It was a non-productive day and the boss was out of town, so I took Jamie to get a much overdue smog check. She passed with flying colors. As I sat there waiting, one of the mechanics walked into a storage bay at the end. Soon afterward, I heard an electric guitar. Not a radio or CD, but an actual live electric guitar. I walked over and mechanic #3 was doing his best Carlos Santana all by his lonesome in the storage area. Later, he walked out as if nothing happened. It was a little bizarre. The inspection place only takes cash, so I had to hit an ATM. I started walking to the liquor store a few blocks back and Ernesto, the inspector, said, "no, no. Take your car." Mind you, I already had the "I passed" certificate in my hand. What's to say I wouldn't just drive off and never return? I mean besides my honest nature. I must have a trustworthy face. Fools.
Here's an amusing anecdote for you:
Sarah-Jane brought Tater to work again today since the boss was away. You remember Tater; I mentioned him back here. I was holding him and reveling in his wonderful puppy goodness while Sarah-Jane was petting him. She was trying to pet his belly. She was actually petting my right breast. I said, "Hey, Sar? You're petting my boob." The look on her face was priceless and I laughed out loud. At that moment, Tater decided to lick my face and put his tongue in my mouth. Yes, that's right. I french kissed a puppy, or rather he french kissed me. Sadly, it was the most action I've had in far too long. He's awfully cute, though.