Mark's profileA Murder Of CrowsPhotosBlogListsMore  |  Tools Help |
|
March 29 Hell On Earth“Hell is a place, a time, a consciousness, in which there is no love.”
~Richard Bach
“Hell is truth seen too late – duty neglected in its season”
~Troyan Edwards
"The first half of our lives is ruined by our parents and the second half by our children."
~Clarence Darrow
One of my favorite things to do, next to getting teeth drilled and paying taxes (oh crap, is it that time again already?), is having an up close and personal visit with the DMV; Department of Motor Vehicles or Dreadful Mutilating Vivisection.
Most, if not all of us, have been through the tortuous slaughter pens of these State run (or State overseen) soul sucking machines; loud obnoxious staff who when they are not treating you like the dirt one finds attached to shoes after crossing a dog walk, are too busy ignoring you because they are on one of their many, many breaks; loud obnoxious customers who are belligerent from the cradle and believe that the only way to experience life is to suck it out of others (these types often go into careers with the DMV); and loud obnoxious kids left to run around making migraine producing noise, by their lobotomized parents who grow old and die while waiting in the hopes of being called to the counter sometime during said children’s lifetimes.
For a long time, this was the yearly death march that I and others faced; a glimpse of hell on earth.
And then God spoke from the heavens and proclaimed:
“I HAVE SEEN THE EVIL UPON THE LAND AND THE WOE OF MY CHILDREN’S PLIGHT. I THEREFORE SHALL NOW MOVE MY MIGHTY HAND AND SEND FORTH MY SON; AL GORE, WHO WILL INVENT THE INTERNET, SO THAT MUCH OF THE POTENT STING OF THE DMV MAY BE SALVED AND A MEASURE OF JOY MAY ONCE AGAIN REIGN UPON THE LAND…
AND OH YES, I SHALL ALSO CREATE STURDY TACO CHIPS SHAPED LIKE CLAM SHELLS BECAUSE I REALLY REALLY HATE WEAK CHIPS THAT BREAK OFF IN THE SALSA BOWL OR CAN’T HOLD THE SALSA ON IT, AND THEN A MEASURE OF JOY MAY ONCE AGAIN REIGN UPON THE LAND…”
For about five years now I have enjoyed the yearly trip to the DMV which was as easy as a few simple clicks of the mouse. No more lines, noise, migraines or missed birthdays. Now I would have to travel no further than my desk; dress in nothing more than my tidy whities; and do it all while drinking a beer and eating sturdy clam shaped taco chips with the salsa neatly suspended in its cup like shape (THANK YOU GOD).
This year however, I found myself unfortunately and unavoidably in need of a trip to the Klingon Dilithium mines of Rura Penthe.
My son, Captain Adventure, decided that it was finally time to get his drivers permit. This involves taking a written test that has to be taken at the DMV. And so, with great promises made to myself of tasty rum drinks to follow later if I endure this hated sojourn, my DNA recipient and myself set off.
Upon pulling into the DMV parking lot, I was struck by the fact that there didn’t seem to be an army of cars either in the parking lot or on line for vehicle inspection (another ghastly tale for another time). This was really odd seeing that it was the last week in the month and it is the nature of drivers to wait until the last possible moment to re-inspect, re-register or any of that other nasty fare found on the DMV menu. My past experience taught me that to wait ‘till the last days of the month was to kiss your loved ones goodbye and to look long and hard at your children so that if and when you ever returned, you could easily spot the multitude of changes that would occur to them during your absence.
Walking inside the DMV, I found much the same. My son got in line with his 964 items of identification while I parked my glutes into a chair in the back, so that I could observe what other changes may be in store. I noticed that while the amount of players may have been scaled back, the show did go on and it played out the same tune that I remember, but it was a somewhat softer rendition. All of the afore mentioned obnoxious types were in attendance, but I have to admit that they seemed to move through the meat grinder at a more acceptable pace. I’m sure the fact that I was an observer and not a victim also made the scene seem less harsh.
Just when I was beginning to think that things here were not so bad anymore, my son staggered out of the classroom. His eyes were wide with disgust and his mouth was gapping as if stuck open after a horrible scream. He looked over at me and said,
“OH MY GOWD, CAN WE PLEASE GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!”
