I dropped LDriver off at his house after our soul-sucking commute (complete with highway death) and was heading home. It was a very pleasant evening, so I had the windows rolled down and the stereo cranked. After a stop at a red light, I set cruise control at 40 mph. As I was driving through a school zone, I looked in the rear view mirror and saw the red and blue flashing lights of a sheriff’s deputy behind me. Goddammit, not again! What the hell did I do wrong? I looked at my speedometer, and I was at exactly 40. I had my seat belt on, and with the exception of one of three bulbs in my CHMSL tail light, I know my lights are working. Fuck! I hit the turn signal and pulled over to the side of the road… only to watch the deputy speed by me on his way to someplace else. Excellent! Pass the pipe!

If you read my previous blog update, I was whining like a liberal about Philly cheesesteaks on the west coast. Sick Tech “Ditech” Jake suggested I combine and sell Philly food with domain hosting. Only priests molesting young boys at church is only slightly more stupid. Tina, however, came to my rescue with a suggestion of porn and Philly food. I was laughing with LDriver about Tina’s idea on the way home last night, and I told him I’d come up with some pictures. After some surprisingly easy Photoshopping, I came up with several cool-yet-NSFW pictures that you might find funny… or slightly disturbing. You can find those pictures here, here, here, here, and here. And you thought Ron Jeremy had a lot of meat.

Last weekend, I took my truck to have the oil changed. I’ve been going to Jiffy Lube since I bought the truck last summer, but Jiffy Lube always wanted to sell me 700 other services from new wiper blades to rusty trombones to flushing every drop of fluid in the truck. On top of that, the last time Jiffy Lube changed the oil, their dumb-ass grease monkey stripped the oil plug. They told me they did it, and even replaced the plug with a new one, and took $40 off my final bill. Fast forward to last weekend. I decided to try Wal-Mart‘s Tire & Lube Express Center. I didn’t want to take it to Jiffy Lube again after reading all the shit at jiffylubeproblems.com. I know other people that go to Wal-Mart without trouble… so why not?

After shopping in the store, I made my way back to their waiting area. Fifteen minutes later, a female tech came in and told me the plug on the oil pan was stripped, and she could not drain the oil. Fuck. I immediately thought of that dicked oil plug at Jiffy Lube. Wal-Mart put on a new filter and topped off the oil for free. I offered to pay for what they did, but they said because they couldn’t complete the service, they couldn’t charge me. Now I can’t get the oil changed until I get the oil pan replaced. The cheapest price I could find for just the oil pan is $60 plus shipping. That doesn’t include the gasket or labor. Goddamn Jiffy Lube.

Well, that’s all for now… I’m too tired… and, uhh… buzzed to keep writing.

If you’ve been a long-time reader, or gave up masturbating one weekend to read through past entries of this horse shit, you’ll remember I tried SunRocket's service in January of 2006. I wasn’t too impressed. I talked a couple of former Kwik-E-Mart employees who apparently couldn’t hack it in the cut-throat Squishee industry, and they kept asking me to spoof my MAC address. I eventually sent their Gizmo back to Virginia after canceling service.

Well, in May, I got an email from SunRocket asking me to come back. The email said they had improved their service and technical support. It offered me service for $19.95 a month, free setup, a free Gizmo with free shipping, and the first two months free. That’s a lot of goddamn “free,” people, and SunRocket had a richer feature set than Vonage. I figured, “Why not?”

I got the new Gizmo, and the service worked flawlessly right out of the box. The Gizmo was a newer Linksys device, and it was a simple drop-in replacement for my Vonage adapter. The service was stable, too. There were no dropped calls with crystal clear audio. Things were as perfect as a virgin’s puckered balloon knot.

Apparently, though, SunRocket’s ass was about to fall out, because they were laying people off left and right. The final blow came Monday when they laid off over 200 customer support techs and put a “fuck off and die” message on their phone number. I’m paraphrasing here, folks. Their web page also has a big fuck off on it (at least at this time).

I have to apologize to Tina. I tried calling her four different times within 10 minutes on Monday evening. There was no answer despite having four (yes, four) cordless phones throughout the house, including one in the shitter. I came home and bitched at her for not answering the phone. She said it didn’t ring, but when I called from my cell phone in front of her, the goddamn phones lit up like I was at a PBS pledge drive. I now know that SunRocket’s demise was the reason why the phone didn’t ring. So, to Tina: I’m sorry for being a grouchy little bitch.

Luckily, I was never charged for service by SunRocket. They closed the doors before my two month trial was over. I also never canceled Vonage. All I had to do to switch back to Vonage was walk Tina through swapping the Gizmo for the Vonage adapter… and she did that with little instructions via jabber. Other people I work with, who were also using SunRocket, weren’t so lucky. They have to find a new VoIP provider.

