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Air travel is far from an exact science. I’m not much of a flyer because I rarely go anywhere. When I do, I wonder if it’s worth the inconvenience. Don’t get me wrong: if you’re traveling to Hawaii, it’s worth flying because no one has built a bridge yet. But the hoops and hassles you need to go through for short trips has me wondering if it just be easy to drive.
Passengers are required to get to the airport 90 minutes before their flight leaves. You gotta check in your bags. Worry if the bags weigh too much. Go through the gate. Take off your shoes. Be subjected to random searches. Turn on your electronics. Turn off your electronics. Getting on a plane feels like a twisted version of “Simon Says.”
I understand the need for these security steps but it’s a darn shame that everyone has to go through this because of a few bad apples. A few years ago, some idiot tried to smuggle a bomb on a plane through his shoes and now every commercial passenger is required to put their shoes through an x-ray machine. Eight years ago, a bunch of deranged idiots decided to . . . . .
Even though I have no job nor any prospects of finding a job, The Wife and I are in the midst of buying a car (and if CNN is right, we might be the only two car-buyers in America). The world economy is falling apart; everyone is scrimping and saving; I have no job–we’re a single-income family…and we still want to buy a car (which says a lot about the state of her current vehicle). This is something we talked about long before stock market Armageddon came. This was a decision we made before I lost my job. The point I’m trying to make is that we’ve need a car for a while now and is not a decision made lightly.
I’ve noticed an interesting phenomenon during our hunt–a plethora of incompetent sellers. Since we’re in the market for a used car and I think dealers are the scum of the earth (although slightly better than politicians and insurance executives), we’ve contacted quite a few private parties. I’m not expecting to meet J. Paul Getty when buying a ten-year old used car–but I’d like to meet someone who could at least put a little bit of effort and enthusiasm into . . . . .
Yesterday at Ikea I have a very uncomfortable incident in the bathroom. I walked in about five feet behind this other dude. There was no one else in the bathroom and it was just the two of us (sounds like the beginning of a gay romance novel). The restroom had three urinals up against the wall and the guy immediately walked to the one in the middle.
What’s that all about? By foolishly walking to the middle urinal, now I had no choice but to pee immediately next to him. If he picked the one on the right or the left, it would be fine because at least we would still have a buffer between us. But now I had no choice–I had to pee right next to him. Call me a homophobe if you want, I feel uncomfortable touching my junk when there’s a guy eight inches away from me touching his junk. In plain sight.
There’s an unwritten rule regarding urinals for all the ladies out there: Thou Shall Stand as Far Away as Possible to Another Man When Using the Urinal. It’s just good, common decency. The distance helps prevent splashing or peeking (accidental and intentional). Nobody . . . . .
I am perhaps the least celebrity-obsessed person in this country. I don’t visit TMZ or watch “Entertainment Tonight.” I think “US Weekly” is the worst magazine ever created. I don’t know who Jennifer Anniston is dating and couldn’t care less if Brangelina’s kids got eaten by a mountain lion.
I’m not saying this because I work at in television and come across third-rate celebrities on a weekly basis–it’s because I think being famous doesn’t make you any more interesting than everyone else. George Clooney is a movie star: his talent is to speak words written for him by someone else. The only difference between me and him is gorgeous looks and a bazillion dollars (it’s like we’re separated at birth). I don’t need to know his view on politics, whom he’s dating, or what he looks like without makeup. Celebrities are just people and no more fascinating than my next door neighbor whose name I don’t know. I don’t care what’s going on in my neighbor’s life–same goes true for George Clooney.
That’s why I’ll never be one to go gaga when seeing a celebrity. I really don’t care what they did to become famous. To me, a celebrity is . . . . .
On of the great aspects of the internet is it gives everyone a voice. Any schmuck–including me–can post anything they want online. It’s great insight to what makes people tick…and away to see what real people are like out there. I stumbled across a web site call ripoffreport.com. It’s a consumer advocacy site that encourages people to discuss potentially fraudulent enterprises. From lost rebates to poor customer service, consumers can share their complaints with other consumers–all in the name of warning the public.
One company that seemed to get a lot of hate was Drivetime Autosales (it also goes by the name Ugly Duckling Car Sales). The list of complaints went on and on. And as I read about a dozen of them, I failed to see a single instance where the consumer was wronged. Sure, the dealer did a lot of shady stuff–but consumers have a right to walk away. People should know better. Anyone who acts that stupid deserves any sorta rip-off that comes there way.
The majority of complaints were what you’d expect for a used car dealer. People complained about this not working or that needed repairs. Anytime you buy a used car you’re taking risks . . . . .
