School Zones
Current mood: cynical

The other day I journeyed across town and became quite aggravated at the number of times my speed had to be reduced to 25 and even down to 15 MPH as I ventured through school zones. O yes, there are signs and flashing lights and brightly dressed elderly people holding stop signs. I have to hand it to them. It's quite a little production they've got going for them. But should it really exist?

I mean, in sheltering the kids like this aren't we going against such great things like; Darwinism, Natural Selection, Survival of the Fittest? These are the basic concepts that have shaped the human and animal kingdom since the beginning of time. So what happens when you mess with Natural Selection? Did you see the movie "Idiocracy"? That is what happens! The weaker, less intelligent ones that nature would have easily weeded out are allowed to survive and join the breeding pool. From there, they began to multiply like rabbits and before you know it you are surrounded by idiots.

We are definitely already in the early stages of society's decline because of the unnatural survival of the weaker links. I work with SOME* of them. They disguise themselves in short black dresses, accessorize themselves with delectable breasts, and have a smile that says, "I dumb, yet hot. Give me all of your money". And it works like a tractor beam.

Now, as with any problem you have to start with the source or the root of the problem. And for that we go back to the safeguards placed on the children. Now I know everyone thinks it is our duty to protect the innocent kids, but maybe, just maybe we should let Uncle Natural Selection have more of a hand in raising these kids. Now I want to leave you with one last thought. It's a thought that I want you to think about when you are driving in residential areas where children are playing, school zones, and crosswalks. It's a thought you should think about before you hit the brakes in these areas. Does the mighty lion slow down for the baby Zebra? No, he speeds up. And the Zebra population, as a whole, is that much stronger because of it.


*Before my inbox is flooded with angry hate mail from waitresses please note the emphasis on SOME, not all. Thank You, and have a fabulous day.





Evidence that you don't have to be the fastest, nor the strongest to beat out Natural Selection. Work smarter not harder.

2:05 AM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

Itsy Bitsy Spider
Current mood: aggravated

We have all heard about the one that went up the waterspout. But that's old news. Modern day spiders have evolved and moved inside. In fact, last night I witnessed an itsy bitsy spider run up the TV. My 56 inch DLP projector TV, you know, the kind with the mirrors. This info will come into play later on in the story. So yeah, I was really enjoying "Fight Club'" when in the darkness I see a shadow with eight legs go running across Tyler Durdon's face. In my laziness, I decided to spare the life of this one and let him run a long. That was until he decided to run back down across the screen and hang out on it. I quickly changed the channel to make sure it wasn't just that station for some odd reason. Nope, he was definitely on my TV. I took this to be blatantly disrespectful and knew something had to be done. I mean, you let one spider take advantage of you like that and he'll go tell his friends. Pretty soon you will have more spiders in your house than "Arachnophobia". So…I arose from my bed…flipped on the light…and made my approach. It was at this point that I became shocked at the intelligence of this spider. He was actually on the inside of the TV running across the screen and his body was blocking the projection of the image. There was absolutely no way for me to kill him without destroying the TV.

Dear Itsy Bitsy Spider,

I commend you on your intelligence; however, you can't live in there forever. And when you do come out, I'll be waiting!

1:57 AM - 1 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Crazy Ride with a Crazy Man
Current mood: relieved

This is a story about last night. It's a story that contains few names and many facts. It's a story that some may not want told, but others should hear. It is a story about a Crazy Man.

At about 8PM last night Chris and I arrived at a birthday party BBQ for one of our mangers. Upon walking in it quickly became clear there was one individual that was done for. He should have been cut off hours ago. He showed all the signs they talked about in the riveting four hour TAM class; slurring of words, blank stare in his eyes as he told pointless stories, swaying, lack of coordination as he dropped his drink all over the kitchen floor. Of course, my porter instincts kicked in immediately and before the manager could joking pretend to call a porter to the kitchen on his pretend radio I found myself picking up ice cubes, doing the porter dance with a paper towel, while my own version of Fat Joe's Lean Back song went through my head. "My porters don't dance we just pull up our pants…and do the wipe away…now clean that, clean that…" I know I know, I am partially insane, but it's a cool insane.

