Vanity plate futility lols

Personally, I think that if you cannot get the vanity plate that you want, you should just give up.  But unfortunately not everyone would agree with my opinion, and when the going gets tough, the tough start seeking out substitutes.  Most often times it involves replacing letters with numbers, and at that point, you may as well be trying to get the screen name you really want on AOL or any MMO game.  After all, without the linguistically tenacious, the world would have been denied such clever tags such as “L3GOLAS” and “5KELETOR.”

This morning I saw a car that whipped out in front of me haphazardly that had a vanity plate that read “BL355D.”  It took me a long longer than it probably should have to decipher it, because initially I saw the “BL” and I figured it was just another poorly veiled black-power vanity plate that passes through the ironic double-standard of what’s allowed in the state of Georgia.  But then it finally dawned on me that it was a variant of the word “BLESSED.”

Oh, another “I’M RELIGIOUS PRAISE THE LORD” plate, I get it now.  Religious themed plates are probably the second-most frequently seen vanity plates I see on the roads which are often ironic (or is it?) consider the people driving these cars are often times the most despicable drivers I ever witness.

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The most valuable parking space

It should come as no surprise, but I’m very much a creature of habit. Repetition doesn’t really faze me like it fazes others, and I can go numerous periods of time eating the same things, doing the same activities and seeing the same programs for probably more than the average person does. I like routine, and I like there to be some degree of normalcy and repetition in my life; it’s comforting, effortless, and once engrained, simply a part of daily living. Maybe this is to say that I’ve got a facet of my brain that’s possibly autistic or at least obsessive-compulsive, due to this desire for routines and repetition.

This is no more obvious than the fact that I’m bothered probably way more than I should be when things nudge me off my routine or my expected courses of actions. Whether it’s another person’s complete lack of spatial awareness that causes them to aimlessly walk and consume space which encroaches on my line, or a person that coincidentally happens to be at the workout station that I was planning on using next, and I’ve already accomplished all my other lifts, people that disrupt my rhythm aggravate the ever living shit out of me.

But the worst of all perpetrators to me are the people that insist on taking the parking space that I’ve been trying to park in consistently for almost three years now. It is evident now that my preferred parking space is clearly the most valuable parking space in the entire fucking lot, based on how many people insist on having it now. But seriously, my days become monumental emotional uphill battles on mornings in which I can’t get my parking spot. Nothing infuriates me worse or faster than seeing that some motherfucker has gotten to it before I did, and I feel nothing but unadulterated anger for the few minutes it takes me to find another not-as-adequate-but-passable parking space.

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LeBlanc staff construction progress: 04

The next step in the construction of the LeBlanc staff was to coat it in Shell Shock. We here in Atlanta get the stuff at Engineer Guy, near the airport. In short, it’s a liquid plastic that can be applied onto a myriad of surfaces, and is durable enough that after it cures, it can be sanded and painted, while maintaining a hard and substantial integrity. Coating the LeBlanc staff would give it a little bit of heft, durability, and give it a better surface to paint on than just plain insulation foam.

Like a retard, I set myself up for a ton of extra work, by pre-assembling the staff in its entirety before Shell Shocking it. To be perfectly honest, this was the step that puzzled me the most, and when I did it, it seemed like a good idea at the time, but in the end, this sets me up for a lot of extra work that might be harder than all other alternative methods discussed, that I could have done. No matter, with everything assembled and adhered, there was nothing more I could do to go back, so it’s all or nothing from here.

My rationale is that if I apply the Shell Shock with paint brushes instead of slathering the goo on with popsicle sticks, I could smooth it out and apply it thinner and more refined, resulting in less clumping in the cracks, and do my best to make it look less messy. From what I’ve done in this update, it’s so far so good, but there’s still a lot more to do ahead of me, so who knows how much I’ll hate life as this process goes on.

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I never knew that they were that cool

I can’t remember when exactly it was, but I’m going to have to say that it was between the grades of either 5-7, in which I had to do a report on the peregrine falcon.  Now that I’m dwelling back on it, I’m pretty sure it was when I was in the seventh grade, because my science class was first period, and I had this teacher that was kind of racist in the fact that she was over-the-top nice to the world, but always pushed her veiled black power agenda on the rest of the class (aka replacing the name “Wite OutTM to Black Out”) but that’s beside the point.  When I was in the seventh grade I did a report on the peregrine falcon.

Obviously the subject matter was endangered species, and I was assigned the peregrine falcon.  I don’t remember a whole lot about the report other than the fact that peregrine falcons were in fact, endangered species, and how all publications back then were leaned towards blaming human beings for being the cause of all the destruction of nature, and subsequently the reduction in peregrine falcon numbers throughout the years.

I also remember that this was one of those scenarios in which being an artist was completely beneficial to my success, because like one of my friends back in the day, we both kind of last-second jobbed our reports.  The difference was that I presented mine way better, and with an artistic flair, and I probably managed to hide the fact that I was probably beneath the required word count, but damn did my presentation look cool in the end.  I vaguely remember getting a B or something, while he did not, and had a talkin’ to after class, about how obvious it was that he had half-assed it at the last second.

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I do my best thinking in the car

I really do. It’s like I do my best typing when I’ve got my feet kicked up on my desk, and I have the wireless keyboard in my lap. I don’t know why that is, but I feel like my fingers fly along the keys when it’s in this position. But back to the topic of thinking, I guess “best” isn’t necessarily the best word, but it’s true that I do some of my deepest thinking while I’m driving in my car.

Lately, something that pops into my head a lot, which is probably obvious given my age and life’s status, but I’m kind of a lonely person. I’m probably being more earnest than I really should be, given the fairly public status of my brog, but to put it out there, I’m 31 years old, and I haven’t been on a date in about two years now. Ultimately, there’s nobody to blame for such circumstances except for myself, but to be perfectly honest, I kind of don’t even know where to begin.

It’s not like I can go to Publix and be all like “oh, you’ve got one item? Please, go ahead” in the checkout line, and strike up a scintillating conversation with a random stranger, culminating with the birth of a blossoming relationship. No, it would result in us holding up the checkout line, people behind us getting pissed, the cashier getting impatient with our inconsiderate behavior, and a girl, who capitalized on my generosity getting the fuck out of the place even sooner because I was being a mush.

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Yeah, no regrets

My last post over at Talking Chop went up yesterday, and I thought that I would feel a little bit emotional over it, since it was my primary sports writing-related outlet I had over the last four years, but I really didn’t.  To be perfectly honest, I didn’t really remember to check it until late last night, so in some respects that kind of was indicative of how much I had already kind of checked out when it came to the whole site entirely.  I probably felt more emotions while in the process of writing my farewell statement, which I started on Tuesday and re-read and edited throughout the course of the week.

I’ve got no regrets in doing it, now that it’s done.  It’ll really sink in on Wednesday or Thursday afternoon, when I’ll be sitting at my desk thinking “oh shit, I have to write my column,” but then realize that I actually don’t, and then I’ll feel a sense of relief wash over my like an awesome wave.

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Wandering

That’s really what it feels like I’m doing with my life, often times.

I feel like I can be a part of any kind of crowd or scene, but never really settle in.

So when it feels like I can’t settle in, I get up and start wandering again.