ADVENTURES IN TRAFFIC:
CUSTOM MODIFICATIONS EDITION

Sometimes, you just have to take a hacksaw and do it yourself, goddammit.

PREVIOUS ADVENTURES IN TRAFFIC:

Your waiter today is Jeff at 07:49 AM

IRONY OR COINCIDENCE? [YEAH, BUT THEY'RE REALLY, REALLY ABSORBANT]

Any association between New Orleans and the need to soak up liquids in an emergency are entirely coincidental yet still distasteful.



PREVIOUS EPISODES OF "IRONY OR COINCIDENCE?"

Ice pick to the eardrums, anyone?

Run away, Batchelor!

Coke is it.

He chutes, does not score.

Light one up, dude.

T-shirt hell.

Your waiter today is Jeff at 04:46 PM

GIVE ME SOME PEANUTS AND A PRICE CHECK ON AISLE 4 [THE COST OF A BASEBALL BELLY FLOP]

So the Tampa Bay Devil Rays have dropped too many a few games consecutively against good teams some okay teams.

No big whoop.

Kids are still excited enough to get Devil Rays color-schemed rubberbands on their braces.

Sure, Publix still sells Rays peanuts...

...they're just not sure how much they should cost. Or if they should cost anything at all.

Your waiter today is Jeff at 03:04 PM

'GARY, WE CAN ALREADY SEE HIS BING BONG AND HIS FLABBY-HABBY-BABBY.' [IT'S INSANE, THIS COMPANY'S NUT SACK]

Saw this commercial the other night while watching the finale of "Hell's Kitchen."

Your waiter today is Jeff at 11:37 AM

HI, TOWELIE! [THE KURT PROJECT BEGINS]

My friend and colleague Kurt got a new job at a different company a couple weeks ago.

His relocation hasn't stopped the press kits from rolling in the door at work.

His friends at National Geographic sent this lovely gift.

It's a lovely, plush towel. Makes sense. When you think National Geographic, you naturally think luxury cotton products.

And it's been monogrammed with his name. Probably so he couldn't turn around and sell it on eBay, I'm guessing.

Not that any professional journalist would ever do that. Kurt certainly never would have.

Only problem: I won't see Kurt for a while in order to give it to him.

Seems a shame to waste all that good towel until I do. I think Kurt would agree.

This is Phil. Phil is my muse.

I have made photographs of Phil in a variety of poses.

Wearing only a towel has not been one of them.

You have no idea how hard it is to get a hypochondriac to strip down in a newsroom for a candid photograph.

This is as close as we could get.

This is Mike.

This was Mike's last day on the job. He's leaving, too, just like Kurt.

Mike didn't get a nice towel in a press kit from National Geographic. Not yet, anyway. (He did, however clean up in the going-away booze and cigar departments, courtesy of co-workers.)

We didn't think it was fair to deny him access to quality cotton products. Especially since Mike has occasional perspiration problems.

Mike is very hairy.

There. All better.

Now, don't tell Kurt about our little project, kids. It will be our little secret.

Where will the towel go next?

Better yet, where should the towel go next?

Your waiter today is Jeff at 04:47 AM

A SERIES OF OPEN LETTERS:
GOOGLE STREET VIEW EDITION

Dear Google,

Congratulations on owning the Internet. Seriously. Big ups to you for conquering the planet.

If I might, I'd like to bring something to your attention.

You have this nifty thing on your maps page called Street View. (I know you know about it. You guys know EVERYTHING!)

Anyway, for some reason, you found the time and money to drive by my house out in the suburbs and take a photo. (Must cost a bundle to fill up your tank these days.) Not sure why that seemed necessary - it's not like I live in a high-traffic area that the public visits a lot - but you did it anyway. So be it.

Street View seemed like a lot of fun when I could navigate the avenues of Manhattan or cruise the strip in Las Vegas with only a click of my mouse. Sure seemed like a clever idea. And it was hilarious when you'd accidentally catch a kid falling off his bike or someone in the middle of doing a little bidness. It also was a little funny when you captured my friend Jay giving people directions in front of our workplace.

Then again, those tender moments didn't include driving past my house.

But now you have. And let me say it was a thrill to realize you had done so.

Up until it wasn't.

Did you have to pick trash day, Google? Did you?

Thanks. Seriously. Your perserverence should make it easier for future home buyers to see that tasty visual morsel for themselves.

