How many dropouts does it take to replace a lightbulb?
Posted: December 8th, 2004, 2:14 am
Okay, true story.
One day Ryan comes home and says "I bought light bulbs." This is good because the light in mine & Ryan's room has been out for nearly a month. We never bothered to replace it with one of the gratuitous bulbs from the bathroom or even from our 4-bulb ceiling fan light in the living room. We just stumbled around in darkness once the sun went down.
So we remove the old light bulb and replace it with a new one and then turn on the switch. Suddenly there's this boom of thunder shaking the apartment and sparks flying from the bulb. An arc of electricity shoots from the bulb and hits me in the chest, knocking me into the living room. Ryan soon runs out screaming, and I yell at him to shut the door.
"What the hell happened?" he gasps.
"I don't know," I say looking down at my shirt. It's now sporting a singed hole. My eyes wander from the shirt to the box from which the heinous bulb originated. Suddenly I realize what happened here.
"You dumbass!" I chide, holding up the box, "You didn't buy light bulbs, you bought <i>lightning</i> bulbs!"
We didn't know what to do. We couldn't go in and turn off the switch for fear of electrocution. So we slept on the couches and wore dirty clothes since we couldn't get to our closets. The thunder generated noise complaints from the girl living downstairs, so we had a talk with her.
What we did was open the bedroom door and push her in. When she walked out with her hair standing on end, I simply presented the lightning bulb box and we looked at her with expressions of "See, there's nothing we can do."
"You <i>Idiots!</i>" she shouted, "Why didn't you just turn off the goddam breaker and then take out the goddam bulb?"
Ryan and I look at eachother, silently saying "Why the hell didn't <i>you</i> think of that?"
It had been two and a half weeks since we first installed the accursed bulb.
One day Ryan comes home and says "I bought light bulbs." This is good because the light in mine & Ryan's room has been out for nearly a month. We never bothered to replace it with one of the gratuitous bulbs from the bathroom or even from our 4-bulb ceiling fan light in the living room. We just stumbled around in darkness once the sun went down.
So we remove the old light bulb and replace it with a new one and then turn on the switch. Suddenly there's this boom of thunder shaking the apartment and sparks flying from the bulb. An arc of electricity shoots from the bulb and hits me in the chest, knocking me into the living room. Ryan soon runs out screaming, and I yell at him to shut the door.
"What the hell happened?" he gasps.
"I don't know," I say looking down at my shirt. It's now sporting a singed hole. My eyes wander from the shirt to the box from which the heinous bulb originated. Suddenly I realize what happened here.
"You dumbass!" I chide, holding up the box, "You didn't buy light bulbs, you bought <i>lightning</i> bulbs!"
We didn't know what to do. We couldn't go in and turn off the switch for fear of electrocution. So we slept on the couches and wore dirty clothes since we couldn't get to our closets. The thunder generated noise complaints from the girl living downstairs, so we had a talk with her.
What we did was open the bedroom door and push her in. When she walked out with her hair standing on end, I simply presented the lightning bulb box and we looked at her with expressions of "See, there's nothing we can do."
"You <i>Idiots!</i>" she shouted, "Why didn't you just turn off the goddam breaker and then take out the goddam bulb?"
Ryan and I look at eachother, silently saying "Why the hell didn't <i>you</i> think of that?"
It had been two and a half weeks since we first installed the accursed bulb.