Business as unusual

I show up at the bar last night expecting it to be just a normal night: Checking ID's, taking cover, listening to the music, and dealing with the occasional weirdo. When I got there, the place was already half full...a sign that people are starting to wise up and show up before 8:00 to avoid paying the cover. I set up my work station, which consists of a padded barstool and an ashtray, by the front door. I put the cover on the shuffleboard table, like I normally do. Immediately after that, things took a turn for the surreal.

People who were already in the bar started coming up and paying cover. I tried to explain to them that they were grandfathered in and didn't have to pay the cover, but they did anyway. Adn it wasn't just the normal three bucks. People were handing me fives and telling me to keep the change. I began to look around, with the gut feeling I was being filmed and Rod Serling was somewhere narrating this moment of my life.

The band started to bring in their equipment. When I saw the bass player haul in a sound board that was bigger than most of the cars I've driven, I knew I was in for a really loud night. And loud, it certainly was. You could've been in a sensory deprivation tank a mile away and still hear it. In fact, I'm still hearing it echo around in my skull.

I didn't encounter the really strange people until around 10:30. The place was already packed my then, and people were stuffed in that little space next to me by the front door. The space along the wall next to me was prime real estate, and people were trying to wedge themselves into there, not really knowing or caring that they were pinning me into the corner. I had to shove a little bit to make some room for me to do my job, you know, without being elbowed in the forehead by some guy drinking his Pabst Blue Ribbon. That guy's reaction was priceless. I had taken his cover ten minutes prior, and still, after I told him to move, he said, "What, do you think you work here, or something?"

Before I could point out the stupidity of that question, a lady came to the door holding two huge Rubic's cubes made out of cardboard. There was a 80's themed charity event down the street and she wanted to see if anyone wanted to buy the Rubic's cubes. No one in the bar wanted them, but I offered to take them off her hands, simply by virtue of the fact that this was the single weirdest thing anyone has ever tried to sell me "for a good cause". I mean, this tops the "Earth Day" cotton/polyester blend t-shirt I bought from a street vendor about ten years ago, or the hemp shorts I bought to benefit marijuana legalization with the "stash pocket that, when full, sticks out about a half an inch below the bottom of the shorts.

About an hour later, a woman came in with another couple to find their friends in the bar. The woman was short, blonde and spoke with an Austrailian accent. She stood close to me, trying to call her friends on her cell phone. I was sitting on my barstool with my feet up on the top rungs, which I only say that because after a moment or two, she decided to wedge herself between my legs for warmth while she made her phone call. A couple more people came into the bar, and I managed to take their cover charge witha short Australian woman wedged in my crotch. She left a message on her friend's voice mail, stating her location as being "At Arnie's, between the door guy's thighs.", then turned to face me, telling me, "You're not doing a very good job of keeping me warm." grabbing my arms and throwing them around her waist while she made another phone call.

She managed to get someone on the phone and found out that her friends were at Tsumani, not Arnie's. She thanked me for the warmth, gave me a hug and a kiss and left.

The last hour of my shift was spent attempting to answer people's questions while sitting in front of an amplifier that was blaring out the blues. Here's an idea, people: if you're in a bar, needing to ask someone a question, and they've been sitting in front of an amplifier for four hours...Don't use your indoor voice! And please, don't try to joke around with me, because A) I'm not in the mood, B) your jokes are NOT that original, and C) I could easily have the bartenders cut you off for the night.

I got home just after 2:00, and fell fast asleep, which was pretty easy because the loud music killed my hearing and the ringing in my ears lulled me to sleep. The Rubic's cubes are still out in the truck, and I've got work to do at the office today, not to mention I got laundry. So much for a lazy Sunday.

Money shit

As if I needed any further proof that credit cards are evil, Chase sent me a 1099-C form on my credit settlement to file on my taxes. It's bad enough that they screwed me for years with interest charges, now they gotta pound away one last, hard, brutal time. My company's accountant thinks he knows a way for me to report the settlement, but not have to pay taxes on it. Which is good, because when I put the information in on TurboTax, it cut my federal refund in half and has me owe money for my state return.

Still no concrete answer from my old landlord. I have about a week and a half before they pass the 30 day mark, after which, I need to ramp up my efforts. If this was a business-to-business transaction, I'd be able to add a late fee to it at that point. What I do know is that they've already been showing the apartment out to potential renters already. The moment they rent that place out, they've lost any arguing power they ever had against my claim. If they consider it rent-worthy, then why can't they refund my deposit? For now, the battle continues.

