I was up way too early this morning.
I woke up at 5:39a because I had to pee really bad. Normally I get up
at 6:15a, and that left me with two choices: Either I could get up, pee,
come back to bed, take 20 minutes to get back to sleep, and basically
just get back to sleep before the alarm goes off, leaving me tired all
day; or I could get up, pee, and just stay up, get ready for work, go to
work early, be tired all day, and go home early. Regardless of the
choice, I was going to be tired all day; the thing that tipped the scale
was the “go home early” part of the second option, which is the one I
ended up choosing.
Normally, leaving my house at 7:00a, it takes me about 30 - 45 minutes
to get to work. Today, leaving around 6:15a, I got to work by 6:35a. (I
had this craving to listen to Billy
my way to work today, hence the title of the entry.) That’s hella
faster, all chalked up to the morons that clog up the freeway during
Speaking of rush hour and driving and such, Jenn and I went to the
Portland Auto Show this weekend.
Never having been to an auto show before, I was pleasantly surprised at
some of the cool things they had. I admit I was hoping to see more in
the way of future/concept cars (there really weren’t any), but they did
have lots of other stuff. Just about every model from every manufacturer
was on the floor, and that was neat to see.
We spent more than our fair share of time at the
MINI booth. I’ve always had a penchant for
small, fun cars and the MINI Cooper has been one of my favorites for a
long time. Their return to the US after 30 years of absence is a welcome
one, and had I not already bought my car, I’d be looking at buying a
MINI. Jenn wasn’t as hot on them as I was before the show, but after
seeing one in person and getting a chance to sit in it, she’s hooked,
Money, of course, is a whole separate issue entirely.
The MINI ad campaign centers around the concept of motoring, which
seems to be a Zen-style approach to driving where regardless of where
you are, as long as you’re in your car you should feel like you’re in
Nirvana. I thought about adopting this philosophy in my driving as it
would probably be more stress-free, but then I realized that I hate
stupid people and feel this intrinsic need to punish idiocy (i.e., if
you can’t figure out how to merge properly, you don’t get in on the
freeway), and that affects my driving much more than some ad campaign
ever could, so that was a wash.
I bought a lottery ticket for this past Saturday’s
Powerball drawing. I
took the ticket in on Sunday to scan it at one of those machines that
tells you if you won or not. It went something like this:
INT - FRED MEYER STORE - DAY
Travis, 26, ENTERs the store and strides confidently to the lottery
scanning machine. He wonders what he will do with the millions of
dollars that are going to soon be entering his pockets when he
discovers he is the winner.
Arriving at the lottery scanning machine, he pulls the ticket out of
his wallet and runs it under the scanner.
Oh, yeah. Moneymoneymoneymoneymoney! Here we go…
Travis scans the ticket in the machine. The machine does nothing.
Okay, come on now. Scan me, baby.
Travis scans the ticket again. Again, nothing happens. Travis wags
the ticket furiously under the scanning mechanism and finally the
ticket machine responds with a message on its screen that somehow is
heard as a very loud robot voice, almost as though on the PA system of
You are a fucking loser. Next time you should just light your money
on fire. If you feel up to it, please come back next week so your
hopes can be trampled again. Thank you.
God dammit, machine! I hate you! I hate you!
Travis EXITs the store at a fast walk, obviously irritated at the
outcome of the scanning operation.
Okay, maybe that’s not exactly how it went, but it was damn close to
What the hell else did I do this weekend?
Oh, yeah - we got a lot more done in the way of moving things out of
the apartment and into the storage closet. After making a run doing
that, we went to Home Depot to pick up some
supplies for installing a new shelf in our closet and fixing up an old
chair we have. Got all that stuff home, worked some more on boxing
things up and organizing it all… good stuff. I think my hockey friend,
Jerry, summed it up best: Five pounds of shit in a two pound bag. Now
that the cleaning effort is nearing completion, I might say it’s closer
to four pounds of shit in a two pound bag. Better, but still not ideal.
Jerry is a total crack-up. Every time I talk to him, I find out new
weird crap about him. This weekend I found out he has eight cars, two
boats, and a trailer; he’s lived in the same house since 1968 (which is
how the “five pounds of shit in a two pound bag” reference came up); he
signed up for the Army in an effort to avoid getting drafted (apparently
you have more say of where you’re stationed or something if you sign up
instead of getting drafted?); and during the 70’s in the whole “return
to Africa” movement (with the Black
Panthers and all that), he was stationed
in Libya, which was apparently where they sent all the African-American
soldiers who refused to work well with others due to that movement. He
was telling me about how there were stabbings and shootings and things
on the Army base because of all the trouble going on. This guy seems
to have done everything.
Watched the Hawks win one and lose one
this weekend. They say they may still be contenders to go to the
playoffs, but… well, I don’t have a lot of faith. Maybe they’ll get
lucky or something.
I cleaned the grill on Sunday. That was probably the messiest thing
I’ve done in a long time. I ended up using car engine degreaser to get
the crap off the grid. My hands smelled like degreaser for a couple of
hours after that.