Negative Ghostrider

Have you ever been walking to work (not slowly and not staring at your goddamn phone) and had someone come up from behind you while jogging and they just lightly graze you as they pass as if it could possibly be on purpose like some kind of Maverick-buzzing-the-tower kind of move? If that has happened, have you ever started lightly jogging behind them just to kind of freak them out? It's a totally creepy move and highly recommended. Here's how it works:

1. Find an area with a heavy and consistent jogging population.

2. Walk nonchalantly while paying attention to your surroundings and wait for your moment. You get bonus points for finding one of those real serious jogging types. Usually you can tell by the bottoms that they are wearing. You can tell the ballers from the hobbyists.

3. When you find your mark, let them pass you and then BAM! throw a fucking headband on and just start jogging next to them, but don't say anything. Just act like it's totally normal.

Point A to Point Break

We just got a new student intern in our department that I've deemed "Nerdy Betty." I'm not even sure if it is a girl yet. It honestly might take an ultrasound to figure that one out. I'm at a loss at this point.

So, I take mass transit for all of the hot chicks that do it and also because there is no parking at work at 7:15 AM. It's totally convenient for where I live and I actually really enjoy it at this point. I hate driving now. I have a brand new Civic that has 612 miles on it at the moment and it's been three months since i bought it.

There are some drawbacks, though. A rigid schedule and occasional late trains can be a hassle, but it's all part of the deal. I can accept that. Giants trains can also be a little full and you don't really get a seat, but I can deal with that. The shuttle once I get to work can sometimes be crowded and the asshole next to me can sometimes bleed over into my assigned seat space because he thinks he is home on his couch in his underwear with one ball hanging out while he watches "Biggest Loser" while eating a bucket of KFC, but I'll deal with that, as well.

The thing that I can't stand is fucking slow walkers. There are variants of them and I'm convinced that there is a conspiracy of slow walkers conspiring against me in some kind of fucked up cabal dedicated to slowing down my life's progress. There is a simple rule in getting from one point to another and that is a straight line as fast as you can. An object in motion must remain in motion. It's just efficient. Some people, though, aren't of that persuasion. They honestly must have nowhere to go or are just waiting to be stomped on by a predator like a wounded gazelle.

The first slow walker is the "I Don't Where I Am" walker. They will take a few steps forward and then a few diagonal and then back right in front of you and then just stop and look around like they have lost their bearings after 9 steps. They aren't aware of the fact of the surge of people trying to catch the fuckin' train and for all intents and purposes are the only living human being on the face of the Earth. They should probably just sit down and quit trying.

The second slow walker is the "Person With Kids" slow walker. This type is complete chaos and absolutely unpredictable. They could absolutely be existing on two or more separate planes of existence at the same time and their movements can only be described in a fourth dimension of reality. With the child chaos factor, even on a tree diagram of possible outcomes, their movements cannot be predicted. They are the Schroedinger's Cat of the slow walkers. They are in front of you at the same time as not being in front of you. They are all possible outcomes that only exist once you have observed them. There is also a modifier on this slow walker when you add a stroller or a dog. Seriously, it would take a graphing calculator and a Cray supercomputer to evade their walking pattern. You are going to get stuck behind this one.

A third slow walker was discovered yesterday. Sadly, the best name I have for him is "Guy Holding His Polo Shirt Out At 10 and 2 Like He's Driving" slow walker. This one's a trip. I was stuck behind him making a break to Trader Joe's to buy groceries with about 10 minutes of allotted time to spare. I was stuck in a walkway and trying to figure out a way around him without hitting trees that were lining the walkway or cafe tables on the other side of the walkway. His moves were subtle and you could kinda get a cue on where he was going by where he pointed his shirt with his "10" or "2," but he was also throwing some fakes in there. He was crafty for sure. It was like watching for signals from a level boss in a Nintendo game.

A fourth slow walker is the "Lean Back And Walk Like You Are Browsing A Mall" slow walker. These people drive me crazy. It's that slow shuffle from left to right with 60% of your weight located 7 inches behind the balls of your feet. I've totally caught myself doing it. It happens. It's cool, but you don't do it around transit machines that work on a set schedule. I'll admit that I will occasionally mock these motherfuckers when I'm stuck behind them, though. Missed a fucking train once because of one of these. These people are the people that stand on escalators and don't walk up them.

There are definitely more types that I'll find today. You never really know until you are behind them, but trust me, they live among us.