On a completely different topic, I really hate the west coast for its selection of good food. I grew up in Philadelphia, where food is food! The east coast is where good food was born, apparently. I think I’ve talked about this topic before, but it’s really pissing me off, lately. Cheesecake… why is it so difficult to find a good, deep and rich New York-style cheesecake with graham cracker crust out here on the west coast? Where I work, they like to celebrate your birthday by gathering up the employees who aren’t up to their asses in alligators and sing Happy Birthday to You over a cake of your choice. This Sunday is my birthday. When the “birthday committee” asked me my favorite cake, why wouldn’t I say cheesecake? However, the cake they got was not cheesecake. The girls of the birthday committee do a good job of getting a cake and a card signed by everyone. I’m sure they’re limited by the bakery as to what they can purchase, and I really am appreciative of the effort… but cheesecake does not have yellow sponge cake in it! The cake they got had sponge cake on the bottom layer with raspberry jam between a cheesy cream topping that had the consistency of soft margarine. It was tasty, but it wasn’t cheesecake like I know cheesecake. If you really want to try a good east coast cheesecake, take the time to try my cheesecake recipe.

Most people have never heard of a hoagie on the west coast. They’re called subs here, and only seems to be sold by chain stores, like Subway. On a side note… how cool is Wikipedia for having a separate article for hoagies? I thought for sure they’d lump it in with “submarine sandwiches.” Anyway, Subway sandwiches are not hoagies. I can make a better sandwich with hot dog buns and pre-packaged, pre-sliced, vacuum-packed cold cuts from the grocery store… and I so wish I could punch that faggoty-ass Jared Fogle in the throat. If you make a hoagie the way it’s supposed to be made, you’re not going to lose weight. Processed meats high in fat, oil and/or mayonnaise, and cheese — glorious cheese — make a good hoagie. It’s not supposed to be good for you, which is why a hoagie is so goddamn delicious! Jared’s corporate-paid ass is eating lettuce and tomato sandwiches with a turkey condiment; no cheese, no oil or mayo. Let’s call a spade a spade, eh?

A good Philly cheesesteak is even more difficult to find on the left coast. I went to Arby's last night for dinner, since I got home so late. They had a Philly beef sub advertised at the drive-thru squawk box menu, so I thought I would try it. Big mistake. It was very small for a “sub.” The meat was roast beef, instead of steak. I mean, c’mon… roast beef?! And worst yet, it was loaded with mayonnaise. Mayo? What the fuck is mayo doing on a cheesesteak? It tasted like, well, it tasted like a roast beef sandwich with mayo, not even remotely close to a Philly cheesesteak. Shit! In today’s litigious world, maybe the city of Philadelphia should look into suing anyone that makes a “Philly” steak sandwich that doesn’t use steak and white American cheese or cheez whiz. Roast beef and mayonnaise does not a Philly cheesesteak make!

This isn’t rocket science, people. There’s quite a few million east coast transplants on the west coast that would love authentic (or at least close to authentic) east coast food. I’m not saying you can’t find a decent sandwich out here. There are a few places that have carved out a niche business for themselves, making food that passes for east coast food, but it’s never convenient, and always too far away… Of course, if you want some Taylor pork roll, or Scrapple, or even some Tastykakes and Herr's potoato chips, you have to place an order on the Internet.

Where’s my credit card?

Summer was great, but the record-low rainfall, and all the sunshine gets monotonous. The rain and wind are welcome in my book. Pine trees are nice, but there’s definite lack of leaf trees in Washington. I’m from Pennsylvania, and I love when the leaves change colors. The air is crisp, the days are short, and the breeze blows the fallen leaves.

Speaking of Pennsylvania, I was reading someone’s blog during lunch today, and they were talking about toaster ovens. Odd, I know. Anyway, people were talking about how they use their toaster ovens. One person said they heat their hoagies in theirs. I thought this was even odder, since anyone who would use the term “hoagie” has to be from or is currently living on the East coast, specifically Pennsylvania. And if you know what a hoagie is, you should also know that if you broil or toast one in an oven, it’s no longer a hoagie. Toasting a hoagie magically turns it into a grinder. All this got me thinking about wanting some East coast sandwiches. The shit that pillow-biter Jared (he has aides) pedals is not even close to authentic. I’d eat turds from a cat litter box if I could wash it down with a real cheesesteak from D’alessandro’s and some Tastykakes. D’alessandro’s is in the Roxborough neighborhood of Philadelphia, and arguably makes the greatest cheesesteaks in all of Philly… dare I say the world?

The gears of relocation are in motion at work. The company wants everyone working in the Westin on October 30. So, in less than 3 weeks, I’ll be making the soul-crushing commute, along with 4 (or more) others from Oak Harbor. We’re trying to talk them into buying a minivan, which can also be used as a company vehicle while we’re at work. We’ll see what happens. I’m not holding my breath.

Tina and I continue looking for a house in the Seattle area as we gather financial records for the ass rape we’re about to go through. In fact, we have mortgage seminar to go to on Saturday. Can you believe I gotta go to school for this shit? I guess when you’re going into debt for a quarter of a million dollars or more, it’s a good idea to know what you’re doing. The seminar gets us a reach around during the ass rape. Simply excellent.

I still need to charge my digital camera and drive around taking pictures of Oak Harbor and Whidbey Island. I want to take some final pictures of the area to compare when I visit. I guess I still need a sunny day or two for that endeavor.