Anyways, the night progressed and quickly people began to feel more and more uncomfortable around this individual, especially the women and children. Maybe it was his frightening long stares at women and the fact that he was even doing some type of weird mock bottle service with someone's little girl. He actually randomly pulled out his Visa credit card and told the little girl to "go take this and put $20 on it for you". Then when she got back, confused, she had no idea what the hell was going on, he demanded, "where is my bill...where is my bill?"

Now, you are probably wondering who this Crazy Man is. Your curiosity may even heighten when I tell you that most of you in my LAX family know who he is. However, as I mentioned before this is a story that contains few names. We can however give him a name and I may describe him to you if you like. We will call him Crazy Uncle Lou. Now, I don't exactly know what Uncle Lou does for a living anymore. I still see him wondering around the club sometimes. He generally just grabs a drink or two in Noir and stands at the bar and quietly observes. If the waitress, Jennifer LaRegina happens to be around he definitely stays a little longer than normal and does that frightening long stare we talked about earlier. As I said, I don't know what he does these days, but I can tell you what he use to do. He use to be the driver and right hand man to one of the owners. A particular owner that left shortly after the feds raided the corporate office and began a lengthy investigation into the company. Anyways, that's all I really know about Uncle Lou. Besides the occasion "hi's" as we passed, we never really talked.

So anyways, let's get back to this party. Some talk starts going around that something needs to be done with this guy because he is creeping everyone out. Talk about an envelop, or a cash incentive, to anyone who will get rid of him. Soon enough it's decided that Chris and I will take care of it. As we make our initial conversation it starts out how one of us is going to drive him in his car to his house while the other one of us follows in another car. I am pretty cool with this idea at this point. Seems easy enough. That was until Uncle Lou starts telling us this pointless story. I wouldn't even call it a story because it had no beginning or end or point to it really. It was just a combination of run on sentences that didn't make any sense. However, there was a sentence or two that I caught that alarmed me. Something about how the last time he had some random guy and a girl driving him in his car he told them to pull over and get out and the guy didn't so he smashed the guy's face into the window and there was blood everywhere. It was at this point that I thought to myself, "Why didn't I drive us to the party tonight?" Now I was about to be the stranger driving Uncle Lou's car while Chris followed behind in his truck. Great!!!

As we walked out front Lou had no idea where his car was and when he finally got his keys out of his pocket he hit the unlock button and off in the distance we could see his car. Bingo, there it is, an old Hyundai. We jumped in and Uncle Lou began to rock out to his classic rock CD and I begin to get a little more comfortable about the situation. It was a comfort that would quickly diminish. About two minutes into the drive he randomly asked me to pull over. I thought, "Ooo know Uncle Lou, what are you going to try and do?" It was at this point that I wished I had stuck the steak knife in my pocket that I had jokingly taken off the table before I left saying, "I might need this." My joking tone had turned to a more serious tone and I thought in my head, "I should have taken it because I REALLY MIGHT NEED IT!" At least the window was down so he can't smash my face into it like the last guy. He seemed a little shocked when a truck pulled off behind us. Like he had completely forgotten that we were being followed by Chris, and he told me to continue. I asked him where he lived and he told me Summerlin. Great, the complete other side of town. When I asked him what exit we needed to take he refused to tell me. It started to get worse when every minute and a half he decided it was a good idea to put his hands over my eyes while I was driving. Uncle Lou then proceeded to stare at me with his creepy eyes and say in a murderous tone, "You have no idea do you?" I nervously responded, "I have no idea about what?" Uncle Lou just responded again, "You have no idea do you?" Boy was he right. Was he going to try to kill me? Was he going to try and rape me. I truly had "no idea". As we got on the 215 freeway I became a little more nervous. It was a lot harder for me to escape from the car at 80 MPH on the freeway should Uncle Lou try something. I was really worried he may have a knife or a gun stashed in the car. And he was sitting right in front of the glove box which is a perfect spot to conceal a weapon. I have to say, I was most worried about the idea of a knife. Why? Well, as we begin to get to know each other more and more I begin to get more and more comfortable with you and tell more of my secrets and fears. So here it is, being stabbed, especially having my neck slashed, is probably my greatest fear. In fact, I try to steer clear of sharp objects in general. Anyways, it was at this moment that my eyes began to focus on three things giving each of them equal attention; the road, the location of his hands, and my cell phone hidden in between my legs as I sent out a text message that read, "Wtf. I think I am going 2 die". I sent that message to one of the managers at the party as well as to Chris, my tail. After the text message I decided to tensely grab the wheel at 10 and 2 because I just didn't trust this guy. Sure enough, as I came up on this car in the fast lane he grabs the wheel and jerks it to the right, right at this car. Thankfully, I had a tight grip, thanks to all those lonely nights, and while we swerved I was able to maintain control and miss the car. Keep in mind, this whole time he continues to cover my eyes every minute and a half and briefly puts his hand on my knee and shoulder. I try to chalk this one up as drunken friendliness, but I still questioned it in my head.