On the up side, I'm getting a few hundred bucks back on my old car's warranty plan, since the car was totalled before the warranty would expire. Seeing as the car was under my parents' name, they're only giving me the money under the condition that it go directly into savings and not be touched unless it's and emergency. I'm okay with that.

The way I got it figured, with that money, plus the security deposit, I'm 20% closer to my goal of having four grand in the bank by the end of the year. Also, It appears I'll be working a shitload of overtime, even more than I initially planned for, until at least June. No doubt I'll be a zombie by then, but I'll be a rich zombie, and fresh brains are remarkably cheap on the internet these days.

Taking bets on my boss' Chevy Tahoe

My boss drives a Chevy Tahoe that has been the bane of his existence as of late. A few months ago, he had to replace the engine because his daughter let it run out of oil. His fuel pump went out a couple months ago and had to be replaced. Two weeks ago, the wheels were stolen and it was left with its frame on the ground. Tonight, something went wrong with the engine again.

Naturally, my boss feel like he's cursed. I joked that we just need to march the Tahoe east towards Mordor and cast it into the fires of Mount Doom from which it was forged. However, true to his nature, he's gonna shill out another huge wad of cash to fix the damned thing. He's the kind of guy that needs that kind of suffering in his life, for whatever reason.

I, on the other hand, decided to find some humor in this situation. To that end, I'm putting together a betting pool for whatever will happen to his vehicle next. Here's what I got so far:

1. Fender bender (with an insured motorist)
2. Fender bender (with an uninsured motorist)
3. Totalled (with an insured motorist)
4. Totalled (with an uninsured motorist)
5. Hit & run (winnings to be split 2:1 with the category above that best fits)
6. Cracked windshield
7. Broken window
8. Broken headlight/taillight
9. Broken rearview mirror
10. Flat tire(s)
11. Slashed tire(s)
12. Tire spike strip
13. Stereo stolen
14. Seats/interior damaged
15. Air bags inexplicibly deployed
16. Paint chip
17. Paint oxidation
18. Windshield wiper failure
19. Door ding
20. Antenna bent
21. Wheels stolen (again)
22. Electrical failure (wiring, alternator or fuses)
23. Fuel injection failure (fuel pump broken or clogged hose)
24. Fluid leak
25. Dead battery
26. Engine seizes (again)
27. Muffler falls off
28. Muffler stolen
29. Ignition cylinder failure
30. Carbon monoxide leak
31. Suspension failure
32. Misalignment
33. Keys locked inside
34. Rust damage
35. Vehicle stolen (and recovered in one piece)
36. Vehicle stolen (chopped)
37. Vehicle stolen (crashed)
38. Vehicle recalled to factory
39. Careened into ditch
40. Driven into a tree
41. Animal attack (under 100 pounds)
42. Animal attack (over 100 pounds)
43. Driven off bridge, cliff or overpass (accidental or intentional)
44. Crashed into large body of water (split if driven off bridge or cliff)
45. Carried away by flood
46. "Denver Boot" due to parking violation
47. Towing damage
48. Struck by meteor
49. Struck by lightning
50. Struck by downed power line
51. Strikes a fire hydrant (split with #45 if flooding occurs)
    
52. Fire (intentional)
53. Fire (mechanical overheating)
54. Fire (at the gas pump)
55. Fire (wildfire or act of God)
56. Struck by bullet
57. Mob hit
58. Direct hit by missile or propelled grenade
59. Nuclear attack (last surviving better wins pool)
60. Sinkhole
61. Volcano
62. Crushed (by earthquake rubble)
63. Crushed (in a salvage yard, intentional or otherwise)
64. Accidental burial
65. Intentional burial
66. High speed pursuit
67. DUI (1:5 odds)
68. Alien attack
69. Vehicle ambushed in a terrorist attack
70. Vehicular homicide or manslaughter
71. Vehicle used in bank heist
72. Toilet papered, egged, bolognaed, shaving creamed, banana/potato in the tailpipe, or other form of vandalism
73. Carjacking
74. Commandeered by police/federal officer
75. Repossessed
76. Possessed by demon a'la Christine
77. Vehicle declared biohazard by the CDC
78. Disintegration
79. Fired from a cannon or flung by a trebuchet
    
80. Driver called to heaven in the Rapture (100:1 odds)
81. Miscellaneous (not covered in this list)
    

I am soooo ready to nail this guy to the wall

Two weeks ago I turned in the keys to my old apartment. Since then, I have left five messages with them and paid four visits to their office to find out when I'll be getting my security deposit back. None of my messages were returned, and every time I visited the office I was told by the woman running the office that she's waiting for her next meeting with her boss to discuss the issue.

