I got to ride in the back of a police car today

It's been a very long day.

I worked in Philly today. This usually means getting up at a very early hour to beat traffic and be there sometime between 7 and 8 am and then working until 5 pm or so.

I've been trying to figure out the best way to beat traffic on the way home. For the last three years, I would typically go to class after work. By the time class was over, the traffic was not nearly as bad as it is between the hours of 5 and 6 pm.

Tonight, I tried the turnpike. And while I didn't really find myself in too many bad jams (save for the congestion actually getting on the turnpike), I found myself taking forever getting home. Not even driving and a mild rate of 80ish mph helped.

By the time I got off the turnpike and I-176 (which, I'm not really sure how it qualifies to be an interstate. As far as I know, it's only in PA) and into the Reading area, I was already bitchy about not being home yet.

As I pondered what way I would try next time I worked in the city, I got into the passing lane to pass a truck. Unfortunately, in a blind spot created by said truck, there was some sort of large metal object in the middle of the road. I didn't have enough time to avoid it and hit it. I immediately knew at least one of my tires would be done. I drove for about another half mile and I heard the unmistakable noise of my tire flattening. The car wavered a bit, so I pulled off immediately.

Unfortunately, there was no good place to pull off with barely a shoulder to the road. I waited for traffic to stop a little, quickly got out, checked it, kicked it and got back in. That's about when I went into the shock.

I had no clue where I was.

Granted, I drive on this road several times per month. I should have known. But it's so automatic for me to go anymore, that I wasn't sure exactly which road I was on or which exit I had just passed. There wasn't a mile marker in sight. Ahead, I could see an exit sign, so I was able to roughly figure it out. But I had no idea if I was going east or west. I frantically tried to call Paul to see if he'd be able to tell me, but I couldn't reach him in the office, on his cell or at home. I freaked.

I called AAA and explained the situation, that I was afraid to even open my door and there was no way in hell anyone would be able to actually change the tire where the car was. They said they'd send someone and suggested that I call 911.

Now, before you lecture me on why I should have called 911 first, let me tell you that the last time something like that happened I got totally screwed by the tow truck driver that the police called. I wasn't about to go through that again. I've had some really bad luck with weird tow truck drivers. But that's another blog for another day.

911 dispatchers are total power tripping assholes. I feel comfortable saying this as I've known many over the years. The one I spoke with tonight was no exception. As most of you know, I speak very quickly. I'm sure she mistook it for panic and interrupted me with a "Ma'am? MAAAAA'AM?!?!?!" to ask a question rather than listening to what I was telling her. It came as no surprise to me when someone from the police station had to call back and ask for my location again.

I waited and watched the traffic come way too close too quickly to my car. I finally reached Paul and freaked. Bad. I was so bothered that I neglected to answer the phone when he tried to call me back after I hung up screaming and freaking. See how you fucking like it, Bub!

But Goddamn if they didn't send me a hot looking cop!

By this point, I had crawled over to the passenger side of the car as I was afraid of getting sideswiped by cars going 75 mph while I sat in the driver's seat. Officer McHotStuff (and you know I'm not exaggerating because the whole uniform thing typically does nothing for me...especially when it comes to the fuzz) looked at me and said, "I think I'm going to get you out of there because if someone runs into me and then hits you, we're both going for a wild ride." Ooh yeah! A wild ride with Officer McHotstuff!

Um...where was I?

Oh yeah. He helped me get out of the car and then called AAA for me again to give them a little push to get to me quicker. They were there within five minutes. The tow truck driver said he'd have to tow me to a safe place and then change the tire. Fine. That's what my AAA is for.

Unfortunately, he had no clue how to turn my car on because of the smart key system. When he asked for the key and I handed him my FOB, he just gave me a look like I was out of my forking mind. I told him to push the power button, but forgot to tell him to push the break while doing it. Oopsy! I take these things for granted.

The tow truck driver had someone else in the truck with him, so he asked Officer McHotStuff to give me a ride to a parking lot just off the next exit. Officer McHotStuff helped me back over the guardrail.

"I'm sorry, but you're going to have to ride in the back," he told me.

Not a problem. It just made the story more interesting.

We chatted some more about the car. I told him that I didn't mean to cause such a problem, but there was nowhere else for me to really pull over. He told me it wasn't a problem and that it wasn't my fault.