As I aimlessly drove down the 215 I was instructed to get of the freeway at Charleston and told to get in the left turn lane. As Chris pulls up next to us in the truck, once again, Uncle Lou forgets he is following us. He goes, "Who's that guy?" I reply in a friendly matter, "That's Chris. The other guy that works with me in Noir, remember?" He replies, "Don't worry, I can take him too." In my head I nervously scream, "TOO…As in he plans to TAKE both of us!" I am then instructed to get back on the freeway the other way and then quickly told to turn right…it was a wild goose chase. Where was this guy taking me? Normally I would have been lost but as we approached a traffic circle, I hate traffic circles, with the pedestrian crossing sign flipped upside down I knew exactly where I was. I use to go visit a very interesting, attractive lady friend over here and knew the area. I made it a point to tell him that I had been here before because I know killers would prefer to take you out of your normal surroundings. As we went in a complete circle, passing the ominously, dark park on the right, I realized this couldn't go on any longer. We got on the freeway...then off again…then a quick right…then told to turn around…back on the freeway the other direction. At this point I told him we were going to stop at the Red Rock Casino because I had to take a piss. I told him to hang on to his keys and walked him around in circle to disorient him in the casino so he wouldn't remember where we parked. I then told him to wait right here, as I pointed to a slot machine, and went in the bathroom. As I peered around the corner I looked at his face. It was a look of stupid, innocence. The look I imagine serial killers give to unsuspecting victims before they lure them into the shadows and kill them. The same type of look a black widow gives her mate just after sex, right before she kills and eats him. Proof that even in the insect world, as in the human world, women are shedevils, wolves disguised in sheep's clothing. Anyways, I saw this chance and I took it. I got low to the ground like a crouching tiger not a hidden dragon, and moved my way to the nearest exit under the cover of slot machines. As I walked to the parking lot towards the truck I felt a freedom much like how I imagined Kate Beckinsale and Luke Wilson felt when they escaped the murderous hotel staff in "Vacancy".

Now, I have picked up a completely random hitchhiker before just to say I did it. Thankfully it wasn't the same murdering hitchhiker that Ben Stiller picked up in "There's Something About Mary". But seriously, I can honestly say that I felt 10X's more comfortable with that dirty, random hitchhiker in my car than this guy.

6:21 AM - 4 Comments - 3 Kudos - Add Comment

Club Etiquette
Current mood: accomplished

As this month marks my one year anniversary at the greatest club in Las Vegas, LAX, I can truly say this blog has been a year in the making. It has come to my attention that many of you, and when I say you, maybe not YOU, but you people in general, don't know how to behave yourselves while in a club.

Below is a list of rules that I have derived from experience.

Party in the club like it is a friend's house. Yeah, you are going to be messy, but be respectful.

If you don't want straws in your drink leave them on the bar or the table. Don't just throw them on the ground. Some one has to pick those up and that someone is me.

Cigarette butts belong in ashtrays which are located on all bars and tables, not on the ground.

Napkins. We put them under your drink. Managers like to see it so try to help me out on this one and put your drink back on the napkin after you take a sip.

Allow us to refill your drinks and light your cigarettes as opposed to you doing it yourself. Once again, managers like to see this.

The one sip rule. Never leave a cup on the table with just a sip left in it. It looks bad and I will cleat it off the table.

Never accuse me of taking your drink off the table for myself. First off, you are the drunk one and I am the sober one. Second, if I want a drink, there are many ways for me to get one. I don't need to steal yours.

Don't tell me that I'm "too good looking to be doing this" or "too good for this job" unless you have a plan where I can immediately make this kind of money, while working this little, and having this much fun.

