A Hot Dog with Mustard, Please

I used to go to car races. My favorite was drag racing. Within ¼ mile some would reach 300 miles an hour from a standing start. The noise, the sound of the 1200 HP engines and the smell of rubber. The funny cars and the dragsters were my favorites to watch as these were the cars that would go the fastest in a matter of seconds. These are not cars you can drive on the street. They are super custom cars that were designed for power and speed in a straight line.

I did go to a dirt track race once and that was pretty much enough. The race wasn’t very exciting to watch and you pretty much get covered in the dirt that flies around. Not what I would consider an enjoyable experience. The highlight of that night was the frantic call I got from my now ex that my son Jeff’s laptop had a very loud alarm blasting and she didn’t know why or how to shut it off. The combination of the alarm that sounded like a code red alert with the frantic tone of voice and words coming out of her mouth was ridiculously comical.

I asked Jeff if he knew why that was happening and said he did. Of course he did. He said he set the laptop camera towards the door to his room so if anyone tries to get into his room, the camera will see it and the camera will tell the alarm to go off. This whole thing was becoming more entertaining by the minute so with a smile on my face I gave the phone to Jeff and told him to talk to his mother. And as I’m listening to “Mom, why do you need to go into my room?”, she would answer with some questionable responses like, I was going to change the sheets. Sure you were. This would go on for a few minutes and eventually, Jeff talked his Mom off the cliff and got the alarm turned off.

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