"Well, at least I can tell everyone that I got to ride in the back of a cop car," I joked. Then we laughed about how the tow truck driver was so far away from us that he probably stole me car. Who says cops have no sense of humor?

We went to the lot at a nearby school. This adorable old security guard (think Jimmy Kimmel's Uncle Frank) talked to me about my car. Officer McHotStuff also seemed very curious about it, asking about mpg type stuff. The tow truck drivers were amazed. Everyone was so nice to me and my little car.

Before I knew it, my donut was on and I had waved good-bye to the kind gentlemen who helped me. Paul met up with me so I didn't have to drive the car the whole way home.

Now I'm tired. Like I said, it's been a long day.

The folks at XM radio can lick me where I pee

I haven't really used XM much. I got it primarily for Opie and Anthony and then they started broadcasting on terrestrial radio anyway. My XM receiver didn't really work in my house and I never really bothered to install it in my car. On occasion, I might listen to it on the computer, but really I'd forget that it was even an option for the most part. I haven't really listened to it for months.

So then, XM suspended Opie and Anthony. Buh? It's a subscription service. I paid and subscribed specifically for this. I sent an angry message that I don't want to renew my subscription.

Today, I received a letter from the kind folks at XM stating that they would automatically renew my subscription and charge my credit card in the next few weeks. I hate when companies do this.

I called to cancel and waited for 15 minutes before someone took my call. I explained that I was canceling because I hardly used the service. I also admitted that I really don't support censorship of any kind, especially when I'm paying for the service and that this was my boycott. The woman I spoke with said that she'd connect me to someone who would cancel my service right away. I waited on the phone like a douche for five minutes before I heard a busy signal. The phone was disconnected.

I called back, seething. This time I waited for 20 minutes before someone spoke to me. I explained how angry I was, but stayed calm. I didn't swear (I know, hard to believe), but I did happen to call the operator "Sweetheart."

"I'm really sorry to hear that you're canceling your subscription," the rep said.

"Are you?" I replied dryly. "Will you be up all night worrying about what I plan to listen to without your service? Just connect me to your cancellation department, please."

I waited for a few more minutes only to discover that I had been hung up on a second time!

I called a third time and waited once again. When the third representative answered I immediately asked for a supervisor. I explained what had happened. The supervisor eventually made her way onto the phone. She threw an offer at me for $77 for the year, roughly half the price of a regular annual subscription. I politely declined. I explained that after the service I just received, I had no interest in giving their company any business at all. I said that I hardly used the service and since I specifically subscribed for a program that had been suspended I had no use for them. I don't support censorship.

She told me that it was only temporary. I said I didn't care. She said that the company hadn't suspended them for what was said, rather they asked them not to discuss the issue anymore.

I cut her off. "Asking someone not to say something IS censorship. I have no interest in your politics, ma'am. I just want to cancel my service and be rid of you. Now will you please do it?"

And finally she did. Bleh. I can't believe how ballsy they are. If I don't want to pay for something, I shouldn't have to waste an hour and a half of my life to get out of it and then get an argument after really shitty service. For fuck's sake, just let me go. This whole experience didn't win me over. It just made it worse.

Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup

Call VH-1. I'm having the best week ever.

Where to begin? I'll start with last weekend. I went to visit Chicago Paul and Bill in Chicago and see a lacrosse game. I love those guys! Paul and I actually flew out for a change (usually, we just stop in on our way back from whatever bizarre road trip we've conjured up). We flew out of Newark and everything went fairly well.

The first night we were there, we went to a sex shop in a very gay part of Chicago to buy some pasty glue for the girls in The Flaming Dames, an 80's hair band burlesque show that Chicago Paul is stage managing. Then we were off to dinner with Chicago Paul's girlfriend Madi (who is really cute and very cool) and the Aqua Teen Hunger Force movie. We then dropped Madi off and went to Paul's show.

We sat at the bar playing the Megatouch for a while. Then we had a seat. The show was freakin' hysterical. At one point, they picked a name out of a hat for someone to go back stage with the girls. Of course, they picked Paul's name (coincidence? hmmmmm...). After a lot of coaxing, he went backstage. A few minutes later he came out with lipstick all over his face, a bra hanging from his hat and a very frightened look on his face. He sat on a chair on stage while and extremely buxom chick sat on his lap while singing a song. She later got up and smacked what I'm guessing are her JJ sized breasts on his head. I laughed harder than my dad during the dinner scene in the Borat movie. I don't think he wants to admit it, but I think he had fun. If you happen to be in Chicago, you really should check out the show.

