Homer-ing in on stupidity

I had a strange phone call that reminded me once again of the many stupid things I am capable of.

Ashley Robinson. Picture: Patrick Woods

I AM currently on the Gold Coast at the Australian Surf Life Saving Championships so here is a column from 2010 and not much has changed.

I had a strange phone call that reminded me once again of the many stupid things I am capable of.

I certainly have plenty of history when it comes to stumbling through life from one Homer Simpson debacle to another - you know, vacant look and "Doh!” when I realise what I have done.

In the '80s, when the youngest son was still in nappies, I famously left his six-year-old brother and 15-year-old boarder in charge of him.

When I got home, I could hear him screaming from the bathroom and went in there to find the other two spraying his bum with Glen 20 to get rid of the smell of a filled nappy.

A few years later, I came home after a rather late night as full as the last bus and crawled into bed, trying not to wake up the bomb-thrower on the other side, which seemed to work a treat.

Amazingly, I woke up early for my job at the time of delivering power poles and, being the caring person I am, left the lights off so as not to disturb the scary woman.

I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth in the dark which was all fine except instead of toothpaste I used Retinol.

The funny thing about that was, I clearly remember having to really squeeze the tube hard to get anything to come out which still never tipped me off that something was the matter.

Of course, the gagging, vomiting, gargling and mad brushing of teeth with toothpaste did wake up old mate, who proceeded to stand beside me and tell me it was God's way of punishing me ... as she laughed hysterically.

I could go on and on, recounting my rich history of stupidity.

But more recently, I discovered something that had been puzzling me for about a year.

I have a favourite pair of runners that I bought about a year ago.

It is a set of what were supposed to be A-grade innersoles and, in typical Homer Simpson fashion, I never put two and two together when, shortly after, the shoes became very slippery to run or walk in.

Those shoes were retired to the bench for lawn-mowing duties and a new pair were purchased at considerable expense.

So I decided to take the inner soles out of my mowing shoes and wash them.

It was then I realised that the pretty shiny yellow surface was actually supposed to be face down and the dimpled part with the traction was actually the top.

They were in upside down.

Hard to believe, I know, but sadly true.

Now, the phone call recently was from a lady from Bardo's Bazaar at Caloundra.

I stupidly thought it was to thank me for giving them a plug in a column as I had written a footnote, as instructed by my wife.

That's because I once wrote a column about a wedding and her shoes blowing out and she was annoyed that I may have given the impression that she sometimes bought junk from op shops centres when in fact they have great stuff and there are a lot of hard-working volunteers raising money for good causes.

I must have worded it incorrectly because the nice lady from the Bazaar was offended, and suggested another footnote to pacify her volunteers who also didn't understand what the stupid man was trying to say.

So for the last time, my wife and I love what op shops and their volunteers do. Keep up the good work, despite the Homer Simpsons of the world.