For those of you that come up and tell me that I have toilet paper stuck to my shoe I appreciate the gesture. You are the type of person that would let a friend know if they had something in their teeth instead of letting them walk around all day with people noticing it yet not tell them because they feel awkward. However, in this case you are wrong. It is a rag that I am cleaning the floor with because I work here. I would think the bright flashlight I am shining at the floor would give that away.

If you are an unattractive, fat girl don't ask me if we can make out. I know you are drunk, but know your limits.

Do not drink straight from the carafes or put your hands in the ice bucket.

Do not pass out ice cups to everyone in the party before the bottle comes. It is pointless. Now when the waitress comes they are just going to have to pass back the cups so she can make the drink. Everything I put on the table is put in it's place for a purpose. Don't move it.

Be conscious of where you are standing. . I am kind of like an animal that has a routine path to my waterhole, only in this case it's my side station that I work out of. If you notice that you are constantly in my way perhaps you should move.

Under no circumstances shall you ever throw ice or make it rain napkins or rose petals. In fact, the only thing you are allowed to make it rain is money when the appropriate song comes on.

Speaking of roses, guys, please don't grab a rose off the table and offer it to a girl you just met. I know in your drunken mind you think it is such and original, creative, romantic idea, but it's not. She knows where it came from.

Dancing. Go for it. Just don't fill your drink to the top and dance with it in your hand. The end result is your spilling all over the floor.

Never ask for anything illegal. It puts me in an awkward situation because I don't want you to get kicked out, but it is my obligation to tell security.


Now let's talk about one of my least favorite parts of the job; bodily fluids.

Spitting on the floor is completely disgusting and unlike vomiting or pissing yourself it is completely controllable. Just don't do it!

For those of you that drink to the point of vomiting I DON'T hate on you. We have all been there. However, there are some ground rules we need to speak of. Those of you that vomit in a cup, I've got to hand it to you. I don't think I could do that, but it's still gross. You need to make it to a bathroom or a trashcan. Vomiting on the table, chairs, floor, curtains, etc…; is not acceptable. Furthermore, if you are going to vomit on the floor contain it. Don't continue walking and make a vomit trail.

Lines for the bathroom are long. Plan on that because pissing on the floor, in a trashcan, or a carafe is not acceptable.

Drinking to the point of shitting on the floor is completely NOT acceptable. I don't know how this happens, but it happens. I've seen it…and had to clean it. Not a fond memory.

12:33 AM - 10 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

Life Lessons of Brickbreaker
Current mood: amused

As I become a more DISIPLINED player it becomes more and more clear to me that BrickBreaker is More than just a game. It is a teaching device. I have learned many valuable lessons through my struggles to beat and rebeat my high score. It is about QUALITY NOT QUANTITY. I have made it just as far in the game (so far to level 10) with 4 lives as I have with 8 lives. EXPECT THE UNEXPECTED. Like when there are two bricks in a stair shaped configuration and some how, defying all odds, the ball slips in between the two without striking either one. When something like this happens I quickly begin to feel cheated and angry; however, it is imported to stay CALM AND COLLECTED at all times. If you are ANGRY AT THE PAST YOU WILL FAIL to see your next move and the ball will simply slip past the paddle. It is important to STAY FOCUSED on your ultimate goal of destroying all the bricks and block out all distractions. Sometimes you must SACRIFICE the things you Want for the things you Need. Too many times I saw the "Laser" or "Gun" cube coming down and in my greed I went for it, got it, and immediately lost what was most important…my current life. To parallel this point, always LOOK AT THE BIG PICTURE. Sometimes I do get the things I Want, like the Laser, without losing the ball, but latter I get too caught up in shooting the bricks that I forget what is most important, the little ball bouncing around. I guess you could say I dropped the ball. How you handle BAD SITUATIONS ARE A TRUE TEST OF CHARACTER. Like when I go for the ball and accidentlly get the "Flip" cube, which reverses the controls. I use to automatically give up and wait for my next life to conquer the rest of the level because I knew I couldn't handle it. However, I have learned to truly conquer the "Flip" you must first realize YOU ARE CAPABLE OF MORE THAN YOU THINK!

*If you find yourself asking, "What is BrickBreaker?" Find someone with a BlackBerry and play it. It is sure to change your life…or at least entertain during the dull moments.