As I lead the way out, I couldn’t help but crack a smile; I knew that unlike my generation who had to fight the great dragon for many years, my son is a product of the Internet generation and very soon he too could enjoy the great cyber bypass to this horror play. This meant that although I, a product of the ‘inconsiderate generation’, was a tougher bird than these of the baton accepting generation, who seem to be coddled with much quicker pain free solutions.
Each generation blames the one that came before them for everything from mismanagement of the government to the poor custodianship of the earth; this too is a tradition, as this drama has been played out since the beginning of time. My son’s generation cries out to mine “You have made everything more difficult for us” and my generation responds back “You don’t have any idea what difficult is”.
Each one is wrong and each one is right.
Which brings me to my point; the greatest change comes from pain, but not all pain and suffering are things to alleviate. They can also be a tradition, a right of passage if you will, to pass along from one generation to the next, because if it makes you mad enough, you’ll do something to make it better.
That which does not kill you only makes you madder.
Just be prepared to defend your position to the deaf ears of the next generation to follow you.
And no matter what happens throughout the ages to the generations to follow, The DMV will always suck (So say'th the Lord).
© 2007 March 20 The Winter Of Our Discontent"If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant; if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome."
~Ann Bradstreet
"All through the long winter, I dream of my garden. On the first day of spring, I dig my fingers deep into the soft earth. I can feel its energy, and my spirits soar."
~Helen Hayes
"Now is the winter of our discontent"
~William Shakespeare -- From King Richard III
Welcome to the first day of Spring………
WHAT A CROCK OF SHIT!
IT’S F’ING COLD OUTSIDE
THERE’S GOD DAMNED SNOW ON THE GROUND
DIG MY FINGERS INTO THE SOIL ON THE 1ST DAY OF SPRING? BULLSHIT, THE GROUND IS AS HARD AS IRON. HELEN HAYES IS FULL OF CRAP. YOUR SPIRIT IS SOARING BECAUSE YOU ARE DEAD!!!!
I’M TIRED OF COLD, I NEED THE WARM SUN SHINING ON ME LIKE IT WAS LAST WEEK BEFORE GOD EMPTIED THE HEAVENLY ICE MAKER UPON THE EARTH. I MEAN COME ON; 75 DEGREES SUN-SHINY ONE DAY AND ARTIC ICE AGE THE NEXT! YOU INDIAN GIVER!!!!
RANT RANT RANT RANT RANT RANT
SNOW PLOWS SUCK
CAN’T SHOVEL THE SHIT (DID I MENTION IT IS LIKE IRON)
CANNT F’INGG TPYE BECAUSE MY F’ING FIGNERS AER FRZOEN
ARRRRRRRRggghHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!
HOUSE FULL OF SALT FROM THE WALKWAY. IF IT WAS F’ING WARM, I COULD MAKE A BAZILLION KABILLION GOD DAMNED FROZEN MARQARITAS WITH THIS CRAP. BUT IT’S NOT WARM, SO F’OFF !!!!!
DOG WON’T GO OUTSIDE TO DO IT’S BUSINESS BECAUSE SHE CAN’T GET PAST THE FROZEN ICEPACK TO TAKE A DUMP. (OH THANK YOU HONEY FOR THE LOVELY AND THOUGHTFUL GIFT YOU LEFT DADDY TO STEP IN ON HIS WAY INTO THE DOOR!
ARRRRRRRRggghHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!
HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE
HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE
HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE
HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE
HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE
HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE
HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE
HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE
HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE
HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE ……
Uummmmmmmmmmmmmm Rummmmmmmm!!!!
© 2007 March 17 More A Season“There are many good reasons for drinking,
One has just entered my head. If a man doesn't drink when he's living, How in the hell can he drink when he's dead?” ~Irish Saying
“Here’s to a long life and a merry one.
A quick death and an easy one A pretty girl and an honest one A cold beer – and another one!” ~ An Irish Toast
“May the Good Lord take a liking to you... but not too soon!”
~Irish Blessing
Saint Patrick’s Day; A blessing and a curse.
The quotes above reveal the blessed, festive side that I love about Saint Patrick’s Day. Many a memory of observing ‘The High Holy Day’ as it should, with merry making and drinking and bagpipes and drinking and friends and drinking and corned beef and drinking and toasts and drinking and rooms that spin and no more drinking.
Now I know that many a true Irish person actually frowns on the fact that we’ve turned a Saints day into a drinking fest, but it really does go much deeper than that. Any day can be a drinking festival, but there is really something magical about THIS particular day and just as important, the people that we celebrate.
