Making a decision doesn't make it a good decision.
Brilliant. I am impressed. Finally a serious politician has recognized and embraced the power of the Daily Show. By sitting down for fifteen minutes with Jon Stewart, Senator Kerry just effectively swayed what may be a good portion of the undecided voters, who incoincidentally comprise the viewing audience of the Comedy Central show (you know, that 18-35 year age bracket...#1 viewers of the Daily Show and #1 most important age group in the vote as well). I have to hand it to Kerry, who appeared confident and casual while still maintaining a mediocum of uptightness. He was as genuine as could be expected, and answered many questions point-blank while hedging successfully on just as many.
Goodness, this election just gets better and better.
Speaking of interesting phenomenom, tonight Julie and I were again shown how nothing brings together a community like a natural disaster. Well, it seems 15 Mile Road had a little accident on Sunday night--something to the tune of two sink holes, one the size of a football field, the other of a baseball diamond, both about 40 feet deep (and growing). It seems this portion of 15 Mile was built over The Landfill Formerly Known as Swampland. Doesn't make for stable ground, now does it? And being the accomplished gawkers we are, Julie and I nosed around a bit, interrogating innocent bystanders and performing subterfuge. And for the night, I moonlighted as the get-away driver.
After our gawking trip of fun, we ajorned to Bakers Square where we shared a bowl of spinach cheese dip and I shared my story of yesterday's workday. Yes, friends. After being part of the Gramer Funeral Home family for almost two years, I finally got to drive the hearse (seeing as how I had little to no choice. I mean, Bobby really can delegate those commands). After a successful delivery of the coach (which is the length of a short limo, if that gives you an idea of driving this thing), I was shown the wonder that is the Macomb County Morgue. Tres interressant.
Upon returning to the FH, I was sent to Clawson where I was given the instructions to go to some doctor's office on Woodward south of 12 Mile and then to the Oakland Municipal Complex. Sadly, those were my only directions, so I had to figure out on my own how to find both places. Of course, I had to do all of this in an antique Caravan with a faulty gas tank(my third strange car of the day--I also had to drive the Suburban briefly).
Well, with directions from my father, I made my way up Telegraph, got turned around in the Oakland complex, and then learned my whole trip was in vain. But fear not, my friends. My frustration at this point was about to increase tenfold with the introduction of another character to the scene: Mr. Asshat in the Blazer. Now, Mr. Asshat, who shot out of Summit Mall behind me while I was changing lanes, was convinced I was out to get him. His solution to this problem was to drive on my left side, making sure it was impossible for me to pass him or let him get in front of me. As I needed to be in the lane he was in, this angered me a bit. And as it was 4:30--rush hour--and we were on Telegraph, changing lanes in the other direction was out of the question. Well, to add insult to injury, Asshat Man decides it's acceptable to yell lewd and insulting taunts into my open window--"*bad word for women* can't drive" and some other choice phrases. Sadly, I didn't think until later that I could have reported him for road rage and sexual harrassment.
Anyway, things got a bit better later in the day before they got worse and then better. I made a brief if uneventful stop at Amy's to say goodbye to her, and then made spritely jaunt over to Gerskyville to bring a stunning finish to a theatrical day. Mostly I got a few excuses to drive around with the windows down, playing music too loud for polite company. It was a day of highs and lows, and one Julie just HAD to hear about.
Hmm...wonder if I work tomorrow.
Goodness, this election just gets better and better.
Speaking of interesting phenomenom, tonight Julie and I were again shown how nothing brings together a community like a natural disaster. Well, it seems 15 Mile Road had a little accident on Sunday night--something to the tune of two sink holes, one the size of a football field, the other of a baseball diamond, both about 40 feet deep (and growing). It seems this portion of 15 Mile was built over The Landfill Formerly Known as Swampland. Doesn't make for stable ground, now does it? And being the accomplished gawkers we are, Julie and I nosed around a bit, interrogating innocent bystanders and performing subterfuge. And for the night, I moonlighted as the get-away driver.
After our gawking trip of fun, we ajorned to Bakers Square where we shared a bowl of spinach cheese dip and I shared my story of yesterday's workday. Yes, friends. After being part of the Gramer Funeral Home family for almost two years, I finally got to drive the hearse (seeing as how I had little to no choice. I mean, Bobby really can delegate those commands). After a successful delivery of the coach (which is the length of a short limo, if that gives you an idea of driving this thing), I was shown the wonder that is the Macomb County Morgue. Tres interressant.
Upon returning to the FH, I was sent to Clawson where I was given the instructions to go to some doctor's office on Woodward south of 12 Mile and then to the Oakland Municipal Complex. Sadly, those were my only directions, so I had to figure out on my own how to find both places. Of course, I had to do all of this in an antique Caravan with a faulty gas tank(my third strange car of the day--I also had to drive the Suburban briefly).
Well, with directions from my father, I made my way up Telegraph, got turned around in the Oakland complex, and then learned my whole trip was in vain. But fear not, my friends. My frustration at this point was about to increase tenfold with the introduction of another character to the scene: Mr. Asshat in the Blazer. Now, Mr. Asshat, who shot out of Summit Mall behind me while I was changing lanes, was convinced I was out to get him. His solution to this problem was to drive on my left side, making sure it was impossible for me to pass him or let him get in front of me. As I needed to be in the lane he was in, this angered me a bit. And as it was 4:30--rush hour--and we were on Telegraph, changing lanes in the other direction was out of the question. Well, to add insult to injury, Asshat Man decides it's acceptable to yell lewd and insulting taunts into my open window--"*bad word for women* can't drive" and some other choice phrases. Sadly, I didn't think until later that I could have reported him for road rage and sexual harrassment.
Anyway, things got a bit better later in the day before they got worse and then better. I made a brief if uneventful stop at Amy's to say goodbye to her, and then made spritely jaunt over to Gerskyville to bring a stunning finish to a theatrical day. Mostly I got a few excuses to drive around with the windows down, playing music too loud for polite company. It was a day of highs and lows, and one Julie just HAD to hear about.
Hmm...wonder if I work tomorrow.