Oh, Hey, Former Neighbor

Mrs. Driver likes sports. This includes the Dallas Mavericks basketball franchise. And before he got traded to the Phoenix Suns basketball franchise, it also included our neighbor Steve.

Steve — along with his roommate, Dirk — lived two blocks away from The Drivers in a moderately priced apartment in an urban setting. One time, The Drivers saw Steve and Dirk at the local market. Another time, Mrs. Driver almost ran over Steve and Dirk as they crossed the street between their apartment and the local mixed-use development.

And then there was the time when the Mavericks got kicked out of the playoffs (Or was it the NBA Finals? Who can remember?). By that time, Steve had moved to a condo literally one street over from The Drivers. The day after the humiliating defeat, The Driver was driving to the grocery store when he spotted a tall, disheveled man shuffling along on the side of the road. He wore ratty, cut-off jean shorts and a wrinkled t-shirt. His long hair was unkempt. Hello? Split ends anyone?

The seemingly homeless man in question was none other than our neighbor Steve.

The Driver suppressed the urge to roll down his window and offer the poor man a lift.

Between you and The Driver, Mrs. Driver probably still likes our neighbor Steve. Especially when he does stuff like this.

Don't ask questions. Just enjoy.

The Driver thinks basketball is okay. But he thinks his neighbor Steve is kind of a genius. Even if he plays for the wrong basketball franchise.

A Welcome Break from Pet Accidents

This morning, The Bobble-Head awoke right on schedule for her 5:45 AM feeding. Why she can't wait another 45 minutes or an hour for one of her parents to finish a REM cycle is another matter.

Anywho, The Driver stumbled downstairs to find a snack — and to check the hardwood floors for the usual dog urine, cat hairball, dog feces, cat urine, dog vomit, cat feces or other pet-related calamity.

Imagine The Driver's nano-second of surprise (immediately replaced by utter submission and soul-draining numbness) when instead he found a bright red liquid all over the kitchen floor. Said liquid had found a path of least resistance in the grout lines of The Drivers' tile floor. It pooled in the grout and flowed to a wall across the room, staining the caulk between the baseboards and flooring — and not to mention the grout itself.

A very mild curiosity — just enough to momentarily quell the defeat and hopelessness — caused The Driver to trace the flow of bright red liquid to the refrigerator. Inside, deep in the very back on the top shelf, The Driver found an unopened glass bottle of cranberry juice. Apparently, the unused juice sat completely dormant for several months until sometime in the middle of last night. At that point, the bottom of the bottle gave way — and a liter or so of cranberry juice drained through the fridge.

The Driver spent the rest of the morning mopping up cranberry juice from the tile floor — and then spent his lunch hour cleaning the inside of the fridge. Only some stale strawberries and an unopened container of yogurt from the Clinton administration had to be tossed.

At least The Driver didn't have to clean up excrement. For that, there's always tomorrow.

Mama, Mia! Mrs. Driver Makes a Nice Sauce

Last night, The Driver was preparing to make his grandfather's chili. In the middle of browning the ground beef, he realized that the pantry was devoid of several key ingredients used in said chili. After some grumbling and brainstorming, The Drivers decided to use the ground beef in a nice spaghetti sauce.

As The Driver posits in the title of this post, Mrs. Driver makes a mean spaghetti sauce. From scratch. And completely by feel. No restrictive "recipes" or cumbersome "measuring" for her. No, sir. Mrs. Driver has a general vision for the sauce, and she just goes for it. And it always comes out perfect. And Mrs. Driver isn't even Italian.

Needless to say, The Driver was giddy with anticipation. Mrs. Driver's sauce? Now with beef? What could be better?

Long story short, the sauce was awesome. Mrs. Driver would argue that it was a bit too "beefy". The Driver wonders whether that's physically possible.

Above : Too beefy?

Please do not contact 72Pinto for the recipe. For starters, it doesn't exist. Second, even if The Driver were to give you a list of ingredients, there would be no measurements. Basically, you wouldn't know where to start. But here's a hint: you can't go wrong with beef.

In Your Grocer's "Personal" Area

So... Many... Jokes...

Half-Hearted (but Funny) Re-Post

The Driver is a bit under the weather — both literally and figuratively. First, there's snow outside — so it's a good day to sit indoors and observe. Second, The Driver has the crud.

So, please enjoy this borrowed greatness courtesy of The View from Up Here :

Good Grammar Costs Nothing. Or, About $12

The Driver has just learned about "Common Errors in English Usage."

The website is free.

The book is worth it.

Abusers of grammar now have fewer excuses.

Thanks to Alacrity Creative for the tip.

Where The Driver Relieves Himself on the Road

The Drivers don't go to Houston very often. Probably need to do that more. Because what is otherwise a fairly tedious and uneventful drive was unexpectedly brightened by a new (to us) roadside phenomenon.

About an hour outside of our home burg, we started seeing billboards. The first one:

Intriguing. But not as curious as the one that promised something called "Beaver Nuggets."

