I was in a parking lot the other day and saw the height of bad parking. I mean, I’ve seen a lot of bad parking in my day. I’ve seen double parking, triple parking, I think I even saw quadruple parking once, but that pickup was towing a trailer, so…I guess that was a little understandable. Yeah I think I seen ’bout everything when I seen an elephant fly. Or maybe in this case it was seeing an elephant park. After all, it was the Walmart parking lot.  

Yup, I saw an SUV in the first spot of a row in a lot with the rear passenger side tire fully up on the curb. So, like, the rear of the car, on one side was a full 7 or 8 inches off the ground, and while it was an SUV, it was like a little Nissan one or something. It didn’t even have big tires or much clearance. Seriously.

How lazy do you have to be to pull into a space, at such a ridiculous angle that the rear tire rides up on the curb and then just stop there? Hell, the bump onto the curb must have been teeth crunching. Again, it was Walmart, so there’s at least a 60% chance the driver was carrying plenty of extra padding to ease the bouncing, but still…

When are they going to offer online schooling for parking cars? Maybe we’ll see a reality show where they make contestants pull straight into a space…immunity goes to anyone who remembers to use a turn signal.

So we’ve got TV back. Several people have been asking me about it. I mean, we dropped service over a year ago when I realized there was a weekend-long nonstop Spongebob marathon on multiple channels and my kids were, instead, watching a Spongebob DVD because it had “the one we want to watch.” Now, after a 14 or 15 month hiatus, the verdict is in. We’ve missed nothing. Sure, I like a few things here and there, and it is nice to be able to flip the TV on and not have to select a DVD or Netflix streaming program. But really, I mostly just waste time looking for something to watch…or watching something I’ve already seen because there’s nothing else on.

Maybe if cat fighting among paparazzi wannabes, eating disgusting stuff, or glorified talent show performances are your thing, you can find something worth watching. Personally I don’t care if you can dance, sing, bitch, kvetch, cohabitate, diet, cook, decorate cakes or eat bugs in a competitive situation. You want a good and interesting reality show with real people? How about navigating the red tape of insurance claims?

Get a dozen people who’ve gone through surgery and see who is most persistent in refusing to take no for an answer. The winner actually gets his or her bills paid and the resulting ulcer is covered! Hell, give the winner a get out of pre-existing condition card while you’re at it. Or maybe you can do one of those get-the-job-at-the-end-of-the-season shows to hire someone who can actually explain the ins and outs of ssdi or Medicare/Medicaid… No, on second thought, I don’t think that’s actually possible.

And yet, I did discover a reality-ish TV show that I enjoyed last night. I probably won’t ever watch it again since I was halfway through the 4th episode when I trudged up to bed last night, but in a pinch. The show was Bait Car, and in the fine tradition of the greatest reality show of all time – Cops – we see the criminals at work, on camera, and we see them busted.

The concept is simple. Cops ditch a bait car in a crime ridden neighborhood through any of a number of methods, surreptitious or otherwise. Eventually, hooligans descend upon the vehicle and do their dirty deeds. As they rifle through the contents of the car, they usually notice that keys have been left in the ignition. Eureka! 

It’s all on camera and the cops have a device that will cause the car’s engine to stop once the crook has to driven to a more or less safe and out of the way location. They usually also can lock the doors so the villain is stuck inside. I guess it depends on the budget of the police force in question.

I don’t know how long this show has been on so it may be old news for anyone who’s had television for the last 15 months, but for me…pure viewing gold.

I was supposed to meet up with this guy a week or so ago. He never came by so I called him the other day. I said “hey, where you at?” and he said “the ocean.” Since I don’t live particularly close to any ocean, and he is local, I asked “Which ocean? The close one or the one that’s really far away?”

It turns out he was in North Carolina. Good old NC, the Outer Banks. I was…mildly surprised. I mean, I thought we were getting together and he never mentioned anything about North Carolina. For a minute I was more than a little peeved. Like, you might want to start pricing NC health insurance tough guy ’cause I’m coming down to give you a pop in the nose. But I settled down. So what if he went on vacation and didn’t mention it to me. I’ll get over it.

I guess.

I tell you, these people with time shares can be so insensitive.

Impatience is…well, it’s burning me up lately. Not my own, of course. While I admit to losing my cool as much as the next guy, it’s not weighing particularly heavy on my mind right now. No, it’s my fellows on this island earth I’m growing concerned with. It’s no new thing, but my experiences on line at the store, or behind the wheel driving to work have been…frankly disappointing.

Driving to work this morning I was on a pseudo-highway that cuts for several miles through a very commercially developed area. Lots of people passing through, many of them working in the stores and shops and restaurants and stations and office parks nearby. Many traveling on to the legitimate highway a mile or so beyond my own office park. It is usually one lane, sometimes a little congested with only one really hang-up area due to a particularly poorly located traffic light. Oh yeah, and there are lots of lights. In the occasional long-stretches between lights the speed goes up to 55, but for most of the stretch, it is 45.

At one green light by a shopping center, there was a little congestion due to another light only about 50 yards down the road. I had a feeling that my light would turn red before that light down the way went green, so I hung at the line so as not to get stuck in the middle of the intersection. And I was correct, because my light went red long before the other went green, and I certainly would have ended up stuck in the middle of an intersection for half a minute or more, blocking the cross traffic. Smart driving right? 

Apparently, this was not the opinion of the schmoe in the little Nissan behind me. As soon as my light turned green again, he gunned his engine and pulled into the right lane, a turn only lane alongside me. He nearly sideswiped a car that was using said turn-only lane properly and there were horns and screeching tires. A second right turn-only car nearly slammed into the first one that had to stop so abruptly. The schmoe’s engine revved like a 70s Charger and he rocketed around me and flew forward. Then he slammed on his brakes because the car in front of him was just rolling forward, following the sluggish traffic.

It was like Zero to 40 to 0…or maybe 5 miles per hour…in the span of 150 feet, like he was atv riding, not car driving. In the process, two accidents were narrowly avoided by other drivers who were clearly more thoughtful and attentive than this schmoe. Totally worth it don’t you think?

For the next mile and a half I was right behind the Nissan, even when traffic opened up. I watched as he did that weaving thing certain aggressive drivers do on one lane roads – like they’re going to pass at any moment, but for the oncoming traffic. It was the “I Can’t Drive 55” music video enacted on the stage we call real life.

When the Nissan schmoe finally pulled into his destination (an unnecessary screeching affair at 40 miles an hour with no blinker) I wondered if it was worth it to him? He was driving like a complete jerk, nearly causing several accident, clearly causing extreme heartburn in all those around him, and he shortened his drive exactly one car length.

 And I was driving the Corolla, so it wasn’t much of a car length at that.

So the trip to the land of my people…pretty good. The boys were pretty well-behaved and we had a kick ass room. Best part of the top floor room was the view through the classic oval windows. Dude, you have to love historical architectural details like oval windows. Man, it was awesome to pick out our room from the street.

The only thing about oval windows, though (other than framing the view quite beautifully) is no off the rack blinds or cellular shades. You’re going to be totally out of luck at the Home Depot…oval windows mean custom window treatments all the way.

Oh, to clarify that last post, this upcoming trip is not only to Canada, but to the magical land of Quebec. Yup, pseudo-Frenchies, cheese and gravy fries, high-alcohol beer and maple sugar candy… Yes, the great white north, indeed. I’m hoping for a decent exchange rate and less humidity. No big outlet sales, no coupons, no buy one get one free. Really, all I want is to spentd some time checking out where my Grandma came from, grabbing some tasty treats and not totally sweating my butt off. Sounds like a rockin’ good time. I’ll let you know how it all goes.

Tomorrow I embark on a voyage to the land of my people. And here’s the snapper. I’m bringing the boys. Yup, I’ll be riding in Mom’s backseat with my seven and four year old. Tell me that’s not brave. I’ve got some books. I’ve got my iPhone. We’ve got a stack of DVDs. Maybe I should have read some headphone reviews. Sometimes there’s nothing better in a crowded backseat than some kickin’ earbuds. I love’s me some rockin’ tunes, especially when we switch from live action Inspector Gadget to the cartoon version. Of course, if we switch on the Super Hero Squad I’m going to be all over that…and if anybody wants phones on I’ll be reaching for a phones splitter.

You know I love to post about license plates I see, vanity license plates that is. Personally I think they are usually a narcissistic waste of money, though I do occasionally discover true joy on the back bumper of an automobile. I’m still waiting for some variation on click hereto make it onto a plate – or more realistically, to make it onto a plate that Ia ctually see because I’m sure there are a couple.

Earlier today I saw something that really got to me. I mean, I don’t know how to feel about it, but above all else, I’m kind of shocked that it was even allowed on a plate. The plate (on a white SUV driven by a middle aged woman with teenagers in the car) read VIOLATE.

Yeah, VIOLATE. I mean, seriously, how does that happen. Maybe it’s supposed to be a big F$#K YOU to the police or something – as in traffic violation – but really? That’s the word you choose to represent your quirky personality.

Maybe it’s just me, but that’s a woman I want to stay real real real far away from.

I saw a funny license plate outside Friendly’s the other day. It was a Volkswagen Beetle with this tag: MyBg4ply. After a while I realized this was probably My Bug For Play, but that was not my initial read. At first I thought it was My Big Foreplay. I can’t say what that might mean, but it sure seemed…well, odd at the time. Big foreplay, after all, sounds somewhat racy, if nothing else.

And considering it was a VW Beetle, something like 80% of which have to be driven by women (that’s not an official bit o’ data, just an estimate based on personal observation) it seems to be an extra-amusing concept. After all, isn’t foreplay supposed to be the big weakness in the male repertoire of love?

OK, maybe I’m making assumptions here. Maybe I need a heavy duty document management system to analyze and understand the real percentages. Who knows? Maybe it’s not a chick ride after all, and maybe it’s some dude who has figured out how to make romantic use of the backseat. But seriously, if that’s the case, this dude has to be one kickin’ little person.

The title of the last post probably didn’t make sense, but as usual, I went off on a bit of a tangent. My original topic, in fact, was about getting a hotel reservation for my hotel. Now, I realize that a lot of corporations have to centralize certain aspects of their client-facing operation. Hotel chains are no exception. People from all over the planet are calling for reservations, so one shouldn’t necessarily expect personal contact with the particular hotel they are going to be staying at. Right?

That’s just a touch of sarcasm.

Here’s the thing. When I was trying to book my reservation with direct bill to my employer, the person on the phone had major problems. First of all, anyone working at the hotel would instantly recognize my company’s name. Not just because at least a half dozen people from my company stay there each week, but our office is approximately 100 feet down the road. even if you weren’t sure, it would have to sound familiar. There is a giant company logo right on the road, after all.

The real annoying part, however, was that the phone operator (who couldn’t figure out how to direct bill the room to my company) kept thanking me for staying at the Chesapeake location. The problem, though, was that she mispronounced the word every single time she said it. And each mispronunciation was unique.

Chekasepe. Chesakeep. Chepakepe. Chekapeace.

Sigh.

I think  it’s time that the general list of iphone accessories include some sort of geographical indicator that let’s you know if you’re Virginia hotel reservationist is actually sitting somewhere across the ocean. Where’s that app?