It is a magical place and a magical people. Doesn’t matter one lick if it’s true or not, the important thing is that it works for us.
Unfortunately, because of some quirk in the space time continuum, I find that for the first time in my entire working life, that I have to work on ‘SPD’. I always make sure that I am off for this holy of holy days, but somehow this year I went a kilter. So this year will go without the grand celebration that it is due. Tomorrow we will have the bestus friends J&J over for the tradition SPD meal and libations, so that will be enough to make up for the missing 'on the day' celebrations.
However, there is one part to this day that I will not miss, no matter how late it gets or how tired I may be. The afore mentioned activities are all for fun, this one is for love.
When I was growing up, long before the days of cable TV or Video/DVD rentals, there was only network TV and you were pretty much at the mercy of whatever they decided to show you on any particular day. But there was always one thing that you could count on; Saint Patrick’s Day and the movie ‘The Quiet Man’.
My dad and I were always John Wayne fans and it didn’t matter the movie, whether it be with a tank’s cannon or a horses ass, we were there. But there was one movie and one movie alone that stood head and shoulders above them all, and that was the Quiet Man. My mom would say years later that she always knew, no matter what else would be going on that day, where the two of us would be. No matter how many times we had seen it, we looked forward to its arrival for months on end as one would look ahead with excitement, as when they were young, to the coming of a circus. Saint Patrick’s Day was not an event, but more a season.
Since my fathers’ death sixteen years ago, Saint Patrick’s Day has never been quite the same. I may be able to go out and celebrate with friends old and new, but eventually when it ends and I come home, there is an emptiness; a piece to the celebration missing and always just a little beyond my reach.
This is the curse of Saint Patrick’s Day.
It is funny that even now, when I watch a John Wayne movie (which by the way, my wife rolls her eyes at much the same way my mother did with my father), I can feel my father sitting next to me watching along just as he did all those times and years ago. And it is more than just that. My father had the same hooded eyes that John Wayne had and he even had a bit of a drawl; not quite like the Dukes, but a drawl none the less. When I watch a Wayne movie today, I also get a little visual of my dad; this may be a good reason why the movies never tire for me.
In a couple of minutes from now, I will sit down (with beer in hand and a good plethora of snacks), and complete, as best I can, the Saint Patrick's Day celebration by watching the Quiet Man, so that I can celebrate Saint Patrick’s Day once again, with my Dad.
Slante'
“Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell. ”
~Edna St Vincent Millay
“Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle Everything I do is stitched with its color.” ~W.S. Merwin, "Separation" “In love the smallest distance is too great, and the greatest distance can be bridged.”
~Hans Nouwens
© 2007 March 15 Heaven Can Wait“Not only is woman's work never done, the definition keeps changing.”
~ Bill Copeland
“Male menopause is a lot more fun than female menopause. With female menopause you gain weight and get hot flashes. Male menopause — you get to date young girls and drive motorcycles.”
~ John Wayne
“I got a taste of paradise
I’m never gonna let it slip away I got a taste of paradise Its all I really need to make me stay –“ ~ Meat Loaf – Lyrics from ‘Heaven Can Wait’
The other evening my wife and I were watching ‘That 70’s Show’, a perennial favorite which reminds us nothing of how the 70’s actually were with the exception of a few prop dressings and music from that time. But that doesn’t matter, it is good comedy which seems harder and harder to find anymore.
The episode revolved around the father who on the one hand was trying to get his son and his friends ushered into college mode away from home, while on the other hand he was trying to walk on the packed land mine field; his wife going through menopause. We laughed as we watched this poor man in his valiant but failing attempt to keep his wife from turning into a raving/crying maniac by trying to say all the right things and being ultra nice (a disposition totally not normal for him). However no matter how comforting he tried to be, it turned always turned into the wrong thing to do.
We laughed and laughed.
As the humor settled and real life began to creep back into my brain, I looked over at my wife and realized that she was about that age where perhaps I should start to worry about the hidden psychopath that possibly lurked beneath.
“So hon” I matter of factly begin, “are you anywhere near the time that this kind of thing would happen to you?”
“Oh I’m sure that I’m already entering a pre-menopausal state” she matter of factly replies. Somewhere deep in the cavity of my hard wired Neanderthal brain, the first peels of the alarm bells are beginning and my legs start to tense up for the ‘fight or flight’ mode.
