Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Mornings Like These

This morning on my way to work I caught a flat from one of the many violent New Orleans potholes. I am certain that driving up Downman Road in New Orleans East is just like playing a driving video game in real life. It’s the worse kind of flat because whatever I hit put a gash in my tire that is too big to patch up. Now I have to buy another tire for that rim. It’s a good thing that New Orleans has an abundance of used tire places. They are usually dependable even though the guys that work there start asking for a tip before you have even explained what it is you need them to do.

It’s also a good thing that the city is populated with enough people I trust to have someone get my daughter to school on time (Thank you Tish.). The young lady is a perfectionist and I didn’t want to listen to her complaining all afternoon about being late and costing her class the homework contest Friday. Have you ever disappointed a five year old and they told you about it and you had no defense? It's not cute. It's a challenge to translate the phrase "shit happens" into five year old language.

I see why GM is losing business. No one wants to buy a truck that comes with a jack big enough to lift a go-cart. I bet my neighbor’s Toyota Tundra has a button that lifts the entire truck five feet off of the ground. I hope no one is on their way to vote on the bailout and catches a flat in a Chevy truck. At least Mr. Williams was on vacation and somehow managed to make it to me five minutes after I called and told him I needed a jack. If he never did anything else for me the rest of my lifetime he and Mr. Brister would still be cemented as the greatest comrades a bad luck joker like me could ever have.

After letting Mr. Williams laugh at the destruction of my tire as payment for getting out of bed on vacation, I came to work and noticed that one of my co-workers has over decorated his cube. Don’t you hate those people who just have too many things in their office space? It was bad enough when he bought that fish tank that’s not really a fish tank. It’s just a picture with fish in it that lights up and makes water noise. That’s tacky. That’s just like those picture of the waterfalls they sell on the street. Now he has this thing that looks a garden gnome. Every time I walk past this crazy looking thing it’s eyes follows me down the hall. When I walk pass his desk I get the same feeling Michael Jackson’s neighbors must have felt when they looked out at Neverland Ranch. What does a grown man need all that for?

All you can do with a morning like that is get a cup of coffee, put on your headphones at the desk and zone out New Orleans style. This song will help you relax.

The rest of the day wasn't as bad except for my hands smelling like brake dust.


Anonymous said...

I remember once driving down Crowder, near Chef Hwy, and watching my hubcap fly into the trees like a UFO. Not celebrated.

Another Conflict Theorist said...

Peace Cliff,

I hate the repeat offender potholes. I get blasted by the same damned pothole every single afternoon at around 4pm. It got so bad that "they" actually filled the pothole and it came back to life a week and a half later on some Freddie Krueger shit. Terrible.