Now I don't know if I have mentioned this before or not but I live in Thousand Oaks. Thousand Oaks is located in Ventura County. Huntington Beach is located in Orange County. In between Ventura County and Orange County is a place known as LA county. Yes LA county the poster child for urban sprawl and over-crowded freeways, namely the 101 and of course, the fucking 405.

At first I didn't think this was problem because I had made it to Irvine in an hour one Saturday when I was sixteen to see, dare I say it, MxPx (I am embarassment to myself and all who know me.) But I soon learned that this would be a problem as it was an hour and a half before I reached the LA airport or what was also known as three in the afternoon. The band was set to come on at three in the afternoon, and therein lied the conflict, you see. I called my boss to see if the show was progressing on time and if I should even bother fighting in a Southerly direction or if they were late or what. No answer, of course, not with an 805 area code coming up on the caller ID.

But I kept on for fear of not showing team spirit and being cut. That is what happened in high school when I could not provide the soccer boosters with another soccer mom to add to their army of fundraisers. Its the same principal, you need to prove that you will sacrifice unpaid portions of your time to keep having paid portions or whatever the case may be. But anyway...

Even if I arrived as they were ending I could still introduce myself and make chit-chat for a little while. So I called the boss from Irvine to see if that was a possibility. No answer. Continued on.

At four-fifteen I arrived in Huntington Beach in time to see all the surf punks walking back to their full size pick ups and speeding off to their parents' custom houses in the hills. I wanted to check out the event and see if I couldn't just track down my boss and this band. But it was to no avail...

The music portion of the event had ended and now attention was focused on the BMXers. As I walked over to watch, I was offered samples of three different non-foods including some sort of frosting stick manufactured by Nabisco and a little paper cup full of Spam. I tried none of them.

So the two hour and 45 minute drive was a bust, I will probably be fired come tomorrow morning and I will be back to complaining about Amgen to you, you poor, sweet, dairy.

At least I know someone who lives over there so I could do some socializing on my Saturday.

You know I bet that boss didn't even go that rat bastard pimp of a slacker. If I find out he didn't I'm gonna call him that. Just you watch diary, JUST YOU WATCH.

08 September 2002 - 6:53 PM

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