The next day we took a ride to Northwestern's campus and had pizza for lunch. We went back to Chicago Paul's apartment and watched Shaun of the Dead because I had never seen it before. After that, the two Pauls and I went to the Wings/Shamrox game (Bill blew us off and didn't go. He sucks. ). The Wings lost ugly, which really pissed me off because that was really the only thing they had to win to make the playoffs. We found some other Wings fans that we knew, Rachel and Sheryl. We all went back to the post-game party, but it was lame and we left shortly after the players arrived.

We went back to Chicago Paul's apartment. Bill came out of hiding. Bill is one of two people that I have ever met who has insomnia that rivals my own. The two of us in a room together at a dark hour created a sick, synergistic effect. We ended up staying up all night swapping stories of love, pain and retail stupidity until the sun was up, the birds were chirping and I had to get ready to catch my flight back home. The flight was delayed a bit due to weather. And when we got to Newark, some roads were flooded. But we thanked our lucky stars that we weren't flying into Philly because we would have never have been allowed to land.

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After catching up on sleep Monday and Tuesday, I worked in Philly on Wednesday. After work, I picked up my cap and gown for graduation and bought a frame for my massive diploma. I then made my way to the Cheesecake Factory and had dinner with Brenda and her husband Matt. This was the first time I met Matt since I was unable to make it to her wedding reception. She is ready to give birth in just a few weeks and is just the cutest little beach ball smuggling thing ever.

Thursday, I found myself in Delaware. I usually hate Delaware, but this trip turned out to be kind of fun. My company has a rather large facility there where I usually set up my laptop in a conference room away from the rest of the branch upstairs. It just so happened that Dan, our regional trainer, was actually in his office upstairs this week and kept me company for most of the day. I get the distinct feeling that Dan is lonely in that office since he is up there by himself and was happy to have someone to talk to all day. Appreciatively, he took me out for lunch. When I got in his truck, I ragged on him that he actually lives in his Dodge Durango. In the truck, he had a bed frame, several pairs of shoes and a stick of deodorant.

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Friday night, I went to a sex toy party. I think if I ever want a little side job, I found my calling as a sales rep (demonstrator?) for home parties. The chick who ran this thing was a riot - very bold and blunt. She sounded like a cross between Beavis and Butthead's health teacher (Remember the episode where they were forbidden to laugh? Then their teacher got in their faces and started saying things like, "Today we're going to be talking about the PENIS! And the VAGINA! And we're going to be spending a lot of time on MASTURBATION!") and that guy on the home shopping channel late at night who peddles Beanie Babies and baseball cards. My favorite quotations yelled throughout the night:

"Ladies! This Coochie Cream is perfect for shaving. Your man can use it too! He can use it on his face or HIS BALLS!!!"

"Ladies! If you're into ANAL SEX and WATER SPORTS - this is the LUBE FOR YOU!!"

"Ladies! You have to pull anal beads out of his ass SLOWLY! Do not tug on them like the chord on your lawn mower!"

"Just remember, Erection Cream is NOT edible! DICKALICIOUS is!!!"

That's right. It was actually someone's job to come up with a product name for Dickalicious. I'm fairly certain that the guy who named Erection Cream was fired. But probably the most amusing product name in the catalog of dildos and dirty things was a packet of four creams called Eat Me Completely.

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Yesterday was Brenda's baby shower. A bunch of my friends from college all came into town. The guys went off to a bar and met up with us after the shower. We played cards and went out to dinner. Then Taco came back to my house and we hung out here and stayed up way too late watching the Facts of Life. I took her back to the bus stop early this morning so she could make it to the Mets game this afternoon. That's why I'm awake. It was well worth it, though. I love when my college friends are in town.

Oooh! And I found an entertaining book, although I only have a few pages left since it's a pretty quick, easy read. It's a stripper's memoir. I love her funny writing style. And she's a Pixies fan. Check it out.

Book suggestions, please!

I went to Barnes and Noble the other day. For the first time ever, I found absolutely nothing interesting. Usually, I'm walking out with three or four books in hand because I can never decide which is most interesting and I'm afraid that I will forget the titles if I wait to buy them later.

