Dissonance

I spotted someone today that I haven’t seen in about fifteen years. Over those years certain things would remind me of the past and make me wonder whatever happened to him. Not because we were super close friends but simply out of curisosity because He, I and two other guys spent a lot of time together. Jeff played guitar for us.

Today, fifteen years later, I saw him sitting out in the sun on a bucket or an egg crate at a major intersection holding up one of those handwritten signs, muttering to himself and waving weakly to no one in particular. I do not like saying this but seeing him as an intersection panhandler and street person does not shock me as much as the fact that he is still alive.

I am finally home from a very long week of driving. That’s practically all I’ve been doing for the last five days. I like that my job gets me around but I prefer to fly across the country rather than drive across Texas. Please don’t take this the wrong way; I have great, great love for this state. What I mean is that it is so huge that driving from one end of it to the other (East-West) without cruise control comes very close to ending all blood circulation to your ass and right leg and foot. That’s exactly what I did this week, and then some.

This wasn’t without reward though. I got a newer, bigger, better truck out if it. The main office of the company I work for is in Los Angeles. My Dad and I are the entire Houston branch. In the last two years the company bought two new company trucks. One was for me and the other for one of the guys in LA. I got a six cylinder Tundra which is fairly low to the ground and he got an eight cylinder Tundra which is very high off the ground. He’s not a very tall guy and complained daily about how hard it was to work out of it. In addition to that, he is known to take off from a traffic signal like a drag-racer and wears out brakes almost quarterly. Since I had the six-banger and he had the eight cylinder and that I don’t drive like he does and that gasoline is cheaper here in Houston than it is in LA it was decided that we would swap trucks.

And so we did this week. We met halfway between Los Angeles and Houston to make the swap. As I said before, Texas is enormous. Halfway to California is El Paso, Texas. That’s right at the state line and the border of Mexico. I had to stop in Austin for some other work first. After that I drove on to San Antonio so I could spend the night and catch I-10 in the morning. From San Antonio it took me nine hours to get to El Paso and that’s only because that right out of San Antonio the speed limit is 80 mph all the way to El Paso. Thank you TXDOT.

I have to say that this painfully long drive was a very scenic one. I drove through a combination of desert and mountain country. I had never been that far west in Texas. I was so impressed with the beauty of the landscape. I’ve lived most of my life on Padre Island and Houston and there is no such thing as a mountain in either of those places. Not even a hill. Although I’ve seen most of the U.S., seeing that part of my own state for the first time was sort of a thrill.

During my return drive back home I got a call from my Dad. He told me that one of our accounts needed a repair. It was in Corpus Christi which is three hours south of Houston. I wasn’t even halfway back to Houston when I got this call. Why does this shit only happen at times like this? Normally, I would have veered south at San Antonio. But no, since we were swapping trucks I had no tools or materials on the truck. I had no choice but to go all the way home to get one single little plastic fitting for the repair. I was basically just passing through town at this point. I managed to get a decent night’s sleep for the first time in four days before having to get back in the truck and drive another three hours for two minutes of work and then drive another three hours back.

I am so going to become one with my bed tonight.

Sorry for the drastic change in appearance. I got a verbal ass-whipping from more than a few people about my previous template a few days ago. It was severe enough that I decided to change the look of this place, at least for now.

I liked the old look. Tell me what you think.

I found something very unwelcome in my mail box when I got home yesterday afternoon. It was from
Houston Police Department
Camera Enforcement Division

Okay, kidding. It was daylight and I simply held the envelope up and they both nodded wildly. I handed it to them, they thanked me and that was that. These were two girls that in no way at all belong in jail even for a few hours. I slept last night.

Kristiane took an online quiz to identify her American accent. She asked her readers to do the same. The faithful reader of her blog that I am, I did as she asked and this is the result I got about myself:

I was in a bit of a sour mood this evening until I visited one of my favorite blogs. The author made comparisons to everyone she knows from her blog, including me, to teen characters in movies from the eighties. Even without knowing anything about the commenters on her blog that she’s talking about, it’s still very funny. According to her, my counterpart is Jeff Spicoli. Am I upset? Hell, no! I laughed myself into tears. Take a look at her post.

Pilver: The Movie

This is a total spin-off of the previous post. I want to know what the hell happened to the brown paper bag. The big, beautiful, brown, sturdy paper sack. I can remember when that was all that groceries came home in.

To this day I still remember the sound and smell of those bags. I miss them. We don’t get them anymore and I’ll tell you why: The wacko “environmental” movement has everyone convinced that the use of natural resources is Earth rape. Get this logic: So that we don’t murder trees we shall now make everything out of plastic. This is so, so contrary to what these fools claim to stand for. These fucking plastic bags are what is choking the environment. This plastic shit is what is fucking up my beaches and all the wildlife in the water and on the shore. Nice job you idealistic, stupid jack-offs.

Boy, did I ever get off topic. Here is what I originally intended to talk about.

