Momentous Occasion

On October 31st, 2005 at precisely 1:44pm Central Daylight Time, Glenna and I agreed on something. I don't really remember what we agreed on, but we did. This is a big deal since Glenna is a confused liberal and I am a right-thinking conservative. Moments later it became apparent to me that Glenna is incapable of downshifting and has no earthly idea where the tachometer is located.

From The Airwaves

Recently heard on Cleveland Center's Frequency:

United 1234 - "Cleveland Center, United 1234, we just started picking up some continuous light, occasional moderate turbulence here at flight level 340, do the rides improve up ahead?"

Cleveland Center - "United 1234 yessir, the rides will improve as you move eastbound, I've had several aircraft complain of some chop right there over Detroit but it shouldn't last more than the next 20 miles or so."

United 1234 - "Great sir, thanks for the heads up."

Cleveland Center - "It must be the differential heating from all the burning cars in Detroit."

The Postman

Yes, the Postman. That is what they used to call me. In fact, if "they" were here, they would still call me that. Isn't that right Fish? The fact of the matter is, it's a dubious nickname. You see, when I was in college and played intramural soccer I managed to hit the post more often than the net when I was shooting. Although official stats were not kept, it is estimated that in 35 games I scored 15 times, and hit the post 567 times. Fisher, back me up on this. For those of you who don't know, I'm refering to Tim "Are You Serious?" Fisher. Or as I like to refer to him, Ruen. Fish was our goalkeeper. And he wasn't very good. And when anything strange happened, like Jenn "the Gimp" missing a hat trick from 3 feet away on an open goal, you could hear Fisher pretty much anywhere in the state of Florida screaming, "Are you serious?" The other team mantra was, "Damnit!" I'll leave it up to you to interpret how good we were. Which brings me to last night, while we're on the topic of soccer teams that suck. Tuesday nights are marked by indoor soccer at Westchester (check it out at www.vettasports.com) And boy do we suck. The really obnoxious thing is that despite the fact that the goal is basically a rectangular hole cut out of the wall, they still feel the need to paint a 4 inch red stripe around it, representing the post. Usually, I'm not a conspiracy theorist, but clearly, something higher is at work here, because despite the fact that the goal is considerably smaller, I still manage to find that damn red stripe more often than the net behind it. The red stripe is in fact a great source of consternation for me. I am always left to wonder, if the area around the goal had been left white like the rest of the wall, with no representation of a post whatsoever, would my shots still be attracted to that spot like a lush to a pub crawl? The typical end result of all of this is that just as surely as Dude with the OJ will have a glass of OJ in his hand, I will hit the post most of the times I shoot. Typically we lose the game by the same number of posts I hit. For example, last night, we lost 6-3, and I hit the post 3 times. 3 TIMES!!!!! Most people don't hit the F'ing post 3 times in an entire season! But not Dan the Postman. Oh no. He'll hit the post at least 100 times this year, and I gaurantee our team winds up outscored by exactly that many goals.

Finally Moved In

So all of my things are unpacked, the wireless internet works, the entertainment center is up and running (aside from a defective satellite receiver). So basically all is well at my new residence, aside from the fact that I still don't have a curtain for the one window in my bedroom. This creates a serious problem. Because of the geometry of the room, my bed is positioned so that my head rests directly underneath the window when I sleep. All well and good until the sun comes up and pours through the excrutiatingly clear glass. Those of you who know me are aware that early mornings are about # 3 on the rather lengthy list of things that piss me off. Further complicating the issue is that the window is not a standard size, and window dressings are expensive. Finally, as though that wasn't enough, at night, with the light on in my room, everyone on the street has an unubstructed view of me sitting at my desk, or changing. It's not like anyone is really that interested, but then again, it's like a good car wreck, or a fat chic in spandex: So gut wrenchingly disgusting you can't take your eyes off it. The point of all this is that I need a curtain...

From the Airwaves

Recently heard on O'Hare ground control frequency:

O'Hare - "Delta 1234 I told you to make the left turn on Bravo, your other left sir! Double back on Alpha please."

Delta - "Delta 1234, sorry sir, we'll double back."

O'Hare - "Delta you went the wrong way again! How many lefts do you have?"

Why Am I Here?

Is it because I'm arrogant enough to think that people actually care what I'm thinking? Is it because I'm arrogant enough to believe my wisdom should be as readily accessable as possible? Is it because I'm arrogant enough to assume my musings are worth other people's precious time? Is it because I'm just arrogant?

Is it because no one listens when I complain? Is it because I need a place to vent my frustrations? Is it because lots of things piss me off and I need to verbalize them? Is it because I just bitch too much?

Is it because I have something to offer that might make someone smile? Is it because a little humor is good for everyone? Is it because there is just one person out there who will read something I write here, and it will make them laugh, and their day might be a tiny bit brighter? Is this a bunch of shit or what!?

Maybe I'm just bored...