I got chased by a guy with a baseball bat on Saturday.
I'll start out the entry with that, becuse it is by far the most interesting thing that has happened.
OK, down to business: it was an eventful weekend. I'll get to the baseball bat part in a little bit.
Thursday, I made dinner for a few of my friends. Yes, I can cook like a motherfucker. Filet mignon, grilled corn on the cob, grilled asparagus (with a warm bacon and garlic viniagrette; this was unbelievable), and a light summer spinach salad with strawberries, sun-dried tomatoes, raspberries, and almonds. Janice and Juliette are both Colombian. They were amazed at the dinner. Hell, I was so happy with the asparagus I almost cried. I had to explain to them a little bit about American cuisine outside of the South Florida Hispanic influence.
I live in Miami. In fact, I live in Coral Gables, AKA Cuban Central. I am a few blocks from Calle Ocho and I am definitely the only Gringo in my neighborhood. The Cubans are alright. They love America, and they take care of their own, and they take care of themselves. Coral Gables is a beautiful city. The community is very family-oriented, and people have money. The thing is, I don't fit in, at all. Also, I don't cook beans and rice with every fucking meal of the day.
My computer broke on Thursday. It was working, then it wasn't. I had a hell of a time figuring it out, and still don't know what happened. I ended up replacing the case with a much better one, but also bought a new mainboard and power supply which I didn't need...it was the RAM. I had 2 gigs of DDR2 400Mhz in there running on dual channel mode. Had no problem with the RAM for months. After looking at everything else, I decided to check the RAM. Wish I would have done it before; I would have saved myself $300. In any case, both sticks work, but not together anymore. I have no idea what the problem is...since this is my hobby, I have to figure it out, but imagine...three days with no porn! I was dying.
I mentioned before about that activities club I joined. I went to my first events this weekend. This is where the baseball bat guy comes in.
I was on my way to rock climbing class, way down in Kendall. Driving West on 8th St, there was this guy in a shitbox Mitsubishi driving all crazy at 10 AM. Miami traffic is funny...people either drive 100 MPH or 20 MPH. Stoplights are frustrating because people wait a long time to start moving, and then, they drive really slow for half a block and then zoom like crazy to the next light. Everyone is a self-employed handyman or tree trimmer, so there are all these white cargo vans all over that you cn't see around. It's enough to relly make you crzy. This guy in the Mitsubishi was out of control, though. He was driving mere inches from the bumpers of others, changing lanes at random, obviously trying to get through traffic, but there was no way. People like him really need to calm the fuck down or leave earlier. In any case, at one point he got behind me. I really don't like people that close to my car. I 'tapped' my brakes. I did not slam them down. I didn't even slow down. I 'tapped' my brakes, that's it.
Boy, did he flip out. Driving like an animal, swerved into oncoming traffic to get around me, and stopped in the middle of the block with me behind him. *th St is a busy street, so traffic was now blocked for quite a ways. He gets out of his car. Typical Cuban guy, shaved head, expensive sunglasses, gold chain, goatee, and an undershirt. It's like the Cuban uniform for men aged 16-30. He opens his trunk and pulls out a baseball bat. I swear to god he was going to hit my car with it. He threatens me with the bat and challenges me to a fight, right there in the street.
Yeah, right pal. First, fighting ain't my bag. Second, I'm not going to jail for this fuck.
He throws the bat back in his back seat and zooms off. OK, whatever. In a few blocks, he gets into the left hand turn lane. I'm just driving along with traffic, whatever. I decide I need to flip him off, though. Oh, I am a brilliant one! He peels out of the turn lane and is chasing me around 8th St like a maniac.
Well, now my hands are shaking, thinking this guy is going to fucking kill me or something. I called 911 and got cut off. I called again and the lady transferred me to the FHP. The FHP told me to call the police. I called 911 again, the lady transferred me to the police and I got an answering machine. This whole time I am driving through residential neighborhoods (not all crazy mind you, just trying to get away from this crazy asshole). Finally I lost him, but the police asked if I would stop and wait for a cruiser.
