Fear the Crab

I bought my truck today! I got a great deal, and all the options I wanted, and everything fits into my budget. It’ll take at least a month or so before the truck gets here, as it’s the new 2003 model. Toyota City is going to call me when the truck arrives, and at that point I will bring my current car in for appraisal towards the trade-in. After that it’ll take perhaps a week to install the dealer options, and then I get to take it home. I must remember to fix that air conditioner compressor before the truck gets here, otherwise that will really lower the trade-in amount. Once that truck is mine, I need to make arrangements for some window tint, dash cover, and a car cover. I’m not sure where I can look to get a car cover, especially one made for a truck, but I’m certain there’s somebody out there who can tell me, or at least point me in the right direction.

I made the decision to try and quit smoking. There’s news that beginning in October, the price will go up by $1. That means it’ll cost at least $5.75 for a pack, and that’s usually at the local mom-and-pop liquor stores. Department/convenience stores will probably see a 10 to 25 cent markup. If that’s not bad enough, this is only the first phase of the cigarette tax. The plan is to hike the price of tobacco up to $8 a pack. If that’s not incentive to quit smoking, the deprecation of health certainly is. Maile, George and I all plan to try and help each other quit, which I think will be a really big boost in confidence and willpower. By supporting each other, hopefully we’ll be able to resist the urges of lighting up whenever we feel like it.

One of the problems I seem to have with cigarettes is that smoking seems to be part of my daily routine. On average, I smoke a cigarette on my way to work, one right before work, one during a “bathroom break,” three on my normal break, and one on my way home from work. Add to that a smoke or two at home, and I’m close to half a pack per day. Perhaps that’s not as bad as many of the horror stories about 3-4 packs a day, but in my eyes (or lungs, as the case may be), it’s still not healthy.

On a related note, I made an observation that, while many non-smokers see smokers as being rude and obnoxious people, it seems a vast majority of smokers are very VERY polite to one another. I’m sure this isn’t always the case, but I’ve heard and experienced moments where someone will approach a smoker and ask to bum a cigarette. Very rarely will that smoker refuse. There’s also occasions where someone will have trouble lighting up their cigarette, and I’ll walk over and offer my lighter. This smoker is a complete stranger, someone I’ve never met before and I’ll probably never see again, but there I am lighting up their cancer stick. It’s almost strange enough to make you think that if every single person in the world smoked, we’d have world peace! We’d feel kinship with one another regardless of race or religion, because we’re all in the same boat of taking that big drag of nicotine. I can imagine someone from the al-Qaeda smoking a cigarette, when an American GI comes up and asks to bum one, or borrow a lighter.

“Sure, friend!” the al-Qaeda will say.
“Thanks, man,” the GI will say. “Hey, where’s an ashtray around here?”
The al-Qaeda will answer, “It’s a fuckin’ desert; throw it anywhere!”

“Imagine all the people.. sharing a drag or threeee oo hoo oo oo o..”

I was at my house, but it was different that what it is in real life. The house was bigger, and there were more people. I remember wandering through the house, visiting all the rooms, and I somehow ended up outside a large convention center. I walked in through the loading zone, and found myself smack dab in the middle of the Kidz Bop television concert. These kids were doing little routines, singing along to the top hits. I left before I would be trapped and/or ruin that concert, and I came across Maile walking Titan. For some unknown reason, Maile was very upset with me (even though Titan was very happy to see me), and I tried to find out what had happened, what I did that caused her to be mad at me. Then a lady came up and took me by the arm, leading me somewhere because it was my turn. I was back at the convention hall where this time a game show was going on. The lady told me that I was next, so I should be ready. The contestant in front of me had to pilot a simulation helicopter while drinking a cup of water. He didn’t win, but he got a consolation prize. Then it was my turn, and I didn’t know what my task was to be. As they were announcing it, the lady informed me that my prize would be going to Tim Dilessio, the evil VP of duty free, because I work for him. That got me very upset, and I became very rude to everybody involved with the game show. When my task was announced, I discovered that it was called Manhunt, and the show staff were going to try and hunt me down before I made it to a safe zone. I had never heard of this game, nor did I know how to “play” it, but IL found myself outside in my garage and all the cars were gone. It was nighttime, and the show was still playing inside the house. Another lady walked up to me and asked, “Any university?” to which I replied, “yes.” She yelled out “Any university!” back to the house, letting them know that I had chosen as my safe zone any university campus. I immediately took off running down the street, where it was surprisingly crowded with people. I found myself slowing down so as not to draw suspicion, and I remember being in a group of Y—– Giants baseball players. They were local, but they were complaining to me how Japanese always confused them with the Yomiuri Giants, as if they were an expansion team that played in Hawaii. I kept up a pleasant conversation with them, even though I could hear the helicopters in the background and I knew those copters were coming for me. I found myself in town, and it was daylight, and the streets were crowded, and all the time I could hear those helicopters. I knew that I was close to a university campus, because I had visited that campus some time ago and recognized the area. Before I could cross the street, I heard the helicopter coming in low, so I ducked behind a tree even though my body was screaming for me to cross the street running. I knew that if I started to cross, they would see me and it’d be over. As I hid behind the tree, I peeked out and saw that there were actually two helicopters, and they started to land to unload the “search team,” these people in jeans and brown t-shirts who were assigned to capture me. I started to take a roundabout path towards the university campus, but it seemed as though no matter where I went, those man hunters were always around, even though they couldn’t see me. I managed to summon up my courage, and wait for them to pass before “following them” and blending into the crowd. At least, that was my plan, but I don’t know how it turned out as the dream ended.