Road Hazard (Post #100)

When a light flashes RED, you stop, look, and then proceed with caution.

When a light flashes YELLOW, you proceed through the intersection carefully.

When a BLACK chick flashes you numerous times during your drive home…what do you do?

Answer: I encouraged her, because I support minorities and she was a two-fer.

odds & ends [mostly]

[NOTE: All links open in a new page.]

An intriguing article about AMERICAN SUSHI that bridges a few interesting areas: the homogenization of culture via the business of food.

A Govt. program with a 99.9827% success rate AND zombies? Seriously, who could possibly ask for more? Read all about it in, STIMULUS CHECKS FOR THE DEAD.

What if your shoe company was so good at personnel and operations management that you could create a thriving side business in consultancy? THE ZAPPOS WAY OF MANAGING is worth reading.

Terminator Salvation’s imminent release makes PBS’ The Newshour with Jim Lehrer video story MILITARY ROBOTS FIND A PLACE ON THE BATTLEFIELD compelling.

Summertime means bbq grill time! This fun info-graphic delineates America’s grilling habits by the numbers…NATURAL BORN GRILLERS.

Without Even Trying. . .

I’ll be in Kansas City, KS for Memorial Day weekend.

No, I didn’t lose a beat and it’s not on a dare either.

In fact, people –so I’ve been told– actually book flights that terminate in Kansas.

Kansas. Terminate. Seems redundant.

How one [read: me] ends up in Kansas is, well, your friend invites you to his family reunion. Apparently there’s a big push to introduce new blood to the line.

The thing about my friend is, he’s an easygoing, affable guy. The kind of guy around whom it’s easy to let your guard down, be yourself and forgo pretenses and social mores.

When we weren’t working, we tried to invent interesting things to do in Southern, MD. This is much like being an only child growing up as the sole kid in a commune located in Antarctica; that is, minus Antarctica’s cultural opportunities.

And speaking of ice, it was January 2008 when my friend and I decided to go ice skating. He owned a pair of ice hockey skates, and I had never skated before – so it was about even, you could say.

We skated for hours, until our legs burned, feet hurt, and children began to openly mock my skillz. [Who knew that raising an ice skate to a child could be construed as a threatening act?]

So there we were: two grown, former military men who just spent the day ice skating. We’re a tad sweaty and our aged bodies ached. So of course, I do the most manly thing ever and ask, “Say, Dan, you wanna stop at Bed Bath & Beyond and help me pick out a new comforter?”

So I’m headed to Kansas City to spend Memorial Day weekend with my friend, whom I haven’t seen in a year. Maybe we’ll have a few drinks, play horseshoes, and maybe later we’ll go skinny dipping.

*Next time I’ll tell the story that ends with me exclaiming, “Ow! I’ve got a splinter in my cock!”

Scrub In. Scrub Out.

Last Wednesday marked the final chapter in one of the best unknown, underrated television series ever, Scrubs.

Scrubs has been advertised as “half as long as ER and twice as funny” as well as “the best show you’re not watching” (which was featured on Family Guy). [via]

Am I the only one who loved this show?

I have this friend…

I have this friend who, after being trapped in a very unpleasant place for several weeks, decided to unwind.

Now, this friend of mine, he’s not much of a drinker.

But my friend is also highly susceptible to a) attractive women, b) peer pressure, and c) attractive women exercising peer pressure.

So when an attractive woman said, “Hey, let’s go to the TIKI BAR” he went.

The Tiki Bar is a Southern MD legacy; it’s opening weekend draws thousands.  Seriously, LOOK.

Anyway, my friend, when he drinks he smokes. And so after several hours of drinking, he went in search of a smoke.

My friends sees this guy smoking and think to himself, “He looks generous” and so he asked Generous Guy for a smoke.

Generous Guy gives him a smoke, and holds his phone for him as he tries with trembling drunken hands to light up.

But Generous Guy starts walking away with my friend’s phone. And so my friend follows him.

Then Generous Guy breaks into a full-on run and my drunken friend chases him.

Generous Guy becomes Phone Thief Guy, who was apparently a track star in high school.

A half mile later -we measured it- Phone Thief Guy tosses the phone in the air, making him Thief Guy…or DICK, for short.

So my friend, after running at a full sprint for a half mile (we measured it) picks up his now broken phone.

As he stands, four highly-polished shoes and two pair of brown polyester pants come into view.

Standing tall, my friend smiles and tries to greet the two Sheriffs (of the Nottingham variety). Instead, he blows chunks.

Chunks of crab meat, specifically.

The Sheriffs, not at all amused, recommend that my friend use his phone to call for a ride.

“No, no,” my friend laments, trying to tell the story of the Generous Guy turned Phone Thief Guy and their half-mile run…did I mention that we measured it?

“Yes, yes,” they say. “Call someone to take you home, or we’ll call someone to take you to jail.”

There’s really no debating this. I mean, my friend is obviously drunk. Plus there’s the crab residue adorning the sidewalk.

So my friend’s awesome and very hot girlfriend comes to pick him up.

Seriously. He called. She came. No shame or guilt.

When they break up, I’m dating her ‘cus she’s hot, awesome, and runs a cab service.

Anyway, my friend passes out in the basement and sleeps for the next twelve hours.

Meanwhile, the party at the Tiki Bar rages on into the night.

Today, my friend goes to work -where he toils amongst big whigs and powerful people- terrified that he will be shamed and ridiculed.

He skulks through the halls. He keeps his head down. He is 12 again and work has become that first dance.

Ugh. The awkwardness.

But then someone recognizes him.

The story, or a variation thereof, is told of my friend’s half mile full-on sprint after the Phone Thief and how he puked crab all over two cops and got away.

What? No. That’s not…

“Dude, you’re fucking legend!”

A smile.

“Next time you go out, I have to come,” say the people.

And his exploits become the thing of legend. Even his boss slaps him on the back, making the “I remember when I was your age…” comment.

The people jokingly offer him smokes.

I have this friend who doesn’t smoke, except when he’s drinking….and that’s how it all started.