  Im the living embodiment of a Jimmy Buffet song. Long day at the racetrack, betting little and drinking plenty. Sitting in the sun in a bikini top and shorts, flip-flops cast aside, floppy bucket hat and shades to keep me from melting. None of my horses came in, but since I didnt bet more than 15 bucks all day, it didnt matter. Luis got really quiet by the end of the day, uncharacteristic of that Nicaraguan party machine.
He usually keeps up with me, or more often, surpasses me in stamina. Then again, I havent been going out as much as he has. So I had a blowout. Kind of stumbled on me ould adidas sliders Ive had since high school, and the front half broke off. I left them in an abandoned shopping cart and went on barefoot from there. Luckily I had a spare pair in the car The car that also broke yesterday. Yep, Im looking out the window to see an empty parking spot once again. Thankfully it didnt decide to erupt in a fountain of radiator fluid until I was about to park it at the Kueffners house in Carmel Valley. It would have been quite a bit more angering had it happened whilst hauling ass down the 5. I see steam venting up through the side of the hood of my car as Im awaiting the freeing up of a coveted front row parking space. Not good. The steam shoots up, the girl in the departing car signals for me to roll my window down. You know, all the fluid in your car just - fell out. And indeed it did. Radioactive-looking green fluid bathing the cement.
Oops. Guess some JACKASS at the Nissan dealership improperly replaced the radiator hose that I had repaired. So I call the dealership and read them the riot act. To an answering machine, mind you. No ones open. No way to get my car fixed until Monday. Its Saturday night; things like this arent supposed to happen until business hours. So Im without a car again. Which is alright, save for the fact that I took yesterday off from the gym, and now I have to miss going today too.
At least the weather is spectacular and I can get more tan-time without the guilt of having somewhere else to be, something else more pressing to engage in. I hesitate to turn on the telly. Its about time for Meet the Press, something I usually watch, but for now I think Ill steer clear of any panel discussions that could venture into the topic of the California gubernatorial race. All this time, I had a mild sense of feeling superior to poor Minnesota for having a damned WWF wrestler for a governor.
But now, what do we have? A midget (Gary Coleman), Arnold of Terminator fame, a sobbing Darryl Issa two one-trick ponies for the circus, the other guy the only qualified replacement- pulling out with a hard-to-watch show of emotion. And all these other clowns sending in their 3500 bucks to get their names on the ballot?! I expect to receive some flowers pretty soon, sent by the good people of Minnesota offering their condolences. Now I too hang my head in shame, not wishing to have anything to do with the system thats supposed to reflect and represent me and my fellow statesmen.
The whole thing is awash in controversy. The very idea that Grey Davis is attempting to get his own name on the re-election ballot! Trying to delay the vote Davis is going to have to be knocked down a peg  hes the most friendless politician I can think of. Except for those among the handful who hes done personal favours for. But who to replace him? Cant a serious contender get into the ring, PLEASE? 