“Sooooo, What kind of drugs are available to you when this happens?”
Robert Frost wrote the famous poem ‘The Road Not Taken’ in which he espouses that all the difference in the world is experienced by taking the lesser traveled road.
I should have realized that the road was less traveled for a very good reason.
The love of my life looks me directly in the eyes with flesh cutting lasers and states in a clear, calm and a make-no-mistake-about-what-I-am-about-to-tell-you’ voice;
“There will be no drugs that I will take. I’m going to just ride it out”.
The far off peel of alarm bells has grown into a calamitous cacophony, and as I listen to their scream to ‘TURN AND RUN’, I step still yet further down that dark path;
“Sooooo, What kind of drugs are available to me when this happens?”
From outside I hear the panicked barking of the neighborhood dogs.
“Oh no my dear husband” a small, almost mocking laugh slides past her lips, “I need you lucid and alert to help me through this change of life”.
From outside, the panicked neighborhood dogs hear the wailing of a new voice now added to their own.
“Oh NO, NO, NO” I defiantly proclaim “There is no way that I’m going to go through what I just saw that poor man on TV just go through. So if you got to change then go ahead and change, but do it and be done with it.”
Outside, the howling dogs have been joined by the shriek of cats and raccoons. Deer have started to flee to higher ground and birds of a different feather now merge together to get the flock out of here. All of nature is now on the run.
“Look it’s not going to be that bad” she states with the cool reserve of someone holding an ace up there sleeve, “I could have absolutely no symptoms at all. Or it could last up to 5 years”
My head snapped around so hard I was able to see the butt of my pants. “What was that again?”
“I said I could have absolutely no symptoms at all.”
“No, that last little part you snuck in at the end”
“Or” she paused as if to savor the last sip of a fine wine, “It could last up to 5 years”
At that moment I saw my hopes fly out the window and make haste to join up with the rest of the fleeing hoard of creation. I had been waiting for what would become a prolonged 2nd honeymoon. The kids are getting ready to make there own way and we would be free again to be (for the most part) just a couple again. To be able to do what we wanted, when we wanted, without having to check on kids schedules and the like. So much of what we had before the kids became a part of our life; I was looking forward to having once again. I felt cheated, I felt hurt, and very quickly, I felt anger.
“OK. FINE. You go ahead with your ‘All Natural’ plan to ride out this impending hurricane. I’ve always wanted to join the French Foreign Legion. You can reach me there when you’re done because there is no way in Hell that I’m going to walk on egg shells for five years.”
“Oh, but yes you will” and then she laughed. It started as a slow snicker but every second gained strength and depth as if from out of her throat, the maniacal laughter of a thousand shrilling demons shrieked in gleeful madness. The seismic reverb of it made the walls of the living room crack wide open and waterfalls of lava cascaded to the floor and surrounded me like an ocean leaving me stranded on a small island prison. As I looked down at my feet, my dear little sheltie, Bonnie, trotted over the lava wagging her tail. When she got to me, she sprouted two more heads and the three of them together started to snap at my legs.
Then my son Captain Adventure and daughter DD both strolled through the room as if nothing were out of the ordinary and headed towards the door. Before heading out, they both turned to me and said “Dad, were going out to the mall and we need money”.
I screamed like a little girl.
When I looked back, my wife was replaced by a great horned devil and as her laughter subsided, she unfurled a long document and smiled.
“Oh, but yes you will” she repeated in that sickly voice of many, “for I have a contract here, signed by you. Don’t you remember? ‘For better or worse, in sickness and in health. SO LONG AS YOU BOTH SHALL LIVE’”.
Like an unexpected blast from a fire house siren, she roared with delight as she flung the document at my head. All I could do was to bring my arms up to cover my face…..
When I was brave enough to move the arms that shielded my eyes, I found all to be calm. The TV droned on in the background and across from me on the sofa, my wife was quietly sleeping away. There was no sound of stampede outside, no scorched walls and no lava flows.
A dream. It had been a dream.
