Current mood:

okay

Subject lines suck.
So, yeah. Sorry to the people to whom I owe a “Happy Valentine’s Day.” Mine was slightly less than stellar, as was the whole previous weekend.

It was supposed to be a great weekend. Three days, baby. Let’s hear it for working for the state. But joy was not to be, for I was obliterated with allergies the week before. I was congested and clogged and full conscious and alert for all of it. One half of my head was completely pressurized, and it felt a lot heavier. That was truly the suck, and it had me fairly well down until Greg swooped in on a vine, handed me a ticket to see Blue Man Group in concert with about ninety minutes’ advance notice. And he was all “Hey dude, my music department bought a lot of these tickets, and some people didn’t show up. Free show for you.” And I partied hard on the way to the stadium.

And I saw a moderately altered version of the show available on DVD, which, as those of us who have seen it know, is mind-blowingly awesome. With BMG, y’gotta wonder how that’s all possible, and if they’re all just encased in a soundproof bubble (because they are beating the utter shit out of those drums) and faking it, but...nah. It’s just scary-as-hell coordination. And live, it’s even more surreal. Anyway, I was there, doing the rock concert movements and screaming my hoarse ass off upon their command.

So that was totally awesome. And then, coming home that Friday night, I parked my car in the lot, went inside, and went to sleep. Aaaaaaaaaaaaand then my car was stolen, along with everything in it. All my music, my Dew, my Reese’s Pieces, my expensive jack, my brand-new stereo, and they even took my trash bag. They took my proof of insurance, too, but left the title (I know, you shouldn’t have that in the car, shut up) and my proof of registration. And a red shotgun shell, and a harmonica, and an empty bag where somebody went to Del Taco. And the manual to my stereo. And a lot of dirt. There was mud streaked up the sides and under the wheel well, so they seemed to be moving things. Probably a body. Anyway, the cocknockers fucked up the driver’s side lock, so once again, I’m reduced to reaching through the open window to let myself into my car.

It took about two days to recover, and the CHP gave me a call, saying they’d found it parked on the road. They had it towed, and for some reason that nobody could explain to me, the tow company charged me $190 to get it back, despite that I got there within an hour of the car reaching the place. That was what had me miffed, right there. There are places in the yellow pages advertising towing for $45, and I had to pay more than four times that much. That’s shit.

The car’s sanctity had been violated. It’s like driving an assrape. An assrape that smells like cigarette smoke. And they took off the driver’s side mirror, but left the casing. Who the hell does that? Now it’s illegal to drive. Who looked up all the ’96, ’99, and ’04 models in the apartment parking lot, Camaros and Miatas, and saw a 1986 Toyota Corolla and thought “Yeah baby, that’s where it’s at. I gotta have that shit.”

People were shocked at how zen I was about it. Hey, good things come, good things go, sometimes your car gets stolen. That’s life. I’ll be prompted to get a new car a little faster now, and I won’t be getting another CD player in that thing (partially because the whole casing for that area has been ripped up), but overall, my livelihood hasn’t been damaged. I haven’t learned anything from it. I don’t feel any differently about people. Shit happens sometimes. The only thing that bothers me is that there’s nothing I can do to keep it from happening again, except, as my mother keeps suggesting, buying a Club. I’ll keep my eyes open.

Really, though, it’s shaping up to be the shittiest year ever, between the boss-tensions (which are easing off) and being told that after I passed that pain-in-the-ass exam, there’s a difference of opinion as to whether I qualify for the position that gives me a $700 raise. I do, however, qualify for the $500 raise, and there’s talk of changing my current position to be able to facilitate that, but I’m smelling bullshit. Change is in the wind, I can tell. How can I tell? Well, lemme relate a little story.

A little more than six months ago (half a year is about the length of a full cycle in my life...everything happens in units of that amount of time), I was having a really, really bad time. Blown head gasket, broken computer, no money, work being too godddamned cold in the morning (warehouse + skinny person) and too goddamned hot in the afternoon (California), my usual work van was broken so I had to drive a moving van (downtown), and that wasn’t half of it. I was driving back to the lot when I heard a reference on the radio to an extremely obscure SNL skit from the two or so years I made it a point to watch the show, a skit that got absolutely no press or references that I’d ever heard, but it stood out for me, for some reason. Will Ferrell, once with Gwyneth Paltrow and once with Sarah Michelle Gellar...family at the dinner table, fight breaks out, it ends with him yelling “I DRIVE A DODGE STRATUS.” Not a skit that made a lot of sense, but a reference came out of nowhere about it from a deejay on the radio. I had actually spent that morning thinking about whether reality was done fucking me up the ass, and whether I was just being put through all that crap so I would appreciate whatever was coming up a little more. And then I heard that, and I thought “Now THAT is obscure. Who else in Sacramento would get that?”

