10 years--Gettin' back on the horse!

Wednesday July 23, 2008

I had to stop in Dothan today, to take my truck to shop to have the kingpins replaced. It was 3:30 by the time I got out of there so... now I sit and wait to load tomorrow morning—33 miles away in Georgia. Thank god for internet!

Back in the good ol' days with PST, when I'd layover for a few days—it was books, books and more books. My truck was littered with books on every conceivable subject. Now the internet makes a layover just that much more tolerable.

I am an incessant reader and always have been. My second grade teacher, Mrs. Anderson, was totally amazed that this 6 year old little boy (I entered kindergarten when I was four), could read at a high school level. I could even pronounce words like Methylisothiazolinone—probably due to boredom, sitting on the toilet, reading the labels on the bottles of shampoo. I still do that, lol.

So now we enter the Wikipedia-age. Sometimes I have to pry myself away from that site to get anything done. From Ancient Roman Civilization to Zyzygy, I can spend hours clicking from subject to subject on Wikipedia.

Lol... One of these days, my brain should be full and I'll have to "delete some files" to make room for new ones. Or maybe by then, we'll be able to slide a micro-SD card into our head for extra storage... who knows?

P.S.
The trivia question for the day:
Anyone know who that really is in the picture in my sig?

 

Hmm... if I could get some covert video. Yep, I'd post it.

 

Now I wonder what they'd do if, every time I went through that scale, I pulled off to the side and brought my log book in for them to inspect.

Eventually they'd probably gather that I was nuttier than a $#!thouse rat... LOL

 

Ding ding ding.... you're absolutely corrupt... er, I mean... correct! Johnny, tell him what he's won.

"Well Barcode, al_huryn will enjoy an all expenses paid trip to Angola Prison, aka "The Farm". That's right al_huryn... you'll spend a luxurious 10 to 20 years behind bars in the country's largest maximum security prison where you'll get three square meals a day while you learn new skills."

 

Friday July 25, 2008

dégoûtant vomir pâtisseries...

...that's what they should rename Bon Appétit Bakery, the company that makes those visually appealing, but thoroughly nasty pastries you see prominently displayed at all the Flying J's.

My day started rather early this morning, so I was unable to get my usual 'Breakfast of Champions'—a McDonald's bacon egg and cheese biscuit and hashbrowns (with a large tasty cup of McAsphalt coffee, of course). Wandering through the aisles of the Flying J, in search of something edible, I spied something called a French Sweetie (lol, git yer mind outta the gutter, you pervert). It looked like a big cinnamon roll will fancy frosting reminiscent of a sea shell. Although I'd twice tried one of Bon Appetit's products and wasn't really impressed, I thought maybe the third time would be the charm. Um... not.

As I merged onto I-95, headed for Edenton, North Carolina, I undressed... er... unwrapped my French Sweetie and took a bite—BLECHHH!!! It tasted like a stale hamburger bun with a slightly sweet wheelbearing grease applied to the top and was as dry as the Sahara Desert. Pretty much the same thing I had encountered with the two other Bon Appetit pastries I'd tried previously.

My grumbling stomach was telling me to eat it anyway... yes, I was that hungry. But after the second bite, I decided that even if I'd have taken the entire Flying J coffee urn with me, it still wouldn't be enough to wash down this horridly dry block of baked wheat paste. So, into the trashcan it went and POP went the Pringles.

What a nutritious breakfast—Pringle's and coffee.

I visited Bon Appetit's web site, to get their phone number so I can let them know just what I think of their baking abilities... and saw this: "...state of the art facility enables Bon Appetit® to produce the finest quality products, unlike any other baking facility in the United States."

Um... yeah... if you're baking a wheel chock, I guess.