But at what part the dream took over from reality I cannot say, because even with the now obvious lunacy of events, it had seemed so real. As the confusion (that always follows dramatic dreams) waned, I watched my wife as she slept and even though I always see her just as I did when we first met, I could make out that the trials of her day; everything from getting the kids up and set for their day, to dinner in the evening and everything in-between, were washed away from her face in the relaxation that one finds in deep sleep. I have never taken the work that she does for her family for granted, but at that moment I think I truly understood just what hardships she endures everyday. Dreams can be as real as a waking moment or just as far removed, but every dream tries to teach us something. It could be a profound revelation or a simple answer to a problem, it doesn’t matter, we dream to discover.
So what did I discover?
I discovered that it is ok to look ahead for a desired something or sometime or someone, so long as the good things that we have in hand at this moment do not suffer in neglect because our focus is out there instead of right here. And also of course, that the best things in life are the ones worth fighting for.
So if this woman who on a day to day basis puts aside her wants in order to see to her family’s needs first, must face a period of dramatic change not of her own choosing, then I’m going to make sure that I am prepared to help her in any way that I possibly can. And even though she may become a maniacal, nasty, weeping, psychopathic scitzo, we’ll be there together, if need be, just the three of us; my wife, myself and my good friend Jonnie Walker Black. And just like that, any fears and reservations that I had about what this new chapter in our marriage might hold, were put to rest.
Just then my kids entered the room and headed for the door. They both turned and started to speak.
I screamed like a little girl.
© 2007 The Ides Of MarchToday is March the 15th and I just wanted to wish everyone a healthy and happy Ides Of March.
Oh wait WAIT, No, I mean Beware!
BEWARE THE IDES OF MARCH!!!!!
Ooohhhhhhhhfff, That was close.
March 14 A Disturbance In The ForceA Disturbance In The Force (A borrowed title for an important subject)
The other day, our good Capt Kalli wrote the following:
Quote
March 08 Alien Abduction (My trip to Saturn)Chef: Say, did any of you boys see the alien spaceship last night?
Kyle: (pointing at Cartman) Yeah! Fat-boy saw it! Cartman: No! That was just a dream! And I'm not fat; I'm big boned! Chef: Were they the same ones with the thin bodies and round heads? (Cartman gasps.) Stan: They took him aboard their ship! Chef: Wow! Did they give you an anal probe? (Cartman gasps in horror) Kyle: What's an anal probe? Chef: That's when they put this big metal hoopamajoob up your butt. Kyle: Whoa…. They gave you an anal probe, Cartman? Cartman: No, I mean…. Why would they do that?? Stan: Dude, they did, huh?? Aliens shove things up your ass! ~Cast of ‘South Park’ from the episode: ‘Cartman Gets An Anal Probe’
It has been almost 2 weeks since I last left my mark in Cyberville, but to me it seems like it has been only a moment. I am told that this is called the ‘Missing Time’ phenomenon that occurs to those who have been abducted by aliens.
I have spent the last couple of days sitting in my home trying to remember what it was that happened to me and little by little, like waiting for a watched pot to boil, the truth has bubbled it’s way to the surface.
For several months now I have been trying to hide from the fact that we needed a new car. Not so much that there was anything wrong with the car I had; well actually yes, it had everything to do with problems my car was having. It also was spurned on because my daughter DD needed a car to get to her classes and to work (and to the boy friend and the tanning salon and the endless army of friends that she has massed over the years and blah blah blah blah blah). My wife has grown weary of shuttling her around and has made this fact unmistakably known.
Time: Monday, February 26th, 6:45pm
“BUT I LOVE MY CAR”, he pleaded into the deaf ears of his mighty and evil overlord; ‘Wife; The Always Rightimus’
(Just because a car has almost 200,000 miles on it and has lately been on a more intimate relationship with my mechanic than with me, is no reason that I have to get a new car…)
“BUT DON’T YOU SEE”, he whines never knowing when he has already lost a battle “NOW THAT JUST ABOUT EVERYTHING HAS BEEN REPLACED, IT’S AS GOOD AS NEW!”
(The other lesson that I have never learned is when to recognize when something has obviously passed its time and needs to go into the light…)
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT IT IS ONLY RELIABLE FOR LOCAL TRAVEL NOW? THAT CAR COULD PROBABLY GO ANOTHER KAJABILLION MORE MILES!!!”
(OK, so what if I have to travel insane distances every day to go to work and back. The car is running great now…)
“OH YES IT IS; KAJABILLION IS TOO A NUMBER, A REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY BIG NUMBER THAT ONLY NON- STUPID HEADS UNDERSTAND!”
