Not-So-Deep Thoughts

I went out at lunch today to get gas and the humid, 85° weather got me thinking...must be time for another incessant rambling.

Spring has officially retired and given up its highly sought after position to Summer. I can't really blame Spring...that season always got the short end of the stick in its relationship with Winter. What a bitch Winter must be to hang out with. It always has to be cold, even during the months that are supposed to belong to Spring. It muscles into half of Fall and half of Spring in a way that I can't imagine anyone would appreciate that and to top it all off, it hogs all of the good holidays that we all have to spend with it. Thus, Spring threw in the towel. May is supposed be 60's and rainy, not 80's and humid. It's far too early to be dealing with ball sweat, folks. FAR TOO EARLY.

I'm happy to report that the National Gas Out yesterday helped lower gas prices by one cent. I'm so glad I sweated out my commute last night instead of filling up on my way home and saving myself the stress of the 'low fuel' warning. I have no idea why this is, but every time I get down to final few miles in my tank, I still find myself looking at the gas level on my dashboard display every second. It's like, in the back of my head, I think that there's this slight chance that the gauge might flash me a message or something...like 'Hey guy, you've got plenty...relax', or 'Hear that beeping? It means GET GAS NOW, dick.' I hate not knowing if I'm going to run out or not. I really need to buy a car that tells me exactly how many miles I can go until the car dies. Unfortunately, my stripped-down Saturn doesn't even have power windows.

I'm really confused by the new Heineken Light commercial that plays the Pussycat Dolls song about wishing your girlfriend was hot like me. It's a beer, so I'm thinking it's probably a cold beer. No, I don't wish my beer was hot, that's gross. Next, my girlfriend is, as the term so blatantly suggests, a girl...not a beer. What could a beer possibly have to offer me as a partner, other than 5 minutes of cold refreshment? I guess if the bottle was a wide-mou--nah, forget it. I can't think of any advantages. For me, the ideal beer commercial would be 5 seconds of just the bottle itself, no sound. That's it. Run these every few hours. I think it could work.

I've got an audition for a radio announcer's gig tomorrow and when I called my mom to tell her about it, she told me to get a haircut. Isn't that just like a mom to suggest a haircut for something that doesn't require any face time with anyone? I realize that my hair is slightly mangy, so maybe she's just looking for any excuse to tell me to cut it. Watch, the guy tomorrow will say something like, "Geez, we really liked your stuff but that hair...I'm afraid it's just not cut out for radio." If that happens, I WILL NOT be telling my mom about it. No way, man.

I have a green polo shirt with dark green stripes on it. A woman at work commented that it looks like the guy's shirt from Blues Clues when I wore it a few weeks ago. Yesterday, she told me that today would be Blues Clues day at work and that I should wear the shirt. I nodded. She came into my cube this morning and upon seeing that I didn't wear the shirt, she asked why I hadn't complied with Blues Clues day. I replied that I looked for the shirt but eventually remembered that I had burned it after that last time of wearing it. She totally believed me. At that point I wished I had kept the shirt and bought a blue dog, just to see the reaction.

Finally, god forbid Gary Sheffield ever loses the grip on his bat during a swing. I've never seen a more out of control swing than the ones he was taking against Wakefield last night. There's just no way he wouldn't kill someone if the bat flew out of his hands. Ipso facto, I hate Gary Sheffield.