So, I think the whole thing that bugs me is the lollygagging. I'm a man that moves from one point to another with purpose even if there is no real purpose at my destination. I'm a destination lollygagger and not a journey lollygagger. From my desk to the printer at work? Head down and straight at it. To the bathroom? Head down, body leaning slightly forward and right to it. I may not be doing shit, but at least I look like it. I think I may start stepping on the backs of their shoes and yelling "Flat Tire!" at them. It's just hard to figure out what they are going to do even at a low rate of speed. It's the tai-chi of point A to point B and the slow walkers have mastered it.

AC/DC/E/F/G

I don't like meatloaf. Never will. It makes me uncomfortable the way they shape meat into a loaf like bread. Bread and meat are delicious as separate entities, but when mashed together it is not a peanut butter and chocolate moment to me. It's also because as a youth I was forced to eat it by my stepdad one night. It was an epic meeting of two stubborn motherfuckers at the dinner table. He was new and I was adjusting to him as a patriarch. He was doing the same adjusting to me as a sort of son. We sat at that fuckin' table for three hours while I picked at it and choked it down. That is probably the other reason that I won't eat it. This is a metaphor for life. I don't do well when forced to do something and will often throw a wooden shoe in the gears of the mechanism that is forcing me to do something either in the form of self-destruction which diffuses the whole situation a la pushing the big red button and blowing it all to pieces or leaving something in the results to fuck with the forcer later down the road.

This brings me to last weekend. The goal was to find two priest costumes and a Jesus costume for a mini Cannonball Run that I'm participating in at the end of the month. The idea is to pay homage to Cannonball Run while also committing heresy. I was raised religiously as a child or should I say religion was forced on me as a child and now I will occasionally say things that would be viewed as improper in a church setting. Well, not improper, but not popular in that type of setting.

Jesus was easy. Beard, hessian wig and crown of thorns. To match my Jesus keychain, we picked up a Caesar robe. It seemed kind of ironic that a Caesar robe was the robe that matched the keychain model that we were using.

The priest outfits were not so easy. You figure black pants and that priest shirt with a collar would be pretty basic. It wasn't. At the costume store all they had were priest outfits with ten year old boys sewn to the crotch and inflatable boners. Who's the heretic now? We tried a police uniform store and still nothing. We got a referral to a Christian bookstore and I started getting uncomfortable. Like meatloaf uncomfortable. I didn't want to go in one. It felt really wrong.

So, we called it and they closed at 1:00 PM. It was 2:00 PM. I dodged a bullet, but in the voice message at the place they used the term "Church Goods" and it turns out this is the proper term for finding Jesus gear. A Google search later, we end up heading up to South San Francisco to Western Jesus Supply or something like that.

On the way up El Camino Real, past the largest smattering of dive bars I have ever seen in my life, we established our cover story. We were going to say that we were making a student film about religion and needed the priest shirts for that. We weren't the directors and we were just sent out to get the shirts. It was pretty solid.

We got to South San Francisco after passing the See's candy factory (awesome!) and went into the store. My buddy looks at me and goes "Dude, keep it cool. You can do this." I had a smoke and went into the store after him.

He was outed immediately by the saleswoman as not being a priest and she asked him why he needed the shirt. Thank Go...Thankfully, we had the cover story. I browsed the store and couldn't believe all the Jesus gear. Some of it was super cool. There were 50 different sets of rosary beads and a statue of the patron saint of real estate for help in selling your house. I wish I was lying about that last part.

As my buddy is getting rung up, a car pulls up to the stop light outside the store and I hear music blaring through the open door of the Jesus supply store. I recognize it immediately and under my breath say "Listen, dude. Listen to the music from that car."

My buddy was like, "What, Dude?" and started listening.

Out of the car blares "Won't take no prisoners. Won't spare no lives. Nobody's putting up a fight. I got my bell, I'm gonna take you to hell. I'm gonna get you, satan get you."

I'm losing it, doing that breath through your nose, bite your lip thing to stop from laughing and blowing everything as you can hear the chorus of "Hell's Bells" by AC/DC as the car drives away.

It was totally weird, but we got the gear. We went and visited one of the old drummers from my band that worked down the street for a bit and talked about hooking up later.

We did some early evening drinking in Saturday night shirts when we got home and called the old drummer on a lark. He said he was going to an AC/DC cover band that night and would pick us up and we were like "We're in. We kinda have to go." We had come completely full circle.

I'm not really superstitious, but I do have to admit that something extremely coincidental is going down. I'm kinda on the lookout for things now. If the walls of my apartment start bleeding and locusts swarming, I may have to call it off and admit that I was wrong, but for now, I'm just kinda on heightened alert to my surroundings. I'm not ready to eat crow yet.