Drive it like you bought it.

I was driving down the street today when I noticed a bumper sticker on someone's car that read, "Drive it like you stole it!".  I don't really know how to decipher that.  If I were ever thrown into a situation in which I were driving a stolen car, I would be driving very carefully as to avoid being pulled over by the police and arrested for Grand Theft Auto.  And I try very hard to drive carefully in my daily life anyway, so what that sticker means to me is, "Drive it like you normally would".

Maybe the sticker should say, "Drive it like there's no cops around", or even "Drive it like you're Kyle Petty, son of Richard".

This guy was no Travis Bickle.

I went to Comfest on Friday and tore it on up. I ended up going down in a blaze of glory on the couch in Carter and Fern’s living room (by the way, thanks, dudes). When I woke up this morning, I walked up to High Street and called a cab. When the cabbie showed up, I hopped in and told him my address, but he wasn’t very proficient with the English language. All he had to do was keep driving in the same direction that he was already going in on High Street, but he turned west on Warren Street, and I quickly informed him that it would have just been best to keep going the way he was going in the first place. So he made his way back to High Street without stopping the meter to at least correct the time and mileage that I was going to have to pay him for his mistake. My take on it was, “Well, there goes this guy’s tip”.

But on the way down High Street, I started thinking that I was going to feel like a dick if I didn’t at least leave the guy some change. I’ve never taken a cab ride before and gone without leaving the driver a tip. But then, I started noticing that he was driving ridiculously slow in an effort to suck the meter.

When he dropped me off at my pad, he added up the total, and it came to $13.02. I gave him a twenty. He gave me back six bucks and and turned around like it was a done deal. I was like, “Hey, where’s the rest of my change?”

He acted all confused, like he didn’t know what I was talking about for a second, and then he gave back another dollar, leaving me two cents ahead. So the cab driver gave ME a tip! I thanked him, wished him a nice day, and got out of the cab.

After I walked into my place, I emptied out my pockets and realized that I had a bunch of change on me. I could have totally given the jackass his two cents back, but I was that glad I didn’t.

Fuck that guy.

You learn something new every day.

My desk calendar has educated me on the following information regarding how to survive when stuck on an opening drawbridge:

1: Flash your headlights and honk your horn to draw attention to yourself.

2: Back up off the bridge if possible.

3: Get out - Your car will roll backward even when in park. Hold on to the railing or grated road surface.

4: If you begin to lose your grip or cannot find a handhold, jump into the water.

5: After breaking the surface, open your arms and legs wide to slow your descent.

6: Swim toward shore, away from the path of the approaching ship.

These people could've used this info. Please use the opening and closing sponsorship to your own advantage.

You might recognize that as the opening sequence from Maximum Overdrive, author Stephen King's directorial debut. It's been over twenty years, and we're still waiting with bated breath for his sophomore effort. My favorite part of this scene is the slo-mo shot of the motorcycle guy falling safely into the water, followed closely by the terrifying tumbling watermelons. That's some scary shit right there.

Tales From The Storage Unit, Part 2: The Vengeance Of Gargamel

I was digging through a heap of my old stuff today and here are a few things that I was pleasantly surprised to come across:

My bank mailed this very informative pamphlet to me circa 1998. It offers a very comforting explanation of why it was unnecessary for me to empty out my checking account prior to the stroke of midnight that was to ring in the current millennium. It goes on about how, in 1995, they "began formal preparation with the formation of a corporate-wide, cross-functional project team", and a bunch of other bullshit. I used to read it for comfort whenever I would feel a tinge of pre-millennium anxiety kicking in. During the final days of the nineties, it proved to be invaluably therapeutic.

Here's my Smurfs Rubik's Cube.

It's just like a standard traditional Rubik's Cube, only it has a bunch of Smurfs all over it. The Smurfs on the two sides shown here seem to be having a grand 'ol time, while the one on top trying to ski is in a world of shit. Sucks to be him.

I stole this sign from the men's room of a nice outdoorsy restaurant in Sarasota, Florida about ten years ago.

I really like how the sign had to be altered with the handwritten additions. And some of the seagulls in the area must have periodically taken shelter in the bathroom, hence the bird crap all over it.

Then again, it could be paint. Or even White-Out.

My new addiction is not without its price.

I've been eating great deal of sunflower seeds lately. After A few days of enjoying them nonstop, I've come to develop a pretty nasty raw patch about the spot of my tongue on which I unshell the seeds.

It hurts like a bitch.