This Yellow Taxi Cab In Which I Ride

When I was younger -- and I don't mean 5 or 6; more like, 15, 16, 23, etc. -- I played laser tag often enough to say I was an avid player, but not often enough to say I was an obsessive laser tag nerd. Last night, Stephanie's friend Leigha had a birthday party, to which she invited many friends, and we played laser tag. It was wicked fun. There was about 25 of us. Our ages ranged from early twenties to early thirties. We were split evenly into two teams and joined up with some middle school aged girls. I came in first place for my team, but third place over all. Two people on the other team found the bases (which is the way to score major points), but I couldn't find them. I scored most of my points by hiding and picking people off as they walked by. And by shooting the sensor-things that are randomly placed about the arena. The last time I played laser tag, was six years ago. My friends and I had been playing every few months for something different to do. We mostly had fu

I thought I had taken some pictures with my camera phone in the last week or so that would be worth posting. But, when I downloaded them to my computer, most of them were pictures of me in my car making funny faces to occupy myself when I was waiting for Stephanie on Thursday. She was late because she had to take a detour. A furniture store was burning to the ground on the road that she normally takes. We almost bought a bed from that furniture store. Anyways, there were also some pictures of white tulips that someone had brought to Lena's. There was also a picture of the list: It was a longer list than usual for open mic. We ('we' being various people that commented on the long list and packed house and engaged in general discussions about it adding insight when appropriate) surmised that because of Good Friday, there was no school and, thus, people could stay out later. It truly was a packed house. I don't think there was an empty seat. Gary Moon hosted. I played thir

I had a brief moment of something close to, but not quite panic last night when I went to retrieve my coat from a bedroom full of coats and found that my coat no longer held my little black pocket journal in its inside pocket. I searched under the bed and other areas of the floor nearby to no avail. I didn't panic fully because: a) it's just a pocket journal and I can buy a new one b) it's not like I have secrets in my journal that I don't want others read c) there was a strong possibility that I had left the journal in my car or at home, and d) all of the above. "D" is the correct choice (although, while there really aren't "secrets" in my journal, I would prefer that others don't read it without my expressed consent). As it turned out, my journal was in my car and I let out a little sigh of relief that no one had in fact read it. The previously mentioned bedroom full of coats was attached to a house that was the location of a gathering of m

I have a few minutes while I wait for a CD to copy; I might as well blog for a bit. Stephanie got a part in a musical and she bought the CD of the original cast recordings so that she can practice. I don't think I could handle hearing showtunes played on the house CD player; so, I offerend to rip the CD and put the MP3s on her MP3 player. That way, I can't hear the show tunes when she is listening to them. Can you sense the gigantic smile that I'm wearing? My computer is in the process of the ripping... ----- This past Thursday at open mic I played the unnamed cover song and Road to Nowhere . For some reason I was quite nervous while playing the cover song (probably because I forgot a line the week before). Even so, I received some nice compliments regarding my performance. I'm also adding some other covers to my repetoire: Wildflowers and Won't Back Down by Tom Petty to name a few. I still won't name the super, wicked, awesome cover though :) ------ Computer

Life. I could go on for hours about it. I often do. I'm going to try to be short this time. You see, there really aren't a lot of things in life (maybe a shopping bag full or one of those hand baskets -- grocery store metaphor*) that truly and consistently make dealing with all the other junk managable: pick-me-ups, if you will. You know what I'm talking about. Life: it's mostly bills and stressful working conditions; it's the death of people that you like and always getting checked out by that trashy, jerry springer show candidate cashier; it's... (wait, I said I was going to be short)... And, then there are pick-me-ups: watching Scrubs reruns after work; seeing that cashier getting bitched out by a customer that is actually more trashy than she is. One such pick-me-up that I have is my credit card. Actually, it's not-so-much the card itself, but the rewards that it gives. You see, my credit card (besides having one of the lowest APRs that I have ever seen