6:52 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

The Curse of the Easter Bunny
Current mood: worried

As I was driving to work last night I got to thinking, as I usually do while driving. I am really due to have a major car accident. I just have that feeling. You know, that same feeling you get when you live in California and there hasn't been an earthquake in a while. Yep, I am definitely overdue. You see, I've had my car for a record amount of time, a little over three years now. It's definitely due to meet it's fate, just like the other before it.

"But, why, why is it do?" you ask. Because of the curse. YES, the curse. Ever since the first day I started driving coincidental accidents and I have had a thing for each other. Let's rewind.

A few weeks ago in New York a passing car in the right lane kicks up a large piece of iron that bounces right into the front bumper of the rental car and cracks it.

About a year ago a passing motorcycle kicked up a rock that put what at the time seemed to be a small crack in an inconspicuous location on my windshield. What I didn't know at the time was that it was the crack's manifest destiny to spread to the complete other side of the window.

Almost exactly two years ago I had just moved all my stuff to Vegas, yet was heading back to California for work. Which probably doesn't exactly make sense since I had just moved all my stuff to an apartment in Vegas, but we won't get into that. It's a long story and this one is already long enough. Anyways, I was exactly 4 miles from state line, I remember the mile marker because I had to pull off, when the van in front of me kicked up a shredded tire. The tire strip hit the windshield, of my girlfriend's car that I was driving, knocking the whole windshield in 6 inches while showering me with glass. Yet I did not get a cut on me. As I pulled to the side of the road I was thankful to find a Hummer broken down at mile marker number 4 as well. They recommended I drive up to state line and call a mobile glass repair company to come replace my windshield and even gave me a pair of sunglasses to wear so glass would not get in my eyes while I drove. I felt like things were going to be okay and I was still going to make it to work on Monday morning, but I was wrong. The four miles took a long time since I had to drive on the shoulder at only 25MPH since the windshield, in it's current condition, collected wind like a sail. Once I finally made it to the Shell gas station I soon found out that it was impossible to get a mobile glass company to drive out to state line on a Sunday evening so I had to hitch a ride back to my apartment from a stranger.

A year before that, I ended up totaling my favorite car, my 02 Lexus IS 300. I was on my way home from my first day of work at my new job. It had just rained making the winding roads slick, and more importantly, had loosened the hillsides. Which would lead to a rock, some may say small boulder, to be in the road. I remember as I slid sideways thinking, "This is going to be bad". And bad it was. Now, at the time I was expecting to go off the road and hit a bunch of bushes, which would really screw up the side of my car. What I didn't know, was at the exact location in the road was a drainage ditch that ran perpendicular to the road. It was about 2 feet wide and a foot deep. Once I hit that going sideways I began to roll over…and then roll over again. My car finally came to rest against a large bush preventing me from getting out of the driver's door. The passenger door would not open as well and the roof was crushed to the head rests in the back seat. So… I escaped the only way I could…out the sun roof that had been ripped off in the crash. As I crawled out I realized the hat, that had once been on my head, was now laying 15 yards back in the middle of the street. Miraculously, I was fine an attended my H&R Block tax class less than four hours later.

My car before that, a 00 VW GTI. I would have three incidents with it. Hit another rock that had fallen off the hillside puncturing my oil pan. I didn't figure this out until I was woken up from the beginning of a very needed nap and told my car had coated the driveway with oil. On a positive note. I now know how to replace and oil pan.

Before that happened, I had my first encounter with a tire strip. This time it was kicked up by an SUV on the 5 freeway right before the 170. The tire strip would rip off my grill and severely dent my hood. However, I learned another valuable lesson. If you ever hit anything tell your insurance company it was in the air when you hit it. It's a lower deductible. That saved me $500.

Less than a year before that accident I was driving on the 5 freeway to a football passing tournament with my friends. I was minding my own business when this old guy cut me off. He would later admit it was his fault thankfully. Anyways, his mistake sent me on a 360 down the truck route to the 405. I remember as my car came to a hault in the middle of the truck route, I could see two semis in my rearview mirror. I remember thinking, "This is going to be the end", but thankfully they stopped and we were able to push my car to the side of the road. Once again, I was not harmed and played in the football tournament a couple of hours later.

A year before that I was driving the family home from Arizona when a truck kicked up a rock that put a nice size crack in the windshield of my mom's F-150.

