It was a nice sunny day today in (usually drenched) P-Town. I snapped this pic on the final leg of my commute home, traversing lower Hawthorne. I know what you’re thinking. Yes, taking pictures while driving isn’t the safest thing to do. But, I swear to you–I had both hands on the camera.

This is the acoustic version of Blue October’s “Calling You,” quite possibly one of the best songs ever written. I exaggerate, I know, but that’s how I feel. I wish I could write a song like this. Sigh.

With gas prices hitting record levels, the traditional family road trip has become a source of dread. It now costs some serious money to drive a few hundred miles.

But there are some things you can do to cut the cost and still arrive with your sanity intact and your armpits dry.

Click here for full article.

Today was an overall crappy day. I’m usually quite flexible and can go with the flow. In my job, I’ve come to expect change and have learned to respond to them. I know that I can only plan so much, and that I should be ready to immediately react to new realities as they present themselves. Ordinarily, I’m quite good at that. In fact, many of my clients have given me accolades for that skill, for being able to respond to crises situations well.

But today, one particular change led to a number of nuisances that I was neither counting on nor mentally prepared to deal with. It was as if that one little change was the piece of the Jenga tower that, when removed, toppled all other pieces. I’m exaggerating, of course. My Jenga tower did not fall apart. I managed to get everything done, done right, and done on time. Although, my tower swayed quite a bit and, in the end– because of all the mental, physical, and emotional reserves that I tapped into in order to get things done– I went home with a huge headache and an overwhelming desire for vodka.

I will not bore you with the details, and will simply have to rely on this wooden toy analogy to get my point across. After all, I’m certain you’ve all had your Jenga Days.

Yesterday evening, my niece told me, “I hope you stretch before each time you play the game.” She was, of course, talking about Guitar Hero III: Legends of Rock, a game to which I instantly got addicted since arriving three days ago and have played numerously since then. And, of course, I didn’t stretch before each game and this Monday morning, I’m feeling the aches and pains associated with rockin’ out to a fake guitar for three days running. The plus side: I kick ass on the game. Well, to be exact, I kick as on the “easy” setting of the game. As of last night, however, I’ve graduated to the “medium” level. My nieces are both playing at “medium” and “hard” levels and basically put me to shame whenever we’re playing together. To be fair, they’ve had this game for a year now and, when you’re a kid, you have more time to get good at video games than your run-of-the-mill adult. They have the game on their Wii, but it’s also available via desktop PC or Mac, PlayStation3 and Xbox360. Hmm, it appears this trying-to-hold-on-to-his-youth adult will be making an unnecessary purchase some time soon. As for my sore forearms? That’s what ActivOn is for. Apply directly where it hurts.

So, I almost missed my flight this morning. I was sitting there at Gate C14 anticipating my flight, and wondering why, with only 10 minutes prior to my departure, the plane was still not at the gate. Meanwhile, at Gate C16, the passengers were already lined up and were piling into their plane. I went on Southwest.com to see if they’ve listed my flight as being delayed. Hmm, I thought, it still says that it’s arriving on time. And then I see the gate assignment: C16. C16?! Crap! I was waiting at the wrong damn gate! So, I packed up my laptop in 2 seconds and made it to the gate next door. Whew!

I’m sitting at a cubby in one of several “Business Areas” at Portland International Airport (PDX) blogging away. Not only does PDX offer free (and hassle-free) wi-fi, they also have these nifty cubbies where you can prop you laptop, keep it plugged in, and comfortably work or blog or surf the net with little to no distractions. And PDX is one of the cleanest airports I’ve ever been to. This and other niceties have allowed PDX to be voted as the Best U.S. Airport in 2006 and 2007 by Conde Nast. Yet another thing that makes me proud about being from P-Town.

Photo by Aaron Hockley posted on DogCaught.com

I’m sitting outside a cafe (*cough* Starbucks *cough*) at Pioneer Square. Some kind of event is happening downtown today, so there are canopies and booths and whatnot strewn across the amphitheater. A live band is playing. They’re singing worship rock and sound pretty good. Anyway, Pioneer Square is one of the hotspots for MetroFi, downtown’s free wireless Internet access. I tried to access it, and it made me download “MSN SiteGuide” before I could access the free service. Ordinarily, I would scoff at yet another attempt by Bill Gates to insist that his shit is the shit, and say, “Ah, forget it!” and walk away. But, alas, I desperately needed to get online right then because I was in a blogging mood, so I allowed his viral software to enter my trusted laptop. As I’m sitting there surfing the web after downloading the damn application, a man in a gray suit came up to me and asked, “Do you want to read some good news?” I replied positively and he handed me a leaflet entitled “The Watchtower: Announcing JeHoVaH’s Kingdom” with a subtitle “A Meaningful Life Is Possible.” The man didn’t look like a Jehovah’s Witness, that’s for sure. I imagined them traipsing around in orange robes handing out daisies. Wait, I think those are Hare Krishnas.

I went shopping for some gifts for my nieces today and proved to myself– and those fortunate enough to have been privy to my self-imposed epiphany– that I am a moron. I decided to purchase my brother’s daughters some clothing to give them as gifts when I come to visit them in a couple of days. So, when I got to the store, I realize that I don’t know their actual garment sizes but have a general idea of what clothing may fit them. At the children’s section of the store, I was elated to see some racks labeled “Girls 7-14″ and was immediately drawn to them. I mean, it couldn’t have been more perfect. A sales clerk came up me to and inquired if I needed assistance. I said, smugly, “Nope, got it covered. I thought I would need help to find clothing for my 12-year-old and 9-year-old nieces because I wasn’t sure about their sizes. Thank goodness you label your clothes by age range.” The sales clerk smiled/smirked and said, “Actually, sir, that sign is for the size of the clothes. You know, as in sizes seven through fourteen?” I blanked out for a moment and pretended to recover, “Oh, of course, I knew that.” But I soon acquiesced and accepted her help. Did I feel stupid? You betcha. Will that ever happen to me again. No siree, bob! Next time, the nieces are getting books.

This is one of the original Geico commercials which paired a “real customer” with a “celebrity.” Little Richard’s turn in this commercial is very amusing. Others that came after this not just pale in comparison but are ultimately quite stupid. (Only possible exception is the one that had Joan Rivers on it. She was slightly amusing.)