Monday, July 18, 2011

Master of my domain

As soon as I saw the headlights, I knew a masterpiece was brewing.  This is the kind of masterpiece that has such masterful potential, you fear you might wreck it before you even begin.  I thought of angles and counter angles, strategized and rejected said strategies until I finally decided there is nothing to it but to do it. 

I should back up a little bit and explain the beauty that is now.  I bailed from the apartment that I was 'renting' a few short days ago.  If this were a James Bond yarn, it would be me jumping from the plane without a parachute attached to my back.  It isn't a James Bond tale, so it was simply me jumping ship without a firm grasp on my immediate plans for the future.  Or even that night.

The coolest boss in the world-who is simultaneously the most devout in spirit, pleasing to behold, and seemingly kinder than kin-offered her place since she was going out of town.  And after a few modestly scornful glances from her beau, she set off with Mike on their Pacific Northwetern tour to take in Eddie Vedder on a Eukelele, or banjo, or some such silly stringed instrument.

So, after a few brief farewells and promises of leaving the place how I found it, and a pre-emptive admonishment from Rachelle to not sniff any panties, I set about my weekend of wall staring.  The fun part comes when they get back and I haven't secured a place to stay for the night.  What do I do?  Campout!

So I drive over to the parking lot at work-only after pilfering some wine out of a box in Rachelle's fridge-and begin the stakeout.  I struck out on calling any homies about the fun times I was in the middle of experiencing.  I then resorted to the old standby, hanging with my best pal.  Me.  And so it was.

Roughly twenty minutes ago, I saw headlights turn the corner as I was listening to some Bob Marley in my car.  I turned and who should approach the new whip but Mama Bear herself.  "What are you doing?"

"Huh?  Oh, just having a slumber party in the parking lot." 

She shrugged and stifled a scoff.  "Do you want to come in and sleep on the beds?"

It was the opposite of "Friday", where rather than pointing and saying 'no' after D-Bo asked if I wanted some, I pointed and said, "yes.  That would be sweet."

And sweet it is.  Like Tom Hanks in the terminal, I'm just rocking it.  I might put some of the robes on and stroll around.  Maybe there's some shaving in the cards, or perhaps crude, hastily executed bathing performed at the sink.  Who knows?  The possibilities are endless.  Endless, I tell you.

So, while I was looking forward to my first car campout and a bold step into the hobo experience, I'll gladly take the semblance of civilization that is the office.  And it's possible that I'll blog five times tonight as the evening unfolds.

Monday, July 4, 2011

The side of the road

*This may or may not have actually happened

So, after a party I recently attended, I was giving a few friends a ride.  The initial plan was to drop these friends at a bar and perhaps pick them up later.  When I drove a two person car, this could not have been done.  It would seem that I was better off when I drove a two person car.

One of the friends decided they didn't want to go to the bar after all.  The person who could have otherwise driven them home was either indisposed or not picking up their phone for other reasons.  I offered to drive them home, which happens to be literally over a river and through some woods and up some hills...

My newly acquired car, a Honda was ill-prepared for the hills.  After a comically short effort from the car, my head gasket ruptured and we were on the side of the road.  Hazard lights.  Frustration.  Profanities.  A few small bottles of Vodka.  Well, the vodka wasn't for me, but my friend had no qualms with drinking it.  And he already had plenty.

It was two am, we were on the side of the road, I had a suspended license, my buddy was drunk and may or may not have had a pistol on him.  And the tow truck took an hour and a half.  That's a lot of exposure for two guys who would immediately be dead meat at the first sign of any law from parking attendant to CHP.

Long story short is I ditched a V8 for a Honda with a four hoping for economy and reliability.  I'm now in way over my head trying to take an engine apart that may as well be Japanese.  Get it?

And we may or may not have been on the side of the road waiting for the tow truck and trying to fire his gun which wouldn't fire and a I may or may not have said, "at least we didn't have to shoot anyone..." and laughed hysterically.  And I may or may not have dodged a groin shot from my compatriot and nearly gotten in a drag down fight and fallen down the side of the hill...Good times.

Sunday, July 3, 2011

Safes and safety

The Chevy Impala moved through the neighborhood like a wraith.  In the vehicle were two men.  One was slightly more calm than the other, but both were pretty calm.  "Where is this place man?", said the driver, who was a white guy about 6 feet tall and 200 hundred pounds.

The passenger was a black guy.  He was about 5'10" and a buck seventy.  He was working on a slush puppy he procured at the gas station they just got gas from.  He was mid bite when his partner Reggie asked where the place was.  After letting the slush puppy settle in his stomach he answered, "Right up here on the right.  See that motor home?"  Reggie nodded.  "It's two houses after that.  Drive past a piece.  Then turn around and park about four or five houses down."  The passenger, Fred, was already bringing another bite to his mouth.

With the lights off in both the car and neighborhood, the men waited.  Reggie asked, "you believe Ron?  About this guy having money in a safe in there?"  Fred shrugged.  He answered with the cold drink in his mouth, "He bever", in the way people do when their mouths are full, using the 'v' sound rather than the 't'.

"Hey man, I didn't know you knew how to get into a safe."  Reggie.

"Getting into the safe is the easy part".  Fred.

"Do you crack it?  Or take it with you?"

"You take it with you.  Then you crack it."

Reggie asked, "what if it's bolted down man?"

Fred was mid bite, so he waited to reply.  After smacking his lips a few times, he did.  "Well, then you gotta wait for 'em to come home."

Reggie laughed hysterically and Fred smirked as he stirred his slush puppy some more.  They looked at each other.  Gesturing to the house with his chin, Reggie asked, "Did Ron say if this one was bolted down?"

"We waitin', aren't we?"

Reggie began feeling out of his depth.  He considered what brought him here and equally what would get him out.  Fred interrupted his reverie, "How come you got a blacker name than me?"