The many uses for a paper sack
They hold stuff. Remember when they held groceries?
When we were kids we made costumes and masks out of them.
They were perfect for art projects of all kinds.
The small ones made lunch taste so much better than the plaid lunchboxes did.
Cats love them. (except yours Laurie B)
So do dogs and ferrets and parrots
They make great waste baskets. When it’s full, just throw the whole thing out.
They are good for ripening avacados, apricots or any other fruit that needs a little help.
In a pinch they are perfect for absorbing the grease from fried fish, fried potatoes, fried okra . . . anything fried I guess. Oh, and taco shells too. I don’t do pre-fabbed, store-bought taco shells.

There must be hundreds of uses for these bags. Tell me how you have used them.

These are just a few of the many things that completely puzzle me at grocery stores and other places. This is not a rant about people I’d like to throttle. If it was I would be talking about the checkers (oh, yeah). I’m just talking about sackers, cashiers and the window people at Burger King. I’m not annoyed or irritated because I know their intentions are good but I just . . . don’t . . . get it.

The grocery store
This applies to all of them and it has to do with the way they bag my items.

Why do they:

1. Put 10 items in 5 bags when two bags would hold the same 10 items? Before I leave I put several bags inside of one or two so that I’m just carrying out two bags instead of a string of ten hanging off the fingers of both hands.

2. Put a gallon of milk in one of those flimsy plastic bags? First, it probably won’t make it to the car without the loops tearing and second, it already has a friggin handle!

3. (My favorite) When you purchase a single small item such as a tube of toothpaste, a bar of soap or a roll of Tums why, why, oh, God, why do they put it in a bag for you?

Cashiers
Why is this so universal? Think about it. If you have change due in the form of bills and coin it is always layed in your hand bills first then coins. This is just so backward. The coins slip and slide over the paper as you’re trying to bring it back and often slide off, hit the floor and roll off several hundred feet. The quarters that is. Pennies land flat at your feet.

Burger King
I love Burger King for one thing and one thing only: The coffee. They have the absolute best coffee around. Yes, you teen and twenty know-it-all hipsters, it’s as good as Starbucks. Maybe better. Plus, I pay $1.72 for a large (20 0z.) and you pay, well, who knows what for your grande from one of your smug peers who expect you to tip them for simply handing you a cup of coffee.

But . . . What I don’t get about the window service at Burger King is the level of accomodation. I’m just getting coffee and after I tell them I do not want any cream or sugar, they put the coffee in a thick, high quality paper bag along with a stirrer and a soda straw. I don’t need the straws and I certainly don’t need the bag. What’s the bag for? I mean, really. What is that bag for?

Kristiane- I know you are a true Barista. This doesn’t apply to you.

I woke up at the usual pre-dawn hour. I looked at the clock then let my eyes slam back shut. I woke back up around seven and went into a panic. I sprung from my bed and stumbled as fast as I could over to Gabby’s room.

Me: “Gabby!”
No resonse.
Me: “Gabby!!”
Gabby: (Barely lifting her head) :”Huhhh?”
Me: “Do you have school today?!!”
Gabby: “Sigh . . . ugh . . . Nooooooo . . . “
Me: “Oh, ok. Sorry.”
Gabby: ” ‘tsokay.” (her head lands back on her pillow)

She has been on spring break and I didn’t remember if she had to go back on Monday or not. I made my way back to my room and fell back into my bed. I still had about an hour to lay there before I had to get back out and face the trauma of Monday morning.

I eventually got back out of my bed, gathered some clothes and headed for the shower. As I was sitting in there still half asleep waiting for the water in the shower to warm up and cursing the day it suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks; I had no memory of Easter Sunday. I suddenly became very awake and realized that it was not Monday but Sunday.

Is that not the biggest dumb-assed moment of all time? That is stupid deluxe. I was getting ready for work on what I thought was Monday when it was Easter Sunday. I paused and thought “Wait. Wait just a damned minute . . . today is Sunday.” I went back to bed. Go ahead and laugh. I am.

We had a great time. A much better time than we had in
2006

Every year the state of Texas issues a list of names of Texas residents who have unclaimed money sitting in the state treasury. It’s a very long list. In fact, it’s an entire extra section in the paper. I never bother to look at it. Trust me, no one owes me money. Except for that lazy bum Paul. He can keep it though. It was actually worth the $30.00 to have him disappear from my life forever.

Well, guess what? My time has finally come! I found some unclaimed money not just of mine but of my Dad’s as well (we sort of share the same first name). This wasn’t on the same listing I mentioned before but on a national listing. Online. It also has a list of unclaimed property. I didn’t check that. I don’t need to. I can move to Oklahoma and probably get free land and free tuition anytime I feel like moving to Oklahoma - which I do not.

Instead, I’ll stay right here in Texas and cash in on my unclaimed money. I haven’t decided what to do with it yet. I certainly don’t want to squander it though. As for my Dad, well, I couldn’t tell you. His amount is less than mine. Below are the details.

Me:
Year Reported: 2002
Reported By: Misson Bend MUD 1
Amount: $7.39

My Dad:
Year Reported: 1997
Reported By: Baroid
Amount .70

This is funny to me because my Dad left that company in the very early seventies.

unclaimed.org is the link if you are interested in looking at it.