I spent a lot of time sleeping both yesterday and today. Not a favorite pastime of mine. Waste of a weekend is what that really is. I have plenty of better ways I could have wasted my weekend.
More importantly: For the last month I have passed a bus stop on the way to work. Actually, I pass many bus stops, but this one is important in that it has an advertisement with Mr. T on it. I am generally moving too fast (and on the other side of the road) to see this ad, I can only tell that it says “Thumbs Up”. It pleases me even though I don’t know what it is selling. Heck, it probably pleases me more because I don’t know what it is selling.
Beyond that, not much to say just now.
I was thinking today, I don’t like the color red as much as I used to. I think it’s because of cars. I’m just not really big on red cars.
At this moment, I can count thirty-five orange pylons from my bedroom window. That seems like a lot to me. I don’t think there’s really all that much road construction going on just now, so I assume something horrible is going on. Especially since there is also a tent set up. I wonder if it’s time for that thing with all the old cars that line up on the street and make a bunch of traffic that they seem to have every year.
I remember a commercial from some years back that seemed, as I recall, to imply that you can tell if a chicken (the dead kind what you buy for eating) is good if it is yellow. How the chunks does the meat turn yellow? How can I make my own flesh yellow for the benefit of those who shall eat me?
I got caught in a downpour a few days back and I really was soaked. Supersoaked, I would say. But the strange thing is, the jeans I was wearing are totally dry now. The t-shirt (green one with a 1-up mushroom) is still damp. This tells me two things: Even though jeans always take longer to dry in the actual drying-machines, t-shirts can stay damp longer if left in a ball. Also, it tells me that I ought to do some laundry tonight.
As for which color I do like on cars? Blue has really grown on me in the last decade or so. I now officially say that if I ever get a Patmobile-type-super-awesome-car, I would want it to be be blue. And shiny. And if it could fly, all the better. Also the ability to shrink would be awesome. Plus maybe lasers.
It has been at least two years since the cops have stopped me for anything and even then it was just for not wearing my helmet while on my skateboard. But tonight, they stopped me when I wasn’t even committing that crime.
Since the guy I usually share a cab with is away for a month, I decided I’d walk down long dark Kearney Lake Road to cut some money off of my cab fare. It was all good (though I must admit I spent a lot of time thinking I really should have brought my board), except at one point I scared some deer. But the fun stuff happened just as soon as I hit civilization. I was heading for the gas station that’s open all night and has a bank machine when I noticed a cop car drive by me and very clearly look at me. I was amused and continued towards the gas station. I could sense the cop car circling around to take another pass by me. It may be worth noting that this is like four a.m. and I’m all sweaty from the walk and wearing black jeans, black shoes, my black trenchcoat and a black t-shirt. Pretty much the only thing not black is the Rebel Alliance insignia on my shirt. I’m awesome.
The cop car pulls into the gas station and in front of me and the officer (a hot lady officer, just for the record) and asks how I’m doing and so, you’re just out wandering, huh? Or something to that affect. I clarified that I had just walked down from Bluewater Road (about an hour walk) from work and the officer was all “okay” and I went in to use the ATM and buy juice and chocolate. When I got out, there were now TWO cop cars. I began to continue my walk, but the first officer now had a notepad and told me they would have to ask some questions. In the second car another officer (complete with stereotyped cop mustache and a partner in the other seat who said nothing and I don’t think was even paying attention) would ask me other questions while the first one was writing stuff down. In the end I gave out my name, age, address, phone number, job and exactly how my walk-so-far-to-save-on-cab-fare plan worked. All in all, it was cool. I walked away with a stupid grin (I’m sure I’m supposed to be indignant or something, but I so wasn’t). Rest assured everyone, when an evil and suspicious-looking man is walking the streets after dark, they are being watched. Even if they’re goody-two-shoes.
Now the best possible outcome I can think of for all this is that some sort of crime happened in the area and tomorrow I will be taken in as a suspect. Or better yet a “Person of Interest”. That would be way better than going to work. But even if that doesn’t happen, at least I had something to write about for a change.
Oh! The best part was when they asked my birth date because it is very close to today, so I totally felt like I was lying even though I wasn’t. Also, how many other people when asked their name by someone who is going to write it down first state then immediately spell their last name I’m all like “Patrick D Ryall R-Y-A-L-L” every time in that situation.
Anyway, that’s it.
I remember now that when I have a good weekend it makes it that much more depressing when the weekend ends just as I’m getting into it. I could complain for hours…
It’s weird. Kip and Karen got married yesterday and, by strange coincidence there was this big ceremony where they were the guests of honor. Strange. It was pretty good, though.
I’ve suggested to Marq that we move the Contains2 to a new domain name, since he seems to feel it is impossible to change servers otherwise. I guess Contains2.ca would be the most logical choice after a dot-com. I just wish he’d do it sooner, so I could stop paying for the thing every month. I just wish I could get my email back…
And finally, they need to build a giant statue of a monster in every city. Then, as will inevitably happen they will all be struck by lightning, come to life and then we can pit them against each other to solve disputes. Disputes like abortion and capital punishment and global warming.
If, someday, I become a serial killer I hope I am cognizant of my actions enough that I also become a cannibal. Sure it would bring more risk upon myself to keep and eat the bodies than it would to hide them away somewhere, but it they’re hidden they just go to waste and that is pretty thoughtless, I think. If I eat them, it’s less wasteful and thus better for all involved.
Syllables are here!
Five! Seven! We have it all!
Except, of course, nine.
I don’t know how to tell if it is true or not, but I believe there is a horse on the moon.
If I am ever serial killed, I guess I’d want to be eaten rather than hidden away to rot. Even better would be if the killer left me in a hospital so all my organs and parts could be donated to other people, but what kind of serial killer would do that? Not too likely, so I guess I’ll stick with being eaten.