No, not that kind. Well sorta..

Miss Lueffie’s spare tire blew out. Sitting there on it’s rack in it’s cover, it simply blew out, blew up the cover, BANG!

I was standing about six feet away. The only reason I didn’t soil my pants was that I wasn’t wearing pants.

Mom came boiling down the steps; she said that since I wasn’t hollerin she knew I was dead.  But no, I was just standing there like a dummy saying “look at our spare tire.”

The Fuckup Fairy has visited us again.