1. Kjel.org drove to Seattle Saturday morning. I don’t know what sort of weird aura I was spewing that day, but more than 2 dozen people either purposefully or by accident tried to use the Red Suby as their instrument of suicide. I thwarted their plans. I was a little tense by the time we dropped off the heir and the spare at the CFO’s parents house, and tried to relax while the CFO’s dad drove us to our hotel downtown. No dice. Three passengers in a car were rubbernecking at some police action under the Convention Center. I happened to look up and notice that I was the only one watching the road of the three of us, and traffic was at a dead stop 50 feet ahead. We were going freeway speeds. I hope the CFO’s father does not think less of me for screaming like Ned Flanders, but it alerted him in time to put on the breaks. Can’t argue with results and all that. Anyway, I avoided cars the rest of the day.
Me and the little lady walked from our hotel through Pike Place, along the waterfront, and then through Pioneer Square toward the stadium. We stopped at the Pioneer Square Saloon for refreshment, a place I spent many a summer night in the early and mid 90’s. As we were getting our pints at the bar a dude walking past slaps me on the back and says Jay! Man, how you doing!? “Pretty good dude, pretty good.” He keeps walking and I go back to ordering my pint. What the hell was that about?the CFO asked. I said nothing and simply turned around, allowing her to see the glorious word BUHNER on my back. Ah, crap, are we gonna have to deal with this sort of thing all night? “I hope so.” Sadly, that was the only piece of BUHNER love I received.
As we approached the stadium through Pioneer Square, a strange thing happened. All of a sudden everyone around us just seemed like a chump. Imagine the worst sort of person that might live in Enumclaw or Estacada maybe. Now imagine 10,000 of them, all moving toward the stadium. These do not look like baseball fans commented the CFO. As we made it Quest Field, the chumpery reached its apex, and now we knew why: Supercross! Quest Field was hosting a day of dirt bike racing, and there were hundreds and hundreds of fans outside the stadium tailgating. A lot black T-shirts with logos I’d never heard of; a lot of bad tattoos; a lot of Busch lite. As we got past Quest and moved toward Safeco the Supercross and baseball crowds started to mix. The CFO and I played a fun game called ‘Mariners or Supercross?’ while we walked over to Pyramid. It was not hard and I am almost certain we batted 1.000.
2. The boy is getting creative with his insults. On the drive back from Seattle I refused to play Stinkboy’s requests on the radio. He was displeased. Daddy you’re mean, I don’t like you! When we get home I am gonna steal all your money and put it in jail, and then put you in jail and lock it from the inside! Then I am gonna put all your money in a rocket ship and shoot it into space where it will never, ever, ever come back for a very long time! Then the rocket will crash and blow up and all your money will fall down to all the people in the real world* but you!” Jeez Stinkboy, relax, here, have some Van Halen already. It’s like he’s been reading my recent dream journals or something.
* the “real world” is anywhere not animated and/or inhabited by Imperial forces and Rebel scum.
3. The CEO had a physical today. The good doctor found no physical defects beyond the obvious. After he tested my reflexes and found them freakishly powerful, I insisted that he use the term catlike on my chart. I am not certain he did. I am still waiting for the results of the EKG and blood tests to come back, so I might not be fully out of the woods yet. At worst I’m hoping for some variant of this:
I’ve been there before.
I would also like to take this opportunity to throw my thanks up to Jebus for the fact that a) The CEO is not yet 40, and, b) prostate cancer does not run in my family. The doctor seemed pleased by these facts too. That is all.
4. Today was Take the kids to work day. I wasn’t asked to participate this year, I wonder why. Was it the NOW GET OFF MY LAWN!! I yelled that made he little kids cry last year as they were leaving my office?? Could have been now that I think about it.
5. I wore business shorts to work for the first time in 2009 this last week. I can do that now. It’s good to be the King! Or at least have your liege keep his throne in another state. From my office on Monday:
6. Me and a couple of boys were rolling around on the floor playing rough the other night. I do not remember how it came about (perhaps the lack of memory is a defense mechanism against even more PTSD?) but somehow the Jr. VP was on his back and I was on my belly and he managed to raise his foot up high and bring it crashing down on my skull, right behind the ear. It felt like I’d been hit with a ball peen hammer; not sure why I didn’t lose consciousness. If I gave him an allowance it would certainly be docked this week.
7. At lunch today I saw the guy who should play Mr. Incredible’s boss if they ever make a live-action The Incredibles. The similarity was almost eerie. My urge to throw the dude through a couple of walls ala Mr Incredible was nearly unstoppable, but then I remembered that I am not a Super. Or more accurately my super power isn’t super strength, anyway.
7. The final domino falls: The middle sister, the Kjel.org rep for southern Cali, the one known as Annannannanana! to a generation of Kjel.org kids is finally engaged! Yay Annnanananana!!! Congrats to your lucky beau as well. I better start marinating another batch of “Engagement Jerky”. A secret special recipe where the jerky chef must walk a high-wire; if you succeed the meat is transcendental. I’ve screwed up a couple of batches over the last month or two but I’m getting closer. Sometimes you gotta swing not just for the fences, but for Edgar Martinez Drive.
