Flying

I'm not a fan of flying. Don't like going to the airport, I hate taking off and landing is just evil. A huge tin can should not be soaring through the air. But a couple of times a year I suck it up and get on one of those flying death traps and start praying like I haven't for months. This year I'm headed to San Diego for Thanksgiving and so I'm lucky enough to travel on the busiest day of the year.

Flying into San Diego always gives me pause. You'd think in a place with almost perpetual sunshine the airline employees would be a tad bit happier. But last time I was there I got chosen for a random bag check. Which is fine but as I stood at the table, as the security lady rifled through my bag, I noticed a shelf above her head. On this random shelf were two items, a box of latex gloves and the biggest jug of Vaseline I've ever seen.

After seeing that I answered every question with a "yes ma'am," "no ma'am." And it seemed to have worked as I wasn't violated in the name of national security. But ever since then the San Diego airport has always given me the heebie geebies.

Impressively dumb

Some turn to a life of crime because they know no other way, others to try and make a fast buck. But apparently some are just to dumb to do anything else, take for instance the Mensa candidates that walked into the San Bruno Police Department this morning.

First off the two guys and a girl walk in and try to get back their impounded van, sadly they forgot to bring any proof of ownership and the van is not registered under any of their names.

Next, as the police are working behind their little Plexiglas barricade, the three start talking (loudly) about different super interesting things going on in their lives. Like how someone they know apparently owes them some money. Now I'm sitting in the middle of the room against the wall, the woman is seated to my left and the two guys are seated farther away on my right side. So their discussion is being yelled over my head, as I patiently go through the press log and try not to laugh. I'm not totally paying attention to the conversation (I do have a job to do) when I hear the woman say, in all seriousness, "Well then lets rob 'em."

I look over to the guys who are staring at her like she's suddenly sprouted a golden horn out of her forehead. "What?" She said, "It's not like they can hear us."

Genius, lets propose larceny in the Police Station.

Sadly I had to leave before I was able to hear the rest of their plan. I'm sure it would have made MacGuyver proud though.

Randomness

Whenever a show can work in They Might Be Giants' Put a Little Bird House in Your Soul, you know that show is gold.

And thank you Deb for making me a tape of it, way back when, every song on the CD still makes me smile. Especially the minimum wage song, because it is so true. I'm just sad I lost that tape and so I don't have it anymore.

I will forever whistle in the dark.

The polite thing to do

I had an interview for an internship last week. I never know how those things go. In general I get kind of nervous and over-smile, I always wonder if the interviewer thinks I'm just really happy to be there or if they think I'm going to eat them. And usually I don't eat before hand so I could use a snack, not that human meat is an option or anything.

Anyways they said they would let us know back by that weekend. Sunday came and went with no response. When Tuesday rolled around I figured I didn't get it and that they just forgot about me. But then I also realized I had never sent a thank you note after the interview. It was almost a week, was that way too late to send one now? I wasn't sure about the etiquette of a late thank you letter, actually I'm not really up on any etiquette. But I figured I might want to try and write for them in the future so I should do the polite thing and send one in. So at about midnight last night I finally sent it in.

This morning I woke up and saw that I had a message in my inbox from the editor. It was in reply to my extremely brief and uninformative thank you note, it read, and I quote, "Can you come over to the office this afternoon to talk about scheduling?"

Now I of course assume this to mean that he thought I was someone else and that he was replying to the wrong email. But not one to let an opportunity pass I quickly write back letting him know I would come over. The rest of the morning I considered how I would take the rejection when they realized I wasn't the person they were looking for. Hopefully they would feel bad and I could parley that into them letting me write something.

And then I got a call around three. It was the editor letting me know that he couldn't make the meeting, crap I wasn't even going to get the rejection in person. But no, he wanted to reschedule for tomorrow and that I had gotten the job. That really wasn't what I had expected, so I tried to reorder my thoughts and sound coherent on the phone. I think it worked since I'm talking to him tomorrow.

But now I wonder, would I have gotten the position if I hadn't sent a thank you note? Or was it all just funny timing?

Stupid dreams

I've heard that dreams are supposed to be unconscious desires that you can't accept during your waking hours. Or that they are a way for your subconscious to work out issues. And I have to hope and pray that this is untrue because last night I had the weirdest dream, and don't know how it fits into either of those scenarios. Of course it is quickly fading into the ether but here's what I can remember of it.

For some odd reason I was with "Way of the Dragon" bad guy, Chuck Norris (OK fine, and Walker Texas Ranger star), and we were trying to get away from something. As the dream goes on I realize that Chuck and I are an item (ew), and that the longer I'm with him the fatter he is getting. Before I wake up poor Chuck is morbidly obese and now I'm trying to get away from him.

I wake up thinking what the hell? Chuck Norris? And now I'm just disturbed, I don't usually remember my dreams and this is the one my mind chooses to replay? And why couldn't I have chosen a cute guy to dream of? And is it wrong to try and get away from a guy if he's starting to visibly inflate?

Again, Chuck Norris, there is something wrong with me.