IT IS NOT I WHO ARE CRAZY, IT IS ME WHO ARE MAD!

I deleted the last K-Fed post because of the work related content and the fact that I'm a pussy.

In other news, I'm working on a podcast idea inspired by the late Jeff Robins a.k.a. Docktor Ygrundus Quimby of Tucson's best late-night radio show, The Machine Shop on KXCI.

Yours in Christ,

Dave

The Moon is in the Seventh House with Shit Rising

This may be whiny,but I've always felt like a bad-luck magnet. I get a reprieve every now and again, but there are ominous cycles out there and I'm prone to them. For example:

When I was 10, a new Swedish student broke my skull- I was on deck, he was at bat, he didn't know about the lay-the-bat-down rule and flung the bat right at my right orbital socket. A few days later my mom made me go to 5th grade graduation with a baby-blue/pirate-like eye patch to cover my (by then) hideously bruised and swollen face.

When I was 15 I (along with all the passengers of the car) got cited for Minor in Possession of Alcohol (it was in the back seat of my panicky friend's car), but I didn't drink yet.

When I was 17, I was arrested for criminal trespassing (read: swimming in a 'no swim zone' in the lazy Guadalupe River), released and then held by the cops for illegally skateboarding the following night. OK, these were actually completely my fault, but in light of all the bad people in the world, I think the cops were really reaching that week.

My wife, who notoriously drives like a bat out of hell in her red truck, has never received a speeding ticket in her life. I on the other hand,drive a station wagon and get one speeding ticket per/year on average and am known to drive like a grandma. I usually get cited for 35 in a 30 mph zone or 64 in a 60 mph zone. On time I got two speeding tickets in one day - 60ish in a 55 mph (x 2) zone on a deserted highway in West Texas.

But that brings me to today - another small chapter in the bad luck tale. On my way to facilitate some offsite training this morning, this asshole looks right at me, runs his truck into my car and dents up the rear wheel fender. Then when I get to the training, I bend over to release a door stopper and close the doors to the classroom when wwwwriiuuuppp, my pants split on the right inseam. It's real fun cracking ventilation jokes all day to play off the fact that you're embarrassed as hell to be in front of a crowd with a rip in your Dockers 7 inches from your dick, the boys, and those boxer-briefs that Ladyfriend thinks are so sexy. If I'm counting blessings and all that shit, I'm not hurt and at least my pants didn't rip up my crotch or ass crack. So I took the car to the shop, got my rental car (Progressive Insurance rocks BTW), and came home to a shitty email.

Remember the post before about the graph paper? After a total of 6 stores we still couldn't find the paper so we just bought loose leaf, put it in a three ring binder and sent a very polite email to the teacher saying that we hope this would suffice. So I get home today and the teacher flamed me about how I should call ahead or go online to see if they have all my supply needs. WTF? Does he honestly believe that any store inventory will be accurate anywhere near the first week of school?? He then went on to tell me the name of the store where I could get said graph-binder. So we're just caving and will buy the shit from his store. You gotta pick your battles right? Shit.

School Supplies Shopping - Check

Three hours, two stores, 40 bucks and a gallon of diesel later, we have almost all of Stinky's school supplies. We are only missing one item: graphing paper. "You couldn't find graphing paper Dave," you ask? No, I found graphing paper, but it wasn't the right kind. You see, the teacher requested that we get the kind that binds on the side and not the top. You may be thinking, "Well Dave, that specific kind of graphing paper may help the teacher to teach your child critical math skills." If you are thinking that, you are right; I can deal with that. But, the teacher requesting this specific type of graphing paper IS THE ENGLISH TEACHER- it apparently helps students draw better in their journals or some dumb shit.

Remember when 8th grade school supply shopping meant getting a bad ass 'Rad Dog' trapper keeper, loose leaf paper and some pencils? Sigh...

Bedtime for Davey

What is it about Air Devil's Inn that makes me want to fight? I'm not 100% convinced it's just ADI, but this phenomenon has happened there more than once. After a night partying around town, you can always tell when it's time for me to go to bed. I exhibit one or more of the following behaviors:

- Insisting that people are staring at me, challenging me to fight, "That stock boy at Kroger was staring me down. I outta kick his ass. Punk-ass bitch."

- Strongly encouraging everyone around me to get involved in some physical (and usually illegal) activity. "Hey everybody, let's shoot Roman candles at the Seminary across the street" for example.

- Start babbling nonsensical diatribes at a high volume, "It's all about the circumlocution of Chewbacca's rasinettes....mutha fucka!"

- Argue with people over stupid shit, "You woke me up this morning and I'm still mad at your waking-people-up-ass asshole! You're a mean woman. You go to hell and die...woman."

What dumb shit do you do that signals bedtime after partying?

Fuck MySpace- This Blog is Reactivated

I'm not canceling my Myspace profile, but it's just too cumbersome: always down or slow and choc full of friend requests from retarded teenagers and shitty bands. But's that not the main reason I'm reactivating the blog; I've reached a milestone.

This afternoon I completed my last real class towards my Masters in Business Communication. I haven't graduated mind you - I still have a final project I've yet to complete. But ALAS - no more classes. For the last year, my freetime during the week has been dedicated to reading and the weekends with classes. I now have my weekends back and can complete my final project at my leisure during the next several weeks.

So, needless to say, I'm at a place when I once again have the time to waste maintaining a half-ass blog. Stay tuned.