It appears that Atlanta’s new monsoon season is coming to a close. The sun came out today, and all of Atlanta cowered as its searing rays burned our now translucent, waxy skin. I just emerged from under my desk to write this entry, and I don’t even know what it’s going to be about yet, but I’m typing, by god, and something is bound to emerge.

With the long weekend coming up, I look forward to lots of traffic, flying real planes, flying my Remote controlled planes, Going to at least one party, and hearing reports of more drowned rednecks. Memorial day weekend is like population control for rednecks. They all drive to one of the popular lakes in Georgia in their big turbo diesel dodge trucks with a number three on the back, towing a boat that cost twice as much as they spent on all six of their kids in the past five years, start drinking and yelling, and inevitably a few of them die in bizarre accidents. Hey, I just realized that Microsoft word 2000 won’t let you spell bizarre with three R’s. You start spelling it all wrong and it just fixes it for you. How sweet.

Anyway, I know why these people die every year, as a few years ago in college I was invited to go “to the lake” with some “NASCAR fans”. The guy was showing me how he had filled an entire cooler with cheap tequila and had rigged a blender to plug into the cigarette lighter on his boat. When I say “rigged”, I am talking about a cut off lamp cord, exposed wires twisted together that had to be jiggled to keep the power flowing, and about two rolls of black tape for what he called “waterproofing”. He then gave me the following sales pitch

“Man, we gonna be kicked back, listenin’ ta some skynard, hot women all over the place, waterskiing, wakeboardin’, whatever you want. Man, by noon we’ll be so tore up we’ll shit ourselves.”

I politely declined for the following reasons-

Skynard- Southern rock band that sings about being southern. Not my favorite.

Women (in the context of a redneck outing)- Overweight ex-cheerleaders who strive to convince themselves daily that they still look good in their cut off shorts if their hair is big enough. Plus, they’d be “all over the place”.

Waterskiing/wakeboarding- I have done it. One ski, two skis, wakeboard, kneeboard, innertube, all of it. I don’t like having anything forced into butthole, and that includes lake water. The thought of swimming in mud and gasoline doesn’t do much for me either.

Being “so tore up we’ll shit ourselves”- having never actually shit myself from being tore up, I can’t say with any certainty that I wouldn’t like it, but shitting one’s self is generally best done in private.

On top of all of this was the idea of putting a poorly designed electrical kitchen appliance on a boat. In the water. With them.

No thanks. It sounded like the script from an after school special.

Oh, the NAADS movement (from my last entry) is well underway. We have three official members and are lobbying the waitresses at Chili’s in Peachtree City this Sunday. The first tee-shirt design is out as well, so go here to check out the merchandise There are shirts, bumper stickers, and a few other things I came up with. The SARS mousepad is one of my faves, a close second to the nightmare teddy bear and dancing calendar. You have to admit, a time when one can market merchandise for no profit because he is bored and creative is a great time to be alive. Okay. I did mark some of the stuff up a dollar, but it will go to the NAADS foundation for over privileged white American male capitalists. It’s a good cause. We have to buy new dockers every year or so.

I had the weirdest dream last night. I have a check ride coming up in two weeks, and am nervous about it because it is my instrument check ride, and I still pretty much suck at flying on instruments.

So my dream is this- the examiner shows up at the school and starts with the oral portion. In real life, he would ask me about regulations, emergency stuff, stuff about weather, and so on. In the dream he asked me two questions- “What color is the oil cap on the plane?”, and “What would you do if you locked the keys to the plane in the luggage locker?” You don’t start this plane with keys, so I tried to dance around that one and joked about getting a blowtorch and cutting the nose off it. Anyway, the questions were stupid, and my answers seemed to impress the crap out of him. I’m thinking, “Awesome. He thinks I’m the MAN. My ride will be a snap.” Then I realize that I left my flight bag at home. I don’t have my charts, maps, headset, or any of the other billion things you have to take with you in a plane. He came up from Alabama to give me this test, I paid him $200 (which I will have to pay again if I have to cancel this ride because of my irresponsibility), and I have to fix this, NOW. I start running around the flight school, asking people for approach plates and trying to avoid looking like a dope, run into my instructor and tell him that I forgot all of my stuff (he laughs, I flip him off), check my car to see if I possibly remebered it by accident, and then suddenly remember that it is actually the 23rd of May, and not the 4th of June. I then wondered why the examiner showed up two weeks early and suddenly realize I am dreaming. Here’s the weird part- I called my instructor on the phone (in my dream) and told him it was the 23rd of May, and I don’t have to take it today. He said, “No, It’s the June 4th. You’re in it now, buddy.” I said, “no, dumbass, I’m dreaming. It is Friday Morning and I am dreaming about missing my checkride.” I then told him to relay the message to the examiner and I’d see him on the 4th. Why I felt the need to explain it to everyone in the dream is beyond me.

I’m going to see “The Matrix- Regurgitated” this weekend. I don’t really keep up with the scifi, but the Ladyfriend is all about science fiction and video games. God, we have a backward relationship. I wonder if she’ll let me be the man sometime. Anyway, I’m sure it will be entertaining. I’ll have a big review for you.

-=D=-

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