This is a clever title

Actually, it's not. But that's what makes it so clever. Get it? Neither do I. So it seems I always reflect on the weekends, but it's true. Since nothing happens during the week, there is nothing to examine or interpret. But weekends are different. Weekends rule. This one started for me on Friday, actually, when I woke up at 3:52AM to see Georgio Bush at the Qwest Center. Anyway, that was cool, even though the security guard made me delete a picture I took with my phone. But wait a minute. How many people around me had cameras? Why were there thousands of flashes during the President's speech on social security? Please explain? Anyway, outside the Qwest Center were protesters, and we gave them what they deserved: comments like, "Get a haircut, hippie," or "Get a job." Then we unintentionally stood behind a news camera, and once we realized the possibility for mischief, well, you probably figured out what happened. We threw snowballs, well, really iceballs at each other and did our Spectrum routine. Bush's motorcade was cool. Tons of cars and motorcycles and limos and those little ear pieces CIA guys wear. Sweet. We returned home at 11:30AM, and I decided I wasn't going back to school. So what was I to do? Rock Ed's world at Halo. Again, there is nothing you can't do with a 100-foot LAN cable. Anyway, I don't want to turn into Harvey Johnson, so let's move along, shall we? Work sucks. I didn't get to my acoustic gig until after I was released, around 10:30PM. Keep in mind I wasn't just listening to music, I was the music; I was playing. Oh well, playing unplugged was interesting, almost as interesting as Donald Trump eating a banana encased with gold. Where the hell did that come from? Man, I tell you, I really shouldn't make these horrible jokes. It's not even a joke, really. It's essentially a rich man who looks like an orangutan consuming a food that an orangutan eats... except this one is gold plated. This is where my post actually has something. This is a story I think you'll enjoy. While coming back from Rob's house, the location of the gig, I drove in the dark construction area on 84th street. I was traveling at a high velocity, maneuvering through cones and barrels flawlessly. Until, when out of nowhere I made my error; a curb grew from the ground right in front of me. Using my superhuman skills, I swerved away with the reaction time of Garfield smelling lasagna. But it was too late. The curb had it's own ideas; it held a grudge against me from second grade, when I wrote "fart" on its side with chalk. The car gave a loud thump and I looked back, only too see dust and smoke flying every which way, concealing the exact location of the curb. Looking back I watched, and seconds ticked by, until finally, a disc flew down into the mess. Was it a UFO? But then I identified it: it was my hubcap. It fell right out of the sky and landed on the ground, literally coming out of nowhere. I stopped and did the only thing I could do: laugh my freakin' head off. I returned to the scene and picked up my hubcap, which is still laying in my trunk. Oh and I forgot to mention, as it seems I am obsessed with feedback and comments, because I so insecure I need other's opinions to comfort me, I encourage you to do so. Those of you without a blog of their own can still leave messages, just click "Post anonymously" or something like that. Now I'm currently off to watch the Huskers game, they're playing ISU. Too bad I don't have courtside seats... -Matt