My visit yesterday afternoon shed a little more light on the source of the logjam. After hearing from this woman for the fourth time that she's still waiting to meet with her boss I asked her when he'll be in the office next time.

Her response (which is priceless) was, "This office?"

Oh, so he's one of those guys that has many, many businesses and this rental agency is one of the red-headed stepchildren! Great!

After fighting the temptation to laugh my ass off in frustration, I said, "Let me rephrase the question. When was the last time he was in this office?"

"I wanna say...the end of December." she replied with a sympathetic look.

My right eye starts to twitch. "Okay, let me ask you another question. Why is it that you can't just cut me a check?"

"Because I'm not allowed."

"Is there someone else here that is allowed to cut me a check?"

"No. I'm the only employee."

"Here?"

"No, the only employee, period. And I can't cut you a check."

In a way, that makes sense. Their last office manager stole a bunch of money from them, so I somewhat understand this guy's hesitance to allow anyone to touch his company's money. But then again, if he trusts the new manager to take in payments in cash and money orders, hand over keys to his properties to people who are, let's face it, barely eligible to get a room at the YMCA, why the hell can't she authorize a damned check? Do any of their bills ever get paid?

I left my name and number (again) and promised to keep returning until I get my money back.

This is gonna be fun. I knew going into that lease that this rental agency was gonna try to screw me over, big time. They tried, twice, while I was living there, and failed both times. Now, the stall tactics are only strengthening my resolve. The game is afoot.

My next move came to me this afternoon. I remembered the letter back in November wherein they threatened to fine me a hundred bucks if I didn't remove the items from my "balcony". The number I called to ask them which of the two items on my front porch offended them, the ashtray of the dead potted plant...the phone number on the letter itself, was the head honcho's cell number! My idea: Find that letter and call that number.

Four rings and I get this computerized message: "The voice mail box for" (woman's voicesays the leasing company's name) "...is full. If you'd like to page this person press 5 now-"

I jam my thumb down on the five key so hard it could have broken the phone. After a few seconds, I get the computer voice again, "The customer you are trying to page is unavailable, if you'd like to leave a message, press 5 now."

I hang up.

My next visit to the office will be tomorrow afternoon, and every Monday, Wednesday and Friday until I get my money back. I will not mention the words "my attorney" until next week, the words "Better Business Bureau" until the next week, and "small claims court" the week after that.

I'm so ready to fight this guy. This is gonna be fun.

Monday Night Caption Contest

Post your captions in the comments section below.

Here are mine for the week:

1. "Okay, who's turn is it to say grace this week? Bobo?"

2. One way to look at the bright side: For once, the fact that Dad has had five Jack Daniels and he's holding a knife isn't the reason for all the overwhelming tension at the dinner table.


Last week's winner is Xanaboobs, with the caption/skit:

"He started it."

"Shut up. You're still worked up from when I tried to pull your ear out of your head. I was curious."

"Of course I'm worked up. Look at me. I'm a freaking basset hound named Jojo who gets violated by a toddler that can't even swallow a green bean without making a staged production of it, and I know if I come anywhere near you, I'm summer sausage."

"It's fine... I'm sure I'll get outta here, I am the baby. But, you... I dunno, you're going to need some help. I'll make you a deal."

"Oh jeez, kid."

"No, no, just listen. I'll throw a fit if they don't let you out. All you have to do is eat my green beans from now on."

"I hate green beans."

"Deal? Or no deal?"

"Aw, crap, kid. Deal."

A day in the life of Chuckles, my cat

7:00 a.m. - I wake up on back of sofa.

7:05 a.m. - Went to the litterbox. Notice some grains of litter outside of box. Spend five minutes sweeping it back under the box with my paw.

7:15 a.m. - No 9-Lives Tuna & Shimp in my bowl. This happens every fucking morning when I wake up. Begin meowing loudly to announce my displeasure to the foodgiver.

7:30 a.m. - Foodgiver finally gets his ass out of bed. Lazy son of a bitch. I get my food and wolf it down in fifteen seconds. Not a personal best, but still pretty damned good.

