Date: 2008-04-07 12:35 Subject: An Average Day. Giant Hotdogs, and a Police Chase! Security: Public

My job is a pretty good one in most respects. As an independant contractor, I have the freedom to set my own hours and act as my own boss. I have clients to satisfy and someone to report to, as does everyone, but it isn't like I have to get up at 6:00am every morning, put on a suit and drive to an office. I've been there and done that, and it's nice to have a break from it, even if one day I find my way back there again.

My average day consists of looking over my project list for the various oil and gas companies I contract with, and then determining the scope of each job. Some can be handled online. Some require a visit to one of dozens of courthouses in various counties in Oklahoma. Some days I sit at my desk at home and go through photos of property documents for hours on end. Most of my meetings are handled via telephone, email and the occasional business lunch. The end goal is always the same... Find out where there is land with oil on it. Determine if the mineral rights have not already been claimed. Sell that information to my clients. It may not rank up there on my all time list of challenging and rewarding career goals, but it does have it's perks.

One such perk, is getting to see the horrors that lurk within small town America.

Take for instance...

CREEPY ASS HOTDOG GUY!


Click for a closer look... if you dare!


One minute I am getting gas, and the next I happen to glance across the street to see this... thing. As hideous as this photo is, it fails to fully capture the experience of standing face to face with this six foot nightmare. While he may indeed be a mascot of good times and cheap food for the residents of Claremore, Oklahoma, I certainly didn't find anything about him appetizing.

First off... I don't know about you, but I don't find his stance or his general demeanor to be remotely comforting or inviting. I don't know if you can see it from this angle, but his legs are bent at the knee and he is thrusting his giant, puckered hotdog anus outward towards the camera. Those eyes and that facial expression just make him look like a deranged criminal in my opinion, an impression that is only made worse by the way he is squeeezing his ketchup and mustard bottles in his iron-like, four-fingered grip. It's as if he is posed in a silent warning. If he'd do this to himself... just imagine what he'd do to you!

I guess the Dr. Frankenfurter behind this monstrosity must have also thought he was a bit "over the top", as it looks like he threw in a couple details just to lure people in. First and foremost, someone had the bright idea to swaddle him in an American flag. Now I may not be the most patriotic person in the United States, but I served my country, and I really don't think ol' Glory should be serving as the devil's bun warmer. Moving down though we see something even more devious. Apparently it was determined that nothing says "I'm not here to kill you" like bright blue Converse and white tube socks! Why Converse? Why even have shoes at all? Well it goes without saying that you just can't have your hotdog showing his bare feet. That would just be gross and in poor taste.

It was probably the shock of it all that made me speed back to my computer to post this entry. Speeding so fast in fact, that I blew by a motorcyle cop doing close to 85mph in a 60mph zone. Now I don't hate cops. I just hate being a reason for them to do paperwork.

Quickly I scanned for a way to break line of sight with him and duck off the highway. Everyone knows a cop can't ticket you if he can't see you! It's in the rules! He hadn't hit his lights yet, so I guessed that there still may have been time.

Whoosh! I am changing lanes and off the first exit I come across, checking the rear view.

All clear!

I am so clever. My quick wits have saved me again!

And then I look ahead of me... a red light. Dead stop. No where to run.

I check the exit ramp. I am so busy looking behind me that it takes me a minute to see where I am. As I look forward again I notice another cop, and then another, and then another. All of them coming from this building across the street.

Tulsa Police Department.

"Fuck".

Thirty seconds go by like an hour, and when the light finally turns green I coast through at barely an idle. No one seems to pay any attention to me, and I take the back way home; slowly.

That is how my luck works on an average day. I manage to get out of trouble by the skin of my teeth, even when my own "cleverness" takes me out of a bad situation and drops me into an even worse one.

I suppose it is better to be lucky than smart.