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I came home and found a car parked in my driveway. Instead of flying off the handle–like every instinct wanted me to do–I reported it to my complex’s office and they promised to called a tow truck. I tried to get on with my life but kept peering out the window to make sure the car was still there. Some nitwit parks in my driveway and he thinks that’s the end of it…but it’s not–not for me. I wanted the jerk to feel the consequences of his actions…and what better way to suffer than having to free an impounded car. As much as I didn’t want that car in my driveway, I desperately didn’t want the owner to move it before the tow truck truck arrived. I tried making a snack to eat, but couldn’t concentrate on my food. I tried watching TV but found myself distracted. It was too much and I was obsessing. I couldn’t stop thinking about the car and became extremely angry. If the owner appeared in my presence, I’d end up ripping him a new one for being an arsehole. If the tow truck came, I’d be tempted to help him break a window.
I . . . . .
I broke the law today. The Girlfriend thinks I’m evil person and continuous lawbreaker–but it’s not something I do every day (unless keeping a dead hooker buried in your basement is illegal). I should probably hire a lawyer and only confess my wrongdoings to a priest but I’m so damn emotional about the topic I can’t keep my mouth shut.
I was stuck in yet another freeway traffic jam. This one was nowhere near as bad as previous timewasters–but frustrating nonetheless. My friends and coworkers tell me I should take solace in that at least I’m getting paid to sit in traffic but it’s just not enough for me. Getting outside is great and being in a cubicle sucks: but sitting in traffic isn’t much better. I suppose technically I’m outside. But with all the exhaust from other cars, you can’t roll the window down. The car feels like a plush prison cell, equipped with a radio and air conditioning.
As I was parked on the freeway, I watched the vehicles in the carpool lane brisk past me. I was moving a swift ten miles per hour; they were driving about six times faster than that. And even though they . . . . .
I recently had to renew my car insurance–that means it’s time for my semi-annual insurance complaint (just because I stopped complaining doesn’t mean it’s no longer true). My dues went up (again). I spent $400 on car insurance in 2007 with nothing to show for it. I spent another $220 for the first six months of ’08. Now it’s up to something like $250. What a total waste of money: the day I get a dime out of car insurance is that a teen starlet does not flash her privates on the internet. At least one of the two gives me pleasure.
George Carlin died last week and I can’t help but feel a little sad. I’m not sure why–I’m not the type to get caught up in celebrities’ deaths. I guess there was just something to George Carlin: besides being a funny comic, he just seemed like a real likeable guy.
There is a tremendous amount of media coverage of his death–many other celebrities are saddened by his death. I’ve read Carlin tributes from Matthew Berry and Kevin Smith–just a wide spectrum of different folks in different strokes of the entertainment business. There’s one common thread I’ve notice amongst . . . . .
I know I’m not exactly the foremost expert on hipness and what’s in. I might still have t-shirts I wore in high school and drive a car built when “Saved By The Bell” was on the air. But I don’t go out of my way to prove how dated I am. There’s something that has caught my eye this election season. A lot of folks have presidential bumper stickers on their cars–and their certainly entitled to do so. I applaud folks who are actively aware in politics and don’t make their decisions based on an ad campaign. What I don’t understand are the folks sporting older bumper stickers.
At least once a month, I see a car with a Kerry/Edwards sticker on the back. There are folks out there who want people to vote “Dole ’96.” That’s all fine and good…if you want to the world to know you support losers. What’s the point in having a political bumper sticker from an election that’s already over? I know pretty much everyone hates George Bush–but campaigning for Al Gore in 2008 won’t really help.
Let it go people. Peel off those ancient bumper stickers. It’s not like we’re talking about catch . . . . .
We’ve reached the point where even I’m complaining about the price of gas. The national average is supposedly a tad bit above $4 a gallon; the Orange County price is about $4.60. I needed half a tank and it still cost me a little under 30 bucks. This is ridiculous–and it’s not going to change anytime soon. Consumers would like gas come down at least 30 percent–but we’re not going to see it. We’re more likely to pay $5 a gallon gas by the end of the summer than we will be to see sub-$4 prices ever again.
I’m not economist; just a guy who makes a lot of assumptions with very little research. But I know this much: gas prices that high can’t be good for the economy. If it cost more to ship everything everywhere, it’ll drive up the price of products. So in addition to having less cash because it cost more to fill up our cars, Americans will also hafta spend more money on pretty much everything they buy. Groceries are gonna cost more. Online shoppers will have to pay higher shipping costs. Even pizzerias are going to hafta start charging for delivery. Everything is going . . . . .