I’m completely upside down. If radio programming is any indication, most people prefer to listen to talk in the AM and music on the way home. Top-40 radio stations have whacky morning DJs, complete with schtick. Conversely, during the drive time talk formats are abandoned in lieu of a music-heavy format.
I’m the complete opposite. When I drive to work in the morning, I wanna hear hard music–something to wake me up and invigorate the start of my day. But when heading home, I am completely exhausted and drained. The last thing I wanna hear is hard, loud music that rattles my brain. I like talk radio because it’s easy on the ears and doesn’t take too much out of me…which appears to be the exact opposite of what any Top-40 station would play.
Either I’m a complete freak or everyone else is wrong–I’m leaning toward the latter.
As I’ve stated before, I don’t believe in carpooling. Not because I’m a cold-hearted Grinch–it’s just too much of a hassle for me. If carpooling was easy and I wouldn’t hafta stray from my routine, my opinion would be different.
I cite my life as a prime example why carpooling doesn’t work. . . . . .
The company Christmas party is coming up and we’re feeling the affects of a fleeting economy: we went from a catered affair to a potluck dinner. On top of that, my employer is requiring a $5 donation to attend the Christmas party. They told us they’re collecting the money for a charity to “help those less fortunate than us.” While I suppose technically, it’s a ‘good’ cause I’m still very uncomfortable with it. This isn’t just because I don’t believe in charity–I really don’t like the idea of being forced to donate. The loophole around this is probably that this isn’t a required event and attendance isn’t mandatory. But I know if I spend the afternoon in my office, it’ll be a bad PR move. What right do the party planners have to say there’s other people in more need of money than me? I have about $3 of disposable income every month–people should be collecting donations for me. I get paid jack squat. My rent goes up. The cost of food goes up. The cost of gas goes up. Why doesn’t someone pass the hat around for me?
One time I was having lunch with The Wife at Wienerschnitzel . . . . .
I recently wrote about my spouse and referred to her as “The Girlfriend.” Now that we’re married, I probably should start calling her The Wife…but I’m not sure I like it. While, technically, it is her new title–it just feels weird. Not to have a wife–I’m okay with that–I just don’t like the idea of changing someone’s name. The Girlfriend is embedded in me. It rolls off the tongue. Whenever I look at my beloved, I see “The Girlfriend.” It’s kinda like when a long-time friend decides he’s no longer Robert and wants to be called Roberta. As much as you wanna honor their wishes, old habits die hard. It’s gonna be tough, but I’ll do it. Besides, if I keep calling her The Girlfriend it’s going to get complicated when I get a mistress.
I hate computer geeks. These tech guys…they’re just so pathetic. They’re obsessed with technology. Not practical technology–just raw numbers and specs. It’s all about the latest and greatest with computer geeks. Old is always bad…even though 95 percent of the population would be perfectly content with five-year old technology. They’re all like some sorta bad cliché.
I took a computer repair class this fall (not . . . . .
The early results are in and I’m sad. Just when you think our society is willing to accept, you see the prejudice that resides in people’s hearts. As of now, Prop 8 is failing–54 percent to 46. It’s early–but the race is nowhere near close. I’m surprised by the results–I assumed it wouldn’t pass–but I guess that just goes to show you everyone’s opinion is different.
I really thought this thing would fail. It feels like our society is becoming more tolerant of gay people. I figured intelligent folks would see through the misleading and negative ad campaigns. And yet here we are, another civil liberty denied.
Prop 8 passing means one of two things:
1) People truly aren’t open and accepting of homosexuals. Sure, they might say all the right things in public. But when it comes to anonymous private opinions, people hate the gays. That’s the only reason I can think of to deny them the same opportunity that’s available to everyone else. Either that…
2) Either that or people are truly stupid. The television campaigns focused on the children. Everyone always wants to protect the children. The quickest way you can get anyone’s emotions riled up is . . . . .
I was listening to the Raider game over the weekend. During the broadcast, I heard a promo encouraging fans to vote. Yeah, that’s what American needs: Raider fans determining how the country is run. Not every uneducated illiterate with a criminal record deserves a voice. It’s this sorta propaganda that pisses me off. I hate voting season.
I’ve been so busy with other things I haven’t spent much time writing lately. There are so many things I wanted to share. Like last month when I went to get gas for the company Tahoe. Fueling that beast is a concrete reminder why I drive the Almighty Honda: it cost more to fill-up than the gross domestic product of Paraguay. If it wasn’t for the company credit card, I wouldn’t be able to fill it up because no one cares around that much cash.
I think the worst part of having to fill up a 26-gallon tank is the time it takes to do so. My car has a tiny tank–I’m rarely at a gas station long enough to squeegee off the front windshield. The Tahoe is always below E (’cause no one ever wants to take the time to get gas) . . . . .
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