There are no bad owners, only bad dogs

2006-08-22

Wherein nothing much happens.

Gee, so many interesting things have happened lately � I don�t know where to start. For one thing, my computer completely refused to open pdf files today! What�s up with that?

Seriously, though, blah blah dull. Although I was involved in a high-speed chase yesterday, it was only peripheral in that the individual who was in flight used me like an orange cone in a bike rodeo. He was a fugitive from the Border Patrol, which is probably the most boring branch of law enforcement. I know this because there is no CSI: Border Patrol yet. He was tearing down the side of the road in his red pickup (required by law, because it�s Texas, y�all), then swoop swish he was around me, screaming down the driveway of EduMart on the wrong side. Then came the green and white SUV to trap him in the cul-de-sac that is the EduMart parking lot (Henry: it�s what we call a �car park.�) and then another to catch him in the squeeze play. So that was exciting.

Then later the same day I felt dizzy and queasy and wanted to go home, but I compensated by staying at work and not really accomplishing a damn thing. I not only have writer�s block, I think I�m getting reader�s block as well. So I didn�t accomplish anything on my �To Do� list (1. Find list.) and went to bed early.

So this person at work whom I�ve written about before because she was in Square State with us and was drunk and stoned the whole time has now just disappeared � fallen off the face of EduMart. I think she�s in rehab. I hope so, since the only alternative I can think of is �kidnapped by aliens� due to my writer�s/reader�s block. No one will talk about it.

I was right about who would win Hell�s Kitchen, so I�m going to try to continue my streak in a small way by predicting that this week Patrice will be kicked off Supernova due to the fact that she just sang a song of her own composition and was off key the whole time. Shortly, Toby will follow. And then Storm or Lukas. Or Lukas then Storm. I don�t know, the future is hazy. So I see the final 3 as Dilana, Ryan, and Magni. Which brings me to Gilby Clarke. Who the fuck is he? I haven�t seen that much blow comb action since 1983.

And can we talk about Project Runway? I don�t know who�s going home next, but if Uli (or is it Ulli?) isn�t in the finals, I�ll kiss a nerdy economist with no ass whatsoever. Of my choice. After last week, Kayne isn�t safe. Robert is boring. NoTitsRedhead is too predicatable. TattooNeck and Vincent are both creepy, and Vincent�s stuff sucks ass. That Twiggy thing was scary. Michael�s stuff is OK, but not stellar.

And in ACTUAL news that actually MATTERS, San Antonio teachers are once again being held to some weird standard � female teachers may no longer wear Capri pants or open-toed shoes. Now, I am no fan of the Capri pant unless the wearer is young enough to refer to them as pedal pushers, but what the fuck? It�s fucking HOT here. No hoochie clothes? Fine. Yay, as a matter of fact. No sandals? Ya know, I�m also not a fan of other people�s bare feet � feet totally gross me out, and I�d be just as likely to wear a cabbage on my head as sandals, but I know I�m weird about feet and hello? Sandals? What�s next? A whole frickin state that refuses to acknowledge evolution? Oh, hi, Kansas.

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