So give me something good. What's interesting?

Here is what I'm sick of:

Chick lit - I've read the Devil Wears Prada and a few Jennifer Weiners books. I enjoyed them, but they make me feel like an airhead.

Political and historical stuff - This is the other end of the spectrum. I want to stay entertained and not get depressed over mankind in general.

Beat stuff - I'm just burned out on this genre

Books about or by musicians - I've read too many of them as of late. I need something new.

I hate mysteries, historical pieces, "the classics" that I was supposed to read in high school (I mean really, if I wanted to read them, I would have when I was supposed to. I'm not going to do it now on my free time) and any of your mass marketed Stephen King, Dean Koontz, Jackie Collins, Daniel Steel, X of for Xenophobia type crap.

Don't even mention the Da Vinci Code.

I like:

Weird books - Think Douglas Coupland.

Books about people on drugs - I don't know why, but I'm always fascinated by these.

Underdog/misfit stories

Anything ironic or satirical

A good story that's just hard to classify as anything other than "fiction."

I just want something cool, interesting and different. Suggestions?

If it's just a lull, why am I bored right out of my skull?

At the risk of sounding like that guy who complains that his dick is too big, I feel the need to write about what's bothering me.

Nothingness.

I know this has been hard for some people to understand, but I've been in a bit of a funk as of late. This has nothing to do with anyone else. It's all on me, and I'm not sure what to do about it. People think I lead this charmed life, like I've managed to get everything I've ever wanted. And I suppose this is true. Granted, it's not all wine and roses. Work has been tough lately. I've also come to the realization that I hate living where I live. I mean, I love my house on its little street that projects the surreal image of a Tim Burton film (think Edward Scissorhands). And I can't beat my five minute commute to the office. I'm just not fond of the area where it's located. I don't belong here. I've met some good people and all, but this just doesn't feel like home to me.

All that aside, it's always been my mantra that you can have whatever you want in life, you just have to figure out how to get it and make the right moves and decisions along the way. The problem is, I've hit the wall. I don't know what to aspire to next. I need a new adventure and something to do with my free time.

I've discussed this with a few people. And I've compiled a list of what they've suggested. I'm open to other suggestions as well. Here it is.

1. "Why don't you write that fuckin' book already?"

This is a good one. Unfortunately, I've had some awful writer's block lately. Maybe I need a new desk or a change of atmosphere. But it's been hard to sit here and type anything. I'm not sure where to go after the first paragraph.

2. "You can help me with my Girl Scout troop."

No. Those little bitches are trying to make me fat with their cookies. Now someone please get these Tagalongs out of here before I eat the whole box.

3. "You can do some other sort of volunteer work."

This would require hardcore commitment to something. I just don't have it in me. I could see it turning into another full time job of sorts. I already work at least 50 hours per week. I just don't think I have the energy.

4. "You can start having kids."

Um, hellooooo?!??!? Did you read number three with the commitment and the energy?!?!? Please. Stop. I'm so sick of people saying this to me. I'm not ready. I'm nowhere near ready. I don't know if I'll ever be ready. Please remove what you think is your vested interested in my uterus. This is a funk and will probably pass in a few months. Children, on the other hand, are permanent.

5. "You can have an affair!"

Um, I'm not even sure where to begin with that one...

6. "You can play the triangle in my band."

Ok. This one is a joke.

7. "You can make jokes in your blog that only three other people will get."

I just did! Please see number six.

8. "It's time to start up that Monday night drinking club again."

Hmmmm...it's a possibility. I'm just not so sure it's in my best interest.

9. "Take another trip."

This is also a good one. But I can't help but wonder if that is what put me in my funk to begin with. I was really riding high when I came back from Hawaii. But now that I've been back for almost a month, I've hit a slump. The excitement has worn off and I'm here looking for the next thing to look forward to. There are places that I want to go. The problem is that most of them will require resources like time and money that I may not have enough of to do what I want.

10. "Get some exercise."

No one actually suggested this, at least not to my face. This came from me. I'm looking for a gym right now that has aerobics classes at an hour that I would actually be able to attend. Maybe a little endorphin therapy will help. For now, I will be a slave to the Xbox 360 DDR.

Hmmmm...video games...hadn't considered that one...

Nah.

