Tear Gas is Unfriendly

I rode along with the crime scene unit today as part of the 2007 trace section project to get us thinking more about case assessment and the importance of each item of evidence in a case. Unfortunately, you can't really schedule homicides, so I went out on two different robbery cases instead of something truly uber-cool.

Nevertheless, something interesting did occur... A pawn shopped was robbed - and it was the third time the CST I was riding along with had actually been to this place. Two dudes smashed up the glass jewelery counter and stole the money from the registers and ran out. Just a short while down the road, the dye pack planted in with their stolen goods exploded. They chucked it from their car and the manager of the pawn shop walked down the street and recovered it, bringing it back to the store for our arrival.

Now, these dye packs are made of real (likely out of circulation) money. They look like real money and are all bundled up together like real money. But I'm not quite sure what makes them detonate and make the dye go all over the place... oh, and there's something else I didn't know about them: they also contain mace or pepper spray or tear gas or something. I see how that is an effective tool in a car with closed windows, and I totally know why these dudes threw it out of their car.

I didn't really come within four feet of the dumb thing and I can still sort of taste it and feel the back of my throat being all itchy and burning. Now, this is not my sore throat acting up - it's healed itself and hasn't been bothering me the last two days. And it's not so much my throat, but the very back of my nose, right above my throat, going into my sinuses or whatever the heck is back there. (If that makes any sense.) Anyway, I'm glad I wasn't technically the CST in this case because she was feeling a lot more from this than I was.

So, the lesson here is, don't steal stuff. (It's not just banks, this came from a pawn shop!) Trust me, you seriously don't want to come anywhere close to whatever they release from those things in any sort of concentrated form. It is not pleasant. I was barely exposed and and hour later, I can still feel its effects.

And all this time I thought it was just dye in those things. Who knew? Movies really don't educate you very well, do they?


End Blog.

You Can't Stop the Beat

I went and saw Hairspray on Friday night. While Amanda Bynes' Penny Pingleton was sorely underused, and Link didn't sing "Without Love" directly to Tracy, there's not much else bad I can say about the film.

It's energetic and fun, and several times the theater burst into applause after a number, like you would expect on Broadway. When "You Can't Stop the Beat" played on screen, my theater actually clapped along with the finale. You really couldn't stop the beat.

The tongue-in-cheek humor and complete campiness were delightful. John Travola did a fabulous job as Edna Turnblad and watching him and Christopher Walken dance and sing "Timeless to Me" together actually completed my life. I didn't know I'd have that reaction to it, but I honestly think that I can die happy now.

James Marsden (Cyclops from the X-Men) was dreamy. I think I fell in love with him and his total corniness, most of all.

It's a bubble-gum musical that keeps you dancing in your seat and orgasmicly happy the entire movie. You have to have a heart of stone and hate your inner child to not fall in love with this movie. It's the most entertainment I've seen on screen all year and the best movie-musical I've ever had the pleasure of viewing.

I'll be buying the DVD when it comes out. It's brilliant.

GO. SEE. THIS. MOVIE.

NOW.

(You can find clips of the movie here.)
I totally want to see this movie again...


End Blog.

Gulp? Wishful Thinking.

I have quite possibly the worst sore throat that I have ever had. I'm not really complaining that much because I can breathe and if I don't think about swallowing too much, I can handle the action well enough. I just thought I'd try to take picture of my tonsils for the sole purpose of hopefully grossing someone out... well, and to see how good my internal photography is. Truth is, I think I could do a lot better if it was someone else's throat.

You can also notice that I have no cavities. And a very small space in which to actually ingest food. These pictures just don't do it justice, really. I mean... there are cool yellow pustules that you can't even see in these. It's a serious bummer, but I can't keep my mouth open long enough to manage an awesome picture of the ickiness.

Also, I think I have a fever and might be slightly delusional, as I thought taking these pictures and putting them on the internet would be a cool idea.


End Blog.

Flat Tires in the Summer Time

Right around the fourth time you have a flat tire in the past six years, you stop caring about several things. The first is the warranty. As long as your tires are covered, nothing will ever happen to them. But even lifetime warranties have no guarantee, and if you have one, there will be some circumstance that will default it - like, you've moved out of the service area that you would have been guaranteed under. Or, I'm sure, dozens of other small matters that would void whatever it is that your warranty was supposed to protect you from. I've decided that I just don't care. A warranty that I have paid for has NEVER saved me money.

The second is cost. Tires are expensive. Chances are, I'll be buying new ones within the next two years. I have accepted this as my fate in life. It's a crumby fate, but it is my place, and I suppose someone in the universe had to fill it. What's your fate? Maybe we can trade.

Third, the tires for my car will never, ever be in stock, anywhere - and the fact that the tire stores can miraculously get them within a few hours leads me to believe that they are liars. Big, fat, mean liars. Someday, if I ever have to buy all four tires as new, I will buy something from the floor models... but, seeing as how I have to buy new tires biyearly, this will never happen to me. Unless I blow more than two next time, at which time, I should probably give up driving completely.

Four: I still can't actually change a tire. It's not for lack of knowledge. I mean, having a flat tire every two years, you retain the knowledge. You might be a little rusty, but you know where all the parts go and how the mechanics of the operation works. I still cannot, however, budge any of the lug nuts. Inevitably I have had my tires rotated or other such fun and they've been put on with an air compressor that my measly muscles cannot overcome. Or, one step back from there, I can't even get the spare out from underneath my car with the little crank thing that's strategically placed in my bumper. I will have more flat tires. I will not change them. This has been accepted.

Also, for added fun, my spare tire rim is 17 inches while my regular car rims are 16 inches, so I can't put an old tire on the spare and have an extra tire for next time this happens (because there will be a next time). And seeing as how I just spent a small fortune on tires - which you need and use daily but don't really appreciate until you don't have one - I'm not going to buy a new rim for my spare so that I can have a real, full-sized tire. I'm not even sure a real, full-sized tire would fit in the well underneath my car that houses my spare anyway.

But you know what? It's gotten to the point where I just don't care anymore. Fact: Sometime during next summer, or the one after that, I will completely ruin another tire.

I have accepted my tire fate. May it be the only car issue I ever have.


End Blog.