About two week ago I bought a GPS navigation device for my car. I had been thinking about it for a while now so it wasn’t entirely an impulse buy. That being said, I didn’t walk into Fry’s to buy a GPS. Fry’s was in the middle of a massive anniversary sale. Most electronic store “sales” don’t really provide much of a discount (nine times outta ten the price is predetermined by the manufacture). But when Fry’s has a sale, it’s usually legit.
I wandered over to the GPSs and was immediately helped by a salesman. I was there strictly for information because I was still in the preliminary shopping stages. I knew little about the differences between GPSs. Why are some $200 and some $400? It’s not like a computer where you pay more for bigger and fast–a GPS doesn’t need bigger and faster. The salesman pointed out the various features and showed me a device that was on-sale that day (and that day only) for $200.
Like I said, normally I scoff at sales. But I noticed that Fry’s was also offering a significantly lesser GPS made by the same manufacture for the same exact price. Was this . . . . .
I never understood the joy of fishing. You sit there and nothing happens. As far as I can tell, it’s all luck. You give two guys the same bare, pole, and lake, there’s nothing either one of ’em can do to catch more fish. They throw their lines and hope something is dumb enough to bite.
Gas prices are skyrocketing and I have little sympathy for those who complain at the pump. America is a society where people really couldn’t care less about the price of gas. Sure, they’ll bitch and complain about how much it cost to fill-up. The evening news will cover numerous stories regarding the hardships people experience. You might even catch a person or two suggest they’ll drive less.
But the truth is actions speak louder than words. If Americans really wanted to do something about the price of gas, they’d take action against it. Look at the roads today–the streets are jam-packed with SVUs and other non-economical vehicles. American’s are obsessed with big cars and powerful engines. There’s a reason there’s more Suburbans on the road than Focuses–Americans love their big cars.
Rising fuel costs isn’t anything new. A decade ago, I remember when gas . . . . .
I hate traffic. It’s probably because I’m an impatient person. Disneyland is my worst nightmare because the lines and a traffic jam is nothing but a line with cars. My job, my girl, my family–they all live within ten minutes because if I had to drive 11 minutes, I probably wouldn’t see any of them again.
Last month I caught in the mother of all traffic jams. I know there have been 80-car pile-ups in the Midwest, but since that hasn’t happened to me I’m gonna pretend they never happened. I was sitting on the 210 freeway–completely not moving–for reasons unknown. I know this is SoCal and folks sit in traffic jams everyday–but not me. The idiots who work in LA and live in OC brought that upon themselves. If they wanna sit in traffic for an hour each way, that’s their business–the lifestyle they chose. But not me. I hate traffic more Kevin Costner movies and people who vote for the Green Party. You’re forced to do nothing but sit and wait. I’m not an important person–but I have more important things to do than sit around twiddling my thumbs.
I called The Girlfriend up. She said according to . . . . .
I can’t think of a bigger waste of space in California than carpool lanes (well, maybe golf courses). Carpool lanes are put on freeways to encourage commuters to rideshare. In theory, carpoolers are rewarded with a lane that has less traffic and shortens their commute. It sounds like a lovely idea and the intentions are honorable. Less cars on the road means a cleaner environment, decrease in freeway congestion, lowering of gas prices, and a more productive and happy workforce.
But it’s all a load of crap.
First of all, NO ONE in California carpools–at least not in SoCal. The Girlfriend and I both have the same employer. We both live in the same complex. Yet we each take separate cars to work because our shifts don’t start or end at the same time. Carpooling isn’t feasible because I’d end up sitting around with nothing to do for 90 minutes in the morning; she’d do the same in the afternoon. And we’re lucky enough to identical starting points and destinations.
The idea of strangers commuting together every morning is utterly ridiculous. Rush hour traffic is impossible–on and off the freeways. If I had to go two miles out of my . . . . .
I had a couple incidents today on the road that made me realize the world is full of idiots (okay, maybe I didn’t learn that today–but I needed something to open this topic). I went to a gas station for a fill up. The gas station was pretty busy and most terminals were full. Two spots opened on the same side of one island. I was behind a woman who pulled into the first spot…and stopped her car. Because she didn’t pull all the way up to the first pump, I had to drive all the way around the station and attempt to back into the spot. This whole thing coulda been avoided if she just pulled all the way up.
I know she had to see me behind her–she had to…otherwise she was completely clueless to her surroundings. Either she saw me or she forgot the whole looking-in-rearview-mirrors-thing they teach in driver’s ed. If she didn’t see me, I don’t wanna be anywhere near this dame when she makes a lane change.
I’m leaning towards she did see me–which means one of two things.
1) She saw me and didn’t think to pull up to the first pump.2) She . . . . .
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