It's Friday

I hate when you ask someone how they’re doing and they answer, “ it’s Friday.” What does the day of the week have to do with your state of being?!

Paving the Way

My spousal unit's first grant application was accepted into consideration into the final stage today. She had applied to this grant without much hope of getting it, because it was for more experienced scientists, not one going for her first grant. But it was worth the experience to at least apply. And then this!

God has a plan for her. Not sure if it’s to get the grant or not yet, but it’s something to even make it this far. She didn’t have much hope, so it was a huge surprise. I told her that everyone said that a freshman would never win the Heisman Trophy until Johnny Manziel did it. When something is so good that you can’t possibly pass it up, it paves the way for a new way of thinking. Maybe this is her time to pave a new way of thinking about first-time investigators to get this grant.

Songs in Traffic

Generally speaking, I hate traffic. It irritates me and makes me become an ugly, cussing person that I hate. I have no patience for stupidity or incompetence when it comes to driving. People make such bad decisions that they become dangerous, and that irritates me too. Needless to say, I’m not a fan of sitting in traffic...unless.

The only time I don’t mind a little traffic is when a song that I really like comes on the radio. I appreciate a small delay so that I can make it all the way through the song. I hate when a good song comes on the radio just as I park. Then I have the dilemma of missing it or stupidly sitting in my car for the next 4-5 minutes. But if I’m sitting there then I can’t really enjoy it, because all my mind can think is that there is no purpose or usefulness for this idleness. So I’ll usually end up turning it off early anyway.

Underwear in the Window

This morning when I got out of the shower, I discovered that the laundry basket was not in its usual place in the bedroom. In my groggy state it took me a minute to realize that my spousal unit had been doing laundry yesterday and had the basket in the laundry room. Still holding my underwear in my hand, I headed that way to put them in there. Unfortunately, in a classic spaghetti moment, I saw an inflatable toilet laying in the yard (that’s another story). So I set my underwear down on the window sill next to the back door, and I went outside to pick up the toilet. However, upon reentering the house, I completely forgot about my underwear, and I went about my morning routine. An hour later as I was eating breakfast, I happen to glance over and see, to my surprise, a pair of underwear on the window sill.

In my still relatively groggy state, my mind froze trying to reason out this peculiarity. I mean who would leave underwear on a window sill? And why on earth would anyone put them there to begin with? And why do they look exactly like the ones I was wearing this morning before my shower?

I eventually reasoned out that I was the crazy person that had left them there. But I wondered what would have happened if I hadn’t noticed them sitting there. How long would they have sat there before someone else noticed them? A day? A week? Would someone else have noticed them at all? Perhaps one of the women in my wife’s Bible study group? What kind of interesting conversation would that have sparked? And my spousal unit wouldn’t know the answer, so they would go on being the mysterious underwear on the window sill. And why would we ever move them, when they provide such interesting speculation and conversation?

Little Things

This morning traffic was thwarted by a branch on the highway. Not a tree limb, but a tiny insignificant branch. I’m guessing it had fallen off of someone’s truck and landed in the road. And proceeded to bring three lanes of a major freeway to a complete and utter standstill. Nobody wanted to drive over it or get out and move it, so they all proceeded to try to merge into the next lane over. Everyone in that lane, after having to stop to let the new group in, then proceeded to merge into the lane next to them, bringing that lane to a stop too. You could see an almost empty freeway ahead, on the other side of the offensive little branch. Just goes to show you that even little things can bring the world to a stop and make a big impact.

Safe-Driver Discount

I drove past my car insurance agent today on my way home. I knew it was him by the large sign plastered along the side of his bright red truck. When I got level with him, I was shocked to see him driving and texting as he went down the road. That seems so wrong! And all I could wonder was whether he insures himself and whether he would give himself the safe driver discount or not.

Spicy Indian Food

SM said that Indians eat extra spicy food when they’re sick to kill the germs and bacteria in their system. I guess it’s so hot that even the germs and bacteria are like “Nope, I’m out, not even going to deal with that!"