But now let's get down to what started this whole curse. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was 16. I was at my grandparent's house in Helendale, CA. 'Twas the night before Easter and my dad was going to take me out on my first driving experience with my permit. Helendale was a small town out in the desert. There were no cars out on the road. Just me. Which was perfect because I was nervous. Very nervous! As we made it out to the main road the speed limit rose to 50MPH so I accelerated to EXACTLY 50MPH and I flipped on the brights because it was dark. Really dark. No street lights. As I drove I became more comfortable and my tense shoulders became more and more relaxed. And that's when it happened. From the left side…threw the tumbleweeds darted out a huge Jack Rabbit. Now I am not talking about one of those cute, little, fluffy, white tailed bunnies. No, I am talking about a Large rabbit. I panicked. I went with my instincts and swerved…HARD left. Looking back this really didn't make any sense because that is the direction the rabbit was coming from. But that is how fate had already played the cards. So I swerved. The type of swerve where you wonder how you didn't lose control and then you remember your father's hand reaching over to grab the wheel back. I stayed on the road, but I used the Whole road. Ironically, in my desperate attempt to avoid the rabbit I introduced him to the SUV's front driver's side tire at 50MPH. It was messy. He didn't survive. So there I was…16…shaking behind the wheel knowing what I had just done. I had killed a rabbit on Easter Eve. That's like killing someone dressed as Santa on Christmas Eve. You just don't live that down…ever! O I tried to beg for forgiveness, but the rabbit never forgave…and has cursed me since.

Now I wish I could say that was the last time that I killed. But that would just be a lie. There would be others. I guess subconsciously my body developed a thirst for blood. There would be many more rabbits and bunnies. Yes…even the cute, little, fluffy, white tailed ones. There would also be birds, snakes, and even my own dog once…when I was pulling in the driveway. I can distinctly remember feeling the bump as my front driver's side tire ran over his body. Once again, it was traumatic. For both me and him, I can imagine.

So there you have it. It's amazing how one event can change the course of your life. Even to this day I am still haunted by the memory of this rabbit and the curse that followed. I mean, I really want to get a motorcycle, but I just always seem to be "that guy" that has bad luck on the roads. I mean, do you know anyone that has had that many coincidental accidents? It's one thing to have multiple items striking your car. But when you are "that guy" on a motorcycle you can quickly become "that guy" in a casket. I guess I am just not ready to be "that guy". Not yet anyways.

11:33 AM - 1 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Cancer
Current mood: relieved

I was so certain I had it. Skin cancer that is. You see, a couple of months ago or so I got involved in this really intense whiffle ball game and got a severe sunburn. I told you about this...remember? It was like a sunburn on top of a sunburn if that's possible. My body pealed…and then pealed again. After that I became much more self aware of my skin and began to notice an odd patch of skin on the back of my neck right on the spine. Now given it's location I couldn't see the patch, not even in the mirror. So I had to rely on touch. The skin felt raised and rough, which are some of the signs for skin cancer. I was worried that those years of being in the sun lifeguarding had caught up to me and I contemplated what to do. Now most people would simply go to the doctor and get it checked out. But I treat the doctor like an ex girlfriend. We only see each other if we have to.

Now, this patch had been troubling me for quite some time and it wasn't until this morning at about 4:30 that I had a revelation in the bathroom at work. I don't have skin cancer! It is actually my job that is creating this abnormal skin condition. You see, at work I have a radio with a headset. It's a lot like the ones you see the secret service wear. You know, the curly clear wire that runs from the back of the neck to the ear relaying important information. However, instead of just protecting the president from crazy people I have to protect the floor from DRUNK, crazy people. Which are a far worse breed. Anyways, I digress. So this ear piece has a clip that clips to my t-shirt. This clip rubs on my neck as I rotate my head throughout the night. You see where this is going, right? The rubbing leads to a callus on my neck. Now how did I figure all this out? Well, as I rotated my neck to grab a paper towel in the bathroom the clip put a fresh scratch on the back of my neck. As the sweat entered the wound the stinging sent a flash of thoughts through my head and I figured it out. Do you remember those car commercials where they would drop something and in bending down to get it would put their hand on the car and see a flash, a vision of them in the car? Well…it was a lot like that.

7:14 PM - 1 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

CSI Las Vegas
Current mood: inquisitive

This episode really "hits home" Haha, pun intended.

