Ok, it’s a band name that I stole today…
It’s The Sound Of One Hand Clapping
Today marks the eighth of ten Valentines, known so far as the Atlanta Valentines, that I have been alone. Sadly, it embarrasses me to admit this fact. Happily, I’ve gone from hating (don’t be a hater) this day to taking it in stride. If you wish to deliver me a lovely Valentine I’ll be celebrating by doing my Monday night routine of playing team trivia at Taco Mac in the Highlands.
What Has A Fedora Or A Poof Of Blue Hair, No Decernible Head, And Two Hands Gripping The Top Of A Steering Wheel?
Old people driving.
Now before you jump all over me, hear me out.
When I was a teenager (yes, I can remember that far back) learning to drive in Florida I learned to be weary of drivers whose heads you could not see. Generally, they were old people driving American cars, made of American steel, by American workers, or what we used to refer to as ‘tanks’. These people were horrible drivers and were safety hazards (I was too but for completely different reasons — let a sixteen year old boy buy a 1968 Mustang, you do the math).
What reminded me of this were two different old people sightings last week. To me Atlanta is a youthful town, with the exception of The Collonade which looks like a community meeting at Del Boca Vista (Seinfeld reference).
First there were the three eldery ladies happily driving somewhere (my guess would be bingo, or to The Collonade to get a jump on the early-bird special) that I saw while driving into work last week. My guess was that there combined age was somewhere in the neighborhood of 225.
Second was a man, or more appropriately a fedora that was in front of me Friday as some co-workers an I headed out for lunch. No sooner did my story of Floridian drivers leave my mouth when the old man pulled out making a (legal) right on red. The problem with this old man’s maneuver was that he pulled out, and all but hit, a policeman riding down the road on a motorcycle! At the next red light I witnessed the two discussing the near-miss, but I don’t think that the officer issued a citation.
Watch out for all of those Mildreds and Alfreds out there, because even if they are looking out for you they might not see you.
What’s In A Name
Along the old-person lines, two people have referenced this fun website which graphically represents the popularity of baby names over the last 100+ years. Given the fact that I work with four other Pauls in an office of about 125 people, I was not surprised to see that my name (yes, my real name is Paul) was very popular in the 1960’s (Fab Four anyone?), what I was surprised was to see how much it has tailed off since the 1970’s. In case you were wondering I didn’t see a single entry for ‘Tread’, but mark my words, that will be a popular name in the next generation.
But I Don’t Feel Any Different
My super-duper new scale identified me as a thirty-five year old, 5’7″ female today. Either someone fucked with my settings last week, or my super-duper scale ain’t so bright. I was happy to see my body fat percentage drop 12% when I fixed the settings, however.
Monday Morning Weigh-In
Starting weight – (approx since I didn’t have a scale) 198 lbs
Target weight – 178 lbs
Current weight – 195 lbs (time to get serious)
And now for some ideas stolen from LiveJournal…
Current Mood – forgetful, I know I had more to say today…
Current Music – Sirius Satellite Radio, Channel 26 playing The Dresden Dolls – “Coin Operated Boy”
Current Read – nothing currently (are you noticing a trend?)
Consider this my valentine to you…
Happy Valentine’s Day Paulie!!!
(insert little hearts and flowers here)
Good luck at trivia…may you not suck tonight. Well, free free to suck if you wish…oh hell, you know what I mean 😉
And great scales! You’ve proven that inside every man is a woman just dying to get out!
**looks at ass and wonders if your 12% body fat loss was just found**