This is Juan...

I received a mysterious call today, and the menacing voice on the other end said, “This is Juan. I am coming for you. Actually, I’m already here.” At first, I was wondering how Juan had found me. Then, I was trying to figure out when I had got on the wrong side of the Mexican mafia. And if I’d pissed off the Mexican mafia, and they had sent Juan after me, then why would he call to warn me?! It took me several minutes to realize that Juan was the shuttle driver that was picking me up to take me back to the dealership to get my car.

Last Ride of the White Gauges

My spousal unit finally decided to buy a new car this weekend. That meant that we were ready to bid farewell to the Toyota Corolla that I had bought 13 years ago. While it’s definitely past due to get rid of him, I’m still a little sad to see him go. Ember and I have been through a lot together, but the upkeep and repairs that he needs are more expensive than his street value. So I took him out for one last drive today, just me and him. One last ride to say goodbye. Goodbye to the white gauges. Goodbye to my boy. I hope some family appreciates him and loves him as much as I did.

Straight-forward Honesty

My mother-in-law was relating to me today one of her fondest and funniest memories from when my brother-in-law was a child.  She said that someone had called the house looking for her and my brother-in-law had answered.  When he related who was on the phone, she decided that she didn't want to talk to them, so she told my brother-in-law to tell the caller that she was not at home.  My brother-in-law went back, picked up the phone, and said, "My mother said to tell you that she's not at home."  Nobody ever expects the straight-forward honesty of a child.

Ptosikrevatithanatosphobia

Tonight, I was having one of the late-evening chats with ME that I have grown so fond of.  We always seem to diverge into the most outlandish and interesting topics, and I love that his mind is as willing and capable of going down this path as mine is.  Somehow, we managed to get onto the topic of irrational fears, and he told me that his was of being crushed to death while sleeping in the bottom bed of a bunk bed.  While this fear is more common than you might think, and while it seems completely legitimate, I still had not personally ever heard someone say that was their biggest fear.

I had had bunk beds as a kid, and I don't recall ever feeling scared to be on the bottom bed.  And I definitely don't recall ever feeling like the top bunk might come crashing down on me in the middle of the night and slowly crush me to death as I struggled to unpin myself from underneath it.  I mean I think what makes this irrational is that it's not falling from very high, and even with someone on the bed, it seems unlikely to kill you instantly.  Injury?  Yes.  Death?  Unlikely.  Also, wouldn't the person on the top bunk realize it was falling and get off to help you before you were slowly crushed to death?

As I write this statement, I think of my own brother, and I have my doubts as to whether he would have helped me back then...such was the nature of our relationship.  He might or might not have gotten off of the fallen bed.  I seriously doubt he would have helped me out of the mess.  So, put into this context...brothers and maybe prison cellmates...I guess it is theoretically possible to be slowly crushed to death by an upper bunk bed.

The most amazing part is that as apparently as common as this fear is, ME and I were unable to find a scientific name for it.  If we make up our own, using Greek as our root, then it might be something like "ptosikrevatithanatosphobia," which loosely translates as "falling bed death fear."  While definitely a mouthful, it has the importance-sounding and length of most words describing a particular fear, so I think it meets the criteria needed.  And since the scientific community did not take being slowly crushed to death by a falling top bed in a bunk bed seriously enough to name it, we now have our official name for it.  So it shall be written, so it shall be done.

Sewing Machine

My mother-in-law had a Singer electric sewing machine that she used every once in a while to make curtains or mend clothes.  One day, she went to use it, and it didn’t work.  She fiddled with all of the buttons and knobs, but nothing.  So she took it to the Singer shop to have them look at it.  The technician plugged it, and the sewing machine immediately started working.  After a few more humoring questions from them and a few more adamant protestations from my MIL, she left the shop sewing machine in tow, and the technician thinking he was dealing with a crazy woman.

