competition commuting, and the proper care and maintenance of damn near anything

now playing: little feat, “spanish moon/skin it back (live)”

i gotta get this stuff down while i’m thinking about it…

somehow, it’s closing in on midnight and i’m back at work. i have three things that i must get out of my way before tomorrow comes and i’m not here to deal with them, so here i sit…obviously very dilligently taking care of them (note to the non-sarcastic: blogging is not on the to-do list)

what is it that drives people so crazy about the way people drive if it doesn’t really affect them? I have a relatively simple rule that i try to adhere to, in terms of my attitude towards other drivers – if it doesn’t affect me directly, then more power to them. if someone flies up my ass, i move over and let ’em have the road. sometimes i’m in a hurry, sometimes i’m not. if someone has a more intense agenda than i do, then i’ll move over. it’s not mine to say how fast someone else should drive.

i do get pissed every time the universe points out to me that i seem to be the only living organism on the planet with this mindset. in pittsburgh for the charlie show a couple of weekends ago, we were driving into town at a little before 9 in the morning on a saturday (it should be pointed out that p’burgh seems to share philadelphia’s attitude that any artery flowing into or out of its boundaries should be limited to two lanes for reasons i’ll never fully grasp) – there was a gentleman who perfectly fit the MO of what i like to call a “bingo ranger” – oversized luxury car driven by a very tiny head with large cataract lenses on it, perpetually in search of the $500 winning card by driving from bingo hall to bingo hall like a modern day headless horseman. he was nestled in the left lane, locked into a steady but maddening 54 mph, and i had to be ready for soundcheck in roughly an hour.

i finally found my hole, and around him i went…and boy, did this crusty old bastard ever take it personally…he immediately accelerated and tried to catch up with me, but i was driving a rental car, and i would not be denied. i lost him in less than a minute.

well, five or six minutes later, here comes this uncle baxter-mobile SCREAMIN’ up the interstate behind me…he cuts in front of me, and immediately resumes his state of 54 mph.

now, did he honestly think that by doing this, i’d see the error of my ways and sit contentedly behind him with my tail between my legs….???

i passed him again and blew him a kiss and waved at him with a smile on my face…i swear i thought i saw the vein in his neck pop out. i singlehandedly succeeded in ruining this guys’ day, simply because i had to be somewhere and he was crampin’ my style. it was nothing personal – hell, i didn’t even know the guy. but i bet that guys’ blood pressure has yet to return to a semi-normal state.

one of the people at the APCA regional that day was an author who had studied conflict extensively, and this experience made for some interesting conversation after the instruments were put away. he was an ex-FBI officer who had been with the bureau during j edgar’s day…i bit my tongue and didn’t ask the two biggest questions i wanted to pop the guy:

1. how do you feel about the blame rhetoric going on in the wake of 9/11 regarding the field office reports that may have thwarted the attacks in the first place?

and…

2. where did j edgar buy his shoes? i bet for a guy of his stature, he had to have had a source for stihletto pumps in ultra-wide. my son needs a pair for halloween.

get this – dylan is going to school as edgar allen poe, but is actually going trick or treating as a prostitute. i started calling him “edgar allan hoe” a couple of days ago, and now everyone’s calling him that.

one final story, and i have to get my work done.

today, one of our super-flaky users comes in bitchin’ and complainin’ that someone got gunk all over her phone by taping down her hook (so that when she answered the phone, it continued to ring, because the tab wouldn’t come up). she was completely melodramatic and indignant about it – you’d think someone walked up behind her and felt her up. anyway, mary ann – my office mate – stokes the fire and asks her if she’s gone to HR yet, and recommends she does so…i’m sitting here shaking my head, and made a not very friendly remark that would indicate that the two of them might have some pent up sexual frustration, and then Frantic Girl leaves with her handset in her hands…

ten minutes later, she comes back and announces indignantly that “they’ve really done it now…now my phone doesn’t work!”

i asked all the pertinent questions, and coax her into telling me that “it worked before i cleaned it off”…

i said, “what did you do to clean it off?”

“i ran some water over it in the bathroom….”

yep. genius girl took the handset into the bathroom and held it under the faucet in the sink.

i told her that this method works great for getting stuck VHS tapes out of the VCR, too, but that you have to leave it plugged in so that the eject mechanism will work.

the truly sad thing is that there’s more than a passing chance that i may someday have her charbroiled carcass on my conscience.

relatives should not breed. nothing good comes of it.

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