Violator

Today was a major milestone for me. I got my first parking ticket. Years and years of driving and I haven’t received a single parking or traffic ticket (although I admit to almost getting two during that five-day trip to Oregon). But now I’ve been initiated into the elite company of the nationwide ticketed.

Can’t say I’m exactly jumping for joy over this. Actually, I was hella pissed when I found that little neon envelope under my windshield wiper. When I saw I got a ticket, I searched around for a traffic cop to scream at, but none were present, so I was forced to bite my tongue. I’ve since suppressed my anger with a couple beers and Oreo cookies, but I’m sure that I’ll be mad in the morning. I plan on appealing the ticket, even if it won’t be worth my while.

I got the ticket at Chaffey College, a junior college in Rancho Cucamonga. It’s a place I rarely visit except for the few occasions I covered their football games for The Daily Bulletin.  Every time I go there I park in the same lot, and I never had a problem. But I guess that every other time I’ve gone were on Saturdays, when the cops don’t patrol the campus. I never even knew it was a permit lot until today. And the stupid thing was that I shouldn’t have even been there. But that’s another story.  

In the meantime, I’ll have to write up my appeal. I downloaded the form from online. I’ll be at the campus tomorrow and the day after, so I’ll have time to prepare my argument. (I know that sounds like I’m over-preparing, but they actually want a full argument along with diagrams to support why your appeal should be recognized. Shiiet, if it means getting out of a ticket, I’ll come with a Power Point presentation and slideshow. )  

I’ll also have to find another place to park over the next few days, which will be a big b**ch because I haven’t seen anywhere to park that ISN’T a permit lot. They don’t even have meters, just permit parking. I’ll also have to locate the campus police department, which seems to be conveniently hidden. Seems strange that the parking lots are perfectly arranged to make ticketing visitors very easy, but the police station, the only place you can appeal a ticket, is completely hidden away!!! Conspiracies are all around us.

I’ll let you know how the appeal process goes. For now, I gotta ask you…

Questions: How many parking tickets have you got? How many traffic tickets have you got? Ever won a ticket appeal or contest?

Currently in Rotation: Pop

 Keane – Under the Iron Sea

Talladega Nights

Two nights ago, my sister was cruising the streets of LA with a few of her girlfriends. She saw something on Melrose that was so strange she had to stop and take a closer look. She originally thought she walked into an episode of Punk’d, but she didn’t see any hidden cameras or crew members lurking around.

She ended up pulling out her camera phone and taking a picture of it. She sent the picture to me and asked what I thought of it. I still don’t know how something like this could have happened. No one has quite figured it out. It’s a real life unsolved mystery.

So now I ask all of you: How the hell did this happen?

Currently in Rotation: Hip Hop

  DJ Clue – The Professional Pt. 3

The Rundown

Last Friday, I was disappointed. I got off work and drove all the way to Rancho to coach, but found that less that half of my athletes showed up to practice. Worse off, most of them showed up late. After the few kids I had did their workout, I jumped in my car and left unhappy.

When I was driving up Milliken, less than two blocks from getting on the freeway, I saw several of my girls who missed practice. They were walking on the sidewalk, laughing and playing around. I could see large cups of Starbucks in their hands. Looked like iced mochas.

I probably should have let them be, and in any other day I would have. But seeing that I made the long drive out there to find a near empty track, and meanwhile those fools were out having fun and drinking coffee (and caffeine is a no-no for young athletes), I felt I should hunt them down and give them an earful.

I pulled from the far left lane of street to the right lane. I rolled down my window and shouted out to them. The second they saw my car, they panicked and ran like I was a narc and they had pockets full of meth. And so began the rundown.

I sped up Milliken and switched back into the left lane. I made a U-turn just in time to see them make a left at the end of the block. I floored it to the end of the block, but had to wait for the signal to change to turn left. I kept my eyes on them as they ran. I wondered what the hell was going through their minds at that moment. They were probably worried that I’d drag their asses into my car, force them back onto the track and run them into the ground. And hell, if I had duct tape and nets, I probably would have.

When the turn light changed to green, I peeled out after them (mind you, I NEVER peel out in my car). Wisely, they got off the main street and ran up a side street, completely out of my sight. I circled the block and couldn’t find them, but then thought to myself, instead of trying to find where they are, I should just figure out where they were going. Since they were going east, I figured I should just head farther east than they could have run, then head west and catch them on the run.

I sped up Lark and made a quick turn onto Grimaldi. Easier than I thought, I ran into them. Actually, I should say they ran into me. One of them literally had to screech her heals to stop from running into my hood. I couldn’t tell, but I think she mouthed the words, “Aww Sh*t!”

While I was chasing them around, I didn’t understand the reasons why I was in pursuit. But after seeing the scared looks on their faces when they knew they were caught and couldn’t get away, it all made sense to me. I understood why that principal chased Ferris Beuller around all day, why Elmer Fudd chases Bugs Bunny, and why paparazzi chase around Lindsay Lohan. It’s gotta be the thrill of the hunt.

Anyway, the conversation went something like this. I know they expected me to explode and yell at the them, but instead, I stayed cool and hit ‘em with a little passive aggression.  

Coach Aaron: Hey girls. How’s life?

Paris: Uhh, hi coach.

Coach Aaron: I missed you at practice today. What happened?

No answer.

Coach Aaron: I see. It was a hot day so you walked to Starbucks?

Malecia: Yeah coach.

Coach Aaron: What is that, white chocolate?

Malecia: Vanilla.

