Back To The Lab

Howdy, all four readers! It's me again - the guy who posts every blue moon. Here's an update on what's been happening in my world since my last post back in February: Got hired on full-time for a company, resigned three months later to go the self-employed route in real estate and FasDump (aforementioned bed liner company), started a blog specifically for FasDump (see links), got pulled over while riding my bike (to be explained after 10/19), beat my head against the wall learning to be a "marketeer", decided to write for my blog again. Well, now that you all (one remaing reader) have been updated, guess I'll sign off for now and head back to the lab (i.e. other blogs talking about internet marketing). I think I over-parenthesized (new word I just invented) this post.

While I'm thinking about it...
Over-parenthesize: verb def. to place parentheses more than two times in a paragraph due to the writer's need to make remarks about what he/she just wrote (see above paragraph). Example: The Jerome over-parenthesized his semi-annual blog post.

The DMV Experience

Thoughts while standing in line at the DMV...

I think it's time I write a lil' sump, sump for my blog.

What's that smell?!

I really need a camera phone. I just saw a condensed version of your local Wal-Mart crowd within a span of five seconds: single mother with four kids, all under the age of five, hanging all over her as she tries to get her paper work together, 50's throwback dad with modern goth son, old biker on crutches with his biker babe, who's weighing in at 200+ and has both arms COMPLETELY tatooed, Mexican immigrants who can't speak a lick of English when attempting to talk to them yet have the speaking skills to get a driver's license (can't wait til I get in an accident with one of them as they abandon their vehicle and leave me injured and carless).

How is it possible that the DMV, notorious for long wait times, is so understaffed? Is it too hard for the government to take a guy holding a shovel and place him in front of one of the four empty computers at the DMV?! Maybe they shouldn't make DMV employee training so tough since it's right up there with military boot camp and quantum physics exams. Call number, ask for paper work, process paper work ( i.e. hand paper work to co-worker), call number... And why don't they allow food and drinks in the DMV? They know people are going to be there a long time, people that go there know they're going to be there for a long time - let people take their dinners in there! I guess I kind of understand their logic. If people are allowed food and drink then the DMV would have to hire a janitor, which would then imply that they actually want a clean facility.

When can we remove the blindfold and welcome the DMV to the 21st century? They STILL don't accept credit cards. Cash will have to be non-existent for them to even consider implementing credit card accepting technology. It appears that the DMV is, in fact, attempting to turn back the hands of time. I found out that I have to wait three to four weeks to get my license since they don't produce them at the DMV office any more. Guess they don't want to complicate the highly efficient three-step process they currently have in place by adding two more processes.

I did figure out why most people look like thugs in their license photo. The whole waiting process wears people down and draws the angst out of the most upbeat of people. It also causes premature aging as noted by the lady carrying her oxygen. I'm sure she was in her mid-forties, but looked 80 since I know the DMV wouldn't issue a driver's license to someone who would bring traffic to a halt whenever they get behind the wheel. In fact, the only people who do look like they have life in them are first time licensees.

I suppose I could be less pessimistic and be thankful I only had to renew my license, stand behind five other people and have to wait only 40 minutes before I reached the counter. After all, one poor soul who lost his license was there for 2.5 hours.

Fasdump Bedliner Plug

Long time no post, but it's not like anyone really reads this anyway. With that in mind I'll keep this short. Visit http://www.fasdump.com The Fasdump is a pick up truck bedliner that was invented by my dad, brother and myself. Check out the site and tell your friends about it.

Thoughts on the comment to my previous blog

Although I appreciate comments on my blogs, I didn't expect a comment that could've been published as a blog courtesy of my brother a.k.a. The Bull. As an addendum to my previous blog, I must admit that I, too, had quite the cheering section at both my high school and college graduations. Was it because my cheering section was expecting me to graduate at the head of my class with high honors? Definitely not. They showed up because I was an overcomer. I overcame the distractions that come with high school life - picking on new kids, breaking rules, scrubbing floors, etc., and college life - sunny days, basketball, laziness, lack of motivation, sunny days, etc. I overcame the transportation barrier - finally owning my first car when I graduated from college. I overcame the finance barrier - not having any cash during the school year put a kink in things sometimes. Will I make an impact on the world before my time is up? Time will tell. Can I answer one more question that I pose to myself? A resounding YES!!