The Drivers were hooked.

And so, we decided to stop at Buc-ee's and have a look.

Thirty minutes (and about forty bucks) later, The Driver reluctantly got back in the car. Something about his mother-in-law running a marathon, and we had to make it to Houston in time for blah, blah, blah. Seriously, don't Mrs. Driver and The Driver's mother-in-law run enough marathons? Look! I can make my own fountain drink! Dr Pepper with cherry syrup! Ooh... coffee mugs with quotes by John Wayne! Can I have it? Can I?

Buc-ee's is a monument to all things Texas truck stop. Only better. Not only is it sparkling clean and stocked to the ceiling with convenience store goodies, it's a general store loaded with country kitsch, Texana and darn near anything else you can imagine.

Next door? Buc-ee's Outdoor store. Where one can apparently buy deer corn.

In addition to the homemade fudge, Buc-ee's also sells jalapeno relish, jerky and the afforementioned "Beaver Nuggets":

Admittedly, The Driver found Beaver Nuggets to be better in theory than in practice. But he would never want to diminish your Buc-ee's experience. Instead, The Driver suggests that you load up the Family Truckster pronto and high-tail it to Buc-ee's.

After all, in the words of The Duke (at least, according to one coffee mug), "A man's got to do what a man's got to do."

Special thanks to Buc-ee's advertising agency for unknowingly letting me swipe an image from their Flickr page. Buc-ee's is obviously a great client with a sense of humor — and these guys took the ball and ran with it.

Welcome, Contributing Blogger

And now, in her first-ever blog post, here's The Driverette :

xzx xddΩΩΩ , u N BVC2 B MH D GX

Take that, html.

And keyboard.

The Driver is impressed by how the Bobble-Head was able to pull off the "omega" symbol. Nice work, there, kiddo. She's also a fan of the "Tab" key and the "Caps Lock". Apparently, they're delicious.

Happy New Post

Only four weeks between posts. Not bad. The Driver would resolve to post more in 2010, but really -- who are we kidding?

New Category: Don't Make Me Stop This Car (or: Parenting for The Driver)

Friday was a little hectic for The Driver.

Scurrying from one appointment to the next, The Driver rushed into Chik Fil-A with Mrs. Driver for a quick lunch. As he walked into the restaurant from the parking lot, The Driver played back a voice mail from a colleague on his iPhone.

The colleague was going on for what seemed like quite a long time about some client that irritated The Driver. And so, The Driver responded to the colleague. And then made another comment. And then wondered why the colleague wasn't letting The Driver get a word in edge-wise.

"Man," thought The Driver. "What's up with [colleague]? I'm obviously irritated and trying to make a point, and he just keeps talking over me. Doesn't he have to pause for a breath or something?"

That's when The Driver realized he was trying to have a conversation with a voice mail message.

The Passenger is only partly to blame for this particular incident. That's because she wasn't the main cause of The Driver's distraction. It was, in fact, purchasing a new automobile for Mrs. Driver. But since the new vehicle will be more practical for the Bobble-Head, she is guilty by association.

Stay tuned for more stories of The Driver slowly losing his mind.

For Those Who Live Near a Whataburger

Click here to get free food and drinks from the greatness of Whataburger.

And if you know The Driver, he's already signed up, thanks. But you get points for thinking of him.

Notice to Crazy Dog: You've Got < 24 Hours

PRO: The Crazy Dog helps keep the Surly Cat's litter box clean.

CON: When unattended for even a nanosecond, the Crazy Dog sneaks into the laundry room and eats cat poop.

iRant Entry #6: Alternate Uses for Useless iPhone

The iPhone doesn't make a very good wireless communications device. But it makes a good baby toy.

Sorry about the blurred photo. The Mini Driver is fairly mobile — and the iPhone isn't a very good camera.

Notice to Cat: Start the Car.

The Drivers own a fairly nice sofa. Nicer than any sofa The Driver has ever owned, anyway. And by "nice," The Driver means, "It's worth more than The Brother's car." Which is to say, "The Brother's car is a beater, but The Driver still considers an automobile a more practical investment than a couch." Which is to say, "The Drivers spent more than The Driver wanted to on the sofa." Which is to say, "The Driver is bitter about the sofa."

Several days ago, the cat coughed up a hairball on the sofa.

Did The Driver mention that the sofa is white?

Notice to Pets: The Driver is Not Kidding*

At approximately 11:30 PM on the night before Thanksgiving, The Driver observed one of his two dogs slinking down the stairs in order to perform what the vet euphemistically calls "inappropriate urination." Or, what The Driver calls "peeing in the house." Or, what the dog in question calls "Wednesday."

It should be noted that the Crazy Dog is agoraphobic. In fact, unlike most canines, she'd prefer to stay indoors. She doesn't even like to go outside long enough for "potty breaks." In fact, The Driver is convinced that she'd be quite content if she could find a nice, safe, indoor place to eliminate where she could ignore the waste and go back to hiding under The Driver's desk. Since this arrangement doesn't really work for The Driver, he continues to drag her reluctantly outside three times a day.