FYI: I'll be driving by your house for the next few months, hoping to catch you doing something embarassing. Should be a hoot.

All the best for your continued success,

Jeff

PREVIOUS OPEN LETTERS:

Non-Cooperstown Edition

Lay Off My Yaz Edition

Karma Is A Bitch Edition

Paging Mr. Freud Edition

Imitation Is Not Flattery Edition

I Ate A Baby Edition

Andy Samberg Edition

Personal Technology Edition

Crazy Nordic Singers Edition

An Inconvenient Poop Edition

Your waiter today is Jeff at 09:23 AM

TRYING TO PHOTOGRAPH MY SON IN PUBLIC AT A RESTAURANT ON HIS 13TH BIRTHDAY [THINGS THAT EXCEED NORMAL LEVELS OF FRUSTRATION]

As a food writer, I'm quite proud of the last frame. Not only had I succeeded in blinding my wife at a restaurant, I had made our offspring ashamed enough to cover his face as if he was in the witness protection program.

From a parental standpoint, I'd say the 13th year is off to a great start.

Happy birthday, Brian. You're the best son a dad could ever have.

Your waiter today is Jeff at 08:18 AM

AND NOW HE'S DEAD [GEORGE CARLIN]

As a 13-year-old, I'd go over to my friends' Phil and Steve Porvaznik's house, sit in their bedroom and listen to their George Carlin albums over and over again until we memorized even the applause levels and odd sounds of uncontrolled laughter in the audience. Yeah, we felt like outlaws reciting the Seven Dirty Words. When you're a skinny white geek in 1978, such words stand out like shiny commandments. But there was so much more that made us laugh harder and deeper.

Nobody loved words more than George Carlin. He'd use them like cat toys. He'd slash you with them like sabres. He'd roll up a loose, fragrant word and smoke it with you. Sometimes he'd grab a word by the handle and bang you in the forehead. You felt like you were in the hands of a master craftsman. You didn't know if you were sailing for silly waters or angry, but you knew it would be okay.

George Carlin introducted me to words. And then the words came and sat in my lap, whispered in my ear, played with my neck and asked to go home with me. I've been in love ever since. The words handed me off to Steve Martin and Sam Kinnison and Bill Hicks and Steven Wright and Mitch Hedberg. The words fill my wallet twice a month. I have Carlin to thank for that.

Be careful how you use them, people. George showed us that in the hands of the feeble or the misanthropic, words used incorrectly might as well be babies playing with hand grenades.

Or, you know, bloggers with too many metaphors at their disposal.

Your waiter today is Jeff at 07:17 AM

ADVENTURES IN TRAFFIC:
IT'S GREAT TO BE A FLORIDA GATOR EDITION

Saw this car on the ride home last night.

What does the tag say?

I hate it when I'm forced to involuntarily read.

Is that supposed to be an amalgamation of "GATOR?"

Because it could so totally be something else.

I'm imagining this conversation which never took place:

HIM: I put the new custom plates on the back of the BMW today.

HER: Great! Let's go see.

::::walking out to the four-car garage::::

HER: [frowns] Why does it say "GAY HATER?"

HIM: What? No. It's "GATOR."

HER: No, it's "GAY HATER." GY is "gay. H plus 8 plus R is "hater."

HIM: No. Read it again. See? "GAAAAAAATOR."

HER: No. "GAAAAAAAY HATER."

HIM: [groans in disgust] That explains why people have been snapping my photos at stoplights.

PREVIOUS ADVENTURES IN TRAFFIC:

Your waiter today is Jeff at 02:46 PM

AND NOW IT'S TIME TO PLAY FIND THE FROG [NATURE IS SO DAMN COOL]

The crepe myrtles are exploding in the front yard.

Lots of critters are finding safe haven among the foliage.

Like this little guy.

What little guy?

This little guy.

I really gotta get outdoors more often.

Your waiter today is Jeff at 02:08 PM

UNLESS THE TERRORISTS ATTACK OUR PEPPERONI AND MUSHROOMS. THEN IT'S ON!

Your waiter today is Jeff at 07:57 AM

NEW VERB: NUTTED

I wonder: Has he met the kung-fu panda?

Your waiter today is Jeff at 07:54 AM

I DON'T THINK THE HEAVY STUFF'S GONNA COME DOWN FOR QUITE A WHILE

Summer's back. Yay.

Your waiter today is Jeff at 09:52 AM