So there I was exactly a week ago sitting in this same spot on my couch that I am now with my lap top and TV minding my own business when I heard a crash. It sounded like something had landed on the roof. Now, had it been late December it would have been no surprise who it was, but it being the beginning of July I had no idea what would have caused such a ruckus. To investigate, I walked over to the window closest to where the sound appeared to come form. Nothing out there. Now as loud as this ruckus was I figured my roommate and her unofficial boyfriend would have come out of their room, but nope. So I began to question if I was going crazy and hearing things.

It wasn't until two days later upon the discovery of a body in my backyard that I realized I wasn't crazy. At this time I launched a full scale investigation into the incident of July 9th. At first it seemed like a cut and dry case. We had a body, who would later be identified as Peter, a local pigeon who resided in the Northwest area of Las Vegas. The body came to rest underneath a window on the east side of the house and upon further examination the cause of death was officially listed as a broken neck. It all seemed to make sense. After a long day of work Peter was on his way home heading west. With the sun in his eyes he misjudged his altitude and surroundings and tragically crashed into the second story window killing him instantly before he fell 20ft to his resting place. There you have it. Case closed right? WRONG.

It just didn't add up. Peter was a very experienced pigeon with an excellent flying record. In addition, the point of impact on the house wasn't a spot you could easily crash in to. It wasn't the front of the house where you could be flying down the street at a high rate of speed and just not pull up in time to avoid the house. No, this was the side of the house and there was no more than a 10ft gap between my house and the neighbors. No, to hit this point of the house you would have to intentionally dive bomb at the window. Therefore, I had to rule out accidental death and lean more towards suicide. My first thought was family issues. Perhaps he had come home to another man in his nest. You know how scandalous these Vegas women are. My second theory is Peter was a Kamikaze pilot in a Japanese terrorist cell. Unfortunately since there was no note we may never know the truth. All I can tell you is Peter's viewing will be held Wednesday night curbside and he will be buried promptly Thursday morning by Republic Services.

3:41 PM - 5 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

Matches
Current mood: sympathetic

Today I would like to highlight the important differences between matchbooks and match boxes. First let's start with matchbooks. They are very flimsy paper liked matches that don't hold a very large flame and easily go out when thrown.

The matches in match boxes; however, are constructed of wood to make them more sturdy. They also have a larger flame that doesn't necessarily go out when thrown. This will come into play later.

This is very important information that I wasn't aware of until yesterday. And I don't want you to make the same mistake I did.

You see. I was at Bare pool and this girl poured what was left of her water bottle on me. Now the contents of this water bottle had been baking in the sun for hours and were quite hot. Some may even say scolding. When she did this playful stunt for a second time I felt the need to act. I looked around for anything I could use as a non lethal weapon and low and behold saw a Match Box on the table next to me. I figured I would light the match and throw it at her. My plan was for the match to go out in mid air and for it to do nothing more than scare her and prevent any future attacks. However, Even "The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry." I executed the plan perfectly; however, the match, coming from a match box and therefore made of wood, did not go out in mid air. It instead landed on her bare stomach still lit. Even after it was brushed off of her it remained lit on the towel until I quickly put it out. I guess you could say she ended up with more than just a sun burn that day.

How did she react? Well, just to throw a few quotes out there. "Who does that? Who throws matches? I take back every nice thing I ever said about you." Opps. I mean, in the end she built a bridge and got over it, but I still felt bad about it. Sorry!

6:49 PM - 3 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

A Journey To Remember
Current mood: thankful

I'd like for you today to step into my grey Delorean and go back in time with me. To a time when life was simpler, but you didn't really know enough to appreciate it's simplicity. Where a bad day was when a crush found out at school that you liked him/her and you were embarrassed. And a good day was when you heard from your friend that your crush's friend said your crush thought you were cute. To a time when you were probably 15 or 16 and just started to drive. You know, at time when you obeyed all of the traffic laws. You stopped completely behind the line and watched your speed. I mean, come on, you didn't want to start developing bad habits yet! Not until you passed that sacred driving test. O yes, you remember, Mom or Dad sitting in the passenger seat freaking out constantly telling you to watch your speed, warning you of pedestrians and cars that you were no where near hitting.

