Oooh

A full moon peeked through the clouds as I drove in this morning.

That would explain some of the crazy lately... if, you know, that actually meant anything.

I pulled into my office parking lot and turned off my car. A police cruiser sudden roared into my lot and was out of my view.

I was wondering what's up. I got out, shouldering my bag and my gym bag. I looked at an isolated part of the lot. Two police cruisers were sitting side-by side in a police date thing. Huh.

Oh well. Good to know. Keeps the lot safe, I guess.

The news had an article this morning about the latest meme-poster going around. I guess someone gave the Ledger-Joker treatment to an Obama poster. Instead of "Why so Serious", the meme is "Why socialism" or some similar nonsense.

As far as memes go, it's pretty effective. It's annoying me 'cause of that whole bullshit about socialism. C'mon, lardbutt dittoheads! Socialism? Really? You meth-added dorks haven't a clue, have you? Obama's pretty centrist. He's been going out-of-his-way to include Repugnicans in the mix. I mean, if regulating and lending government assistance is "socialism", I guess you guys will stop using those federally-funded highways and visiting those federally-funded state parks and...

Bah.

Oh, end rant. Good lord. It's too early to be babbing on about politics.

It's not too early to be considering extra coffee, though...

Hours of Crazy

I raced home from the office like a madman in hopes of intercepting UPS before their scheduled delivery of the item I was expecting.

It was a pointless exercise, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

I got home and one of my friends called to invite me over to dinner at his place. His wife was cooking some kind of spicy dish that sounded like pure awesome.

Hopeful that UPS would arrive at a reasonable hour, I tentatively agreed. I started doing some maintenance on my laptop and updating some stuff on my desktop.

Another friend called me re: that same dinner with an offer to give me a ride. Knowing I'm hostage to UPS's schedule before I can even leave my apartment to conduct the balance of my errands, I turned down the offer for a lift and went back to my impatient waiting.

I hate waiting.

I started doing stuff around the apartment. Got another call from a friend checking on status.

A little harried and between tasks, I think I was a bit short with her as I explained I'm still waiting on UPS. Okie-dokie. Hopefully we'll all meet at 7 for dinner.

I'm getting this sinking suspicion that UPS isn't going to be cooperating.

Every time I hear a truck through the window on my busy street, I'm out the door, to the front of the building, and looking for UPS like a dog looking for the next meal.

Nada.

Ran into a neighbor. She's also waiting and she's juggling kid-obligations. I offer to sign for her package. I'm not going anywhere.

All this time, my allergies are kicking me up one side and down the other. Dunno what it is about today, but it's a bad day for the allergies for me and many of my co-workers.

Tick-tock-tick-tock.

I finally call my buddy and say I'm not making it to dinner. I'm too harried over goddamn UPS and I don't say it, but my allergies are making me feel kind of light-headed and sleepy.

This is my only free evening for the week, so I'm already iffy on doing anything... and I'm still waiting on UPS.

It's close to 6:30 when the truck pulls up. I practically mug the driver. I sign for my package and he lets me sign for my neighbor's. Good times. I check the package contents. All are well. Life is good.

Out the door I dash. I get a card I need for a special occasion later this week. I couldn't find one at the now-craptacular Borders near me that was worth a sh*t, so I had to do local shopping near my place.

Okay, got that. Groceries now. A quick dash through the store. Got the basics. I'm up the steps to my apartment when I realize I forgot some things.

Sh*t.

I put away what I have and I'm out the door again for what I forgot. This time I have to hit a different store.

I find everything I need. I get in the self-check line. For a change, there's four operational self-check stations. They've all got morons who can't figure out how to ring up their own goddamn groceries... or so I think at the moment.

I finally get up to a station. I ring up all my stuff like a madman. The damn station freezes and thinks I've got unexpected items. I look around for a clerk to fix this goddamn thing.

Of course there's nobody around to help.

I'm not a patient fellow under the best of circumstances. At this point, my allergies are giving me a headache, I'm feeling harried, and I'm tired.

Not the best of circumstances.

Finally someone appears. They press a button. Damn station starts working again. A quick press of buttons and my money gets processed. I've got my damn stuff and I'm out the door.

The time? A little after 7.

With my options in front of me, I'm doing exactly what's best. I'm going to bed. Bleah.

SWEET!

North Korea: 2 US journalists pardoned

Bill, I dunno what you said, but great job!

For the Urban Ninja

There's something oddly appealing about the Crawford Hiking-Survival Staff as a concept.

It's what Robinson Crusoe would have if he were James Bond.

It's a:

- walking staff
- walking stick
- baton
- blowgun
- spear
- knife

Not all at the same time, of course.

It even comes with extra blowgun darts.

I like that the blade is long enough for dealing with zombies. I assume you could take off a zombie's head or limbs, if necessary.

I'd totally wind up taking off my own foot trying, but in a zombie apocalypse, it's adapt or become a zombie.

Two hundred and sixty bucks (before sales tax) is a bit of an "ouch". Maybe if I win the Lottery?

Screw it. I could just get the Riot Spear and go with that, if I win the Lotto.

The Great Eye is Watching

The forecast this morning claimed it would be cool today.

I'm calling shenanigans.

There's no clouds overhead and the dayball is igniting vampires everywhere.

On the plus side, it's easier to spot the zombies as they're shuffling about.

Need to gas up the ol' chainsaw now and play with the E'ville Dead.

Aaaah

My September time-off is all lined-up.

Something to look forward to.

The Fairer Sex and Gravity Lessons

Anyone who looks upon women as delicate and frail flowers in need of protection should really take a month or so of martial arts classes.

Doesn't matter what kind.

Case in point: a demonstration in throws. (Individual experiences may vary)

Big strong guy stands, vaguely smug in the knowledge that he outweighs the lady by a good... oh... sixty or seventy pounds.

The young lady grabs the arm and the lapel. There's pulling motion. The guy is on his toes. As this is happening, the lady spins and closes the gap. Her shoulder is pretty much set right into his. Her hip is just below his belt (keep the thoughts clean here). Her knees are bent. He's still off-balance and moving forward. She's straightening her legs.

He's thinking "Oh hey, I'm going forward."

She's twisting and pulling.

He's thinking "Oh hey, I can fly. F*ck you, gravity!"

Gravity responds.

He meets the floor. The parts of his body that connect with the mat no longer send signals to his brain that they exist. That's gonna last a second or two, then the nerve endings are going to transmit those pain signals.

He's thinking "How did I get here? Oh hey, she's got my arm. That's nice. It lessened the fall a bit. Wait? I fell? What's she doing with my arrrrGGGGGGGHHHH!!!!!"

His arm, now at a somewhat unnatural angle, is transmitting pain signals that are drowning out the pain signals from the parts of his body that have been rudely introduced to the ground.

He's got a couple of choices at this juncture. He can:

A) Scream like a baby.

B) Tap the mat with a free limb that still works.

He goes with 'B'.

There's time for him to try to return the favor to her. It's not as graceful nor are his moves as effective. Overall it works, but it's clear who is better at this.

Lesson learned.