I’m gonna slash his tires one day.
I am so not kidding, maybe. I think, because I was a cop, I am especially sensitive to people being stupid with their cars. Parking in handicap spaces when you aren’t supposed to, intentionally making your car louder than it should be, and simply not knowing how to park a car between two white lines really annoy the hell out of me.
This guy. I swear someday he is going to wake up and find all his tires have been liberated of their air. Okay I am not going to slash them. Just let the air out. No crime in letting the air out. Probably. I’ll have to look it up.
This guy has one of those cars with those stupid mufflers designed to make the most noise possible. He loves coming in at 2 in the morning and rev his engine for awhile while everyone is trying to sleep. I’ve seen him out on the street also. Revs the engine up at stop lights. Not sure what his problem is. Maybe mommy didn’t give him enough attention as a child. I just don’t know. But he needs a serious intervention. And by intervention I don’t mean family members and a couple of guys in white jackets from the local mental health center. I’m thinking more like a few cops and police investigators crawling up his butt with a microscope to see what’s up.
I’m kidding. But he is losing all the air from his tires. Soon. I’ll take pics for you.
Lately, where I live, birds have been attacking people. The other day my daughter Lauren ran into the house screaming that she got attacked by 2 black birds. She had been walking Blue (our dog) and left him out there to fend for himself. Yesterday my neighbor (The Renaissance Man) told me he was kamikazed by a lone humming bird out on the sidewalk by his apartment. It made a suicide bombing raid at him right between the eyes. He’d be dead right now if he had not watched all three Matrix movies and had perfected this move:
Lauren, ever the pessimist, says it’s the “end of days”. She watched a movie a long time ago called The Seventh Seal and is pretty sure one of the signs of the apocalypse was unprovoked attacks by suicidal birds. Could be. Could be. But all I remember about the movie right now is Demi Moore sitting butt-naked and pregnant in a bathtub. (Give me a break I have not had my coffee today.) I’m sure there was a bit more to the movie than that though. Probably.
There is also probably some logical explanation as to why birds are attacking people. The Renaissance Man and I (can’t give out real name due to child support reasons, you know how it is) noticed the other day a couple of baby birds falling out of trees in their first attempt at flight. Could be that parents are real antsy during this time. I guess I ‘d be the same if my kids fell out of trees. Maybe.
Anyway, I am going to assume, for now, that it is not the end of days and just look out for crazy birds attacking from above for the next couple of weeks. If some other more sinister reasons for this come up I am sure The Renaissance Man and I (kind of like The Marlboro Man but not nearly as cool, or dead) will find out and let you know. We tend to solve a lot of the world’s mysteries while outside waiting for our dogs do their business. It’s a guy thing.
I rarely panic. Scratch that. I never panic. I’m the kind of guy you want with you in the middle of a hairy situation. I’ll be the one slapping you and telling you to snap out of it when you go catatonic in the middle of a crisis. Or, more likely, using your catatonic body as a shield against whatever danger is at hand.
Or at least I was until the other day at the coffee shop. My nerves were tested, and were found wanting.
While making coffee the baristas often make use of milk. They have a small refrigerator under the counter, and they take in and out a gallon container of milk all day long to make their coffees. I see them do that all day long on the days I go to the coffee shop.
The other day I was sitting at the latest shop I go to doing some writing. I can, for the most part, ignore everything else in the shop while I write. While writing that day I felt something wrong. Off to my right was the barista counter and a lone barista had just finished making some fancy coffee for some bougie looking girl who parked her damn BMW in the handicap parking space outside. When she left I noticed that the gallon of milk was still on the counter. I glanced at the clock at the lower right of my laptop screen and mentally noted the time.
I kept writing. Minutes passed by. The half-full milk gallon container was still there. I didn’t look in the direction of the counter and I didn’t need to. In my peripheral vision that damn gallon of milk just kept growing. I kept looking forward at my laptop, but it didn’t help. Before I knew it that damn half-gallon of milk looked the giant Stay-Puff marshmallow man from the movie Ghost Busters.
I pride myself in my ability to remain calm. Not today. I could hear my own heartbeat in my head and a line of sweat rolled down right temple. I remembered a time when I entered a house with my gun drawn and this idiot of gang member came running out of room with a shot gun pointed at me. Oh, how I wish I was there instead of here right now!
Oh my God man put the milk back in the damn refrigerator!
That thought just kept getting louder in my head. The clock on the laptop showed the milk container had been sitting on the counter for 13 minutes. A lifetime as far as I was concerned. I finally couldn’t stand it any longer. I got up. And just as I did and looked in the direction of the barista he grabbed the container of milk and put in the refrigerator. I made a mental note in my head not to come back to the shop for at least 48 hours to assure that that container had been used on some other unsuspecting soul.
I don’t know why I get nervous about milk like that. I’m the guy that always makes sure to get the milk last when I grocery shop and then make a bee line to the cashier and then run out of the store. I then put the milk separate in the front seat next to me with every air conditioning vent pointing at it and on full blast. I then run into the house and straight to refrigerator and throw it in there. Then, if have not used all the milk in 3 days, I will throw it away almost a week before its expiration date.
I get anxiety even thinking about it now.