Gustav Is Causing Mass Hysteria...In Reverse

Man, it's Katrina all over again, only this time in reverse. Sort of. Instead of mass hysteria occurring after the storm, we're experiencing it right now. Before the storm even hits. Everyone is already so stressed out over the possibility (probability) of the Katrina situation repeating itself with Gustav, they're running around from store to store, eyes glazed over, pained expressions on their faces, talking to themselves.

We had one nice distraction today, though. Our National Champion LSU Tigers opened the football season by lowering the boom on poor ol' Appalachian State. What a great time we had getting severely sunburned and flirting with heat stroke while screaming ourselves hoarse. Unfortunately, the game finally ended, the crowds dissolved, and we all settled back into reality. The reality of Gustav.

Reality in Baton Rouge: Every gas station is packed, all hours of the day and night, five and six cars deep per pump. Want regular unleaded? Sorry; all that's left is mid-grade and super. Want a loaf of bread? Tough; no bread anywhere. Want some D batteries for your flashlight? Too bad; they're all gone. How 'bout some propane so you can at least grill some burgers after the electricity goes out? Not a chance; no propane anywhere in the city.

The one item that seems to be in plentiful supply is bottled water. Our neighborhood Target had dozens and dozens of pallets of bottled water seemingly scattered randomly throughout the store. I now have over 100 bottles of water chilling in my refrigerator. Just in case, right?

Anyway, if you are reading this from somewhere outside the "Cone of Uncertainty", please pray for us here in Louisiana as we prepare to go through this hurricane thing. Again.

See you guys on the other side of Gustav...

Mumbles Is Going to the Doctor...

Um... I'm not sure how I should begin. But, I suppose it's best to just start at the beginning and unload it all.

I was at my desk, working away like the little drone I am, when Mumbles came into my office, walked right up next to me, and informed me that he was about to leave to go to the doctor's office. Big deal, right? That's all my boss needs to tell me, right?

Wrong.

Mumbles then begins to describe what, exactly, he is going to the doctor for. In Mumbles' primitive dialect, it came out sounding like, "Ahma gun git er test whirthuh puttuh hose enmuh penis in runnit allthuhwaytuhmuh colon..."

Translation: "I'm going to have my colon examined and the doctor will run a tube from my penis to my colon." Blech... Why, God? Why? Why did he have to tell me that? And why did he have to graphically gesture with his hands while he was telling me?!?!?

After he was through talking, I lowered my head and said, "Too much information...", to which he chuckled and replied, "Ahma gone take a shire..."

Translation: "I'm going to take a shower." Again, blech!!

I was just about to eat lunch, too...

Escape from The Mall of America...

Okay, so I had to spend a week in Minneapolis for work. The flight up to Minnesota wasn't bad except for missing my connection in Dallas. I got over all of the running, sweating and breathing hard...for nothing. Having the extra time at the airport was actually nice. I got to have an expensive, disgusting lunch at the airport TGI Friday's. The beer was good, though... *reminiscing*

Anyway, the week in Minneapolis was pleasant, especially the weather! High temps in the mid-70's and low temps in the low 60's was a great alternative to the steamy upper 90's here in south Louisiana. The food was...uh...well, it wasn't horrible.

What was horrible was the Mall of America. What a torture pit! I got lost so fast in that place it made my head spin. It's like a roach motel for tourists; you check in, but you never check out! How could I, a self-respecting grown man, get lost in a frigging mall, you ask?

Well, aside from the sheer immensity of the place, there are multiple locations for just about every major store. So you may pass two locations of the same store, causing you to think you've passed the same place twice, which causes you to think you need to change directions, which causes you to wander even deeper into the seemingly endless maze of retail hell that is the Mall of America.

By the time I finally escaped, my feet were somewhere between on fire and numb, my back and shoulders were killing me, and I had a migraine.

But, hey, I guess that's what being a 21st-Century American is all about, right? Shop 'til you die. But I didn't go into the place looking to "shop". I don't know any guys who do that. I just wanted to see it, but the Mall had another plan, and that plan was to trap me, spin me around in circles until I was dazed and confused, and not let me go until I bought something.