Well today I felt like I had traveled back in time, but my vehicle was not a grey Delorean. It was instead a white Dodge Caliber. Asked by my "real dad" to take a seat behind the wheel and drive us out of New York City up north a little ways to go visit some family. Now at first I was a little nervous. The lanes in NY are so small and everyone seems to be in such a hurry and not forgiving of mistakes. Honk, honk, honk is all you hear as you walk down the street. I swear, if everyone smiled and waived instead of honking in that city it would be the friendliest place on earth. So anyways, I hop behind the wheel of this Caliber and head out just before dusk. Now it being a foreign city in a foreign car I was very cautious. I didn't know where I was going and I wasn't familiar with the car so I was taking it easy. But I guess, my "easy" just wasn't enough. I was constantly reminded of the speed limit every time it changed. "45" I would hear. Or "The speed limit is only 50" There was always a different reason that I should obey the speed limit. "It's a windy road Jason and the speed limits 35. I wouldn't go over it" Or, "The state speed limit is 50. I wouldn't really go over it because I have seen cops everywhere." I would hear, "Clear", to signal it was okay to switch lanes or while merging lanes. Ahh yes, I felt like I was 15 again with my permit.

So I drove down the highway in the middle lane. I didn't want to be in the right lane because of merging traffic, and I definitely wasn't driving fast enough to be in the fast lane. I didn't feel like I was driving fast enough to be on the road at all. I mean, come on. A speed limit on a highway of 40, then 45, then 50. Please…who drives that slow on a highway? O yeah, I guess me…and only me. So as I ventured down the highway I was constantly being passed on both sides. "Vrrrooom… Vrrrooom… Vrrrooom…", I would hear as the cars zipped past me at 10 to 20 mph faster than me. Their draft hitting me in the face through the open window, like a smack in the face challenging me to a dual. A dual that I would not be able to participate in since I had the speed Nazis traveling with me. I was reminded of the occasional times my grandpa would drive me to school in Jr High and High School and I would be embarrassed as to how slow we were driving. So as I drove I slouched down a little trying to avoid the inevitable "look". You know, the head turn you give as you pass a slow moving vehicle. The one that says, "Learn how to f*cking drive!"

Yep this was my journey. One that would have been a pretty uneventful had a black Lincoln town car not passed me in the right lane. Now before I tell you what happened let me tell you this. The following event would have never happened had I been allowed to drive my style. You see, when I drive I like to be at the head of the pack. My theory is, if you are in the lead in a NASCAR race you can't get involved in a pile up accident. So…I try to drive faster than everyone else. So anyways, this black Lincoln town car illegally passes me in the right lane…Vrrrooom…smack in the face. He then immediately pulls in front of me yet in the lane transition kicked up a little something. A little something that potentially could have been lethal. A large piece of iron, about 3ftX2inX6in began bouncing erratically in my direction. It was heavy, very heavy. Now you might be thinking, "Jason, how do you know it was heavy? Did you stop and pick it up?" No, no I didn't stop and pick it up, but I felt it. Yes, I felt the impact of it as I introduced it to the front of the car. I guess you could say the car and the piece of metal hit it off immediately and sparks flew. Literally, sparks began to shower the hood of the car as I drug this large piece of metal down the highway. So…I lifted my foot from the accelerator and watched as the piece of metal jetted away into the lane to the left of me yet still in front of me. As it bounced around threateningly I was finally giving the order to "speed up" to pass it. Now I have to say, that as I speed away I was pretty proud of myself that I didn't freak out and lose control of the car to avoid the bouncing metal. I mean, this could have ended much worse. If the metal had bounced a foot higher over the hood or I had lost control of the car I wouldn't be writing you this story while sitting on this couch. Instead I would be relaxing in the clouds or… sweating my ass off in hell, which really is no different than living in Vegas.

Now if you are curious how the rental car turned out…well thankfully I am a jack of all trades and did a little body work before we turned the car. I took some really fine grade sandpaper to a large part of the bumper. I know, sandpaper to a painted car bumper at first doesn't seem like a good idea, but I assure you if done properly will remove even the nastiest scuff marks from large metal objects. Now as far as the crack in the bumper goes. I sealed it with some hobby glue and used a little white paint to cover that up. Not a seamless fix, but good enough to slip by the rental car inspector.

5:58 PM - 1 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment