Aliens Aren't All House-trained

I had this dream where my entire extended family was up at my parents' house for a dinner party, but somehow at the same time high school English class with Mrs. Williams was going on in a dimly lit room. One thing led to another, and sure enough, Aurora Borealis was occurring outside, and, as Aurora Borealis tends to do, it burned small holes in the ozone layer allowing harmfully space-acid through that burned small holes in the roof of the house and the furniture and on my head, but I guess I was able to take the burning hole off my head and put it on the floor. About at that time aliens landed on the front porch, to abduct me I could only assume. Before I could start screaming I looked over at my mom who looked normal except that she had big oval alien eyes, and she told me that "the aliens shat on the carpet."

What's weird is that I remember knowing with a certain fear that the events were somehow leading up to alien abduction, but I totaly didn't see the shitting on the carpet coming.

Back in Business

So after a final few last-attemp jabs from fate in all things car related (namely, I needed 3 separate jump starts on the second replacement car), my Focus is back up and running. I even decided to wash it and add a great little sticker that goes very nicely in contrast to a sticker my co-worker has on his Focus. His is blue on his silver Focus, and mine is black on my red one. I think it looks just snazzy.

OMG COMICON UPDATE:

Hotels sold out this year in a record 3 hours. I spent a very stressful evening that day trying to find another place to stay and got lucky with a place that Josh and I stayed at one year that isn't on the comic-con list this year, but is still two blocks from a hotel that is, which means it's two blocks from a shuttle point. That's really all that matters is distance to a shuttle point so that you don't end up having to drive or walk LONG distances to the convention center. Last time we stayed at the Westin Hortin Plaza, which is built in to awesome said plaza and in walking distance from the convention center so you don't have to deal with the shuttles at all. I'm on the waiting list for that place, but it's nice to know that we've got rooms even if that doesn't pan out.

Replacement Car #2

The Back Story. Essentially, my car broke down, and I borrowed my brother's Toyota Forerunner, which, by the way, got me a speeding ticket on the first day of driving it because I wasn't quite used to the difference in acceleration between it and my focus. Last night I'm pulling out of the gas station and this horrific shrieking metal sound comes from the engine and the air starts to smell of burned rubber. Great. I pull over quickly in the In and Out parking lot and call my brother for help. He arrives in my Dad's Aircraft Carrier on Wheels that I've decided to simply call "the biggest fucking truck I've ever seen," or what is officially called the Dodge Ram Mega Cab. Turns out Trevor's Forerunner blew a timing belt or something, so we ditched it there at In and Out and I got to borrow the Lincoln Towne Car, but only until Friday, when apparently it has to do some sort of task in LA.

I half seriously asked if I could use the new truck, you know, one of those things where you could play it off as a joke but only if they say no? Anyway, my Dad's response was that I "wouldn't know what to do with that much truck." My response, being the good little smart ass liberal son that I am, was that the only people who know what to do with "that much truck" are people who've kidded themselves in to thinking that they need "that much truck" to begin with. I think I also snuck in a small penis compensation joke in there, just for good measure.

Busted by Homeland Security!

There are multiple parking spaces outside of the building my Gym is in that belong to other businesses in the building and are tow-away zones for unauthorized vehichles during business hours. For 3 years now I've been parking there safely after about 4-ish, but yesterday, in one of the TSA spots (an acronym I've not bothered to find the meaning to until now), I cam back to my car to find a warning on the windshield:


That's right! Transportion Security Asministration! I officially pissed off the Department of Homeland Security!

I'm a terrorist.

Feeling like the bottom of the heap

Ugh....I was at a party last night and felt a feeling that I've not felt since high school...Embarrassment at the hands of others in a social setting. There's this guy I saw on facebook that looked pretty cool, so I messaged him saying hi. I've got a pretty dry sense of humor, bordering on strange I guess, and I think that sometimes when I'm shy I think being silly is my way of dealing with that. So anyway, the message was a silly one, a dumb joke about him being tall, and maybe that was a bad idea; maybe I should save my sense of humor for people who know me. So the guy doesn't respond, whatever. I see him at this party, and later in the night I overhear him repeating my message verbatim to other people, going on about how "creepy" it was (I guess he thought the message was serious?). I don't know if he knew I was standing right there or whatever....but I felt like I wanted to crawl under a rock and die.

I seized the opportunity and walked up to him and basically just said that I didn't mean to creep him out, that I was just being silly. He formally introduced himself, shook my hand, said that is was cool and all, but he seemed kind of drunk at the time so he probably still thinks I'm a creep.

Maybe I am a creep...that would explain the restraining order my parents have on me at least.

Not a car day

I must have picked up a nail or something the other night over at Ludick's house, because I remember hearing something coming from the tire when I was driving home, but I couldn't see anything with my flashlight when I got out to check. Well, I don't know why I just said "nail or something" because I know for a fact it was a nail, having visually confirmed it the next day when I saw it sticking out of my very flat tire. I wait for 2 hours at Big Brand for their free flat tire fix, and head home for a bout half an hour to eat before I have to be back at school. When I try to start up the car I find I can't turn the key in the ignition.

Crap.

This is all to painfully familiar....this has happened to me before. In fact, this is the second time my ignition lock has failed on me in just as many years. Way to go Ford. Turns out that the ignition lock parts in ford Foci are notoriously BAD and likely to break often. Mel Clayton Ford (read: scam artist assholes) wants me to pay $450 for parts and labor. Yeah, does lube come with that ass raping? I found the part online for $30. I'm going to do my best to solve this myself before I pay those jerks a fortune to fix a part that didn't last 2 years after the last time they "fixed" it.

Windriders never get broken ignition locks...

Watching doesn't guarantee a citing

I'm not sure how all of my friends spent their superbowl Sunday, but I'm moderately pleased to say that I spent mine doing nothing at all related to football. Instead, I went with a friend of mine from grad school and some friends of his to go sailing on a small boat he has in the venture harbor. More specifically, we went whale watching. Only thing is...we didn't really see any whales, and I got seasick and threw up twice, which Chris made damn sure to get on camera. I'm not entirely sure if it was the sea that made me sick or the Arbys that Chris insisted upon eating before the outing. Afterwards we drove around the pricey neighborhood of Venture Keys: large houses with private marinas connecting to the ocean in their own back yard. All in all I would not have traded the day for anything else. Still, if I go out again I'm taking some Dramamine®.

An another note, below is a picture of the coolest boat name in existence. Yes, you read it right: "My Cat Ate A Whole Watermelon."