Guys, if you're ever in Minneapolis, don't- I repeat, do not- let a woman trick you into going to the Mall of America. If you do find yourself there, just head for the amusement park in the center, wait for her, and whatever you do, don't move!

Hyena?!?!?

So, you're likely familiar with my boss, Mumbles, by now. I've already put up one post listing some of his mispronunciations of words that...well, aren't that difficult to pronounce. So, since that point, I've tried to be extra attentive to what he says because his syntax is so bad it's all too easy to make an incorrect assumption.

For example, he might be saying, "I've tried to explain it to that guy before", but it sounds as if he's saying, "Fly tide is painful if you're a gay whore."

So I've learned to listen extra hard when he's speaking since his poor syntax makes it hard to determine if he's really mispronouncing a word or if you just can't understand what the bloody hell he's saying.

Well...this afternoon he schleps into my office, sits down at the unoccupied desk next to me, crosses his legs, folds his Popeye arms behind his head and begins to tell me about his wife's health scare the week before.

The doctors can't seem to figure out what's wrong with her. Her symptoms are severe chest pains, shortness of breath and heartburn. Sounds like a heart attack, right? Wrong. The doctors have ruled that out.

Then Mumbles uttered the one sentence that motivated me to write this blog today. He said, "I think it might be a hyena."

What?!?!? The?!?!?!? Frick?!?!?!?

And, before I could say, "What the frick", my brain translated the word from Mumblesese to English: Hyena = Hernia. Hernia!

Then came the almost uncontrollable urge to guffaw in his face. Luckily, I had to pee, so I jumped up out of my chair and ran to the bathroom laughing.

I can't believe it. Mumbles' wife has a hyena...

"Luxury Apartments"...Whatever!!

The wife and I sold our home in July, 2007 for a couple of reasons. First, because the neighborhood appeared to be in the first stage of serious decline ("For Rent" signs everywhere). Second, because an "affordable housing" apartment complex was about to be built on the next street. Third, because we wanted to pay off our debt.

So, we started apartment hunting; what a miserable task. But, after one or two weekends, we found some apartments that we actually liked. They're only a few years old, they're in the area we want to live, they're not outrageously expensive, and the front-office personnel seemed to be a little better than the run-of-the-mill knuckle-draggers that you usually encounter.

You see, these apartments are "luxury apartments". Fenced property with a security gate and everything and the assurance that every single vehicle that entered the property would be photographed! Whoa...(Insert sarcastic remark)... We actually looked forward to moving in.

Our love-affair with these "luxury apartments" lasted exactly two days, when the sound of our upstairs neighbor's footsteps began to really irritate us. His floorboards (our ceiling) creak with every step. Not only that, but we can hear his phone ringing. We can hear him taking a piss. We can hear him vacuuming. So, as revenge, we have nauseatingly loud sex. Hah-hah! Hope that creeps him out.

Next, someone smashed the security gate, which in reality is nothing more than a two-by-four painted white. It stayed broken for about a month before being repaired. Less than a week later, someone smashed it again.

This routine has been repeated several times over the last year. Sometimes someone smashes the gate, and sometimes they just break and stay in the "up" position.

When combined with our upstairs neighbor, the constant shortage of parking spots, and the propensity of both our refrigerator and our dishwasher to suddenly, unexpectedly dump several gallons of water into the kitchen floor, it's not hard to conclude that "luxury apartments" are no different than regular old dumpy apartments.

Whoever invented apartments should be punched in the throat...

A Paying Gig? Yeah, Right...

I swear, man... Just when I think I'm right where I'm supposed to be, I go and see a live show, and it completely throws my world into a tailspin...

The wife is in Las Vegas this weekend, so I'm a "bachelor" for a few days, right? An acquaintance of mine had a CD release party tonight at a local club and I thought, for a change, I'd actually go and check it out. I wanted to support her show, you know?

So, I showed up early, hoping some of the friends I invited might show up, too. They didn't.

