Most Likely to Survive

A couple of weeks ago, a coworker approached me and said: "Congratulations, we've decided that of all the people on this floor, you're the only one who would survive in prison." I think my response was something like, "What?"

I was pretty much speechless since this seemed to come out of nowhere. I guess I should point out that I'm 6'4" and weigh 300+. (As far as I'm concerned, there's no need to be any more specific than that. Although, it bears mentioning that getting my weight below 300 during this year was a goal of mine, and considering that June is upon me, I really should get started. This is where the whole "bike to work" idea would fit in nicely.) So, I guess from a purely physical consideration, it's not too much of a stretch.

Now, I was selected "Most Athletic" during my senior year, but then they lost the picture, so I wasn't in the yearbook. Oh, well, at least I can now tack the dubious distinction of "Most Likely to Survive Prison" on my resume. It sure beats out "Most Likely to Get Gang-Raped" or other such nonsense.

Revenge of the Science Fair

When I was in school, I may have done two Science Fair projects, mostly under protest. I really hated Science Fair projects because they seemed so contrived.

Of course, now that my daughter attends a school focused on math and science, she has to do a Science Fair project every year. She even had to project as a pre-schooler while she was there. Come on, she could barely read and write.

I'm sure you can guess what this means: My wife and I were doing these projects and explaining them to our daughter. Now our daugther is in 2nd grade, and while she can read and write, we are still helping her with the process and helping her with creating the project board. Well, we actually created the board for her.

Last year, "we" got an "A". This year, my wife feels that "we" deserve an "A". I just think this whole process is sort of a Karmic payback for my lazy-student ways of high school.

Damn the justifiable retribution.

Blame the Victim

Yesterday, I parked the car near an industrial area not too far from downtown Chicago. I've been parking in this area for more than a year. Last night, instead of going to pick up the car right after work, as I normally would, I went to my brother's place. When I got back to the car, someone had broken into the car. Literally, they BROKE into the car. The passenger window was smashed.

So, what did this person get? They got some cheap sunglasses that had a corner melted, a couple cell phone chargers, a trash bag that hangs on the back of the seat, and the real take: a little air compressor. In all, maybe $50 worth of stuff.

It's not the stuff that concerns me, it's the cost to fix the window. Also, the idiot managed to mangle the emergency brake so that it won't stay locked. They left some change behind, and left some CDs on one of those CD visors. Oh, and when they stole the little trash bag, they emptied the stuff in the back seat: a wonderful collection of breakfast bar wrappers.

Bastard.