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.

Thanks to Laurie I learned that this blog suddenly started requiring commenters to log in. Catrina in Burbank told me the same thing about a month ago but at that time I just assumed it was a temporary bug. So, thanks to both of you.

I don’t know how that happened. I didn’t do it. I do not moderate comments here. Anyone is free comment here and say anything they like. What I found was that it was the non-WordPress users that were required to be registered and signed in. The fix was a very complicated process. I had to uncheck a box.

Some time ago I found that my D drive will not read CDs anymore. Just as the insane do the same thing over and over again and expect different results, I keep sticking discs into the machine with hope that it will somehow work again.

The sound could also be described as a security alarm. I was seriously worried now. The only thing I could think to do was give this old computer one last good old-fashioned fist pounding. I did so by bringing the ball of my fist straight down on top of it with twice as much force as before. When I did, that blood-curdling sound stopped immediately. My sound is fine and the tray slides in and out easily only now in sort of a zig-zaggy motion. Maybe now it will run discs.

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.

1. Back in to someone with the company truck on a Saturday.

Nothing says “bad Monday” like calling your boss about something like this. It happened in a grocery store parking lot. I know, big surprise. Some woman came up behind me and was so far up my ass that just putting it in reverse, without using the gas pedal, I backed into her. Actually, I just rolled into her. There couldn’t have been any more than 12 inches between our bumpers. She got a dimple about the size of a fifty cent piece in the front of her hood and some black scuff marks on her precious plastic bumper. I can pretty much count on her having the entire hood and bumper replaced.

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.

It was on this day in 1978 that the very first spam message was sent. It was sent out on ARPANET which was in use as far back as 1969. ARPA was the Advanced Research Projects Agency. The ARPAnet was a government-run network which evolved into what we now know as the internet.

It was Gary Thuerk who first emailed hundreds of people at the same time for personal gain. Happy anniversary Mr. popularity.

Earlier this evening I tore away the big April sheet from my desk calendar. I use those huge desk calendars from office supply stores. I like to to scribble notes instead of use a computer. All I have to do is reach over, grab a pen and make a note. After that, anything I need to be reminded of is right there in it’s square on my right without having to access anything on this computer.

I always make a note of future events by shuffling forward through the calendar and leaving a reminder for myself. Tonight when I looked at the events for May I was reminded of the Houston public library book sale. It doesn’t happen until the 16th though.

For those that don’t know what this is, this is when the Houston public library gets rid of all it’s unwanted books by selling them to the public at ridiculously low prices. It takes place at the convention center downtown. It lasts for three days. It always seems to start on Friday. That pisses me off because those of us who have to work during the week are not able to get first shot at some of the best books.

However, it’s not as crowded the next day. What I do is bring my travel bag. It’s huge and it has wheels. I just wander the aisles and toss books into it. I then take it to a girl who adds up the cost of all the books. After that I take it to the mean old woman collecting the money and pay the outrageous price of $40.00 for about 25 books. Then I wheel my books back to my truck, toss the whole bag of books in the bed of my truck, get out of dowtown and then stop for some appetizers and a few beers.

When I get home I go through all my loot.

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: