Five

I guess I’m a glutton for trouble. Today, I’m discussing 5 random thoughts from the weekend (one of which involves an update on Fee, Fie, Foe FIVE).

THOUGHT #1: (FFFF Update)
This weekend I FINALLY resolved my ‘5’-button situation. On Friday night, after a shameless (and very public) opening-up of my phone into 4 pieces just to ‘dial’ a single 5, I decided that was it, it’s time for that long-overdue new phone. Having your friends jeer and alert the whole bar crowd of this PSYCHO opening up his phone didn’t help in my attempt to keep this as covert as possible.

With everyone watching, I dismantled the shit, dialed my ‘5’ and put it back together. All before anyone could take another a sip from their drink. It actually felt kind of cool, I’ve always wanted to be able to do that thing they do in the movies. It’s usually a badass and they ‘dismantle’ a gun (to re-load it, I presume) and put it back together with an authoritative ‘SLAM; at the end when they push the clip in by banging it on their palm. So cool. What an aspiration.

So my uncle has the same exact phone, and doesn’t like it (I don’t understand why). He reverted back to his old brick-phone. I’ve been eyeing his “old” (it’s actually a newer model) for a while, and this weekend I finally made the switch. It was pretty seamless except for when Cingular decided to “BLOCK” my sim card. What the fuck. Now my shit is locked out, and I can’t even put it in my old phone. I went online to look up how on earth I might be able to find out my “PUK code” so I can enter it and un-block my sim card. I had to call them, but business hours are M-F 8 – whatever.

After spending an HOUR on the phone through automated options, I finally found an option that directed to me to “after-hours” support. After holding for a good 15 minutes afterwards, the lady gave me my (8 digit) PUK CODE and my phone worked again. Nice. I wonder if my ‘J, K, L’ friends still want to keep in touch.

THOUGHT #2: “Wahta Springs”
I was driving back from D.C. and had to stop for gas in a notoriously un-cool North East Washington, D.C. nothing exciting happened except for when I went inside to buy a bottle of water. I just picked up any bottle without looking at it. I was drinking it the whole drive up and when I finally got home, I looked at the label and the motherfucker said: “WAHTA SPRINGS.” Is this a NE D.C. exclusive? Could they have possibly meant Water Springs? WAHTA THE FUCK was that all about?

Then I looked at the back of the bottle and it said … “PRODUIT DU CANADA.” Ok-fair enough.

THOUGHT #3: Bleu Cheese
Sunday, I decided that I’m not a big fan of Bleu Cheese. The crumbs, the dressings and every other shape it comes in. I used to really like bleu cheese; until it overwhelmed everything I ate it with.

THOUGHT #4: Toll Roads
I’m sick of it, I’m sick of paying tolls on the road. Gas aside; my contribution to the tolls fund this weekend was $30.00+. I did however go in the E-Z pass lane (and I don’t have E-Z pass). I stood there taking the barrage of horns, and inaudible obscenities like a true champ. (Fuck all of you too). Though this experiment was entirely accidental, I’ve always wondered what would happen if someone did that. The answer is: The toll-worker will come out of his booth, and walk over to you to get your money, He will scold you and tell you “next time, use the cash lane”. He will then briskly walk back over to his booth, where he turns the light green signaling you are free to proceed.

You see, you can’t go yet, because you’re waiting on your change. The 10 seconds it took for him to bring me back my change, was even more unbearable for that long line of people who actually have E-Z pass. You fuckers waited for minutes, can you just spare out a few more seconds? Needless to say, I spent the subsequent stretch of road glancing back at people who would drive next to me, and look. I was actually hoping someone would give me the finger so I could piss them off even more. My plan was to stick my tongue out at them (ala second grade), but it never happened.

What I really want to know is if the toll-workers have a ‘name’ or an industry term for people like me.

THOUGHT #5: Dirty Days
I’m working on a project that will involve me dirtying up a pair of pants forever-and-beyond recognition. Basically building a mock-up of a new concept train car. Only the actual car body has existed for 20 years and is very, very filthy. I made a bad choice to go with a pair of khakis because dirt shows up real easy on those. I wonder how long before someone mentions to me that my pants are absolutely revolting. On the up side though, is the fact that I can just wipe my hands on my pants once or twice and it’ll look like I’ve worked reeeeaal hard, ALL filthy day long. Hmmm


Note: The first one was very cool … and judging by the looks of this poster… SAW2 will definitely represent.