Ptosikrevatithanatosphobia

Tonight, I was having one of the late-evening chats with ME that I have grown so fond of.  We always seem to diverge into the most outlandish and interesting topics, and I love that his mind is as willing and capable of going down this path as mine is.  Somehow, we managed to get onto the topic of irrational fears, and he told me that his was of being crushed to death while sleeping in the bottom bed of a bunk bed.  While this fear is more common than you might think, and while it seems completely legitimate, I still had not personally ever heard someone say that was their biggest fear.

I had had bunk beds as a kid, and I don't recall ever feeling scared to be on the bottom bed.  And I definitely don't recall ever feeling like the top bunk might come crashing down on me in the middle of the night and slowly crush me to death as I struggled to unpin myself from underneath it.  I mean I think what makes this irrational is that it's not falling from very high, and even with someone on the bed, it seems unlikely to kill you instantly.  Injury?  Yes.  Death?  Unlikely.  Also, wouldn't the person on the top bunk realize it was falling and get off to help you before you were slowly crushed to death?

As I write this statement, I think of my own brother, and I have my doubts as to whether he would have helped me back then...such was the nature of our relationship.  He might or might not have gotten off of the fallen bed.  I seriously doubt he would have helped me out of the mess.  So, put into this context...brothers and maybe prison cellmates...I guess it is theoretically possible to be slowly crushed to death by an upper bunk bed.

The most amazing part is that as apparently as common as this fear is, ME and I were unable to find a scientific name for it.  If we make up our own, using Greek as our root, then it might be something like "ptosikrevatithanatosphobia," which loosely translates as "falling bed death fear."  While definitely a mouthful, it has the importance-sounding and length of most words describing a particular fear, so I think it meets the criteria needed.  And since the scientific community did not take being slowly crushed to death by a falling top bed in a bunk bed seriously enough to name it, we now have our official name for it.  So it shall be written, so it shall be done.

Sewing Machine

My mother-in-law had a Singer electric sewing machine that she used every once in a while to make curtains or mend clothes.  One day, she went to use it, and it didn’t work.  She fiddled with all of the buttons and knobs, but nothing.  So she took it to the Singer shop to have them look at it.  The technician plugged it, and the sewing machine immediately started working.  After a few more humoring questions from them and a few more adamant protestations from my MIL, she left the shop sewing machine in tow, and the technician thinking he was dealing with a crazy woman.

She arrived home, plugged the sewing machine in, and nothing.  She tried several different outlets around the house, and nothing.  Not knowing what else to do, she loaded it back into the car and drove back to the Singer shop.  She told them that it wasn’t working at home, regardless of what it did in the shop.  To which the technician replied, “Perhaps it just doesn’t want you!”

PGBT

There's a highway in Dallas called the President George Bush Turnpike (PGBT for short).  Everybody always refers to it by either its full name or at least by "George Bush."  This actually sounds quite funny when you hear someone say that they take George Bush to work every day.  I always imagine him sitting in the car with them, annoyed at their morning conversation.  This is even funnier when you wonder why George Bush would need to carpool!

Chicken Meat

Apparently, not all chickens are white. Some are brown and black. This gets me to wondering.  If you got a breast from a brown or black chicken, would it be considered dark meat or white meat?