7:45 a.m. - Sharpen claws on arm of computer chair. Get belly rub from the foodgiver on his way out the door.

9:00 a.m. - Wake up from nap and take a bath. I wind up licking the same spot on my side for fifteen minutes before giving up. Run to the living room for no reason whatsoever.

10:00 a.m. - Open up foodgiver's laptop and log on to check my investments. Really took a beating in the NASDAQ yesterday. I'm hoping it'll rebound soon because as soon as I get a good enough return, I'm soooo fucking outta here.

12:15 p.m. - Foodgiver comes home to fix himself some lunch. I try to remind him that the gas bill is due today, but he misunderstands me and waves that damned stuffed monkey in my face yet again. What an idiot.

2:00 p.m. - I've been staring out the window for a while now when that slutty stray cat comes around again. Sally? is that her name? I can never remember. Anyway, she's apparently in heat again. She's had, like, fifteen litters so far? As if I need that kind of baby-daddy drama in my life! I just don't have the heart to tell her that I'm not interested...and neutered.

3:23 p.m. - That throw pillow on the couch is mocking me again, so I shred the living shit out of it. I just know the foodgiver's gonna yell at me for doing that, but that polyester-filled bastard started it!

4:00 p.m. - Damn good episode of Oprah.

5:25 p.m. - Foodgiver comes home and calls out for me. I was so pissed that he woke me up from a really sound sleep in the bathroom sink that I was about to take a huge dump on his bed just to spite him. But, he scratched me behind the ears, so I guess that makes it all okay.

6:00 p.m. - Foodgiver scoops me a bowlful of dry food. He doesn't give me the normal amount...probably to punish me for the throw pillow incident. Gee, I sure hope he gets a different flavor of dry food next time. This urinary tract health formula has the worst aftertaste.

6:35 p.m - Back in the computer chair. I swear, no matter what i do, these claws just never get sharp enough!

7:30 p.m. - It's hard enough to use the litterbox when the foodgiver's in the room with me, but seriously, does he have to call me a "good boy"as well?!?

8:30 p.m. - The foodgiver's taking up the whole sofa again. He does this every fucking time I want to sit there. So, to prove a point, I jump in his lap and chew the fur on my ass for twenty minutes. The message is lost.

8:50 p.m. - I fight the foodgiver for control of the remote. I know he wants to watch Lost, but I want to watch the History Channel HD En Espanol. He thinks I'm just playing around and hitting buttons at random, but let's see him try typing in 184 on that remote with a fat paw like mine.

10:00 p.m. - Had planned to watch the Daily Show with the foodgiver, but that piece of string in the dining room needed to be taught a lesson. Good thing I set the DVR to record it. I'll watch it sometime tomorrow.

11:00 p.m. - Foodgiver goes to bed. Finally, some time alone to practice my meowing.

12:00 p.m. - Crawl into bed with the foodgiver for warmth. Christ, would it kill him to turn up the heat a little bit when he goes to bed? I'm fucking freezing in the living room. It takes me a little while to find a spot on the bed where the foodgiver can't kick me with his constant tossing and turning, but when I do, I fall right asleep and have a really weird dream about being chased by giant stuffed monkeys.

Side notes

My last post kinda backfired on me. I guess, to put it in some kind of metaphor, I was tired of being treated like a piece of beachfront property. "Sure, it's in rough shape, but no one's there now, so let's get it on the market NOW!" And to make matters worse, my clarification on my position gave a few key people enough fodder to believe I was completely full of shit. I'm tired of explaining it, so I'm turning a deaf ear when the subject is brought up.

However, it is weird how things like this seem to coincide with other strange relationship troubles in other people. A good friend of mine finally admitted to me that her current relationship is slowly coming to an end. I've been sensing it for a while, and she's been very good at putting up a strong front when I've asked her how she's doing. She's never been one to want to bother anyone with her troubles. But there was something in the way that she spoke about it, it felt like she's been mulling it over long enough that the good points of this situation are seriously outweighing the bad. It still sucks to see anyone going through all of that, but it's something we all have to go through sometimes.

Another strange thing that happened is a long talk with an ex-girlfriend I had last night. Given the setting, and the way the conversation came to pass, I got a real John Cusack/High Fidelity vibe at first. the circumstances surrounding our breakup about three years ago were bizarre to say the least. She and I never really got back on an even keel of friendship. We were civil to one another, but never really had a one-on-one conversation that went past the "How are you?" stage.

