My Trip In to Work

On the way in to work I usually take I-25 South and hop off at Bijou. There's a wee little hotel there that is available for conventions and they usually seem to host things like "Three Toed Midgets Anonymous" and "Drunks Without Cars".

To give you an idea of the neighborhood they have a Denny's across the street to the south, a fenced off, out-of-business gas station to the east and a plasma donation center to the west. Suffice it to say, not the top resting spot in the Springs. They used to be called the 'Le Baron'; I can never remember what they are called now. It's just as well. Less chance of being sued for slander.

This is also the area where I saw a drug deal go down while I was at the 7-11 – next to the Denny's – and got heavily stared at by the dealer's accomplice who was sitting behind the wheel of their Lincoln Town Car.

So. Guess who's coming to convene this week? C'mon. Guess.

Well, if the marquee is to be trusted, it's the CSI. I almost can't think of a better spot in Colorado Springs for a passel of crime scene investigators to gather than that. Heck, they might trip over a few bodies just trying to get in the door. Kind of a working vacation, I'm thinking. At least it should give them plenty to talk about between seminars.

CSI-1: "Well, you can tell that he was mugged from behind and then stabbed repeatedly in the kidney with an ice pick."

CSI-2: "Are you daft?! It was obviously a ball point pen. See? There's blue ink lines leading into each of the holes. Idiot."

Further up the road, a bit beyond the tattoo parlor where my brother got his tat, I saw a guy that caused me to do a double take. It also brought a song to mind that I've decided to share. Lucky you.

You look like a greaseball
Walk like a greaseball
Talk like a greaseball
But I got wise
You’re a Bee-Gee in disguise
Oh yes you are
A Bee-Gee in disguise.

Weird Al watch out.

And that should just about do it for today's post, unless something momentous happens. The rest of the week may be post-less since I'll be taking the next two days off to spend taking care of my kids while my ex goes in to the hospital to find out if she's going to be able to get by with an angioplasty or if she's going to require a heart transplant. Have a great week everyone!

Minor addition...

I got my haircut on the 2nd. Really cut. It's damned short. My beard is longer. There's probably more hair in a random hippy's armpit than there is on top of my head. So, today someone who hasn't been around for awhile sees me and says, "Collin. You cut your hair." It was stated in such a way that I felt it should be news to me or something. As if, perhaps, I'd done it in my sleep and just hadn't realized it yet. I had a nearly overwhelming sensation that I was supposed to quickly reach up to my head with both hands and feel around while a look of horror spreads across my face and then I was to run off screaming like a girl. But, because of who it was and who I am I just said, "Yep!" and kept walking.

Even more baffling is when people form it as a question. "Did you cut your hair?" Okay. Let's see... on Friday I looked like an English sheep dog on two legs. Today you can see my eyes. By Jove, I believe I did! Well done Watson, here's a biscuit.

And I realize that my observations are nothing new. I'm reasonably certain that George Carlin and a host of other comedians have talked about the tendency of people to state the obvious before. But it's still amazing when it happens.

Here's a tip to everyone who comes across someone who has obviously cut their hair and you find yourself starting to ask them if it was really cut or tell them it was as if they didn't know. Instead say, "Hey! Your hair looks nice!" even if it doesn't. ESPECIALLY if it doesn't, because odds are they have been worrying about it all morning and a little false assurance goes a long way. Do NOT say, "Did you lose a fight with a lawnmower?" or something equally pithy because it's not funny. It makes you look like an ass, and, if there's a God, it'll get you kicked soundly in the fork.