Peeps

First things first. It's almost Easter, and, thanks to Nelms, we have this wonderful distraction.

Also, as I'm sure you've all seen, Pitt lost in the first round of the tournament. Thus, for the next few weeks while the kids are playing basketball, I'll have nothing to do but wait until baseball season. By which I mean "football."

I, of course, filled out my bracket with Pitt going the whole way, because really, there was no other way for me to fill it out. Have to believe and whatnot.

Anyway, Maria is leaving tomorrow for Pakistan. Today I took a sick day since my throat feels like it's being sandblasted and my voice is off-and-on.

I should probably also mention at this time that on Wednesday night, we decided to make a slightly irresponsible trip down to the DC area. I dropped Maria off at her cousin's house and then headed into DC to see Brandon who was in town for a Naval exam. We hung out in Crystal City and Brandon talked much, much louder than was necessary. Walz also made it down after his class (which ended at 7 p.m.) and Glover rolled in from his place in DC. All told, a really good time. My favorite part, of course, was the occasional realization that yes, it was a Wednesday night.

I also talked to my boss back at the home office yesterday. He told me that yes, there is very likely going to be work come April. I'm slated to wrap things up in Lancaster on 4/1. I told him that I'd want to take those next two weeks off and then start. He said that'd be fine. So, now I'm thinking where to go, what to do, who to see, etc., Although I may very well take that first week off and just hang around here, taking photos and developing them.

Sports nutrition

So a few weeks ago, I'm minding my own business at the Barnes and Noble (which, according to stupid people, is 'Barnes and Nobles') standing around in the magazine section when this rather tall guy comes up and starts talking to me. Now, since people normally don't do this to me in public spaces, I'm a bit confused. I finally pick up what he's throwing down; asking about whether or not I'm interested in photography (he had seen me flipping through photography books ... creepy) and what I did around here.

So I start telling him since I don't really care and have a hard time lying to people. No, really, I do. Anyway, so he tells me that he's 'starting a business' in the area and trying to get some young professionals on board. Would I be interested in talking to him for 45 minutes about this?

Sure.

Even though it seems rather shady, dodgy and/or sketchy, what the hell. At least it'll make a good story.

So I get home and Googled this guy. Well, well. Isn't he just wholesome. So then I'm thinking the poor guy (and his wife) probably got caught in some pyramid scheme, and when he tells me about it, I can point out the error of his ways.

Walz, of course, took that and added that they may try to convert me or make me join their cult. Seemed about right. I was also thinking of messing with his head during the meeting by saying things that were just a little off, like, "So, you're a elementary school teacher?"

Last night was the meeting. He and his wife, at the Barnes and Noble again. Quite a dissapointment. They talked about getting into Sports Nutrition Franchising. As in, cut out the middleman, set up an Internet site, guide traffic through it and make a little profit on the side. It only lasted about 15 minutes. Their queries into my personal life and getting my cafe mocha took longer.

Now here's the thing. While I certainly wouldn't mind making a little more money on the side, at this point in my life I've realized that what I need to start doing is take money out of the situation and ask myself if I would still do something. Would I want to sports nutrition franchise? Really? Would I? No. I would rather spend my free time taking photos, developing them and trying to sell them.

And really, the whole thing seemed very late-night infomercial-esque. And I'm not getting on that wagon.

But, if anybody is interested in such a thing, let me know and I can hook you up with a former Bloomsburg basketball player who wants to quit his day job.

Open letters

An open letter to the choreographer of the Events of This Morning when I dropped Maria off in York to take her exam.

To the idiot who put the address in the system for the testing center:

The location, my friend, that you have given the world is not of a strip mall testing center. It is, in fact, that of a cul-de-sac off of Route 24. It is in nearly the mirror opposite -- by using Route 30 as a mirror -- as the actual location. Could I have checked it against a real mapping system? Yes. Should I have? Yes. Should we have made a dry run? Yes. Did we? No. Is any of that the point? No.

To the stupid lady working at the testing center:

The instructions that are given to test takers is to be there a half hour before the exam begins. The exam was set to begin at 8 a.m. Thus, we were there at about 7:33 (see story above). But where were you? You were still on your way. And showed up about 7:45 and didn't let us in until 7:50 when we had to KNOCK ON THE DOOR. Could you maybe have turned the lights on? Little help?

To the pinhead in the Buick Rendezvous:

In an empty parking lot, with so many choices, why would you choose to park directly in front of me? You coulnd't have parked next to me? Or in another row? I guess you thought that I was staying. No. So instead of pulling through, I had to back up. Because you were in front of me.

To the knucklehead in the white Saturn:

You showed up to take an exam early in the morning just as Maria. But you came alone. And when you parked your car in the giant empty parking lot, you actually took the time to back into a space. Did you not notice the 200 empty spaces that you could have simply driven into? Why did you have to back into a spot? Really? Why?

To Adam:

Thanks so much for allowing yourself to be woken at 6:30 a.m. with a frantic, "Where the hell am I in York?" call. Without you, we would probably still be driving around aimlessly in York, looking for the testing center in some silly residential area.