Thoughts from a high school graduation

A couple of weeks ago I had the opportunity to attend my first public school high school graduation. All graduations are basically the same - every faculty member has some boring speech, which will never be remembered, the "elite" get recognized, then everyone grabs an official-looking piece of paper stating that the real diploma is in the mail (in college, its only in the mail if your tuition is paid). However, there is one thing that distinguishes high school graduations from kindergarten or college graduations and that is being able to weed out the winners vs. the losers. Since I was bored out of mind within the first minute, I began to scan the Arvada West 2005 graduating class. Unfortunately, I was sitting too far away and forgot my binoculars, so I walked around until they started calling out valedictorians. (Before I begin my analysis, it should be noted that there are 25% more girls than guys in this particular class.)

The fifth faculty member starts to call out the valedictorians and what scholarships they have and where they'll be going to college. To my surprise, she calls out seven girls and one guy. Some of the chicks were going to study the arts, one was looking forward to being the 10th girl to ever grace the halls of the Colorado School of Mines, the others were going to study biology or math and the boy was future West Point material (FWPM). This was an easy crowd to break down. One maybe two of the girls will actually obtain the degree they set out to obtain, two will obtain a degree of some sort and the rest will be answering your call to a customer service center (if all the CS jobs aren't outsourced to India by then) or serving you food at a fancy restaurant. As for FWPM, his parents are school administrators, so they probably pulled a string or two. I'm positive none of his classmates liked him since he probably looked down on all of the other fellas for their inferior grades. He was also the class spokesman. If he was the spokesman for my class, I would've immediately tarred and feathered him for his "life is a beach" speech. I feel for the soldiers who have to serve under his command IF he makes it through West Point.

After some more boring speeches and a lame choir song (these kids were robbed), they finally started to call up the kids for their pieces of paper. This was my chance to determine the future winners vs. the future losers. A majority of these kids will end up with decent-paying jobs and will buy houses they could barely afford in some new sub-division just to keep up with the Joneses. The ones I want to focus on are the ones that will be either absolute losers or will actually make a good difference.

First on the agenda, the losers. I automatically tagged anyone with a floppy fro as a loser. Sure enough, one floppy fro kid got his name called hopped onto the stage, bypassed the goofy faculty lady giving fake hugs and practically jumped off the stage on his way back to his seat. A couple of his floppy fro buddies high-fived when he got back to his seat. They all plan on working at a skate/snowboard shop for the next 30 years. One of them will eventually cut his hair and become an outcast, and that's only because Nordstrom cashiers have an image to uphold. All athletes (boy and girl) with scholarships were also given loser status. They were lied to by some scout from a no-name college about their mad skillz, so when they find out that they're not good as the scout made them out to be they'll end up working at a local rec center coaching little league teams, telling people how much they enjoy working with kids. In reality, they couldn't make it to the next level and were left out in the cold when companies realized that they had an eigth grade reading level. It was easier to spot the girl losers after the commencement. They already had cigarettes in their mouths, and were only dressed with their gown on. I grouped them with the like, totally awesome Valley girls. (I can just hear myself tell them, "Let me speak to your manager." at the bank, store, restaurant, you name it.)

Now, onto the sparcest of groups, the winners. All valedictorians were eliminated. I was searching and searching when it dawned on me. The ones that are actually going to live up to their potential are the underdogs. The ones that don't have a cheering section. The ones who got B's instead of A's because they had lives outside of school. The ones who overcame all odds and were proud of the fact that they obtained a diploma. The ones who savored each moment as if it were their last. Of course, this narrowed it down to two people. One, a girl who had a couple of college scholarships, but no cheering section. I'm almost certain her mom wasn't even there. She'll become a plastic surgeon and end up working on the girls who's faces are mangled from too much smoking, and who didn't think she was cool enough to hang out with them. The other, a guy who's parents brought his gown as the names were being called. The last name had been called as he scurried to hand his name to the name caller-outer. Unfortunately, the mic was off and all the name caller-outer managed to utter when the mic came on was the guy's last name. The guy was denied both the fake hug and fake piece of paper, and was only able to get a wave to his folks off before rushing off the stage. He'll own the skate/snowboard stores that the floppy fro guys work at and live the rest of his days on the beach while the floppy fro guys stock his shelves and FWPM stands on the corner near one of his shops on the boardwalk with a cardboard sign that reads, "HomlesS dIsabled vett. AnythIng hElpS."

