Wow...finally...I have found it. The perfect category. Podcast...which I think is the greatest innovation since Leonardo the Turtle innovated the katanas.
But it is ironic enough that I shall use it now...so I can insert a little "fan fiction" on this bitch. Except it wasn't written by a fan...and it's not fiction. Let me start over, as I tend to "talk" too much. I'll use the handy copy/paste feature found in your typical Internet Explorer program....
But it is ironic enough that I shall use it now...so I can insert a little "memoirs." Of a Geisha. No...Of a Geico Customer....'s Boyfriend. There...there's my title. "Memoirs of a Geico Customer's Boyfriend." Excellent. Anyhow, on with the memoirs:
Memoirs of a Geico Customer's Boyfriend (part one)
With all this insanity going on right now, I mean, for reals, today I have decided to write something from the heart. Something that means a lot to me. Something I’m doing right now (not typing in a white shirt and boxers...although that is what I’m doing right NOW...but c’mon...I need you all to see the bigger picture here, Spartacus).
Now what I really need to talk about is WHERE I’m doing right now. The answer to that: A freaking nice hotel about 1 hour north of San Francisco. What follows is a story. A story of triumph, tragedy, terror, temerity, tenacity...um...turniping...turning left...and...well...I...
So I’m at work, doing what I love to do (napping) when my boss stealthily sneaks to my cubicle wall and asks, “Hey, Tyler, would you be available to go do Santa Rosa?” Now, after I heard the word “Santa,” I assumed that she was talking about Christmas and I wet my pants in excitement (if you didn’t know already, I loooove Christmas!).
But when I realized that she was talking about a city in California (not the greatest human being/spirit alive), I quickly un-wet my pants (using the “vacu-wiener” mode found on all factory-standard models), and eloquently replied, “Oh....umm....when?”
“2:00 today.”
“Oh....umm....it’s a...can I like go home and get my stuff first?”
“Sure.”
“Ok. Um....why?”
(in case you can’t tell, I use the word “Um” when I’m stalling for time. I also use parenthesis a lot…which is a waste of both your time and mine)
At this point she explained the reason behind my visit to what I like to call “Wine Country.” I was to be the department’s liaison to verify that the PVR bloobity blabbity meets the requirements of HI in the MLCS release 6.2.401.24 system update with Texas refinance update technical PDR PRF and PRVDs. BVD. Bel Biv Devoe (she was explaining that they were going to be there too, playing their hit songs…sorry…song).
At least, that’s what the reasoning sounded like…I may have drifted off there in the middle with my headphones on. It’s hard to tell, because my brain is so small.
At any rate, I was completely and utterly confused...and somewhere between of “bewildered” and “overwhelmed” (I believe I “un-un-vacuumed” that urine, for instance). But I agreed to go...probably because it let me get out of work early, but more likely because I really couldn’t think of any good excuse not to go.
So off I scoot (and I rarely ever scoot anywhere)...stopping at home to throw a pile of dirty clothes into a dirty suitcase that a dirty man sold me for 30 dirty dollars on eBay. Dirty. That, and some facial soap, because no one likes acne. Or Acme…whose rocket skates are a total goddamn rip-off. Beleee-dat.
I take a taxi cab to the airport, which (refreshingly) does not smell like body odor. Instead, it smells like “Spice,” which was the name of the tree-shaped deodorizer hanging four inches from the side of my face. I listen to the Alito hearings on the ride down. I mean…it was no “Wreckx-N-Effect ,” but it was entertaining, as one would expect from any good Supreme Court nominee judicial committee testimony...something I consider myself a huuuuuge fan of (I love them almost as much as I love Christmas).
On to the airport. Now my beloved reader (the one who actually got this far…looking at you Meaghan…) I love those e-ticket machines, but could all the fucking retards just stay away from them, and let me enter my information before they stand there poking random buttons and drooling? That’s all I ask. I know what the hell I’m doing, and I’ll be real quick too. Just get out the damn hell way, and let me do my bidnezz...and we’ll both be better for the experience. Trust me.
Ate some Wendy’s at the airport, which tastes a little sadder now that founder Dave Thomas is dead. On the way to the gate, I purchased me some hand lotion (gross!), tooth paste (GROSS!), and teriyaki flavored beef jerky (as far from gross as humanly possible). Total amount of the purchase: $13.43. Frickity hell beef jerky is expensive, and between this and the cab ride, my $50 of cash has quickly shrunk to $1.40. No biggie, I think. That's why God invented poor people: so he can punish rich people when they make stupid purchases...like Teriyaki Flavored Beef Jerky. There’s a lesson in there somewhere, but it’s cloaked in mystery. Best of luck finding it...or caring about it.
Good flight with a friendly, rich older guy sitting next to me. He asks what I'm reading. "Oh, it’s a book about the Napoleonic Wars." And it was.
"Wow, that's great. Have you read 1776?"
"Um...nope."
"Well, it's great, see I didn't know that George Washington.......general…..couldn’t even………..and the British………..came close to……...." and he proceeds to tell me about that book. For a good 30 minutes.
I listen, and give the, “Huh...yeah, I should check that out,” which I was led to believe meant, “Great. Conversation over.” But not for this guy. He keeps on trucking...now he’s talking about how his dad always gives him family books, and a he packs a review with each book, and blah blibbity blah blah bloo.
Hmm…maybe I listened a little more than I care to admit. Probably because he was rich. I like rich people.
So, he was a friendly guy, but dammit, if you want to talk about your book and your own little life, don't do it by asking me about my book...as a "ruse de guerre" to flaunt your own literacy (he was reading USA Today, by the way…I suppose his copy of "War and Peace" was in his checked luggage).
So, an hour or two, and with a stunning review of 1776 in my skull, I’m in Oak-town.
Now, because I feel super bad that I made fun of both Bel and Biv (as well as their friend Devoe...but I don't feel sorry that I made fun of that bag of antelope crap), I will give you some selected lyrics from their other hit single...um...give me a second...ah, here we go. Their song "Do Me!" That's right..."Do Me" with an exclamation mark. Here we go:
The time was 6 o'clock on the Swatch watch
No time to chill, got a date, can't be late
Hey, the girl is gonna do me
Move to the Jacuzzi, ooh, that booty
Smack it up, flip it, rub it down, oh, no
Boy, whatever happened to the Swatch watch? Anyhow, join me next time for Part 2.
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