i should NOT be trusted with this

i got to drive around a 2007 BMW 550i for a day.

we were using it in a video shoot.

holy crap. this was waaaaaaaay too much car for me.

the day started with a 5-alarm fire emergency video shoot that i had to set up to begin at 9am.

this irked me slightly because the video shoot that involved the car was scheduled for 1030am.

this was going to make for a very rushed tear down at the studio and an equally hurried set-up at the parking garage where we were to film.

well, the 9am shoot fell through around 830am (just after i completed set-up for it, of course) and my boss suggested that i run to pick up the BMW at the dealership.

enjoying this little perk of the job, i quickly agreed.

as the morning had been quite rushed, i ran to my car and made the 20 minute drive down the highway to the dealership.

my mind had been on 15 different things all day and about half a mile from the dealership, i had an incredibly sinking realization that hadn't entered into my brain until then...

i can't drive a stick.

go ahead, laugh. i simply have never had the opportunity to learn.

i prayed the for the rest of the two minutes to the dealership.

it would not bode well if i had to call my boss to send out another driver.

sheepishly, i entered the dealership.

i put on my best brave face and said to the nearest salesman, "hi. i'm noah. i'm here to pick up a car for a videoshoot."

"sure thing." said the salesman. as he lead me to the rear of the dealership, he went into instant sales mode.

he began describing all of the luxurious features of the car.

i casually looked in the passenger side mirror and saw the gearshift with the familiar leather shift cover and white knob lettering on the floor.

"crap." i said out loud. "i can't drive a stick."

"no biggie," said the salesman, "it's an automatic."

"OH THANK GOD!" i sighed and blurted out.

"all i need is your license and a copy of your insurance card and we'll get you to sign some test-drive papers." he tried his best to smile, but i could tell that he was clearly unimpressed with my manhood.

i handed him the proper cards and trying to make with the funny, said, "yeah, i'm insured for a cavalier."

he was not amused.

i filled out the paperwork and he handed me a keychain with a strang cylindrical fob on it.

"let me show you how to start the car." he said with much disdain in his voice. as far as he was concerned i was not man enough to drive his kid's powerwheel, much less this fine piece of german engineering.

he pointed to the fob in my hands. "THAT is the key to the car. insert it into the slot here." he pointed under the wheel to the right where we simple plebians would never have looked. "to start the car, hold down the brake and push the 'start engine' button. to shut off the car, push the 'stop engine' button, push the key in and pull it out of the slot."

i held down the brake pedal and pushed the button. the car roared to life. the display panels lit up like the rockefeller plaza christmas tree. the radio blasted my ear canals with the dulcet tones of dayton's best corporate owned pop music station.

"now let me walk you through the navigation system." the salesman continued, "this is the main menu screen," he pointed to the in-dash display. "if at any time you wish to return to this menu, simply press the menu button three times. if you select the option on the right, it will show you a real-time map with your exact GPS coordinates. to zoom into street level, twist the knob clockwise. to pull out to city level twist it counter-clockwise."

"how do you turn off the radio?" i shouted.

"let me do that for you." he said as he pressed yet another button.

"do i need to know the navigation system to drive the car?" i asked.

"not really." he said with disappointment. he had given up any hope of the sale by this point.

"where's the seat controls" i asked.

with a dispondent sigh, he muttered, "on the lower left side of your seat."

i looked down to see not one, not two, but FOUR buttons to adjust the seat.

i adjusted the seat forward and then accidentally hit a button that activated the shiatsu massage feature.

this i quickly turned off because i did NOT want to be that relaxed in this very expensive, BORROWED car.

as i pulled back into work, i looked at the price tag.

$68 thousand smackaroos.

about 60 thousand more than what i had paid for my car.

i could go on but i'm preparing for another exciting work shoot.

enjoy the rest of the pics.

i feel like the papparazzi

i've got the gear, now i just have to wait for lindsay lohan to come to dayton.

mine is the loneliest blog in town

(sniffle)

no comments for me.

lost: eyebrows and lashes. large reward.

i was next to a dear loved one at a religious meeting last night and during the sing-along portion of the program i caught a whiff of this person's breathe.

they had just exhaled as i was inhaling for the next verse.

i began to gag and had to immediately vacate the area and head to the restroom.

holy moses! i'm surprised the entire building didn't go up in flames from the noxious gases emanating from this person.

