18 December 2008

Do You Know How to Park?

(While very much against my blog policies, I have decided to re-post again, as when I arrived at work today, I found that the problem outlined below was at the level of national disaster. Enjoy!)

Imagine, if you will, a common parking spot. Envision yourself pulling your car into that spot and parking perfectly between those yellow or white lines, as we all know you can.

Now you step out of the car. Look around and notice, how much space is there between you and the car next to you? [pause]

How many inches do you think it would be? Maybe 18" or 24"? That's probably your average. Typical parking spaces measure between 8' and 8.5', leaving about a foot and a half to two between parked cars. People can generally (except for a few 'special' individuals) handle those standards. We've parked under such specifications for many years, we should do it on an instinctual level such as fitting food in our mouths.

Snow, the
refore, must be some form of psychotropic substance.

Have you ever noticed when it snows that suddenly 8 out of ten people couldn't park straight or with reasonable distances to save their lives? What's the change? A little white stuff? I hate to be cynical, but I have created an artist's rendition of what I believe parking lots look like when it snows. As a people we probably lose half the spots in the lot because someone has over estimated their distance, missed the middle line, or otherwise botched up the simple grid that I would hope they could imagine in their mind. It really is amazing.

I know that while driving in inclement weather, your following distance should double or triple, but while parking the same rule does not apply. I would call all citizens of the free world to maintain their parking distances, rain, shine or snow. Sure it may be a good excuse to leave an extra five feet between you and the next car, but think of the people who are running late. Where will they park?

16 December 2008

Snow: Friend or Foe, You Decide

(This is a re-post from last December, however I feel just as passionate about this subject at this very moment as I did then.)

In the last few days, Provo has been invaded by millions upon millions of little weapons created to quickly forward the natural selection process. Who sent this micro-warfare to reap havoc you ask? If you are looking to blame some radical, extremist group like the Democratic Party, you are mistaken. No, this wasn't the work of any ordinary person. She is so much more. Two words: Motha' Nature. You didn't think she was behind all of the chaos did you? Well think again. These millions of weapons I am referring to are tiny flakes of snow (bet you didn't see that coming). Yes, snow. Sure some people think it's pretty, b
ut have you ever seen a "SoCal" driver or pedestrian try to negotiate roads, sidewalks and stairs during these precarious invasions? Nature herself is targeting and picking off certain segments of our population, one "fluffy," "pretty" snow storm at a time. It's genocide. Nothing more, nothing less. Imagine if it snowed more regularly in Texas. In that land of the bigger, those flakes could be used by she who will not be named as ninja stars (see artist's concept at left). No need to worry about yellow snow, no, now children in Texas as they are preparing to go out to school will have to avoid crimson red snow (not to mention the bodies of the victims). Some will tell you that snow is innocent fun. That it comes and collects on our trees (just coincidentally breaking their limbs) and on our cars (making us crash because we can't see) and on our paths (increasing senior citizen hip replacements by two fold) making the place look beautiful before vanishing as it melts (and floods our farmlands). I for one am not so sure. So I submit this important decision to you, my loyal readers. Is snow our friend or is it our foe? If it is our friend, I suggest you heavily pad and armor yourself and go out and play. If foe, then contact your legislators and demand that action be taken. I would rather see war against Motha' Nature in the form of heightened greenhouse gas production and massive deforestation before one more snide and malevolent flake hits my roof.

10 December 2008

Clone Wars

So apparently I have a clone. He apparently is full-grown and apparently only recently came into existence. Apparently. The other night I was Googling myself (yes, vain I know). It seems like a ridiculous thing to do, but every few months I like to see what's out there. Usually it's mostly the same stuff with a few little additions. This time I found an unwelcome addition to my hits. When I looked under a people directory, I was surprised to find that there is a Chris Giovarelli living at 533 Hazel Ave. in Vineland, New Jersey.

It appears I have been living in New Jersey all this time without knowing it. That or I have a cloned twin. That or that or I have a stalker who wants to be me. All of the above (3that), or perhaps someone is trying to steal my identity . . . I tend to think it's the clone one.

Just to be safe, I decided to call my credit card company to report the issue. The lady I spoke with was very helpful, until I explained how I had become suspicious.

Credit Card Lady: Wait, so you Googled yourself?
Me: Yes
Credit Card Lady: Isn't that kind of weird?
Me: Please don't judge.
Credit Card Lady: So, you found someone with your name on Google who lives in New Jersey?
Me: Yes
Credit Card Lady: Did you think that maybe there is just someone in New Jersey with your name?

While I can't fault her logic, I am the only Chris Giovarelli this country has ever seen. If not, what do I have? I am nothing (dramatic pause as I throw myself on the sofa with a lost look of anguish and despair)! NOTHING! Actually, I do know for a fact that I am the only Chris Giovarelli, because with a name like Giovarelli, frankly most of the immigrants were happy to change it to Jones or Smith when they landed. "Did you say your name was Julio Brendizi Giovarelli? How about we just call your Jebidiah Smith?" "Okay." I can count on one hand the Giovarelli families in this country (all related, of course). Aside from simple egotistic arguments (the best there are really), Chris Giovarelli 2 (As I lovingly refer to my clone these days) only came into existence since the last time I Googled myself (which I am sad to admit wasn't that long ago). He couldn't be that fresh off. So, the Credit Card Lady put a flag on my credit and assured me that to this point nothing had been done to ruin my credit except for the things I had done myself (phew). I hung up, but decided I hadn't done everything I could. What if I did have a clone in New Jersey? What if he had no idea he was a 2 and not a 1? A junior, so to speak, and not a senior? He would be so confused when he tried to get a loan to buy a car (he wouldn't know he was actually Chris Giovarelli 2) and suddenly SWAT cars and helicopters surrounded the Audi dealership (good taste C-2!) and took him away. I realized I really needed to call him. He had to be warned. It was my duty to straighten him out. After all, he would do the same for me.

Me: ring ring ring
Unknown voice in New Jersey: Yeah?
Me: Hi, may I speak with Chris two--er--Chris Giovarelli?
Unknown voice in New Jersey: Who?
Me: Chris Giovarelli
Unknown voice in New Jersey that is probably Chris 2: How did you get this number?
Me: Chris? This is Chris from Provo, Utah. I think you might be my long lost clone. People say you're just stealing my identity, but I am sure that's not the case. You (breath) are (breath) my (breath) brother!
Unknown voice that I am pretty sure was Chris 2 in New Jersey: click

His phone must have died, because when I called back with my same number so he'd know it was me, it went right to voice mail. In fact, the next day when I called, the number had been disconnected. I hope Chris 2 didn't decide he needed to come and visit me, and didn't have a car, and when he went to get a loan to buy one he got trucked off the jail. Imagine the horror of being a clone and being in jail?

I hope things work out for my clone. I can't seem to find anything else on him, but if he gets out of jail and tries to get back on his feet by requesting a credit card, I have been told I will be notified. That way, I can know where he is and then I can go and find him. Oh and if by chance he isn't my clone and everyone else is right, well then let's just say he'll wish he had changed his name to Jebidiah Smith when he had the chance.

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