Hell no...I ain't sticking around here. I booked out of there quick.
I can't fight. I don't want to fight. I am to pretty to be hit. Plus, the thought of actually hurting somebody else makes me sick. No way, man. This incident made me want to get a gun for my car...but that's just stupid, too. Given the same situation, if I had a gun, it would have just escalated. And, what if I had shot the guy? Or somebody else? Truthfully, I would have rather had my car smashed with that bat and maybe been put in the hospital than had to deal with that.
My hands were still shaking when I got to rock climbing class. I got there fine and got certified as a climber. Kind of funny because I am scared of ladders. Rock climbing is much better because of the ropes, but it will take me some time to get over the fear of falling. What the deal is with this certification, I have no idea. I don't really think it means anything, and I don't really know if there is some sort of professional rock-climbing certification board or governing body or any shit like that. I don't even think I will get anything to hang on my wall.
Sunday I went out to the Everglades and took an airboat ride through the swamp. At least, I thought the Everglades area is a swamp. I found out yesterday, though, that it is a big huge river, one of the slowest moving in the world (about 250 feet per day). There are TONS of alligators out there. We saw probably 20 of them on our ride of about 30 minutes. I thought it was going to be like when you go to other national parks or whatever and you NEVER see any bears or anything, but no! Aliigators don't give a fuck. They are incredible...I love them.
After the boat ride, we saw an informative alligator thing with this guy with huge sideburns (they were ridiculous, really, and he was about 30 years old. It was ludicrous) in this pit with like 10 alligators. He was feeding them meat and talking a lot about the environment, but he wasn't very smart...it was kind of a shame, because it didn't really seem like he liked his job very much. Maybe it was a bad day for him, but at least the alligators were really, really neat.
That's all I have for now. Have a great day ladies.
I'll start out the entry with that, becuse it is by far the most interesting thing that has happened.
OK, down to business: it was an eventful weekend. I'll get to the baseball bat part in a little bit.
Thursday, I made dinner for a few of my friends. Yes, I can cook like a motherfucker. Filet mignon, grilled corn on the cob, grilled asparagus (with a warm bacon and garlic viniagrette; this was unbelievable), and a light summer spinach salad with strawberries, sun-dried tomatoes, raspberries, and almonds. Janice and Juliette are both Colombian. They were amazed at the dinner. Hell, I was so happy with the asparagus I almost cried. I had to explain to them a little bit about American cuisine outside of the South Florida Hispanic influence.
I live in Miami. In fact, I live in Coral Gables, AKA Cuban Central. I am a few blocks from Calle Ocho and I am definitely the only Gringo in my neighborhood. The Cubans are alright. They love America, and they take care of their own, and they take care of themselves. Coral Gables is a beautiful city. The community is very family-oriented, and people have money. The thing is, I don't fit in, at all. Also, I don't cook beans and rice with every fucking meal of the day.
My computer broke on Thursday. It was working, then it wasn't. I had a hell of a time figuring it out, and still don't know what happened. I ended up replacing the case with a much better one, but also bought a new mainboard and power supply which I didn't need...it was the RAM. I had 2 gigs of DDR2 400Mhz in there running on dual channel mode. Had no problem with the RAM for months. After looking at everything else, I decided to check the RAM. Wish I would have done it before; I would have saved myself $300. In any case, both sticks work, but not together anymore. I have no idea what the problem is...since this is my hobby, I have to figure it out, but imagine...three days with no porn! I was dying.
I mentioned before about that activities club I joined. I went to my first events this weekend. This is where the baseball bat guy comes in.