Stuck in traffic, I had some time to think about it. And then, I looked down, and saw, in front of me, a Dodge Stratus. And through that Dodge Stratus, I saw the universe looking at me, shaking its head slowly, as if to say “No, Dave, we are not quite done fucking you, my friend. It’ll be a little bit.”

Shit went downhill from there that week, but when I got home that day, a message was waiting for me from the person who would eventually become my boss, inviting me back to fill out some paperwork to get hired for a job I had interviewed for the week before.

I had another moment like that shortly before this last weekend. I was thinking about Oregon, and a truck with Oregon plates pulled up in front of me. I took a look a the license number, and I saw that it had a pattern of 111 AAA. I thought about it for a moment, and wondered if they all had that pattern, or if it meant something. Another car from Oregon immediately passed us both, answering my question. Too specific to be a coincidence. An ethereal Bill Engvall leaned forward from the back seat and went “Heeeeeeere’s your sign.”

This year, I’ve lost two cars, I’ve lost a stereo the week after I bought it, I’ve had pneumonia, I’ve had to sit in a two-hour meeting and endure a month of over-the-shoulder what-are-you-doing-every-minute-of-every-day scrutiny from work, I’ve been cruci-fucking-fied for doing what everybody else in the office does (more often than I do!), things have gone into my permanent file because my boss doesn’t want to look like an idiot, I’m finding that I’m allergic to goddamned rain, and I LOVE rain. I just blew my nose so hard I found a viable elephant fetus sitting in the tissue afterward. I don’t know if I’ll be able to make the trip up to Mom’s as often in this car. I’m out of sick leave and personal leave. I’m being strung along about the promotion I’m supposed to be getting, so I don’t know whether I should be submitting these twenty job interest letters I’m receiving every day, because if I do submit them and get interviews, my boss isn’t going to take it well. I’m now having to put up with country music every day from the cubicle across from me, from someone who plays it twice as loud as anybody else in the office does and goes off on a tirade about what I do and do not have the right to say when I ask her to turn it down. And it’s not even good country, it’s ultra-nasal crap, the same three albums over and over. And she’s ruined my appreciation for Sheryl Crow by playing her greatest hits album nonstop for a week. All the movies I’ve seen this year have been crap.

But it’s okay.

Into every life, 1000 dead bunnies must fall.

All this crap probably means I’m getting a raise.


On that note, I must apologize to Allie and Jamie. Your cards (and $1 bills, because cards need money in them to be cool) did not hit the mail, unless those car theives stamped them and mailed them for me. Becca, your present was the first whole bottle of water I drank for you, and a handful of official Blue Man Group end-of-concert big-mobile-pipe-machine paper streamer.

Ashreigh gets nothing because she’s getting more love than I am anyway.
Haley gets nothing because I don’t have her address.
Jenn gets nothing because she still hasn’t come up to visit Mom and get the book. If you’re waiting for it, Jenn’s the one holding it up. GO GIT ‘ER.
Jenna gets nothing because I don’t have her address either, and she’s too busy for us to do any real talking anymore.
Dimitri gets nothing because he’s a dude. I know, it’s sexist, but I’m a bigot like that. Still love you, though, dude.
An gets nothing because that would violate the terms of our citizenship of Platonia.
And Jawjuh gets nothing because we've never been helza tight like magicite.
Oh! And Mrak and Gerg also get nothing. Because you STOLE fizzy lifting drinks. You touched a clean ceiling which now has to be washed, and sterilized, so you GET. NOTHING. You LOSE. Good DAY sir.

I leave you with this thought:
Isn’t it strangely appropriate that the initials for Valentine’s Day are VD?

This year, give your Valentine a gift they can always remember you by...the gift that keeps on giving.



And here it is, your moment of zen:


[not edited from original format or spelling]


Amber Mills to David Humphrey Feb 13 (2 days ago)

David
If you do not have an hatchet tores me.
Then i one quezon.
Can you & I be in the same & be sitvalieds people?
Because sen you are friends with my falimy, make no msacke about it.
I want you to be there friend!
There may be an time were we are in the same place at the same time.
And nether one of us should have to leave.