What do you think when someone parks like this?

At work today, all the Indian and Pakistani guys were looking down out the window and talking and laughing. They were looking at my car, though not specifically my car.

 

When I saw them, someone had just left. He was really upset. Because he had parked his shiny Black BMW Convertible right over the line.

 

And some employee (me) parked his cheap little car in the next over space, only 8 inches away. Of course, it was a parking space, and I fit, so why not? I didn’t know who he was when I parked there, I knew it wasn’t the CEO or CTO, but it turns out it was the head of the corporate sales team.

 

He walked into our office, apparently complaining, trying to find out whose car it was. Then at the moment he left, I came back from the bathroom, and saw a bunch of Pakistani guys and Indian guys really excited, looking at my car. They told me, “someone parked next to him,” and I turned around and saw him just as he walked out of view on the end of the hall.

 

I looked down at the car, from the third story window, and someone asked me if it was my car. 

 

And of course, I said ‘yes,’ although kind of shyly.  They thought it was hilarious. Best office excitement we’d had in weeks. There was plenty of room for the guy to get in his car on the passenger side. He didn’t try. He spent the next two hours walking around the office trying to figure out whose car it was.

 

It wasn’t easy to focus on work. Finally the guy found me, and said, “is that your car down there? The white one?”

I said, “Yeah.” The paint on his BMW was more expensive than my entire car.

He asked, “You parked next to me?” He looked tired and upset.

I said, “Yeah, I think so.”

He asked, “Could you move your car please? I can’t get out.”

I didn’t want to be mean to him so I said, “Sure, I can.”

 

If he had been rude, I wouldn’t have moved, but he asked politely, so I didn’t want to harass him too much.

 

 

I parked a lot closer than this guy. Sadly I didn’t think to take a picture until too late.

Today my coworkers invited me to lunch,

but I had a meeting scheduled. So I watched them leave.

Then my meeting got cancelled.

So I went to the pool and sat in the sauna. Better than a meeting.

How do tax rates affect government revenue? A worthy question, and a difficult one, since it involves many factors. It seems natural that raising taxes would also raise revenue, and sometimes it does. Interestingly, as you can see from the chart, sometimes it doesn’t:

 

 

Knowing when to raise taxes and when to lower them is not easy business.

Here it is, gents and ladies:

 

Remember to work hard!!

 

 

Set out piles of old clothes on the pews at a church.

 

 leave a pair of shoes in a public area with dry ice inside.

 

Human shaped balloons filled with helium, releasing them into the sky

 

The same thing you do every night……try to take over the world.

 

Rent a remote controlled SuperHero: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c1F1OpRxY-k

 

Here are the pictures from my trip to Spain, mostly Madrid and Sevilla.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

OK, It’s really lame that xanga rotated some of those photos.  Either turn your monitor sideways, or you can see the same thing unrotated here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=290182&id=500286688&l=781a135694

 

 

I totally understand how for some people, getting fat is really hard. You mope around all day, thinking, “If only I were fatter.” Well, I have a product for you!

 

 

If this is your problem, you need Lorings and Corpula foods. No Jenny Craig for you!! Eat these and you will be fat and healthy in no time. (from an 1895 advertisement).

I suppose technically almost any song could be a good valentine’s day song, but this is a good one:

 

 

 

 

Me being the exciting person I always am, Friday I walked to the grocery store for some late night groceries. Every time I make that mistake, I remember it’s a bad idea when there are crazy people out driving, yelling out the window at pedestrians. Woo.

On my way back I saw a homeless guy waiting for the bus. He’s the kind of homeless guy who is perfectly capable of working if he chose to, but finds homelessness easier at this point in his life, so that’s what he chooses. Anyway I know him vaguely, so I stopped and said hello.

Right at that point, some crazy car people go by and yell something. Homeless guy yells back. Pretty soon the car stops and a guy gets out, and asks the homeless guy if he wants to fight.

Now, I really want no part of this, but I’m sure not going to leave someone I know even vaguely to get pounded alone. So I stand next to him with a really annoyed look on my face. The car guy was kind of big, but it was two against one, and I’m not chicken, I would’ve fought him alone if I had to. But I really didn’t want to have to.

Then the bus comes. Big guy is mainly trying to focus his attention on homeless guy, I can see in his eyes he’s worried that there are two of us, but he really didn’t need to worry since one of us was getting on the bus, leaving me alone.

Homeless guy was more aware than he seemed, because at that point he realized what he was about to do to me, and started talking nice to the guy, “let’s meet at the liquor store tomorrow, and have some beers.” Big guy got really confused. Didn’t know how to handle it. Finally he handled it by walking away.

Homeless guy gave me a hug. Disgusting. When I got home, I took off all my clothes.

 

Note to self: don’t walk around late on Friday nights anymore.

Here is my present giving style:

Individual wrapping. Three types of Scottish tartan for my grandpa, giraffe print for my sister in law, atomic science for my mom, ocean beach for my grandma (since she likes the ocean), old time newspaper for my sister, spaghetti for my brother, wood for my dad, and pine tree for my brother.

 

Please do not think this is impressive. It takes the same amount of work to wrap individual wrapping paper as all the same. The presents inside are quite generic. Earrings for the girls, and chocolate for the boys.