There I am, the old guy all by himself at the bar. Waiting. Waiting for the show to start, with no one to talk to. Drinking Heineken. All alone. One Heine after another. I began to think about how this acquaintance actually asked me to be her drummer at one point.

Of course, since I'm a complete dumb-ass, I turned her down. Now, sitting on a barstool watching her and her band perform, I realize that I missed out on a great opportunity. She's playing precisely the style of music I'd love to be playing right now.

Then another realization hit me: I have no confidence in my abilities as a drummer. She probably would have replaced me by now, anyway, and I'd still be right here, right now, whining about this situation.

So........I need to drink some water, put a little food into my stomach, go to bed, and forget about ever playing drums anywhere other than at church on Sundays...

Monday on Tuesday...

Yeah, yeah, yeah, maybe I'm trying too hard with the title. But, who cares? Today was one of those days when, as a Christian, I am spending a lot of energy trying to decide whether today is just one of "those days", or if God is trying to tell me something.

It all started...well, it all started last night, when I got really, really, really sleepy and went to bed. Shortly thereafter I became wide awake. I tossed, I turned. I tossed some more. I lay on my back. I lay on my stomach. I lay on my right side...then my left. I tied myself into the shape of a pretzel. I counted sheep. I counted bulldozers. But, no matter what I did, I could not go to sleep.

So, around 10:00, I heaved myself out of bed and moved it to the couch, where I felt around in the dark until I found the remote. Pushing the power button, I said to myself, "Let the channel flipping begin!" The channel flipping didn't end until after midnight, when I couldn't push the channel button any more and decided to move it to the computer, where I checked on my eBay auctions. I inherited an expensive watch from my grandfather, and, since the wife and I are house-hunting, I decided to listed it along with another vintage watch I own. That led me to think about all the cool "stuff" I could get with the money I make from the sale of the watches...

...until I got tired of that.

Back to bed I went, where I lay for another half-hour or so before finally sinking beneath the waves of sleep, where I had a series of violently bizarre dreams. Until the alarm went off at 6:00. I got out of bed and did my usual morning routine of stumbling around the bedroom trying to get ready for the day. It was considerably more difficult this morning due to my lack of sleep, but I eventually made it to work.

My patience was at an all-time low, which corresponded nicely with the onslaught of phone calls and emails I got. I felt completely exhausted and drained the entire day, as if I was in a fog. Food and drink tasted strange, and there was a haze around me, like I was covered in cheesecloth or something...

Until my wife called me and said she was broken down on the side of the interstate; that snapped me out of it. I leaped into "Husband-Protecting-His-Wife" mode and ran out of the office. During the high-speed drive to get to her, my tired brain was embroiled in a struggle with whether or not to get mad at God for "doing this to me". I don't think God sits in Heaven and chortles over our misfortune. On the contrary, I think everything happens for a reason from which we can benefit if we're willing to be patient. I just couldn't figure this out. What was God trying to tell me?

I mean, of the two vehicles I own, I would have expected my Ford Exploder (yes, I meant to call it an Exploder), whom I lovingly refer to as "Eleanor", to die first. I would have bet everything I own that my wife's Honda Civic, which has only 114,000 miles on it, wouldn't have bit the dust first. But, based on the wife's description of what happened, that's exactly what it sounded like. She talked of the car shaking, sputtering, lurching, clattering, and thumping. I convinced myself that the engine had thrown a rod or something.

So, I finally reached her car and made a death-defying u-turn in the median. Seriously, it was death-defying. You should have seen it! I was actually proud of my Eleanor. Anyway, I pulled up to the car, got out, and turned the key to my wife's Civic.

Vroooooom! Started right up. I mashed the accelerator. Vroooooom, vroooooom! Sounded like it always has: like a little four-cylinder. My wife and I stared at each other and shrugged.

I drove the car home, fully expecting the engine/transmission to fall out onto the road at any second, only to have the car run perfectly all the way home. The only quirk was that the ubiquitous "check engine" light won't go off.

So, now I'm home, typing this, still trying to figure out why everything that happened over the last 18-hours happened. My initial gut reaction is that the watches will sell. And I'll spend every cent on fixing the wife's car...

Hmm...