I was on my way to rock climbing class, way down in Kendall. Driving West on 8th St, there was this guy in a shitbox Mitsubishi driving all crazy at 10 AM. Miami traffic is funny...people either drive 100 MPH or 20 MPH. Stoplights are frustrating because people wait a long time to start moving, and then, they drive really slow for half a block and then zoom like crazy to the next light. Everyone is a self-employed handyman or tree trimmer, so there are all these white cargo vans all over that you cn't see around. It's enough to relly make you crzy. This guy in the Mitsubishi was out of control, though. He was driving mere inches from the bumpers of others, changing lanes at random, obviously trying to get through traffic, but there was no way. People like him really need to calm the fuck down or leave earlier. In any case, at one point he got behind me. I really don't like people that close to my car. I 'tapped' my brakes. I did not slam them down. I didn't even slow down. I 'tapped' my brakes, that's it.
Boy, did he flip out. Driving like an animal, swerved into oncoming traffic to get around me, and stopped in the middle of the block with me behind him. *th St is a busy street, so traffic was now blocked for quite a ways. He gets out of his car. Typical Cuban guy, shaved head, expensive sunglasses, gold chain, goatee, and an undershirt. It's like the Cuban uniform for men aged 16-30. He opens his trunk and pulls out a baseball bat. I swear to god he was going to hit my car with it. He threatens me with the bat and challenges me to a fight, right there in the street.
Yeah, right pal. First, fighting ain't my bag. Second, I'm not going to jail for this fuck.
He throws the bat back in his back seat and zooms off. OK, whatever. In a few blocks, he gets into the left hand turn lane. I'm just driving along with traffic, whatever. I decide I need to flip him off, though. Oh, I am a brilliant one! He peels out of the turn lane and is chasing me around 8th St like a maniac.
Well, now my hands are shaking, thinking this guy is going to fucking kill me or something. I called 911 and got cut off. I called again and the lady transferred me to the FHP. The FHP told me to call the police. I called 911 again, the lady transferred me to the police and I got an answering machine. This whole time I am driving through residential neighborhoods (not all crazy mind you, just trying to get away from this crazy asshole). Finally I lost him, but the police asked if I would stop and wait for a cruiser.
Hell no...I ain't sticking around here. I booked out of there quick.
I can't fight. I don't want to fight. I am to pretty to be hit. Plus, the thought of actually hurting somebody else makes me sick. No way, man. This incident made me want to get a gun for my car...but that's just stupid, too. Given the same situation, if I had a gun, it would have just escalated. And, what if I had shot the guy? Or somebody else? Truthfully, I would have rather had my car smashed with that bat and maybe been put in the hospital than had to deal with that.
My hands were still shaking when I got to rock climbing class. I got there fine and got certified as a climber. Kind of funny because I am scared of ladders. Rock climbing is much better because of the ropes, but it will take me some time to get over the fear of falling. What the deal is with this certification, I have no idea. I don't really think it means anything, and I don't really know if there is some sort of professional rock-climbing certification board or governing body or any shit like that. I don't even think I will get anything to hang on my wall.
Sunday I went out to the Everglades and took an airboat ride through the swamp. At least, I thought the Everglades area is a swamp. I found out yesterday, though, that it is a big huge river, one of the slowest moving in the world (about 250 feet per day). There are TONS of alligators out there. We saw probably 20 of them on our ride of about 30 minutes. I thought it was going to be like when you go to other national parks or whatever and you NEVER see any bears or anything, but no! Aliigators don't give a fuck. They are incredible...I love them.
After the boat ride, we saw an informative alligator thing with this guy with huge sideburns (they were ridiculous, really, and he was about 30 years old. It was ludicrous) in this pit with like 10 alligators. He was feeding them meat and talking a lot about the environment, but he wasn't very smart...it was kind of a shame, because it didn't really seem like he liked his job very much. Maybe it was a bad day for him, but at least the alligators were really, really neat.
That's all I have for now. Have a great day ladies.
Though I am making a little dinner tonight.
salmon, rice, asparagus and portebella in a butter garlic type sauce.
Though yours sounds better
I wish I had a grill or not an 8th floor of a downtown apartment where I could have a grill.