

I've been stranded by the road more times than I care to remember (had a string of bad old used cars for many years). Only once, when I was driving a friend to Florida from Amarillo did I encounter what you're speaking about. Car died, we were in a parking lot of a Waffle House (in Louisianna?) at 4 in the morning (we were trying to drive straight through - she was running away from her husband), and some guys wanted money to jump-start the car. We figured they were yankees, from the way they talked. We didn't have any, and they walked away. We push-started the car, popped the clutch, and it took off.

Been in Texas, Oklahoma, New Mexico, Colorado, Arizona, and California. Cars have blown tires, dropped transmissions, exploded radiators, broke timing chains, skidded off the roads in ice and snow. Been run off the road by bad drivers. In every case at least one gentleman, if not more, stopped to ask if they could help me. When we first came to California I'd just been through the Waffle House thing and thought maybe I should offer the guy money for changing the tire - he just smiled, folded it back up, and put it back in my hand and told me to use it to buy a new tire.

Hit a nail going up over the pass on the way to work two years ago. Blew the right front tire, had to pull over up onto the dirt during rush hour. Called AAA, but in the first ten minutes (they said it'd take 45 to get there), three guys stopped, and two of them who didn't even know each other worked to get the stuck lug nuts off the wheel and change the tire. One of them then followed me to WalMart to make sure I got to the tire center. Just waved and drove off.

It can't be my looks, 'cause (as they say) I ain't no looker. I'm almost six feet all, and going grey, and have an excess of chin these days. So it's not people with an uncontrollable urge to help tiny helpless females. None of the cars I drove were fancy cars, I was usually in jeans and a sweatshirt, and I never got hit on. Obviously, the people just saw a stranded car and stopped.

Never even asked anyone to stop, I just looked up and there they were.

No, I don't think the old ways are dead. Not at all.

I carry a long pry bar, since the new cars have lousey jacks and lug wrenches. But I still can't undo a lugnut that's been put on with a pneumatic wrench. Even with a liberal application of WD40. Got a newer car now, hope I don't need to.

Shoulda asked their names, at least, when I said thank you

Hahahahaha! Oh, I feel better now.

No wonder you ended up in a fight Lau! Such language! Such rudeness! Can you not behave yourself in public, man?:

"a bit busy"

The part about your aunt and mother cracked me up!! ! Too many times when I did have a gang, it was my mom and grandma (landing inside blows). In her later years, my grandmother developed Alzheimer's disease. She developed the habit of "shooting birds" (showing the middle finger pointed up - an insult here) and swearing like she had Tourettes. I'd be driving my mom and grandma, we'd be stopped at a stoplight, and some group of guys would get out and start attacking my car. I'd turn around, and there would be grandma giving everyone the finger.

I'd get out and try to explain, all apology, and my grandma would be rolling down the windows screaming obscenities!

I'd let them hit me a few times apologizing profusely, turn and say "Grandma, please roll up your window!" and my mom (a fiery redhead) would be out of the car pointing her fingers in people's faces, yelling, slapping... I'd be trying to herd her back into the car (and trying to keep her from being hit), she'd be missing them (hitting me), they'd be hitting me....

It was awful at the time, but so funny to think about now! Thanks for the memories...

LOL That's hilarious Chuck! I don't drink any longer, well not for years, but when I did men would try to pick fights with my husband and I would jump in the middle, shake my finger in their face and threaten to beat the crap out of them. LOL He would have to pick me up and carry me off. When I get drunk I have no sense of size or ability. LOL Your mom reminded me of that.

I'm glad you were well taken care of Nan. That's how its supposed to be done. See someone in need and can help? Give 'em a hand! How hard is that? And if your 'rulebook' won't permit giving help, at least call in someone who can help! Or stick around, or take them some place safe so they aren't by themselves. The "How to be a Man" book isn't that hard to understand. (It only has 2 pages). Most of it is inherently understood and should not have to be explained. You'd think. ... *mutter* *mutter* *mutter* *gripe* *gripe*....

Hahahahahah! I love you ZanneMarie! Any woman who tries to help (however much to the contrary) scores triple points with me!

Chuck,

Like your mother, I am not sure I was much help. My husband is a foot taller than me so I think he was more worried about trying to keep me from getting beat up than he was worried about getting beat up himself. LOL

I have a lot of respect for the strength of women, ZanneMarie! Don't kid me! I know you've got a left hook in there that would make men wince!

My mom worked on a farm as a girl. Was strong as an ox. She stood 5'7" and weighed 120 lbs and was very pretty. Guys would 'hit on her' all the time. I saw her knock a man out that weighed close to 200lbs! She came up with an uppercut - I heard his teeth clack shut ten feet away, and he fell like a tree...