Weekend Weirdness

I Am Probably Losing My Mind

Shoulda took today off. Of course, all the crap that greeted me this morning would just be festering until I got in tomorrow.

I wish I'd done more with the weekend. It had such a promising start.

I had a meeting in the bowels of Houston Friday afternoon. Seriously, imagine the shittiest part of town, then plop a beaten-up run-down facility in the middle of it, then send in a lone cracker to preach The Man's municipal gospel.

Actually, everyone was very nice, but they did warn me to park my truck so I could see it from the meeting room window in case the indigenous life forms decided to make off with my hubcaps. The joke's on them, I don't have hubcaps, but I imagine they would have taken the rims instead.

So, I'm leaving the facility and trying to remember how to get back to the freeway when my path is crossed.

By this:



Now, I already have an unhealthy attraction to chili dogs. To wave this vehicle in front of me is like waving a red flag in front of a bull. I knew... I just *KNEW* that wherever this thing was going, free hot dogs would be offered.

So, I followed it. Problem was, it was heading into the ghetto. And I got stuck behind a red light as it made a couple of turns.

So, I find myself barrel-assing through some seriously effed-up 'hoods in my Redneck Chariot, screaming "WEINERMOBILE!!!!" at the top of my lungs trying to catch this thing. I'd screech to a stop, yell "WEINERMOBILE??" at a passerby, and invariably, they'd point down the street.

I eventually caught up to the thing after a mile or so, having the time of my life as I bounced over speed bumps and blew through stop signs, all in the sheer joy of the chase. Of course, I was still shouting "WEINERMOBILE!!!!" periodically.

When I got behind it, I saw the license plate. Wisconsin, with a "WISH I WAS" tag, or something close to it.

The wind kind of left my sails at that point. I'd caught up with the silly thing, but I hadn't the means of taking it down, short of ramming it and looting the wreckage. I've grown fonder of my low insurance premiums than I am of hot dogs, so I turned off the path just south of downtown, and moseyed back to my usual stomping grounds. Next time, I'l have a remote-controlled harpoon cannon mounted in the back.

After that, it was a thoroughly forgettable dinner at Ciro's Italian Grill, then back to the casa for hibernation. I did make it out of the house Sunday night just long enough to see '300', which was as good as I'd hoped it would be.

I think I'll make some chili dogs this evening...