May 01, 2006

• Check down the sofa.
• Look for something else. That usually works. Or retrace your steps.
• Car keys is the new socks. And what's wrong with running away and leaving everything and everyone behind..? *sigh*
• Try to avoid thinking explicitly about finding your car keys. Let your subconscious work on it. They'll turn up when you least expect it.
• No, no, no! Do not use your will to make the car keys reappear, use your will to make the car start!
• Go straight to the last place you'd look.
• Sell the car.
• coat hanger + screwdriver = sorted
• Check your grandfather's World War One uniform. You might have given him the keys right before the Battle of Verdun.
• Wifey found the keys in the bog. She read that neuro-blah too and this bit gave her a bitta ammo, "Unfortunately, the body doesn’t have a built-in dipstick for neurotransmitters, " She reckons i got the dipstick.
• That's always the way it works for me, f8x. Of course, sometimes I've forgotten why I wanted the thing I was looking for by the time I remember where I put it.
• Hold an image of what you're looking for in your head, then wander around aimlessly. It'll jump out at ya when you least expect it. Works well when stoned (which is probably how you lost whatever it was in the first place).
• I find it helps if you tell yourself, while looking for the item, that you WILL find it. If you get into the 'blah, I can't find it' mindset, it's easier to walk right past whatever you're looking for without seeing it- or it is for me, anyway.
• What I've done works perfectly. Keep adding things to your ring of keys: other keys, cute keychains, more keys (easy to do when you work for a bank), those little taggies for all the grocery stores. My keychain is like a katamari that grows and grows. But I rarely ever lose it anymore.
• At last, we have a reliable folk-diagnosis: those who lose the car keys are depressed.
• What about if you constantly lose your anti-depressants?
• Run outta weed Stomper. Was gonna swipe the kid's but he's given it up for beer. Bloody turncoat. Wifey wont let me at her Valium, daughter tells me to pissoff if i bang on her door, she's got the vroom, and me mum's hidden her Prozac. The bloody dog wont let me near his choc drops and the cat peed on me scrip for downers. I'm screwed.
• But at least you can take a drive.
• Goodonya Skrik, never thoughta that mate.
• In my sidebar, this looks like "Vikings are the New Zombie Car Keys", which sounds like a KICKASS title for a new movie, or a good car advertising campaign.
• This will work every time: Go into the room where the spirit usually appears and ask in a firm but friendly voice, "I respect your right to haunt my house, but I want my keys back." After you do that they will either be on the floor behind you or in the ignition of the car. Good luck.
• dammit, i forgot to move the car...now i've got a ticket for $45...arg. i need an ssri scrip pronto.
• #2 just left for work and found that some adolescent drip had stolen his petrol cap. Luckily he has almost no petrol in the tank. Suckers!
• Andy Capp lost his car keys?
• Trac: May I suggest a locking gas cap for the next lot of wankers who just happen to have sugar/sand/whatever with them? Caps being easier to replace than engines, you see.
• I was a bit concerned about sugar in the tank, but I'm guessing they were hoping to siphon out some non-existent fuel, what with petrol prices being ridiculous and all. His car is a mid-80s Mazda, I doubt you can even get locking caps for them, but usually it's in the garage -- I'd set the garage up as a temporary playroom for some visiting kids.
• cor blimey! so the ol dutch finds yer cheddars at the kermit; tickety-boo! an yer cant half-inch any happy from the saucepan lids - lor luv a duck, ats a bloomin shame innit!
• fockin' 'ell. GABA GABA HEY! No, it's cool. *falls asleep* GABA GABA HEYYYY!!!!!! "high GABA level actually smothers the communication between brain neurons – sometimes to the point of a total lack of communication between neurons – also known as death." Yikes.
• G'day JJ86. The bloody house ghost in this place gets shitty if I don't leave open btle beer out every night. Gotta be an empty of course, ghost of a beer sorta thing. Dog Bolters the choice. Tried Matilda B, 4X and Emu but the bastard knocks 'em over, kicks the cat, chucks the dog's dinner all over the shop and half inches what's in me wallet. I hadda a prob' with gas gettin siphoned Tracicle. Copped the kid doin the suck back for his bloody Kwakker. Cheeky bugger. Next time he was down for some zeds, swiped the bike and hid it in me back shed. He was ropeable. Bloody funny. Did the biz tho'.
• Let me guess, BasilDrak: you're Australian, aren't you. Wish I knew who did it, I'd kick his skinny butt. Oh, and BlueHorse, you were right; #2 bought a lockable cap. Meanwhile the neighbour had delivered his missing petrol cap to me while he was at work.
• Sadly this article describes the sort of relationships I seem to attract. Joseph M. Carver, Ph.D. seem to talk sense. The key thing, I'm guessing it was a metaphor?
• Yeah Randomaction, metaphor for me life mate. (Hadda look that one up) Met a few of them losers, me sis married one. He buggered off after i belted him a time or two. Howdya guess Oz Tracicle? Bet that took a chunka think. ~coff~
• That's not a knife ...
• Oh yeah, my first real relationship was with one of those guys, randomaction. I learned what not to look for. Fortunately #2 is pretty much the exact opposite. I don't think I've ever seen an Australian type the way they talk before. It's almost as bad as Chy's attempt to write a kiwi accent. :P
• Yeah Tracicle, i reckon on soothin them clever bastards in their sensa soopereeoriroritee then blast em with me genius. ~coff~ Niva dun a Kuwuh icksunt musilf, mut gev ut a go.