12.30.2007

Day 4 - Apres Ski

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Got up early, drove through some crazy conditions, saw some interesting signs. One said:

TRUCKERS
------------
ENGINE
BRAKE
MUFFLER
REQUIRED

And here I am, not even a trucker, but I've been lugging those useless parts across the country like a sucker! Here's some guy I don't know's take on it:
http://borderwars.blogspot.com/2007/09/engine-brake-mufflers-required.html


Then I snowboarded. It was awesome. I'm getting better every time I go, even though it's been over a year since I last went. By the way, I think you should all join the army at some point so you can get $30 off lift tickets. o.O

I've had a snowboarding nightmare a few times but not recently. I don't remember dreams or nightmares too often but this one sticks out: I'm snowboarding down a mountain, and go off some jump. The slope of the mountain and the speed at which I'm flying through the air are just perfect so that I cruise down the face of the mountain, flying along at about treetop level, scared shitless. I mean, I fly along for minutes at a time, just dreading the landing. Then I wake up scared to death.

I went off a jump today anyways and just knocked some skier over.

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For dinner I stopped at a Subway off of I-70. I wasn't craving a sandwich, but I saw the sign, knew I had a gift card for Subway, and decided to stop. I ordered what I could to drive the total up to $10 so I wouldn't have to carry around a gift card containing a mere pittance. The girl rang it up, and I handed her the card. "Oh, we don't take those here." Looking at the card, I replied "This does say Subway on it, right?" She affirmed that fact, but explained that they were independently owned, and so didn't accept the cards.

This mind boggling experience reminded me of two things. The first, a Mitch Hedberg bit:
Every McDonalds' commercial ends the same way: "Prices and participation may vary." I want to be a stubborn McDonalds owner. I want to open up a McDonalds and not participate in shit. You guys got hamburgers? Nope. We got spaghetti. And blankets.
The second, a post on a non-blog I used to keep (we didn't have that cool name for it yet):
I needed to get my Class A uniform dry cleaned while I was on pass from PLDC. The problem is we were released late Saturday, after stores would be closed. Then I had all Sunday, and most places would be closed. Then I have until 5pm on Monday until I leave for Fort Benning again.

After I dropped Bob off at his house the other night coming back from Benning, I took a detour to Wrightsboro Road to look for a dry cleaners I could come back to on Monday. I saw one named "One-Hour Cleanerizing".

Now I'm not exactly a Dry Cleaning Aficionado or anything, so just because I had never heard the word "cleanerizing" before didn't mean it wasn't a legit term. After all I'm pretty sure I've seen One Hour Martinizing places and what the hell is martinizing, anyways? Is there this whole dry cleaning subculture I'm missing out on?

So I go back on Monday morning, about 9 o'clock or so. I walk in, put my uniform on the counter, and the woman there comes over to help me.

She greets me, looks at my clothes and says, "Those won't be ready until tomorrow." I looked at my clothes and wondered what it was about my uniform that would take longer than the usual one hour at this fine establishment. "What do you mean," I asked.

"Earliest we can get 'em done is tomorrow," she replied.

I was slightly puzzled. I looked up behind the woman to an array of paper signs with crappy clip art and word art hanging on the wall. One of them read: "One Hour Cleanerizing". This confirmed in my mind that I hadn't accidentally stumbled into a Burger King and demanded prompt dry cleaning service.

"Well, what's with the one-hour thing?" I said this while trying to hide my ignorance of all things dry cleaning. For as far as I was concerned, this woman was the Queen of Martinizing.

"Oh, that's just the name of the company," she said, unapologetically.

It was like someone telling me that an orange was blue. I stared blankly ahead. I probably stammered out some sort of question. "You're kidding me," I probably said. Words just wouldn't form. I laughed in the woman's face and walked out the door.

Not much driving today:

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5 hours of snowboarding above 10,000 feet elevation was pretty tiring. And then the driving conditions were horrible getting out of there, through the ravines and around the bends and I can't believe I didn't see anyone just shoot off a cliff. Sheesh. The hot tub at this hotel was relaxing, and now I'm sleepy. I still don't know what's on tap for tomorrow.

1 comments:

Krista said...

I'm more of a 28-year Martinizer.


(OK, I'll put myself on timeout for the lameness of that last statement)