July 17th - July 23rd

This last week has been an era of preparation both for my upcoming internship presentation and for my ability to allegorically sell emotionally abused Rottweilers to dog-bite victims. My charge is to get up on stage and in less than three minutes convince the audience that not only did I add value to the company over the summer but I also spent each and every minute of my time helping Chrysler to become more competitive in the market. In an effort to hide the fact that I may not have been the busiest prostitute in the whorehouse I plan to use a shock-and-awe strategy. No, I will not be shooting off fireworks or reciting the names of the Presidents in order from cutest to nudist, but I will start things out with a self-effacing jest. I will lull them into a sense of camaraderie and then smack them in the jowls with backhanded (crit and witt)icisms; the end result hopefully being that I don’t insult anyone enough to get a bad reference, but still leave them sufficiently chastised.


The only other job-related happenings in recent history were the wind tunnel tour and the offering of a full-time job to Sachin by Chrysler. Being a moderate supporter of financial stability, I was interested in the difference between how much he would be paying for law school vs. taking a job and classes at the same time. Seeing as Chrysler pays for school if you are signed on with them, Sachin could potentially end up making 200K+ as opposed to spending 150K over the next four years. Interesting as this information may be, after consulting with relatives the curry-lover has decided that it would be very hard to do school and work simultaneously. Most of our financial discussion took place while we were on the wind tunnel tour.

The caverns beneath hold many a treasure. It felt like we were touring the remnants of some fallen spaceship. We walked into the darkened square mouth of the tunnel, around curves and meshed doorways, until finally arriving at a fan the size of a gargantuan Mexican shanty. Other parts of the basement held massive antennas which shoot frequent frequency bullets at any vehicles in the testing phase. One testing room was snowing, and another was blowing 125 degree air. These test vehicles live a passionate life devoid of reason. One minute they are being singed by giant microwaves, and the next they are thrashing around on a snowy concrete floor.

Over the weekend Greg and I tore over to East Lansing to spend some time with my family. We went out to a pizza dinner with my sister’s volleyball team, half of whom I didn’t and still don’t know. Looks like Big Red (my sister) is growing up, she is second in command and the idea of her at the helm should scare the most iron-hearted soul. My siblings, Greg, and I were able to convince one of Vanessa’s more gullible teammates that Greg was a foster child whom my family had adopted and sheltered during high school. The story went: Greg and Vanessa almost got married during Greg’s senior year, but had to call the wedding off because I suffered from severe bouts of jealousy and what doctors discovered was “Full Nest Syndrome,” the lesser known step-cousin to Empty Nest Syndrome. Greg then decided to go to school out of state, and we (Greg and I) didn’t talk for two years, but then shockingly ended up not only getting the same internship but being placed in the same apartment. We managed to make up, but not before I put Greg in the hospital with a gun shot injury to the knee. Greg showed Vanessa’s teammate his recently acquired knee-scar, and the story’s validity was successfully cemented.

My family, excluding Big Red, followed me back to Auburn Hills to allegedly relax but more realistically to eat. The next night we rolled in and out of Chinese food rivers, covering our bodies and coating our colons in sodium-laced delicacies. I pointed out to all who would listen that the Powers That Be had recently decided to put stop signs on top of the speed bumps that spend the days humping the roads of our apartment complex. In an effort to show my solidarity to the anti-stop sign movement, every time I go over a bump I come to a compete stop right after my front tires hit. As I stare into the sky and wonder why the stop signs are necessary, I cross myself and say a simple prayer to the lesser Godlets of Michigan asking that stop signs be disinvented. After I finally get out of the neighborhood, I blow every stop sign and stoplight that I can find and laugh at my own sincere disregard of the State’s laws. You can spell S-L-A-W with LAWS, and I’ve always hated slaw, cole or otherwise, so please bring me a tastier side dish, legislators.

Salvador has unwittingly revealed one of his few flaws to me in recent weeks, and I have yet to figure out how to use it to my advantage. The first few times he committed the foul, my brain skipped over it, losing the meaning of his slip because of his accent. When I finally realized what he was saying, I very nearly laughed at his face (which coincidently, according to Greg, resembles Mario). Sal pointed at his computer screen and said, “See this asteroid here? This means… ah, what is this? Show me another screen!” The computer, of course, doesn’t respond to his verbal cues, and just sits there, not showing him another screen. I failed to see the asteroid, only seeing an asterisk. And then it hit me. He continued, “When you see the asteroid sitting at the end of the body model it means it applies to all vehicles. The asteroid means… the asteroid. You see?” He then turned to me seeking acknowledgment, but I was already sprinting to the nearest hallway to squeal in laughter. My laugh floated off into space, only to be narrowly missed by a passing asterisk…

(Chess record 16-2)