She opened up to me about the problems she's been having lately and the therapy she's taking to remedy those problems. She never really seemed that troubled to me, considering some of the issues the people I know have to contend with. To me, the idea of her in therapy seemed like preventative maintenance. However, there was something different about the way she carried herself, like there was an air of clarity around her...not like her troubles were gone, just like she had a clear plan of attack. I told her I was proud of her, and heretofore she was reluctant to tell me any specifics of her problems, but she told me that she'd tell her therapist that she accepted a compliment from me. I had to raise a glass to that.

I got home from the bar last night and stayed up for a little while. I was tired, but not willing to go to bed just yet. I watched a little TV, did a little writing, and played around with my cat for a little while. Besides, my downstairs neighbor was hammering away at something until at least midnight. When it seemed like they were done with the late-night home improvement, I went to bed. I really didn't mind too much that the guy downstairs started bouncing what sounded like a tennis ball against the wall until about 1:00. At least he was keeping enough of a rhythm that lulled me to sleep.

All that noise I was willing to let slide...until I heard yelling and screaming at 6:00 in the morning. Now, I've known people in abusive and troubled relationships, and even at their worst, they've waitied until after their significant others had had their morning coffee. Twice in my life, I've woken up to the sound of a bum having broken into my apartment and found him sleeping on my floor. Even then, I wasn't nearly as pissed off as my downstairs neighbor was this morning. Who the fuck wakes up that angry, that early, without the walls being padded and having an electro-shock treatment that morning?!?

Ordinarily, if I've got a problem with a neighbor, calling the landlord is the absolute last resort. I've always handled things on my own first. However, when that guy was that pissed off at 6:00 a.m., I sure as hell wasn't gonna pour gasoline on that fire in his belly. So, I filed a complaint with the landlord, and from her reaction, I have a feeling this wasn't his first complaint for this exact same thing.

Speaking of landlords, I took off early today to butt heads with my butthead of an ex-landlord over the security deposit. I went into his waiting room, where there were at least three people wanting to sign leases for rental properties, completely sight unseen. If the one they wanted was rented already, they asked about the next one on the list. It kinda creeped me out to see so many people so desperate to find housing that they'll take whatever they can get. One of them looked like he had just gotten thrown out of the YMCA. I am soooo glad to have to deal with those slumlords ever again...that is, after I get my security deposit back, which should be Monday.

As if any further proof was needed that my old landlords were total shitheads with no business ethics whatsoever, I noticed a new property on their list while I was waiting. A 3 bedroom, 1 1/2 bath for $199 a month! I picture it as just the termite-infested frame of a crack house, in a sinkhole, in the middle of a protected bat habitat located between a maximum security prison, a munitions testing ground, a chemical plant and an air-raid siren factory...in the flightpath of Tulsa International Airport.

Revising my earlier statements

It's been a strange couple of days for me. Customers have come out in droves to hide the fact that they're complete idiots behind the idiom "the customer is always right". And while that idiom is true - we'll do whatever it takes to get the job done right - that hasn't kept me from being dumfounded by their complete lack of logic and deductive reasoning. Not to go into much detail, but my left eye has been twitching uncontrollably at least ten times a day. If my arm starts to go numb and I start tasting copper, That's when I should worry. Otherwise, it's all in a day's work.

In my off-duty hours I've been noticing a small trend. Maybe it's because Valentine's Day is coming up, but friends are coming out of the woodwork with women they'd like to see me hook up with. It's not really shaking my faith in my no-dating vow, in fact, it's merely strengthening it. On the other hand, as this event is becoming more and more frequent, I find myself having to go into further detail to rationalize to my matchmaking friends my reasons for being so hesitant. The time has come for me to reassess my position a bit.

When I first took the vow, it was because I wasnt happy in my own skin, I wasn't finding what I thought I was looking for, and ultimately, I came to the realization that I didn't know what I was looking for. The time had come for some serious introspection. Since I vowed to stop dating for a while, a lot of the other troubles have been resolved. My finances are on track, my mind is a lot clearer, my stress level has evened out a bit, and I'm feeling more comfortable with myself.

However, I attribute most of that to the stroke of dumb luck of having my car totalled. The cash I got from that allowed me to eliminate my debt, took away half of my worries, which were financial in nature, hence I don't have to focus so much on my work and how to get more hours, and everything else has kinda fell into line. The adjustment to all that has distracted me from my romantic problems.

