I was walking to this Auto Show that I am now sitting at. Representing my company. The place that pays me to pay it. So I am sitting here at this Auto Show, watching all these media people get dirty with their computers. Some guys wink at me. Not because I am wink-able, but because they are winkers. The nerd that I watch across the room doesn't notice my watch. Not because I am not noticeable; but because he is a real nerd, and is oblivious to watchers while he is getting dirty with his computer.
So back to line one. I was walking to this Auto Show down at JJ center on three four street. I was listening to Smells Like Teen Spirit. A song that I just can't seem to get tired of. Until just now.
So I passed this Fed Ex - wait a second - just a disclaimer - if this ends abruptly, its because I see my boss,and I push "post and publish" without time to edit. I will edit tonight. suck it up.
Okay. So I pass this Fed Ex bus. No - it was a mail van, what am I thinking. I am drumming along with Grohl. I imagine the bus/van slides out of the driveway, and kills me.
Another wink in my direction.
Hey buddy. You have no idea how fun I am. You have no idea that I hate you and your computer. And that I hate your color gray. Awe hell. Maybe you are fun too. Maybe you like lakes. You are all from Motor City. Maybe you got a boat this past summer. Either way. The girl next to you has some great stems. Look at those for a while.
So I imagine this van kills me.
weird. I keep typing van as vain. But I keep correcting it.
And I am laying there in the street. Well, it was actually the wide sidewalk. A special kind of NYC sidewalk that only exists in the outer avenues - the wide sidewalk with no gum, connected to noisy transportation garage doors.
I see my body laying there. I see a headline. I see comments that my friends say when they see my dead body laying there. They forget that I am dead, and say that they like the way I paired a jean jacket with a short wool jacket today. They sup my coordination. Then they cry.
I see my mom on a plane. Worrying about where she will stay. But most importantly looking at my body in a filthy crime lab. By the time my mother verifies my identification, I am half rotten. Part of me hopes that she would just say "cremate her" and then go back to Alaska.
But knowing my mom - she will throw a fit. She will scream. She will cry. Her face will turn red. And even tho I am dead. I will be embarrassed by her reaction.
So then my mom vision goes away.
Wait -s omeone is bracing to talk to me. I had better look up.
Nope. He just needed a place to rest his bag.
So I am now in front of this strip club called the Cabana. I see the JJCenter. I dread the cars.
I shuffle and hear a siren.
Am I dead? Are we just left to walk around NYC unseen? Is that where dead people go?
All of a sudden Smells Like Teen Spirit is making me sick to my stomach. I wait for the song to finish, and then turn off my walkman. I look around and realize that I am so happy right now. It would seem right, but incredibly wrong for me to get hit by a Fed Ex Van at this point. I vocalize "not yet" and keep walking.

I just realized that I am getting psycho at the International Auto Show. Yes. Look over here. I am getting all sick and dirty on my computer too. While you type about bumpers I type about vains killing me. Running me over. Not in a gruesome way - just in a blow to the head way.
I lay there in black - with no bruises - aside from the pool of blood by my head. Hair strands caking together, drying with blood. More Brown than Red.
I really hope my boss gets back in time for me to see the JEEP exhibit. It looks really dirty. They brought in piles of DIRT. They actually have cars COVERED (with cloth, not dirt). I would like to see something UNVEILED today. I brought my camera. I will upload a pic. Tomorrow. Why?
Because I got a picture of some yuppie picking his ass. That's why.
And I think its funny.
I also though this lego car by VOLVO kicked ass. Not the yuppies ass. It kicked Toy'sR'Us' ass.