i got some fresh air and returned to my seat a few minutes later but had to control myself from giggling as my internal monologue kicked into hyperdrive.

i remember pondering, "how does one make one's breathe smell like toe jam, road kill and onions all at once?"

during the audience participation portion, i said to their spouse, "don't hand them the mic, they'll melt it!"

words cannot describe it. maybe a picture.

my head feels like it's gonna have a baby

i had one of these kind of headaches last saturday.

mark your calendars

maybe it's the friday the 13th thing or something but today i feel like i'm a hot piece of man-candy.

it all started when i was at lunch at chipotle (where all hip and/or attractive people hang for lunch, myself obviously falling in the former category rather than the latter) and i had a chance encounter with a woman that i used to work with at my after-school job in high school.

she was a year behind me in school and we both worked together at the local public library.

in 10 years she certainly had grown to become an attractive woman.

i on the other hand... well let's just say that i'm not the skinny teenager that i once was.

i noticed her immediately and got her attention.

she came over to the table and gave me a hug.

"wow!" she said, "i was standing in line and thinking, 'i know those eyes."

she then looked me up and down and said, "you look great!"

mind you, this doesn't happen to me often.

i reciprocated complement-wise and we chatted for a moment before parting ways.

i returned to work feeling pretty darned good about myself. who doesn't like a nice ego-boost like that?

the little scenario had made my afternoon and i decided to share the experience with my coworkers.

i related the story and explained how much i enjoyed it, considering my horrible self-image and low self-esteem.

then a female coworker replied, "are you serious? you shouldn't feel that way. (another coworker) and i were talking and she said she thinks you're the most handsome man in our group."

this immediately got the attention of the two other guys.

"what!?!" i asked in astonishment.

"you know..." she said, "we were comparing notes and we both agreed that you are the most attractive man on our team."

"wait a minute." i interjected. "were you guys playing 'who would you do in the office?'"

"no, we weren't!" she quickly responded, as her cheeks started to turn flushed. "it's just you know, we were comparing all of the men. and you know, for women, it's so much more than looks. we were considering things like intellect, personality and humor and you rank the highest in our group."

"you were playing 'who would you do'! you are dirty, dirty women!" i countered.

then leo, the russian animator, got into the conversation. "so tell us," he demanded in a stern, slavic tone "where do the rest of us fit in on this list?"

"well..." she replied, "let's just say you need to shape up because you came in pretty close to the bottom."

consolingly, i told him, "i'm sure that doesn't mean that they wouldn't like to have a little weekend fling with you. it's just that i'm the kind of guy they want to bring home."

leo was not amused.

then turning to my female co-worker i asked, "so tell me, did you guys rank us in the category of nicest butt? because i'm sure i've got that one locked down too."

then i proceeded to strut around our cubicles like a rooster singing a slightly modified, first-person version of queen's "we are the champions."

(i'm kidding on the last part. but this all actually happened today.)

the end.

ooh! candy corn!

let me help you to finish it!

fun with voicemail part 2

my voicemail has me doing a stupid british accent and my friends are great at responding in kind.

see the link below.

the grand duchess

the phantom theory

recently, one of my cousin's good friends emailed me with a request for a photo of her that i had taken a few months prior.

this wasn't out of the ordinary, but then i noticed her email address began with "phantomoto" and her signature had a single rose graphic and the amazing andrew lloyd weber lyric "night time heightens, sharpens each sensation..."

i sent her the requested photo, but i couldn't help myself. i had to rant.

here is an excerpt:

the phantom is creepy.

if i brought a girl down to my basement and showed her a mannequin that looked like her dead corpse wearing a dress that i made for her, i don't think she'd be sticking around...

i guess even with only 2/3 of an extremely handsome face, the world is still your oyster.

plus he has that whole tortured soul/high drama thing that you female types are so drawn to.

but can he hold down a real job? nope, he's too busy lurking around corners, brooding, plotting revenge and packing pyrotechnic packages for overly grandiose exits.

this was the beginning of my phantom theory.

as stated above, i believe that mathematically as long as you have 2/3 of an extremely handsome face, women will always find you attractive.

to illustrate, see the diagram below.

i started with a photo of denzel washington, arguably one of the handsomest men living today.

using state-of-the-art technology, i have attempted to de-handsome the man.


as you can see, after dipping below a 66% handsome level, all bets are off.

this merits more research.

if anyone out there has frivolous grant money that they'd like to part with, please let me know.