VA State Police - Again

Do the VA State Police have to memorize the Trooper's Pledge? Well if they do, they forget much of it. Two State Troopers (traveling pairs again on 64 East/Why always East?) were pacing traffic this afternoon at a comfortable clip of 65 mph in the 55mph zone. So I'm not complaining about their disregard for the speed limit. But I am a tad pissed that they don't use their signals.

• Trooper-whoever in the car with license plate number 5082. You headed north on 95 from 64 East. You might consider providing more advanced notice than the nanosecond ghetto-blink of your directional signal. I'm glad I wasn't in the lane you suddenly decided to merge into.
  • Buddy Trooper (License plate number 4972) that head south on 95. You are a complete ass, not even giving some old guy in a clunker (not me, I'm not that old) even the courtesy of the ghetto-blink.

Yes, I have a good memory, but I also text while driving. But I use my god-damned directional signal! And so should you. okay I'm done whining. But then again, I'm still a bit bitter about your response time from when I was shot at on I-64.

Today was a good day. I fit into a green sweater that I had not worn in years. And by "fit", I mean I stretched that sucker to hell and back last night and a bit more this morning so it would fit. I wanted to wear that because it was chilly out and it was the shade of green that fancied my mood.

No Stephanie, there is no Irish Code about what constitutes as Green clothing appropriate to wear on St. Patrick's Day. Your green jacket was fine. I'm sorry I made you feel joked into going home at lunch to get a green shirt. *if your wondering - For Real!*

Green - oh yeah! Where the heck is my money going? GAS BILLS, that's where. Most abundant resource there is, MY ASS. *okay so I had one more whine*

St. Patrick's Day

ENJOY !!

Story Time

I went out to dinner with a few friends the other day. JJ has her own blog and I suggested that she should start a "story" blog thinking she could do something cute for her daughter. And, well I got to thinking that I could do the same thing, but do it in my own weird mystical nerd style.

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As you read, make suggestions to give the story twists and turns and I'll consider incorporating your ideas into the story line. My story is about a man named Declan Shaol Amharach. An unusual full-blooded Irish lad born in the USA. He's not your average everyday man. He plays by his own rules, trying to do the right thing, often straying. Let the collaborative story begin:

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It’s not unusual to wake up at 5:35am on a cold January morning. Fresh snow had fallen, but it wasn’t the kind that you could pack real tight into a firm snowball. It was fluffy soft and just the right amount for falling into and taking a little nap. The full moon was on the 22nd and is now nearing the ½ moon phase providing plenty of light glistening off the snow. Waking up on a cold winter morning is one thing. It’s an entirely different experience to wake up with your face being licked by a gray wolf.

Declan rose to his feet so fast he got a bit dizzy. The wolf hopped back with its rump in the air and front paws angled down. “Oh, so you want to play?” he said. He took to the ground and called the wolf over. Hesitantly the wolf came over and eventually licked at the branding on the left side of his neck in the shape of an upward hook to the right. Declan fished out a package from his jacket and gave a piece of jerky to the wolf. “Well, I figure three times a charm, so I’ll call you Hati for now on.”

He stood up again and winced, realizing he had been thrown from his bike, a 2006 Yamaha Star Roadliner. Its retro-design is what caught his eye first. History, or rather a respect for it, is a fascination of his that has haunted his mind since he was born. Hati nudged his leg to say good-bye and ran off into the forest. It was then he realized that Hati was not alone.

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His bike had slid down the road about 40 feet where it rested, all scratched up on the left side, but ready to carry its precious cargo onward south in West Virginia on route 79 to 19 south over to 64 East. His destination is Lynchburg VA. He’d been given a vague warning never to go there. But he knew he had to be there for his birthday, January 29th because that’s when his visions are clearest. But first he needed to tend to his sprained ankle, and he needed a doctor for that.