She arrived home, plugged the sewing machine in, and nothing.  She tried several different outlets around the house, and nothing.  Not knowing what else to do, she loaded it back into the car and drove back to the Singer shop.  She told them that it wasn’t working at home, regardless of what it did in the shop.  To which the technician replied, “Perhaps it just doesn’t want you!”

PGBT

There's a highway in Dallas called the President George Bush Turnpike (PGBT for short).  Everybody always refers to it by either its full name or at least by "George Bush."  This actually sounds quite funny when you hear someone say that they take George Bush to work every day.  I always imagine him sitting in the car with them, annoyed at their morning conversation.  This is even funnier when you wonder why George Bush would need to carpool!

Chicken Meat

Apparently, not all chickens are white. Some are brown and black. This gets me to wondering.  If you got a breast from a brown or black chicken, would it be considered dark meat or white meat?

Martinez the Rookie

When I was in Missouri, BD and I used to get together every Saturday, have lunch, and play video games.  I loved spending time with him, and I looked forward to it every week.  At one point, we were playing Madden's NFL Football, and we ended up drafting this quarterback out of college with the last name of Martinez.  BD loved playing with the guy and went on and on about how "Ace" he was.

A month or so later, we had Game Day at work, and someone suggested that we have a Wii Bowling tournament.  We played in teams, and BD and I decided to team up together.  When it came to choosing a name, it seemed like a no-brainer what it would be.  We ended up calling ourselves, "Martinez the Rookie."  We went on to win the tournament too!

Pillow Thief

While I was at my conference back in October, my wife decided to steal my pillows.  I came home to find them missing from their usual spot and located them nestled up on her side of the bed.  When I inquired about the alleged thievery that had taken place, she batted her eyelashes at me and simply said, “Baaabbbyyy, I was having trouble getting comfortable, and your pillow combination was perfect.  I have never slept so well.” 

Realizing that there was no way I could ask my pregnant wife for them back now, I asked, “Okay, and what am I supposed to do now?  I have no pillows.” 

She simply said, “There are some used ones in the closet, maybe you can get one of those.”

By “used” pillows, she means the broken-down-stuffing-has-been-equally-distributed-to-each-corner-of-the-pillow-no-longer-provides-any-support-whatsoever-probably-stinks-not-sure-why-we-even-kept-them pillows that have been banished to the top of the closet in cases of extreme emergencies.  And that is exactly where I now find myself…in a case of extreme emergency, constantly having to re-fluff and redistribute my used pillow into something that vaguely resembles a usable head and neck support, while failing miserably and waking up each day with a crick.

My pillow is so flat that I feel like I’m just sleeping on a pillow case.  My neck is situated at such a weird angle that I look like I’m trying to listen to my shoulder.  Which if it could talk would probably be asking, “What happened to the other perfectly-fluffed pillow that you had that supported us all perfectly and kept your ear the exact right distance away from me?!”  Touche, talking shoulder…touche.

Suggested Destination

My wife and I drove in to work a little later this morning, because she wasn’t feeling well and hadn’t gotten much sleep last night.  After dropping her off, I headed on to my office and decided to stop for gas before making my way inside the building.  I pumped my fuel and got back into the car and started it up.

When I start the car, my phone automatically connects to the Bluetooth.  Typically, the first thing it will do is anticipate where I want to go based on my current location and time of day and give me suggested directions to my next destination.  So, if I’m at home, then it will give me a little message from Maps, something like “38 min to get to work taking Long Prairie Rd, traffic is heavy.”  If I’m at work, then it usually gives me a message to UT Southwestern to pick up my wife.

However, today, it completely bypassed all of that and immediately said, “28 min to get home taking Long Prairie Rd, traffic is light.”  It was only 10:15 in the morning, and my phone already wanted me to go home!  I looked down at it and said, “I like where your head is at.”

