Congratulations Ben!

Congratulations go out to Ben and Sarah on their wedding this past weekend. Best of luck to the both of you in the future. Thanks to Steve for letting me crash at his place while I was in town.

A couple of things to comment on from the trip up to Phoenix: Mr. Red Honda Civic and the Sandwich Artist at Subway.

As the wedding was up in Phoenix, I had to make the ~2 hour drive up to Phoenix on Friday night. After getting comfortably out of Tucson city limits, I settled into a cruising speed of 85-90mph. This is when I first noticed the Red Honda Civic. He was chugging along in the left lane going about 5mph slower. I figured on him seeing me coming up behind him but he didn’t budge. No big deal really, chalk it up to one of the multitude who can’t get it through their cotton filled skulls that the left lane is the passing lane. I changed lanes to pass him on the right when he sped up. Apparently, by trying to pass him, I insulted him. I had no intention of turning this into a race so I watched as he cruised past me. Of course, after a bit of time had passed, he resumed his normal pace and since my speed never changed, it was just a matter of time before I was creeping up and threatening to pass him again. Same thing happens: he speeds up, slows down a bit down the highway and speeds up again when I’m nearing him. A couple of times I managed to actually pass him but he would speed up to pass me and get in front of me again only to have the whole thing repeat. He kept this up the entire way – from Picacho to the Mills Mall when he finally exited the interstate. Eat shit Mr. Red Honda Civic.

Cut to Saturday afternoon. I end up at Subway for lunch. The “Sandwich Artist” asked me what type of cheese I wanted. Provolone is the response. The Sandwich Artist asked again to confirm: “Did you say provolone?”

“Yes sir.”

“It’s ma’am actually…”

“Oh… uhhh….whatever. Sorry.”

Now, I genuinely felt bad but I was dealing with an amorphous blob of indeterminate gender. “She” was chubby so I looked to the chest for answers, reasoning that a fat woman would have big floppy fat boobs. Not so – what boobs “she” had could easily have been man tits. The voice didn’t give anything away either. I had a 50-50 chance and lost. D’oh. Oh well…