- wet willies
- sexily removing bandolier
- Jedi mind trick
- Wookiee mind trick
- Card trick
- purple nurples
- singing Life Day carols
- threatening to release flock of mynocks
- releasing flock of mynocks
- 85-slide PowerPoint deck
- doing the Hokey-Pokey
- doing the Pigeon
- doing opponent’s mom
- more slam-poetry
- Super-Poking opponent on Facebook
- playing bootleg Zydeco recordings
- defending Zydeco as a musical genre
- ripping opponent’s arms out of their sockets
archive for April 2009
Apparently, I draw pictures of Godzilla hanging out with an alien now.
My lovely wife at Hollywood Studios.
If you’re really looking for ways to procrastinate, I’ve posted more pictures from our Disney trip.
So I’m driving to work this morning in fairly heavy traffic and I can see that a truck a little way ahead of me has stopped at the lights and is making a delivery. It’s a cheese truck so I don’t get mad because, hey, it’s cheese. But I turn on my blinker and ease over to the left lane, as do many of the cars around me.
But not all the cars have noticed this. Just when I am almost up to the cheese truck, the driver of a white car directly behind the cheese truck suddenly notices the truck’s warning lights — as well as the open delivery door and two men removing boxes of cheese. So, the driver of the the white car immediately starts to turn into the left lane.
Realizing that the white car might do this, I’ve stopped. It’s not a huge amount of room for the white car to change lanes, but as the light has already turned red, it’s enough.
This is when the driver of the white car notices me and proceeds to lose his shit.
(Quick note about the driver: about 60 years-old, but a hard 60. Gray hair, beard, scowl lines creasing his face so much that I can see them through his rear-view mirror. His wife sits next to him, staring straight ahead, smoking an 18-foot-long cigarette.)
So, he sees me and loses it. In his mind I have cut him off. I have cut him off and done so maliciously and gleefully. He’s screaming in his rear-view mirror, waving his arms around, and pointing at me (periodically using very specific fingers).
I see this and I distinctly mouth, “I. LET. YOU. IN.”
He freaks out even more, screaming even harder, bouncing up and down in his seat, and pointing successively at himself, then me, then at the road, then back at himself.
I roll down my window and I yell, “DUDE! I! LET! YOU! IN!”
And that’s when he grabs a SHEATHED HUNTING KNIFE, holds it up to the rear-view mirror and points at it.
So I do what any sane person would do.
I start laughing uncontrollably.
Yes, I realize he did just threaten my life.
BUT COME ON.
A HUNTING KNIFE?
“OH NO! I MAY HAVE TO ROLL UP MY WINDOW!”
He watches me lose it for a moment. Then he puts the hunting knife down, looks straight ahead, and changes lanes.
Light turns green and we drive on.
And I can’t help it. I keep laughing at him. When I catch him looking at me in his rear-view mirror, I laugh even harder. The whole way.
Two blocks from my work, he pulls off and disappears down a side street.
His wife never turned her head.