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We got this goofy thing at work when the system gets hosed the receptionist has to actually pick up the phone and say “code red, code red” over the intercom to the whole company ha ha :) And today was especially bad cause the system was up and down every half hour. In her own words … “Coxey54: i feel like I’m on a submarine or something.” We all feel for you Lesley. Anytime you need a happy hour on a Monday night I’ll be there. :)
I’m not allowed to talk about it. Although I randomly get random crap from that somewhat random box in the lower lefthand corner, I got two nice messagestoday. Both from Missy; the first was a classic davespeak: name: Dave Matthews And the second: Well Missy, it looks like you’re in luck. I’m currently in the market for both a car and a wife. The car must be black, 97 or later, Mitsubishi 3000GT SL and the wife must be kind, loving, sweet, innocent, and cute. One I am willing to pay for; the other is priceless. If you (or anyone) knows where I could find these coveted items, let me know. Well this weekend was definitely a memory to cherish. I seemed to have set a personal record for puking on mother nature. My old record stood at just once on a poor tree in state college, but this time I surpassed it by two whole heaves. Yes, three times. And believe me, the third time was definitely a charm (although my audience didn’t seem to enjoy it as much as I). Now before you go and assume that I’m a drunken idiot that can’t hold onto my booze, let me explain. The whole scene was not caused by alcohol. (we all know that lager doesn’t turn on me like that). What did cause the massive upheaval was probably overexertion and week old calimari. After happy hour(s) at Champs, me, alan, lesley, and her friends went to Ice. Sadly enough I spent my last $10 on cover (yes, 10) so I didn’t even have money to buy booze for 3 hours. And because Lesley and her friends are dancing fools like me, I think I overdid it. I was like that kid in gym class that starts tossing his breakfast after running the mile. I was ok as long as I was moving, but as soon as I stopped, the carnage began. And to top off the weekend, my car broke down on the way home. At first I thought this was a blessing in disguise because I coasted into a bar parking lot, but later found out that fate was just taunting me cause the bar was closed. “just because you have discovered a million cowboys willing to throw up on their shoes in the name of some distant and foreign patron saint doesn’t mean you have discovered an actual culture.” - salon.com I AM OZZY update 3/18: That was the xenadrine talking, don’t mind me. For a hazy moment I thought I was ozzy cause my arms were shaking uncontrollably. I’m just glad that in my moment of dimensia I had the peace of mind to notify my readers that I had suddenly changed personalities. It seems that me and xenadrine have developed a love/hate relationship. since spring is in 8 days, I thought I’d appease everyone and dump the old winter color scheme. a preview of the new spring theme can be found here,although I’m not all that happy with it. whatdo you think? too dull?
Lights are flashing, I’m pulled over, and he’s at my window with his hand on his gun even before I have a chance to put the car into park. Now, let’s digress for a second to examine the facts: So now I’m to the point where I’m racking my brain on how to weasel out of this ticket. Keep in mind I’ve had many opportunities to practice, and failed every single time. First, I consider the John B approach … while the cop is in his car running my plates, I dump a bottle of water on my crotch and claim to have been speeding because I really had to make it to a bathroom. (believe it or not, I actually placed a bottle of water under my car seat for a moment like this). It sounds ludicrous, but what would you do if you pulled over a guy who just pissed his pants? I think I’d be willing to sacrifice a little pride for 3 points and $250. My second option was to pull the “class” card. I can’t fully explain this theory, but my friend Brian has a pretty good explanation. Basically to make a long theory short, the jist of it is that cops are blue collar workers, I’m white collar, and in the basic hierarchy of society, deep in the psyche of an officer lies a set of rules that says you can’t pick on someone who is higher on the social chain. Granted this would be hard to pull off driving a ‘93 Chevy Lumina, but studies have shown that more tickets go to social classes below cops than they do to people in classes above the officers. (its also interesting to note that state troopers are notoriously a bitch when it comes to tickets and maybe that’s because they’re a step higher in the social hierarchy). Anyway, I have the proper attire donned since I’m still dressed from work. Now all I have to do play the part and somehow accidentally slip him my business card instead of my license. The theory also states that you can almost guilt a cop into a warning if you show the officer a level of respect higher than what society dictates. “So here it goes,” I think to myself. This time I was going to be firm and unintimidated. I knew from experience that shaking like a leaf (the male equivalent to a girl crying) doesn’t work. I had to work this class thing, so I proceeded to argue that there’s no way I could have been doing 57 in a 45. And of course I was flashing the “officer” and “sir” keywords like it was Mardi Gras. Granted, with the “alcohol paraphernalia”, missing forms of registration, and radar detector that was flashing so much that it could have induced a seizure, the best case scenario was skipping out on the points. In the end, I couldn’t have been happier with the outcome. This time I guess I got lucky, since I received only a written warning and I didn’t even have to dump a bottle of water on my crotch. Who knows if it was the whole class/attitude thing (the cop was my age and if I were him I would have felt like a dick giving me a ticket), or maybe I just ran into really nice cop (or one that had already met his quota) Either way, thanks badge no. 11 from Franconia Township. (by the way, I’d thank him by name but I couldn’t read his handwriting and it insinuates that he barely passed high school). This video isso funny. I don’t watch the man show much, but I assume that the kid was wearingan ear piece while selling beer on a street corner and they were tellin him what tosay. Either way, it was really funny. Thanks to my brother Jason forthe link. Update: Here’s another video with the same kid. Thanks Sharon! :) Ever hear the intro and outro to EnriqueIglesias - Escape? Besides being a hot song, it freaks me out every time I hearit. The begining sounds exactly like what I hear after a full night at a club.That phenonon when you’re walking to your car and yelling at your friends but it soundslike everyone is talking underwater? Well it makes sense to me, just listento the song. PA route 422 speed limit: 55 mph It was like breaking the speed of sound. cars whizzed by like they were parked on the side of the road. cops wouldn’t have known what flew by them because I was moving so fast … and just when I thought that maybe I out did my brother for once, he comes home with stories of confronting some drunk guy who hit a telephone pole and subsequently kicked up rocks on the road that blew out his tire. So much for doubling the speed limit and risking jail time.
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1998 Mitsubishi 3000GT SL 
2000 Ford Mustang GT 