Thursday, February 23, 2006

Well THAT Was Interesting

People have asked me where I come up with stuff EVERY DAY to blog about. I tell 'em the same thing. Just stuff that happens. I don't lead an interesting life. I'm not here to set the blogosphere on fire with devastatingly interesting things that happen to me, or biting political commentary. I just blog about stuff.

With that in mind, let me tell you about some events that transpired in a short span of time yesterday.

My longtime pal, Scot aka Dr. Love (You may remember him from the Turducken Fest) called around noon to see if I'd care to have lunch with him. He's buying. Hell yeah. A outing with Scot (heh) is always interesting, and mostly entertaining. And a bonus when he's paying. Since he was leaving his office, he'd swing by and get me. In his new car.

Brand new vehicles generally don't impress me (Leased vehicles impress me less, don't get me started) I'll never buy a new car, only because I'm a cheap beotch, and I can't ever justify it in my mind.

However. I would make an exception for this:

2005 Subaru Outback Turbo. Drool. Slobber. Good heavens I am SO hot for this car! It's just beautiful. Nice pickup, roomy as hell. Stops on a dime, full moonroof. Oh man. It is NIIICE. Mine would be blue though. My old Volvo is the ugly stepsister to this car. MAN. (Scot is partially responsible for my wagon lust. Back 'in the day' he had a big old huge boat of a station wagon he called The Enterprise. Wagons just are so much better than sedans.) Even though he showed me the sticker price, I'm still hot for this car.

Anyway, onto the rest of the story. Scot picked me up in the DroolMobile, and we jetted off to the local hoagie place. (For you non-Pennsyltuckians, Hoagies, subs, heroes, grinders are all about the same thing.) They do a nice job with their food, even down to making the salad croutons. (Yesterday was crouton day) We placed our order and sat down. Ten minutes later, the smoke alarm started going off. It was hellishly loud, as commerical smoke detectors are. The owner yelled over to us that this happened the other night, and not to worry, as it would turn itself off in about 8 minutes. Hrmm.
8 minutes of ear splitting screeching. Okay. The food was paid for, so we weren't going anywhere.

Then one of the employees opens up the little oven where they were making the croutons, and out rolled a tsunami of smoke. No shit. The whole place filled up instantly. Ahh...thats why the smoke alarm was going off! SMOKE (shocking, I know) The owner ran to open the front door and air out the place, and a couple patrons stood on chairs to turn on the ceiling fans.

By now, the shrieking fire alarm had attracted some attention from other strip mall customers. There was a parade of rubberneckers cruising by the front door, looking in to see where the blood and guts were. They seemed disappointed that the boss was at the counter, taking orders and the rest of us were sitting in our booths like nothing unusual was going on. Yeah, we're cool. Screaming smoke alarms and cremated croutons are an everyday occurance, right?

Eventually the smoke cleared and the alarm shut itself off. Lunch went on like usual. After lunch, Scot let me drive the Droolmobile back to work. Too damn bad I work less than a mile from the place. I'd like to have that puppy for an afternoon (The car, not Scot) and open it up on the highway. Brrr...I get a cold chill thinking about that. Needless to say, the drive home in the Tank was rather unsatisfying. Thats life.

I bore no lasting emotional scars from the lunchtime ruckus. What I did take away from it was a lingering smell of blackened croutons, which I wore in my hair and on my clothes for the rest of the day. When Obbie got home last night, he kissed me hello and sniffed my hair, "My goodness honey, don't you smell positively Italian!" Everybody loves a smart ass.

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