Today's featured shit

If an election does not have 50% voter turnout, then they have to have a runoff.

So they are moving our cubes around next month, and because I spent too much time in the office, I will still have a cube, so that plan failed miserably. It’s my own fault, though.

I am going to be next to a conference room that nobody is ever going to use. Thanks to the magic of wireless, I can see myself being in there a lot. So although having a window cube is a high priority for everyone, I am going to get one without even trying by sitting in there.

I also think that is going to be the room where everyone sticks the bring-in stuff, like candy or whatever other food. Unbeatable. I may not lead a charmed life, but I know how to manipulate things so I get what I want. God bless America.

I used to volunteer with this gal at the hospital when we were both in high school. We drifted apart, and then she turned out to be in charge of benefits at my job, so when I was hired, it was a big reunion, and it was funny.

She still works here, but she has moved on to bigger and better things. She’s also pooped out a few kids and gotten married. But whatever. Except!

Guess who I saw smoking out back today when I went for a walk? You just never know. I’d know her 14 years and had no idea. Those poor kids.

Vote yes on 86, dammit!

What a day. We lost 4-2 to a team without a goalie, and I scored my first ever goal.

We only had one extra player, so as the game went on, more people wanted to play defense because they were tired. So I played about a period as a forward. I was in front of the net when we had a shot deflected. It went right to me, and I dumped it in. That made it 3-1 and really got us going. We got another goal to make it 3-2, and then that was it. If we had any depth, we would have won.

Then I went with Patrick to play softball. The team seemed to like having me, even though I was only a designated player. (I use the past tense because their regular season ended yesterday.) I went two-for-three and hit the ball well every time, but that doesn’t explain it sufficiently.

We were down 13-5 in the last inning and scored five runs. The woman that bats in front of me is good and really hot but has no self-image. She kept saying that she hoped the batter in front of her would make the third out so she wouldn’t have to bat. I told her she’d be fine, and she was. Her single loaded the bases.

Those of you who can do math understand already that the winning run was at the plate; he was I, and I was him, Jug with the tilted crown.

Granted, we’re talking rec softball here, but is there a situation in your life that you could want more than to be at the plate with two out, the bases loaded, down by three?

We have a lot of good hitters on the team. A base hit would be just fine, and my swing doesn’t have a lot of lift in it anyway because I use a heavy bat.

Things started off Disney enough. I hit the ball up the middle as hard as I have ever hit one, which says a lot.

But rec softball has 10 players in the field: four outfielders, four infielders, a catcher… and a pitcher’s helper. (You pitch to your own team.)

Yep. He stuck out his glove as a reflex and caught it. I didn’t even have the opportunity to get out of the box. The bat was still in my hands.

Let me give you an idea of the amazingness of this play. The other team apologized. The umpire said he’d never seen anything like it.

Then Patrick and I went to the captain of the hockey team’s house and had dinner. He has a bunch of pinball machines, and I broke one of them. I am good at that too.

When Fox needed a TV sports broadcaster, they went to Joe Buck because of his father. They asked him whether he had any experience, and he said, “No, but I stayed at a Holiday Inn Express last night.”

The latest Rasmussen poll shows Arnold Schwarzenegger leading Phil Angelides 49-40. I have no idea why this race could be that close, but those of you who are backing Phil, don’t give up. Nine points is nothing, and election day is 19 days away.

I’ll still be voting Peace and Freedom, but that shouldn’t surprise anyone. I like peace, and I like freedom, as long as it’s carefully controlled and doled out, and that’s what my P&F posse wants to do. If you want true freedom, I suppose you should vote Libertarian, and if you want true peace, I suppose you should move to New Zealand.

Not the drug, jerk. How could I miss that? It’s everywhere.

Those of you who tune in every day saw me yesterday about as low as I go, in terms of mood. I am never down, but yesterday was pretty close. Well, it’s already over.

Saturn called, and the guy that was working on my repairs is off Friday, so I said, “Why not bring it in today?” And I did. So I got a rental today instead of Friday. And what a rental.

It’s a 2007 fix-or-repair-daily Focus. It’s red. And it goes fast.

So right now they are working on 880 South at Mission Boulevard. Construction in, through and out the yin-yang, as it were. Then after Dixon Landing Road it adds a lane. Then it adds a carpool lane. Well, people don’t pay attention to these new lanes, or they are too busy playing the cruise control game that I play in my Saturn, or it is some third thing. Whatever.

One hundred eleven miles per hour, a new rental record (94, Toyota Corolla, 1998). And it could have been more. I haven’t driven that fast since January 2003 (118), so I was happy with clearing 110. The ability to drive fast is like alcohol tolerance. (Oh, the irony.) If you don’t do it all the time, you lose it. I wish I had somewhere to go tonight or tomorrow besides lunch with Miles in Newark.

Saturn of Fremont kicks Saturn of Stevens Creek’s ass every day and twice on Sunday. Their service advisor that is helping me is some goofy guy with red, white and blue flag suspenders that has better customer service skills than even me. When he says he will call me tomorrow with a status update, I believe him.

I forgot that my extended warranty has a deductible, but $100 is nothing compared with $1,300.

Those of you who know Gil from The Simpsons will be happy to know that his real life version still sells cars for Saturn of Fremont. His real name is Jim, and I absolutely love that guy. I am buying my next Saturn from him. I don’t even have to describe him. Just watch an episode of The Simpsons that has Gil in it. That’s him! Everyone should buy their Saturns from Jim.

The really hot receptionist still works at Saturn of Fremont, but the problem is that the word “still” is in that sentence. She loses all hotness to me because she has been working the front desk there for five years. I am too hard to please. Not only do you have to be hot, but you have to have direction with your career? What is wrong with me for having such high expectations? Oh well.

Why don’t Congressmen like bookmarks?

They prefer their pages to be bent over.

As you’ll recall, I had an appointment on the 7th. They found $1,300 of things to fix, and I was like, “I need to think about it.” I was pretty sure I had a warranty for it, but they said I did not. They then said that because I had two warranties (original and extended) that the extended one would not show up in their computer.

To work around this, they have to talk to a live person, but those only exist during the week. So this Friday at 11 I am taking my Saturn back home, to Saturn of Fremont, where they will give me a rental. I’ll go back on Saturday to pick it up, and other than the 80 miles of driving, everything will work out.

Back on the 7th, I told the guy at Saturn of Stevens Creek that I would be in Orlando but that he could call me and tell me about this warranty business. He said he would call on Wednesday because he was off the 8th-10th. Nothing. Not that I am surprised. This is the same person who held my car in July seven hours for an oil change before I realized I needed to be more proactive and call him back. This is the same guy who held my car for five hours on the 7th before I remembered that I still needed to be more proactive and call him back. Both times the cars had been ready for hours. And don’t get me started on putting the month and year on the next-oil-change sticker. Been there. Done that.

So fuck them. Fuck Saturn of Stevens Creek in the asshole with a big rubber dick. I don’t care whether they are two miles from my house. I don’t care whether their most-common excuse is that their service is so good that people drive from all over the Bay Area to get serviced by them. I’m going back to where I was appreciated (no, not Saturn of Reno, who are the best).

I might as well move back to the East Bay. Someone stop me!