It should also be noted that -- because she is crazy -- the Crazy Dog does LOVE to be outside when it is A) after 10:00PM, and B) below 50 degrees.

Back to the slinking and the inappropriate urination. In an effort to nip the potential "accident" in the bud, The Driver quickly leashed up the Crazy Dog and hurried her outdoors.

Upon letting her out to urinate more appropriately, the Crazy Dog got away from The Driver -- disappearing into the crisp night air.

For about 15 minutes, the Crazy Dog had the time of her insane, neurotic, nocturnal life. During this time, The Driver went back indoors and returned to cleaning the kitchen. Later, he stood on the front steps and watched the Crazy Dog scurry back into The Condo -- at her leisure, of course.

The Driver was beyond irritated. And the pets were about to suffer his passive-aggressive wrath.

In the same 24 hour period, The Driver's surly cat had urinated VERY inappropriately on the mat outside his litter box. He does this when he's low on food. It's charming. And yet, it gets him fed -- so he's learned that it works out quite well for him.

Something had to be done. And since Mrs. Driver does not condone rolled up newspapers, kicking or matches as appropriate forms of pet discipline, The Driver did the only thing he knew to do -- namely, channel his repressed rage into a snarky drawing on the kitchen chalkboard.

Hence, the "Pet Adoption Alert Level" chart.

Now, each pet can be apprised of his or her completely meaningless "status" at any time. And The Driver can dream of taking the pets on a leisurely drive down an abandoned country road -- without all the messy guilt and divorce.

Note: The "Start the Car" status was added the next night -- when the Crazy Dog made The Driver take her outside several times in succession. Not to urinate appropriately, mind you -- but just to sniff and enjoy the brisk night air. After all, there's plenty of warm, safe living room floor for peeing.

*Of course, The Driver is kidding. At least, as far as Mrs. Driver is concerned.

Speaking of Old Shows...

The Driver found this link today:

betamaxmas.com

Looks like a great waste of a few good hours. Maybe tonight after the Passenger goes to sleep.

Double Burger Days

Every once in a while The Driver has not one, but two cheeseburgers in the same day. A few days ago, it happened again.

For lunch, The Driver checked Hole in the Wall off his "Burgers To Try" list. Then, when dinner rolled around, Mrs. Driver suggested Mooyah. And who is The Driver to argue?

After all, The Driver recently pulled off a cheeseburger feat typically reserved for the most seasoned burger aficionado — namely, George Motz of Hamburger America fame.

On a single day in October, The Driver had a burger for lunch at The Workingman's Friend in Indianapolis. Hours later, The Driver enjoyed his second cheeseburger of the day at Graffiti Burger — in Columbus, Ohio.

Two burgers. Two cities. One glorious burger day for The Driver.

Speaking of burgers, some dude on the Web has several pages devoted to cheeseburgers and reviews of burger joints. His tastes and opinions are remarkably similar to those of The Driver. Check out his Cheeseburger Compendium.

Second. Worst. Post. Ever.

A few more sitcoms / TV shows from The Driver's youth:

The Jeffersons

Alice

WKRP in Cincinnati

Laverne & Shirley

Hee-Haw

Can't Stop Thinking About This

In a series of commercials for AT&T LaptopConnect, announcer Bill Kurtis challenges athletes to a test of Web-browsing speed.

But that's not important.

What matters is the manner in which Mr. Kurtis deftly slings his laptop around with grace and impunity -- as if the thing was a prop made out of plastic and weighed less than two ounces.

Click here to view the spot.

The Driver is fascinated not only by the "Lap-Prop"©, but also any products in commercials that have to be held in a certain way by the actors in the spots. See especially: boxes of pain reliever, cheeseburgers, beer bottles and anything bearing a label or logo that must be perfectly played to the camera.

If one looks closely, one will often see that the product appears to be Super-glued to the actor's fingers and/or hand -- ensuring a pleasing and proper grip that doesn't obscure the brand or leave extraneous pinkie fingers awkwardly poking out all over the place.

Watch the hand that Bill Kurtis uses to hold his laptop (or see the photo above). Doesn't it look like he's holding the thing by two fingers? Imagine trying to hold your laptop computer that way. Now imagine holding it straight down by your side for ten seconds while you introduce Andy Roddick -- and then casually curling it up to your waist, ready to surf the Web faster than a tennis pro. It looks almost super-human.

The Driver once tried to pick up his PowerBook G4 laptop with one hand -- and nearly re-aggravated his 1994 volleyball injury. Of course, the thing is five years old and runs Microsoft Office 2004. It weighs almost as much as the Mini Driver. And like your family's first VCR, it has woodgrain. So it's possible that today's laptops could be very light.

Extremely Forced Reference

Thanks to Mrs. Driver for pointing out this very out-of-context... er... pop culture (maybe?) reference.

It's a long way to go for a very Driver-friendly, yet otherwise trite payoff.

Click here and read the first paragraph.