Last Saturday two regulars came into the video store. This couple is very nice and can throw a good joke back. Both are attractive and are definitely gym bunny types. While they were looking at movies, Corduroy (my newest iPod) started to play the ballad “Na Laetha Geal M’Óige” from Enya’s Watermark album. One of the two started to complain about how Bally’s used to play the song through the overhead speakers while he was trying to work out. Trying, he said, being the operative term.

His partner and I started to make a few jokes about it to lighten up his mood which weren’t working, so I finally just walked up to the end of the counter they were sitting and said, “You see, the song allows you time to mourn the deep, meaningful person you’re losing as you gain muscle mass.”

*Cricket*Cricket*

They took advantage of another customer coming up to leave without renting or saying a word. Perhaps a button had been pushed? I don’t know, but if he was offended by that then I think someone is making some money off of him for therapy. 

Listening to: “Machine Gun” - Portishead

Yesterday was my second fire warden training in three years. I’m happy to do it as the chance of a building fire is pretty darn low and I get a cool orange vest that makes me look like an inmate. The only difference in the training this time was the addition of video from the deadly fire of The Station nightclub in 2003 where 100 people lost their lives including the lead guitarist of Great White.

The video did its job. Between the audio of people screaming and watching the place be consumed by fire in a little over 90 seconds, the mood of the class had gone from slightly amused impatience at having to be there to eerie silence. The firewoman teaching the class had warned us it was harrowing, but no one was really prepared it.

She gave us a few facts about what had happened that night and then asked if we could think of anything that could have been done differently to have stopped this tragedy. After a few seconds of silence, I decided that it was time to ease the mood in the room. I turned to the teacher and said, “They should have hired Mannheim Steamroller instead.”

I am such a saint.

Read more slightly inappropriate things over at humor-blogs.com.

Listening to: “Night Sight” - Air

Driving home from work this evening, I had the windows down, the sun roof open and ABC’s “How To Be A Millionaire” blasting away. In front of me most of the way was a boxy silver truck that was obviously washed only in holy water as it had a sticker of a cross and a little girl praying, an advertisement for a Christian television network and one of the metal plaques that said, “Got Christ?”

As we get to our turn, he slows down to 5 MPH and makes the right turn. I make my ever-so-slow turn behind him while I look in the rear-view mirror to make sure I don’t get rear-ended due to our speed. He then speeds up to a whopping 10 MPH as he tries to figure out where he is going and finally decides to pull over - painfully slowly — to the sidewalk. As I pass him, I decide to be a little evil and scream:

“CHRIST WOULD HAVE SIGNALED!”

…and then made my way home thinking that Mateo would have been proud.

Coming home from work just now, I got to do something I’ve always wanted to do while driving — to obey the letter of the law and piss off an impatient driver at the same time.

Northbound Colorado Boulevard gets backed up quite easily during the evening rush hour especially between 2nd & 8th and sometimes you have to wait at a green light at 7th because traffic hasn’t quite yet made it through the light at 8th. No biggie. I see that there wasn’t enough room for a car to cross 7th otherwise I’d be blocking the intersection so I stop. You know it’s what you’re supposed to do according to traffic law.

Vehicles start to inch forward and there begins to be enough room for me to move forward through the green light despite the guy in a giant white van wanting to make a right onto Colorado. I took my foot off the brake to go when someone behind me makes sure I know how displeased they are that I wasn’t moving. A split-second check in the mirror reveals an angry-looking, older ‘gentlemen’ in a Volvo. He is still laying in on his horn, so I do what any decent and conscientious driver would do — I stop.

I calmly decide that I’m going to push it even further. The poor guy in the white van looks like he’s been stuck there for quite some time trying to make his right, so with another quick glance in the mirror to make sure my new-found curmudgeon is watching, I wave the van into the lane. The van makes the turn and now there is definitely no room to move forward.

At this point, I start praying that the light would change and I got my wish. We all sit there through a light cycle and then do what any evil and selfish driver would do — I look into the mirror and start laughing like a villain bent on taking over the world. The lovely fellow behind me now looks completely nonplussed and it’s delicious. I couldn’t tell whether he had realized he was being a jerk or was just in utter shock that someone would have the audacity to be patient. Needless to say it felt good proving a point nonaggressively. Of course, that’s what got Ghandi shot, but it was still fun.

Listening to: Danger Ahead - Electric Light Orchestra