Coach Aaron: Vanilla. My favorite. I was thinking about getting one myself today. I guess you were like me and it was on your mind all day, so you forgot about practice and ran up here to get one, huh?

No answer.

Coach Aaron: Yeah, that’s it. But I’m wondering how you could walk all the way here, almost a mile away from school, but couldn’t make it to the track, which is right on campus?

No answer.

Coach Aaron: I guess you didn’t feel like running today. But then again, you didn’t mind running when I called you out from my car.

No response.

Coach Aaron: You seem to be at a loss for words. I guess I caught you at a bad time. We’ll talk later. Enjoy your drinks. I’ll see you on Monday.

And I drove off.

I’d like to think that from that embarrassing and exhausting encounter they learned it’s never okay to ditch, especially under me. I will find out and I will hunt you down. There’s nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.

Last Friday I was disappointed. But later I felt better.

Currently in Rotation: Hip Hop

 Jim Jones – Hustler’s P.O.M.E.

Game Theory

He began to doubt that editors were real men. They seemed cogs in a machine. That was what it was, a machine. He poured his soul into stories, articles, and poems, and intrusted them to the machine. He folded them just so, put the proper stamps inside the long envelope along with the manuscript, sealed the envelope, put more stamps outside, and dropped it into the mail-box. It travelled across the continent, and after a certain lapse of time the postman returned him the manuscript in another long envelope, on the outside of which were the stamps he had enclosed. There was no human editor at the other end, but a mere cunning arrangement of cogs that changed the manuscript from one envelope to another and stuck on the stamps. It was like the slot machines wherein one dropped pennies, and, with a metallic whirl of machinery had delivered to him a stick of chewing gum or a tablet of chocolate. It depended upon which slot one dropped the penny in, whether he got chocolate or gum. And so with the editorial machine. One slot brought checks and the other brought rejection slips. So far he had found only the latter slot.

— Jack London

Currently in Rotation: Alternative

 No Doubt - The Singles: 1992-2003

Tasty

Random train of thoughts on a Tuesday night, as I hunch over a plate of Chinese food from Pickup Stix.

The Popeye’s Chicken near my job has a Tuesday special where you can buy 2 pieces of chicken (leg and thigh) for 99 cents. Today I bought enough chicken to last me into next week, at which point I’ll probably just buy more and do it all again.

Although Colonel Sanders has some good stuff on his menu, I think I’d prefer Popeye’s over KFC any day of the week.

Because a lot of KFCs are attached to Taco Bells, I think this would be a good time to mention that I’m probably not going to be eating at either one in the near future. I recently saw on TV the Taco Bell in New York, which had a bad rat infestation and was closed down. They had dozens of rats walking around the floors during broad daylight. Judging by the extent of their problem, I think the location should be condemned.

But I can’t talk. I recently discovered that there are mice in my workplace. I hate mice, but the really annoying thing is how all the women I work with are terribly afraid of mice. Today alone I had to accompany three ladies to the back area because they were afraid mice would jump out at them.

I kinda feel bad for Taco Bell. Just two months ago there was the E. Coli outbreak in New Jersey that was connected to a Taco Bell out there. This was around the same time the spinach from California poisoned hundreds of people with E. Coli; simultaneously, there was another outbreak attached to Olive Garden.

I seem to recall that the president of Taco Bell ran a series of commercials in which he assured customers that no more bad vegetables were in his restaurants. It was good damage control. I wonder if he’ll do the same thing for the rat problem.

Looking back, E. Coli outbreaks aren’t the worst thing that could happen to a franchise. Remember back in 1993   when Jack in the Box was blamed for an E. Coli outbreak. Four people died and hundreds more got sick, all because they served undercooked meat. After settling a bunch of lawsuits, closing several locations and struggling through business slump that followed, that place bounced back with a vengeance.

Then again, I think that Jack in the Box benefited more from introducing Mr. Jack Box as their front man. The food isn’t much better than it was back in the day, but his commercials are funny.

I really like the new Jack in the Box commercial where Jack’s little son says he wants to be a vegetarian in front of his whole school, which devastates and embarrasses Jack. Then the boy says, “when my dog was sick, we took him to the vegetarian and he got all better.” Pretty cute.

I’m kinda upset with the nationwide outcry against trans-fats in restaurants, especially non-fast-food joints. I just don’t see the point in legislating healthy diets and forcing it on the population at large. Living and eating healthy should be a personal decision, not a government facilitated one. This is not to say it’s not a good cause; I especially agree with this in school cafeterias and office vending machines. But I really feel like the issue comes down to typical American scapegoating: people with problems blame everything around them for being the cause of the problem before blaming themselves.  

I’m not sure why I’m eating Pickup Stix tonight. Chris came into town yesterday from Michigan and we went to PF Changs.

Why is Chinese fast food is so far removed from real Chinese food? Ah well, authentic or not, Chang’s is grub. Those lettuce wraps are hella good.

I love seeing how some fast food chains have different names based on the area. For example, in California there’s Carl’s Jr., but in other states it’s Hardy’s. It’s the exact same star-flaunting, meat-heavy, man- favoring restaurant, but different names.

That reminds me, I’m wondering if their new Buffalo Chicken Sandwich is any good.

I shouldn’t have my mind on spicy chicken. I got a bunch of spicy chicken from Popeye’s sitting in the fridge right now. Hmmm. I think I’ll have a piece now…

Question: What’s your favorite fast-food spot?

Currently in Rotation: Trip Hop

  Sneaker Pimps – Becoming X