I fought the law

Okay, so I really didn't fight the law, but I did dodge a bullet. Okay, so I really didn't dodge a bullet, but I did get out of not going to court for a subpoena I received. A couple of weeks ago, I was subpoenaed to appear in court on May 11th. "Why was Jerome subpoenaed?" Some of you may be asking. To make a long story short, I'll give the Reader's Digest version (Copacabana style).

His name was Nico, he wore a gold chain
He was escorted to the floor, for a game of four-on-four
And when he played defense, Jerome crossed him over
But Nico went a bit too far, Jerome sailed across the court
And then the punches flew and heads were smashed in three
There was blood and a couple of cheap shots
But just who kicked me?

(Some details were left out, but it's the Reader's Digest version and I had to get it to go with the second verse of "Copacabana.")

If it weren't for my pops telling me about his subpoena, I may not have known about it until next week. I tossed the letter I received from the City of Denver judicial branch with all of my other mail. If it's not a check, which it rarely is, I usually don't open my mail until I get a good stack on my couch and get tired of shifting it from the floor to the couch to the floor... you get the picture. Back to the subpoena story. Pops wrote a letter to the DA stating that we did not deem it necessary to appear in court since it was a minor incident and there were no hard feelings between the parties involved. I get a call from the DA after he received the letter and told him the same thing. Apparently, that reasoning threw a wrench into the way DA's are supposed to think since the DA said, "Let me think about that and I'll get back with you tomorrow." The DA called back the next day and told me, "I went back and forth over this case all night, and came to this conclusion. We will not proceed with the case since [basically repeating everything I told him the previous day]." Good thing this wasn't something serious or he'd still be thinking about it. All that to say that I didn't have to miss a day of work to sit through a 12-hour court proceeding in which the defendant would've been found "Not guilty by reason of insanity" or something similar.

Most of us have been to traffic court a time or two or 10 in my case, and we all know what a waste of time that is. Go to court, sit on a hard wooden bench for at least an hour, listen to sob stories from 16 year-old chicks and foreign drivers, who suddenly can't grasp the English language, while you just want to get points reduced, pay your fine and speed right back to work or lunch. Sitting through a jury duty screening is even worse, so I can only imagine how much longer an actual trial will last. The judicial waiting process is NOTHING compared to the collecting unemployment process. Trust me, I know.

You're too old, let go

Can somebody explain to me why people just don't let go of a certain era - particularly the 80's? Knotter and I spotted Uncle Rico's (of Napolean Dynamite fame) twin at Fazoli's. From the mustache to the jean jacket and sleeveless t-shirt, the only thing lacking was a tupperware set. At my current place of employment I know/have seen at least six of this alive and thriving breed. The best by far was the guy I passed on Monday. He had bleached black jeans, cowboy boots, fake leather jacket, dangling earring and feathered mullet. I'm positive that Levi's dumped their bleached jean line at the beginning of the 90's when the torn jean line was up and running, so I KNOW this guy was a true 80's throwback.

Thinking about it, not much good came out of that era. The music was horrible. Likewise for the hair. Even the cars lacked class (the exception being the 1983 Mercedes Benz Turbo Diesel 300 SD). All it did was produce a bunch of middle aged men in denial, who think that they look as cool now as they did then. Bleached jeans and sleeveless t-shirts may have been cool at one time, but that time is long gone. It's gonna be a sad day when thrift stores run out of 80's garb, and the George Michaels wannabe's have to move to the 90's.