Put your make up on, fix your hair up pretty and meet me tonight in Atlantic City

When I woke up this morning, the roads seemed completely clear. Sure, there were several inches of snow on the ground, but it seemed as though Penn DOT actually got their asses in gear over night. I had no fear about going to see the Wings play tonight.

However, after driving for an hour and a half to get to the game we learned that the game was postponed until April 13th because the other team couldn't fly in from Minnesota.

"All dressed up with no place to go," I said to Paul. It seemed like a waste of a St. Patrick's Day. I was now in Philly, hours away from my plans B or C. "I feel like we should do something since we're down here."

"Let's go to Atlantic City," he said. And there he was - the spontaneous guy that I married. I thought it was a good idea. Although, I'm barely Irish, I'd be willing to test my luck.

Next thing I knew we were on the AC Expressway, stopping for Starbucks and then parking at Trump. We lost, then won, then won again, lost, lost, lost. Luck of the Irish, my big fat ass! We went from Trump to Wild Wild West and Bally's. I like the decor Wild Wild West, even if it's a little cheesey. I don't even really mind the country music they pipe in there, although was it really necessary for some country artist to remake that fuckin' Himder song. ENOUGH ALREADY!

Walking back to Trump, I saw a black cat on the beach. I started calling him Lucky. I tried calling him to come to me, but he ran under the boardwalk. At least he didn't cross my path, I guess.

And I didn't drink tonight. This is the first St. Patrick's Day that I can remember in years that I was not drunk. See! You all think I'm an alcoholic. Ha!

We stopped at a diner on the way home and then a cop followed us almost to our door. We were the only car on the road and he was just waiting for us to do something stupid. It didn't happen. Then he pulled off to get gas.

So, yeah, that was my night o' spontaneity. It was fun, but I wish I had won something.

Kind Acts of Randomness

New Jersey sucks. I got lost there last week. I made a wrong turn, but convinced myself that it was still right even though I knew deep down it was wrong. I didn't give in for about twenty miles. Then I had to find a place to turn around. Did you know that left turns are illegal pretty much everywhere in New Jersey? So I did a few bizarre maneuvers and probably damn near caused a few accidents just to turn around. Oh well. I guess we all get our turn to be the asshole.

Trying to upload songs to iTunes that were downloaded from other sites is a pain in the ass.

I probably shouldn't admit this, but I'm really digging the bootlegs that Paul has been burning for me from bit torrent. So far, I have two really great Pixies shows and a Grateful Dead show that I used to have on tape. The download is better quality than the tape that I used to have. He had a really cool U2 show, too.

Best advice ever given to me: Don't piss off the psycho.

Yesterday marked the one month anniversary of the gigantic mound of snow that ran off my roof and gathered directly in front of my door. Because there was ice mixed in with this, it was impossible to get rid of and I've been using my garage to get in and out of the house. I kind of like the mound there. I would know if someone was trying to break in because there would be footprints.

I have this coworker that no one likes. But I think he rocks! This is mostly because he bribes me with alcohol.

I hate people who smile when giving bad news. I don't necessarily mean people who smile in a "ha ha neener neener" kind of way (although, they suck, too). I mean the people who smile as if it's going to make the horrific (and usually blunt) blow more bearable. For example - "You have cancer," or "I want to see other people" or "Don't come into work anymore. You're fired." There's no way to make these words more pleasant. So save your fake nicey nice crap for someone who won't feel like kicking you in the teeth.

I can't believe the Platypus Man is dead.

Only 19 more days until Guitar Hero II comes out for the Xbox 360. Woo hoo!

Some really great things have happened since I got back from Hawaii. One of my friends is pregnant. That had a long time coming. Another friend got a new job. That also had a long time coming. And Paul got a raise and a promotion. I'm wondering if it has anything to do with that Tiki God that is in my bedroom Take that luck, Greg Brady!

Enough with the Hinder song already, people! You know who you are.

Why do people dwell on mistakes? Just acknowledge it, learn from it and move away from it as quickly as possible. Sometimes when you pick up the pieces, you end up cutting yourself. Maybe it's better to just step over them.

It sucks when you get sick in the middle of a big meeting.

My friends rule! I don't know what I ever did to deserve such wonderful people in my life, but I know I don't tell them nearly enough. You have all been so good to me lately. I love you all. Muah!