Kismet IS The Right Word

My heads fallen over so im typing blind, but I should be ok. I've had to do this before. My head can't handle the thoughts. They move so fast.

Today on Ozzy Osborne's Crazy Train bucket's rode with pressed clothes and books, ipods and eyes that said. "Don't." Don't to the light. These people would cut you in half in the name of not being late for their four-million. People say prison is scary, at least in there you can supposedly trade cigarettes for kindness. Out here people do what they have to do to eat the other dog and win against the other rats. And they ain't got time to be messed with. When I got off the train this afternoon I did my best yeah-schools-out-lets-go-have-fun yell. It went right under appreciated.

This morning my plan for life was to drive 5.1 miles to the station, ride the el traino loco, work, and ride back to vehicle and drive the 5.1 home. this would be 10.2 a day, 51 a week/15ish a gallon 3.5 gallons a week = roughly $14 of burning this week {though next would be $16, the next week $20... but the end of this summer $60?} But for some reason my odometer didn't say 5.1 when I got out to run to the train, it said 7.1. Huh? DOO-WHA? Where the extra two miles, you ask? Well, fellow math addicts, I spent a good portion of the morning riding circles up and down three levels of piss-poorly-planned-parking-pods. I even follow'd a gent for a while who seemed to be on his way to his car, keys in hand and all, but then took the steps back up, so I went up the ramp back up and saw him walking about there. I rolled down my window and said something like, "Hey, are you leaving." "I would if I could find my car," he said and he walked around looking at all the cars. Then some guy in another car came up behind me and started honking which made the guy I was slowly following to see if he would ever find his car nervous? Eventually I bailed on this dude becasue I think his car was prolly stolen.

The entire time I was doing this the Diane Rhem Show on National Public Radio was discussing reducing carbon emissions. Yes, while I racqued up TWO MILES in a parking garage I had a discussion about reducing carbon emissions lowly playing on in the background. You know, it DID feel like getting kicked in the reproductive zone! Funny you should ask.

Thoughts on that: the real energy crisis is within. Align yourselves and the "garnered whiz-dumb that has never died" {that hyperlink will never, ever, get old} will speak to you and then a corporate plan of agression will not be necessary to fix the problem.

Then later in the day I got canned.

So much for my icicle messenger service career. Yes. Icicle.

If you are reading this blog in an attempt to gather information to help you collect a debt and for that purpose only please e mail all querys to Patrick Swayze at VeloCity Bicycle Courriers. Patrick, you are a man of honor and honesty and I appreciate the sincerity of your being and hope for total prosperity in your business. And whoever becomes your employee will be lucky indeed.

Well, sometimes the phone rings and you gotta go hang out with the Black Rebel Motorcycle Club.

G'dnight!