(Duck flying fork torpedo…)
“I WON’T, I WON’T, I WON’T! I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU DO TO ME, I LOVE THAT CAR AND THERE IS NO WAY UNDER THE GREAT HEAVENS ABOVE THAT I AM GOING TO BEND TO THIS MONSTROUS AND UNFAIR DEMAND!”
“Look”, she calmly states as she always does before delivering the death blow, “you need to get yourself a new car...”
“NOT LISTENING; LA LA LA LA LA”
“…because you need something reliable to get to work and back…”
“LA LA LA LA LA LA LA”
“…then DD can get your old car…”
“LA LA LA LA LA LA LA”
“…so that she can get to her classes…”
“LA LA LA LA LA LA LA”
“…and work…”
“LA LA LA LA LA LA LA”
“…she needs to be independent of us…”
“LA LA LA LA LA LA LA”
…Or…
“LA LA LA LA LA LA LA”
“… She…”
“LA LA LA LA LA LA LA”
“…Will…”
“LA LA LA LA LA LA LA”
“... Never…”
“LA LA LA LA LA LA LA”
“…Move…”
“LA LA LA LA LA LA LA”
“…Out…”
“LA L……………”
NOTE: Insert Cricket sound here
And so with battle joined and lost, I set out on a quest I did not want to go on. A lot of people I know actually enjoy acquiring a new vehicle; I on the other hand would rather be anally probed by space aliens. I actually believe that the reason I hold onto vehicles way past their time is that I find the whole process too laborious and painful (emphasis on the pain part). An endless day at the Wheeler-Dealer; picking, testing, mulling, haggling, waiting, haggling, waiting, paperwork, waiting, waiting, waiting. By the time all is said and done, I am an empty husk.
My wife, when she is on the hunt for an item, will research the product to death with consumer reports, product data safety sheets, customer evaluations, spread sheets, astrological calculations, tea leaves, argumentum ad nauseum. I on the other hand will go out and rely on ‘The Force’. The Force is a wonderful tool which like a divining rod, will lead me directly to the needed item (by passing all others) and I will proclaim without so much as a cursory look around “I’ll take that one!”
My wife thinks I’m an idiot.
The Force unfortunately proves her point.
Using The Force is at best a 50/50/90 shot (If there is a 50/50 percent chance of getting it right, 90 percent of the time I will get it wrong).
The Force Sucks and I know it, but I would gamble on it every time I go car shopping as opposed to the alternative.
This time however, I decided that I would impress everyone on the block by actually doing it the way normal people would (a scaled down version of my wife’s method).
And so I researched and did my homework to seek out the car for me. I read the consumer reports, I studied the test results from several well known auto industry testing sources, I scowerd the internet for the best deals.
All in all it was a very productive 57 seconds.
And so I set out the following day with the air of a man walking ‘The Green Mile’.
During the 57 seconds of research I did, I decided on the Saturn Vue. I’m sure that there were many good reasons on why I chose this vehicle but that part of my memory is still missing. The part I do remember was that it was shiny and I wanted it.
Time: Tuesday, February 27th, 9:55am
With steely determination not to be ‘taken for a ride’ and to be the one in command, I walked into the Saturn Dealership and was immediately greeted by a humanoid with the biggest set of shiny white teeth I have ever seen in my life….
Time: Tuesday, February 27th, 4:18pm
I am riding home in my new Saturn Vue.
And that is all I remember.
I have no idea what happened between 9:55am and 4:18pm. I am aware of only two things: First; at that moment I am riding home in an environment with that ‘New Car’ smell to it. The second is that my butt itches.
******
The remainder of the 9 days that I’ve been absent, I’ve spent just laying low and trying to put all the pieces together.
Item: On February 27th of this year I made my wife happy by purchasing a new vehicle for myself which is highly evident by the big smiles and loads of canoodling. She says “I love your Vue”. I say to her “You look pretty damned Hot yourself”
Item: I have made my daughter DD very happy as she now has her own set of wheels with which to cause a whole new chapter of heart burn for her parents (didn’t see that coming did you sweetheart!)
Item: Whatever happened that day, I got what I wanted and I’m pretty sure I got it for the price I wanted. Pretty sure. Or is that an implanted thought in my head?
Item: When ever I go near the TV, my butt starts to itch and I suddenly get 100,000 TV stations from across the galaxy.
The Truth Is Out There!
© 2007 |
|
|