The Getaway Driver

During my morning commute today, as I bobbed and weaved my way expertly through traffic, I let my mind wander to the possibility of becoming a getaway driver.  Who knows where these ideas come from, but I entertained it for an hour to see where it went.  Obviously, I can drive, and contrary to popular belief, I’m actually a good driver; or at least I’m good in the ways that relate to being a getaway driver.  But what skills make a good getaway driver?  What sets that person off from other normal drivers?  What other things do you need to consider as a getaway driver?

I had some ideas, of course, but I started to do some research to see what the experts say.  This led me to an article by James Peters called aptly enough, “How to Become the Most Perfect Getaway Driver.”  In the article Mr. Peters gives some rules and tips for being a getaway driver, which ultimately leads to him saying that you’re probably going to get caught no matter what you do, despite what the movies show.

So, besides being a good driver, I think a good getaway driver needs the following characteristics:

·        Thinks Quickly – They quickly evaluate all of the available options, running through pros and cons of each.

·        Decisive – And going along with the first one…they act quickly and stand by their decisions.  They don’t second-guess themselves or ponder other choices that they could have made.  They accept the consequences and move on to the next decision.

·        Good Reactions – They need catlike reflexes, because you never know what might spring out in front of you at the last second.

·        Stays Calm – Understandably, being in a high-speed chase is exciting, but it’s also nerve-racking.  So, being able to stay calm in the face of stressful situations will assist in making better decisions.

·        Internal GPS – They need to have an internal GPS of the area, so they have at least a rough idea of the roads and alternate roads that are available to them.

                                                                                                                           

And the additional items that Mr. Peters adds to the list:

·        Never use a getaway car that can be registered back to you or anyone you know.  Always use a stolen car that has been stolen that day and preferably right before the heist.

·        Never use a getaway car that draws attention to itself.  Avoid cars that are black, red, or yellow.  Look for a simple, dependable, domestic-looking family car.  Something with a “soccer mom” or “proud parent” sticker on the back window.

·        Drive seriously and safe.  Drive with purpose, but do not speed.  Stop completely at stop signs and stoplights.  Never drive through yellow lights.

·        Be sober.

·        Never get involved with some idiot who has “road rage,” because they will draw attention to themselves and you by association.

·        Sit upright and proper in the vehicle and wear your seatbelt.  Adjust your mirrors appropriately and make sure all of the lights and signals work.  Never use your car as a battering ram, if possible, because you risk doing damage that will draw unwanted attention to your car.

·        Make sure you have a full tank of gas.

·        When driving away from the heist, never squeal your tires or speed, which will draw attention to yourself.  Drive with a destination and purpose, but take lots of turns to get there.

·        People in the backseat should lay low, as it’s highly likely that the number of robbers has been given to the authorities.  Have someone sit in the passenger seat, though, so it doesn’t make it look too obvious.

·        Park the car at a park or public pool, some place with no video cameras, and then look natural and walk away.  Notice your surroundings and stay alert.

·        Never wear a hat or sunglasses.

·        Never look nervous, agitated, or scared.  Drive with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the console or stretched over the passenger seat.  Try to look casual.

·        Try to look happy and unthreatening.  Maybe smile, but don’t overdo it.

·        If you do get in a chase with the authorities, just remember that the odds are not in your favor.  They tend to have cars that are faster and more agile than yours, and they take classes on driving in a high-speed chase (despite what you see in the movies).  They also have the gang mentality and will use their radios to work together against you.

·        Eluding the authorities is next to impossible.  The longer you stay on the road, the higher the risk of getting arrested or killed.  Taking high speed turns can increase your chances of success, but they are also highly dangerous.  There is an art to them, and they should be practiced before the move is actually needed.

·        Your best option in a chase is to go down a side street or narrow alley, park the getaway car in the middle of the street, and run away on foot.  Making the authorities have to get out and chase you increases your chances, but not by much.

In hindsight, perhaps the life of a getaway driver isn’t for me.  If I want the thrill of it without the risk of it, I could always fly to the UK and participate in the annual Racewars Getaway Driver experience at the Curborough Sprint Track.  At least with that, I know I’ll be walking away at the end of the day.