DALLAS — I awoke this morning to watch the weather reports from the Gulf, and noticed they had very little to say about New Orleans. I’m going with the no news is good news line of thinking. The exodus was mass. It took me 13 hours to reach Dallas (traveling the long way though). It was a mess. I only had to spend about nine miles on I-10, however, that bit of the journey took me over 90 minutes. Better than some I know who were on I-10 for nearly 12 hours just to reach Baton Rouge (usually about an hour’s drive). Then it was north on I-55 and west on I-20 to the big D. I saw many interesting sites along the way. There was someone evacuating in a limo. Gotta give ’em style points I guess. And those first few exits along I-55 with signs reading “no shelter, only gas” or “no shelter, no gas.” And those convienence stores and resturants off those exits which resembled refugee camps, freaknik and/or spring break. It was nice to get to the Metroplex and see some friends I haven’t seen in a while, but I would’ve probobly ended up here anywhere, because that was about how far you had to travel to find a hotel room. All of Mississippi was booked. As was northern Louisiana, Memphis, Little Rock and Houston. It’s a relief to be safe. Now I get to worry about going home to potential flood damage (I don’t think those two towels I put at the base of my door will hold out flood waters). I just hope the drive home isn’t as congested and frustrating as the drive out. On an ironic note: I drove 500 miles to avoid wind and water damage, then I leave my passenger side window cracked and my car’s interior gets soaked by the sprinkler this morning. Ain’t that a bitch?

Ivan may be coming, or maybe not. Could be way east of me, could be west. Would’ve been nice if he had phoned ahead, maybe RSVPed. So, now I look around my apartment and try to decide what I need to take with me in case of evacuation. Aside from the obvious (first-aid, flashlight, batteries, important documents, cash) making those little decisions. What could I not afford to lose (emotionally)? Pictures? Momentos? Home movies? Favorites CDs and DVDs? There’s only so much I can fit into a Honda Civic, especially if I have anyone else skedaddling with me. And where to go? Just find a place along the interstate in Mississippi? or Alabama? or Texas? Do I try to go see friends? If so, how far is too far to travel, knowing that I will have to fight traffic going and coming. And not yet knowing how my job will handle evacuations and that I may have to be back in a mere few hours. Ivan is now a Cat 5 again, that’s serious business folks. And living below sea level and just a few yards from the biggest freakin’ river on the continent I know if I have to leave I come back to nothing. Oh well, got a hurricane update in three minutes. Helluva thing to schedule my sleep patterns around.

This week was the closest I had ever been to a hurricane. OK, it was only a tropical storm. But you apparently don’t have to worry about those because high schools don’t have tropical storms as their mascots (much less colored ones). There was concern about the negative effects since I’ve already had my car and living room flooded by just regular old rain, much less rain that gets it’s own show on The Weather Channel (note to self, call State Farm about renter’s insurance). I took the time to read over all that stuff in the front of the phone book about hurricane preparedness (that looks like a made up word, but it’s not). I didn’t know what to do. We never had hurricane drills growing up. All I really learned was that you put all of your stuff in the middle of the room and go stay at a hotel in Mississippi. However, I love me some Bonnie. She dropped the temperature about 20 degrees and brought in a cool summer breeze. I walked to the bank and post office without breaking a sweat, twas a glorious day indeed (unfortunately, it coincided with me finally repairing my Playstaion2 so I didn’t get to enjoy as much of it as I would have liked). Alas, there were no tropical storm parties (or maybe I just wasn’t invited). Also, it reminded me that my name has been removed from the hurricane list. So now even Zoe and Zeke have a better chance of their name coming up than me.

With all the talk of postponing the general election and problems with electronic voting, I see only one solution — we must bring in Jimmy Carter to oversee the elections. Hey, it works for the rest of the world.

I love my car, I really do. I bought MY first car, kept it for nine years, then bought basically the exact same car but nine years newer. Among its many wonderful qualities is fuel effeciency. Thank goodness, because the other day it costs me over $18 to fill the tank. Without a doubt, a record. I would think living in the world’s secondest busiest port, gas prices would be more reasonable. Afterall, we’re getting first dibs when it hits American soil right? I wondered if I could go down to the docks and buy some bootlegged gas. Just some guy standing on the corner, wearing an overcoat in 90 degree weather claiming his stuff is just as good as what you would get at the stores (“Is like Exxon.” “Has Texaco guts.”). You go up and have that awkward exchange of slang and euphamisms, then he opens his coat and slips you a milk jug filled with go juice. Then he starts to haggle about the price (just my luck not to bring any 9/10 cent coins). But this could effect the actual drug market. What about those poor souls who use tractor fuel when cooking up their meth? Surely they’re feeling the pinch just like the rest of us. Yup crime and gas, they go hand in hand. Why aren’t more criminals staking out the pumps. If you see someone pull up with a big honking SUV, you know they got some dough. But during these trying times, I have found a way to use the soaring fuel prices to my advantage. I now keep only about 1/8 of a tank in my car. Knowing that if any would be theif makes it past my top of the line anti-theft system, they will look at the fuel gage and leave me car be, knowing the costs of getting it back to the chop shop would not offset the street value of my factory sound system.

I know spring is giving way to summer because the Juvenile billboard has been taken down and replaced by the Lil Wayne billboard.

After many misserable first dates, I decided to come up with a simple 20 question quiz to screen potenial ladies in my life.
1. Are you heterosexual?
2. Do you have a boyfriend, fiancee and/or husband?
3. Do you have any STDs?
4. Are you currently suffering through, or recovering from, a chemical dependency?
5. Are you financially independent?
6. Does your vocational obligation involve heels and a pole?
7. Who is your favorite Beatle?
8. Do you smoke Newports?
9. Do you regularly attend raves?
10. How many Widespread Panic concerts have you been to? (A) 0 (B) 1 (C) more than one?
11. What is your favorite John Cusak movie?
12. Would you classify yourself as a Parrothead?
13. Are you prone to drinking White Zin?
14. Do you own a dog weighing less than 10 pounds, or more than one cat?
15. Spit? Swallow? N/A?
16. Do you own one or more of the following movies (A) Thelma & Louise (B) Steel Magnolias (C) Beaches?
17. Who is the greater musical genius — Bob Dylan or Eminem?
18. Who won the most recent Super Bowl?
19. Did you like the ending of “City of Angels”?
20. Does a semi-casual night out require in excess of two hours of prep time?
Scored on a sliding scale of hottness (I’m only a man).

One of the more frustrating aspects of living in a college town is losing friends every spring. Graduation comes, leases expire, and off they go. And while it’s sad, there almost always a feeling of happiness for them, knowing they are headed for the bigger and the better. Then the fall comes and I realize I’m older. But since I’m basically always around the same demographic, it’s sorta like I don’t age. Like every August I realize I am perpetually 24.

This week I have concluded that I prefer being woken up by earthquakes rather than being woken up be telemartketers.

I really want to sleep in my bed tonight. But that would require me folding and hanging all the laundry piled up on it. Guess I’m heading to the couch again.