Now, the time (and pressure) has come to take that long look at my issues with my love life. Here's what I got so far:

1. In the past, I've been too prone to fall too quickly...and too hard. Much like gambling, I've taken many, many losses, and any jackpots I've come across hadn't lasted me very long. I got tired of losing, so I quit playing.

2. I came to the realization that I had lost sight of the difference between compromise, settling, and caving in. To me, they were all one and the same.

3. I've never been one to take things casually. I've always wanted point A to lead to point B and all points beyond. I was tired of pretending to just go with the flow, and instead wanted to chart the next leg of the journey. A friend once told me that the worst that could happen was that I end up back where I started, and that worst thing was happening far too frequently for my tastes.

4. I must let things unfold naturally, and not let myself or any other person force change upon me. That way, when a moment presents itself, I can take one step forward without tripping.

I know, one day, I'll either be looking back on this time in my life with the words, "What the fuck was I thinking?" or with the words "Best decision I ever made". With each passing day, I'm able to look a little further inward, lose a little more of my self-doubt, and move closer to what will bring me that bliss that has eluded me thus far.

So, to my friends: I know you're trying to help, I love you, but back off for a little while.

Monday Night Caption Contest

Post your captions in the comment section below.


Here are mine for the week:

1. If you think this is upsetting, wait until you see how her parents plan to potty-train her.

2. "Attica! Attica! Attica!"


Last week's winner was Nate's Wench with the caption: Looks like Bill Gates finally found himself a hobby! Any joke at that man's expense is a favorite of mine.

Catching up

Thursday night was the judging for the Brothers of the Brush Beard Growing contest. I came in third in the Best Effort category, beat by two guys under 20 years old. I would be a bit insulted that, at 30, I barely have the beard-growing prowess of a 20 year old...but considering some of the guys were disqualified because they couldn't meet the first rule of having a beard go uninterrupted from ear to ear, I feel a bit better. My buddy Tony won the Fullest Untrimmed Beard prize, which is further proof that he talked me into the contest just to look better to the judges by standing next to me. I looked like Ethan Hawke at the end of Alive, and he looked like Gimli from Lord of the Rings.

After the judging, I went to Arnie's and stsyed out until at least 1:00. This woman at our table bought one of the new merch items, a pair of boyshort panties (or "manties", as Candy would call them) with the Arnie's logo in them. While sitting at the table, I picked up the panties and took a look at them. She asked me, "You're dying to put them on your head, aren't you?" So I did, and she took a picture. After the picture, I said something that could've gone either way with this woman. She could've either slapped me or laughed. I said, "Well, at least I can say that I technically got in your panties." Fortunately, she laughed.

Friday went fairly smooth, considering I was dead tired and hung over all day. I got a lot done, but still, I had to come in for a couple hours on Saturday to get far enough ahead to make up for the downtime we'll have tomorrow while some of our equipment will be upgraded.

Friday night, I worked the door, and by midnight, I was sick and tired of working for the day. We had one guy get so drunk that he was oblivious to the fact that not only was his fly undone, but he had pissed his pants. Another guy I had to turn away at the door three times. The first time, he didn't understand why I needed three bucks from him to get into the bar. The second time, he claimed he lost his hat and wanted to look around for it. I shooed him off, telling him that he wasn't in the bar long enough last time to lose anything. Fifteen minutes later, he came back and I told him he was already too drunk to be let in. I about lost it when he asked me, "WHY?!?"

As I said, Saturday, I went into the office. Not much else to report there. Once I got out of there, I went down to McNellies for the Irish Music Festival Fundraiser. I got there at 3:30, and left around midnight. A good time was had by all.

Today, I slept in. I briefly considered going to catch a movie like I normally do on Super Bowl Sunday, but decided against it. Instead, I went down to Borders, bugged a few of my friends there, and bought the new Lewis Black CD.

I got a picture message from a co-worker showing my boss' Chevy Tahoe in the parking lot...with it's wheels stolen. I don't know when it happened or how my boss is gonna get it fixed. All I do know is that he's gonns be really pissed for the next few days. That Tahoe has been the bane of his existence for a while now. The gas mileage is enough to mek him cranky, but a couple months ago, he had to get a new engine for the thing because his daughter never checked the oil the whole time she drove it. So, the engine seized on it and it cost him six grand to get it fixed. Something's been wrong witht he fuel pump lately that's caused a worsening of his non-sunny disposition, but now it's up on blocks! What the hell is this world coming to?