Friday, May 20, 2005

Bill's choose your own adventure post has inspired the greatest idea I've ever had. We need a blog in which a picture is posted everyday and readers comment their idea of a caption. With enough volume it would be hilarious. If something like this already exits please let me know. If not, who wants to help me get it started now?

  Sunday, May 15, 2005

I get up to do the ritual saturday morning wipe of the three hour parking chalk marks off my back tire. As I get up to the car I notice a piece of paper, but it's not a ticket. It's a note with a number and this written:

This is the L.P. of the car I saw that backed into your car and damaged the car's grill. My phone # is .....

So my car was jacked, but it isn't worth a lick so it doesn't matter. I called the person up anyway to thank them for being such a cool person. Was this person a hot aspiring porn star looking for practice, or a college coed in desperate need of physics help, or a young waitress struggling to stay on her feet after her boyfriend left, or that girl Julie who has emailed me fifteen times a day for the last four months to get me to check out her webcam? ... Yes, it was one of these, I have a date next weekend.

  Tuesday, May 10, 2005

Back by popular demand, The Official Chi Omega Webpage. Keep it quiet or I take it down. Sorry Sarah.

  Thursday, May 05, 2005

It's 6:50 PM, I'm on dinner break from my second shift training class, and I'm standing outside the gate to work, badgeless. I've forgotten my badge half a dozen times, the guys make fun of me for it, I write it off to being the new guy, that excuse is wearing thin.

But this time is different, this time I left the badge in class. I can't get back in without one and at this hour I have no idea what office is open that will issue me a temporary pass.

I sit on the hood of my car, 7-11 slushy in hand, considering my options. I could just leave, but my phone is in there too, that I may need. My thoughts pace back and forth, badge - phone - badge - phone, until it hits me.

I notice a phone booth in the corner of the lot, I slip in and dial my number. We're sorry, the number you have dialed cannot be completed, forgot change, how about fifty cents, We're sorry... I try seventy-five, a dollar, a dollar fifty, We're sorry... Can I call anyone on this infernal machine? I dial my mother, my sister, my twelfth grade physics teacher, We're sorry... I argue with the voice for twenty minutes. I give up, fine I'll just call collect. Please leave your name after the tone... *beep* HeyifyougetthisIforgotmybadge! *beep* ... We're sorry, we cannot charge collect calls to this number. OK, one last chance, I got a calling card somewhere. I dial the 78 numbers to make a call, You will be charged an additional 33 minutes for calls from a pay phone. That's like five dollars, forget it, was this phone booth planted here by aliens to test human patience.

I give up just as a security officer unlocks a nearby building and enters. I follow him in with the hope that he may provide me with a solution. Inside he is preoccupied with something across the room and ignores my attempts to get his attention. I notice a phone and seize the opportunity. Those in my class are like me, lazy and inept, it may take a few calls before they pick up. I'm on try five when I'm suddenly standing face to face with a very tall, very curious, very angry security guard. I plead my case, his desire to perform a cavity search diminishes, and although he can't help me he tells me maybe station 8 or station 9 can.

Not knowing where station 9 is, I travel to station 8, where I meet the most helpful man in the world. First, after explaining my situation, he lets me know he can't issue a temporary badge and I will in fact have to travel to station 9. When I kindly inquired about the quickest route to the station, he replies, "You got a car... Well that's the quickest way." I thank the man and return to said car to aimlessly search for the correct station.

Half an hour and one block later, I reach the destination. There are three men inside. One of them proceeds to assist me. The other two, as far as I can infer, have the job of observing people at stop signs and then judging their intelligence based on how long they remain stopped. I hear nine iterations of the same dialog:

Man 1: Check out this idiot.
Man 2: (while dancing around or whatever variation of retarded was relevant) Look at me, I'm [doing what that guy is doing], I'm stupid.
Man 1: Har Har *cough* (chokes on corn chip)

Meanwhile, the third gentleman is running through the standard questions: "Are you an employee? Are you a US citizen? Do you have photo ID? Can you touch your finger to your nose? Are you feeling well and healthy today? Have you taken any medication in the last 48 hours? Have you ever had sex with anyone who has given money or drugs for sex? Do you believe in UFOs, astral projections, mental telepathy, ESP, clairvoyance, spirit photography, telekinetic movement, full trance mediums, the Loch Ness monster and the theory of Atlantis?" I satisfactorily withstand the inquisition, and I'm granted access to the site.

Two hours after my break I stumble back into the classroom and I'm greeted by the jawing of my classmates. I jape with our teacher that it's always one crazy thing after another with me. That excuse is running thin also.

  Tuesday, May 03, 2005

Who knew Tuesday was double stamp day at Quizno's. Add to that not getting a ticket after being illegally parked for seven hours and today is sweet!