Boredom is dangerous.  (To jump to the science, click to the next page)
     A few weeks ago my wife asked me to move a house jack to the shed.  A house jack is an 80 pound hunk of metal used to lift houses.  I put it off until I got bored and decided to move the heavy-ass thing.
     The jack only had a one-hand grip, so I got the bright idea to stick a pole through the grip so I could use both hands.  It worked great until I lowered one hand to open the gate... causing the jack to slide down the bar and onto my precious precious toe.
     The pain was indescribable.  I was rolling around on the floor, 20 feet behind my wife, and she had no idea what was going on.  It hurt too much to scream.  I won't ramble on about the incredible pain, and waking up in such desperate pain that night at 3:30AM that I took a Dremel to my toenail to drill a hole in it, thereby squirting purple blood-goo across the bathroom floor.  Instead, I'll just give you a link to some of my yummy toe pictures.

     So a couple weeks later, when I was no longer walking like a freaking penguin, I had nothing to do.  All the housework was done.  I was bored.  Suddenly my new hobby of complaining about all the bloody British home improvement shows that my wife watches was interrupted by a gunshot in my back yard.
     I guess I should mention that my "back yard" is about 40 acres of woodland (similar to my 5 acres of front yard).   Anyway, I slapped on some boots (no time for socks), an orange vest, and a Smith & Wesson .38 Special in a shoulder holster.  Then I grabbed our cell phone and charged into the woods.
     I got there in time to see my white-trash neighbor heading back towards his place with a shotgun.  He was with his (11 year old?) kid so the conversation was discrete.  I basically yelled no hunting and he said he knew there was no hunting on my land and apologized.  But he claimed that he shot the squirrel from his side of the fence.  WTF???  (He was 30 yards into my land when I saw him.)
     Not wanting the squirrel corpse to go to waste I let him hunt around the bushes for it.  I don't think he ever found it.  I got bored of insinuating that he was lying about the squirrel and eventually walked deeper into the woods (where he couldn't see me) and snuck back home.  Oh yeah... I also called someone on the cell phone (my wife) to say that my neighbor was poaching while he was in earshot.  I bet that call made him think.

     Soon I was bored again.  The only satisfaction I had was scratching at my ankles because the stupid insects in the woods loved the fact that I wasn't wearing socks.  I eventually I went to the bathroom and noticed a bug on the ground.  That bug ended up being a scorpion. Opportunity was knocking a third time.  I grabbed a glass ("Why do you always use my tea glasses?" yelled my wife.  "Data uniformity, honey!") and stored the stinging little arachnid on my computer desk.

You're never bored if you have an enemy!