New server job at local gastropub in Seattle

Well, I found myself a job. I haven't worked since I left CBA in November and it's been a good time for me to figure out what's next, travel and relax. But all good things must come to an end.
I've been looking for a server/waiter job and they're actually pretty tough to find here in Seattle. Mostly, because they all want you to have 1+ year of experience and I haven't worked in a restaurant since college (yes, I was Chuck E Cheese for those of you who didn't know. That's another story - here are 4 posts of mine that will shed a little light on this amazing experience). Other than Chuck E Cheese I worked at Chick-Fil-A and Cracker Barrel in high school and college, for about 3 years total between the jobs.

Anyway, I found a restaurant about 5 minute drive from my apartment and they were willing to hire an inexperienced server and train me up. I went in for a "working interview" and when the bartender suddenly got sick and went home, it was just me and the manager serving the entire restaurant. She told me I could go home, but I asked if I could stay and help and it was a good thing. We were totally slammed and I got to do just about everything: pour beer, run food, learn the restaurant POS system very quickly and more. By the end of the night, she appreciated what I did so much and saw the fact that I picked up on things quickly, was good with the customers, and had good common sense she offered me the job. The restaurant is called Traveler Montlake, a gastropub located in ...you guessed it...Montlake, an area of Seattle.

It's about a year old, and make the Thrillist list of Seattle's Best New Restaurants.
So here's the weird thing about Washington State: all servers are required to take a course and get a food handlers card, plus their MAST certification (Mandatory Alcohol Server Training). Eight hours later of online training and useless information like where warning signs need to be posted in a restaurant, I now have both permits (oh, and $30 in fees). I've heard the theory that since there's no income tax in Washington, this is a way for the state to bring in additional money, but regardless, some of the training was helpful especially for someone who hasn't been in the restaurant business for a while.
I'll be working there Wednesday and Friday nights (they're only open from 4pm - midnight) and hopefully pick up some additional shifts in between. It should be a good change- I was in much need of a self-esteem boost and motivation to do something. So, thanks to all those who prayed and had best wishes for me finding a job. I'll keep you posted!

Dear massage therapist

Dear massage therapist,

There's something I keep meaning to tell you, but it's awkward at the moment it happens.  So, here it goes:

Please stop talking to me while you give me a massage.  If I wanted to pay big bucks to talk with someone, I would go see a counselor.  Please note that the first word in your title is "Massage" and you asking me questions while you're supposed to be performing your primary job duty is distracting, and quite frankly, disturbing to my relaxation.

It's hard for me to talk while my face is enclosed in a small cushy pillow with a hole in the center.  My words don't really come out right and I frequently fear that I will drool on your feet while trying to compose a sentence.

Really, even if I get a discount session by purchasing from Groupon or Living Social, it's still not worth it if I have to constantly answer your questions.

Thanks for listening and I'm sorry I wasn't able to tell you to shut up during my massage.  Also, please pass this message along to any of your dentist friends.

Thanks
Ejucated Guy

I totally got hooked up today.  I placed an order with Fathead.com which produces life size cut-outs of sports figures, cool art, and many others things which stick directly on your wall. No frame or anything else - just right on the wall.  They come off easily too.  You should check it out if you've never seen their stuff.

Anyway, I ordered a dry erase board....that was it.  But I got life-sized cutouts of every Disney princess along with it! Yeah, I know! Awesome!  I'm going to make my office the princess room!  Okay, not really.

Tax Time: Don't take the Douglas Bruce approach

Well, I have to admit I look for any possible reason to delay doing my taxes....but I still do my taxes.  I have money earned from my improv group (not much), and my own company which provides corporate training (even less), plus a W2 from where ever I'm working this year (constantly changing). But despite my procrastination, I still do my taxes!

If you don't understand the references, we recently had "anti-tax crusader" (as the Denver Post calls him) Douglas Bruce get 180 days in prison plus "six years of strictly supervised economic probation" for tax evasion (not exactly sure what supervised economic probation is, but it sounds similar to having to check with your parents before spending your allowance). Judging from his photos, he's spent most of his extra tax money on food.

Yep, he's got it figured out with a slew of charges including attempting to influence a public servant, filing a false return and tax evasion (Read more: Doug Bruce sentenced to 180 days in jail, six years probation for tax evasion - The Denver Post http://www.denverpost.com/breakingnews/ci_19955019#ixzz1mKLzQQuV). His initials are DB - what did you expect (now, think of references in your mind which have the initials "d" and "b").

Anyway, I have a few months left before I land myself in the cluster he's set up for himself.
So do your taxes, kids!

Now we know, and knowing is half the battle!

Dear Makers of Tag Body Spray

Seems a bit shady to me

 

I was driving down Fillmore today when I spotted this. Does this seem a bit sketchy to anyone else?

Gifts that will not be forgotten

My Great Grandma Goodenough (God rest her soul) use to send me and my cousins boxes of random things growing up. I believe she intended them as gifts and perhaps even thought we might use the items. Sometimes these gift packs were for a specific holiday and sometimes we just got them out of the blue.
You see, my grandma was a garage sale shopper. She always liked to find a deal, even if it wasn't really a deal. I once went along with her to find these gems. That particular day, she bought some plastic figurines which she later super-glued to the dashboard of her 1978 Chevy Caprice. She also tried on some used lipstick at one of the garage sales, but decided it wasn't her color and put it back.
When I was in college, my entire dorm floor would gather around when I got a box from her because the contents were always so random. For instance, one Christmas, I got a white knit stocking cap (made for a child or perhaps even an infant - keep in mind, I was about 18 years old). The best part was after talking with my brother, who was 6'4" 260lb college football player, I found out he scored with the matching infant gloves in his box. Yeah, grandma never really had a good concept of the type of things we might actually enjoy or use, but she kept trying; and kept sending, again and again.
We got everything you can imagine from garage sales across Iowa, from dirty stuffed animals, to kitchen utensils, to food that was often in a questionable state by the time it arrived at our house.
Perhaps some of the best and most memorable gifts was a bright red sweatshirt with a giant screen printed teddy bear on the front. The teddy bear print had a great big smile, open arms, and was surrounded by pink and blue hearts. At the top, it said, "I need a hug." I would have been killed instantly if I would have worn it anywhere.
But I think my all-time favorite gift, which I regret now not holding onto for memory sake, was a baby-blue mesh hat, with the words carefully embroidered on the front, "My love belongs to my Daddy." As an added touch, my name was thoughtfully airbrushed above the words.
At times, we questioned her sanity and would try to visit her so she could see how old we actually were with the hope that it might sink in that she was sending us stuff we could never use. Unbelievably, despite her poor judgment on picking gifts out for us, she always remembered exactly what she sent each of the grandkids. Needless to say, it was always awkward when she asked me face-to-face how I liked the teddy bear sweatshirt, customized faux trucker hat, and kitchen accessories.

Funny, I don't remember that...

If you've been reading my blog you know that I got a new puppy last September. She's a rescue dog, so I don't know exactly what the mix is, but definitely some lab. But that's not the point. You see, I keep finding black dog hair in weird places.
It's funny, because I don't remember telling her she could get on the couch...but there's hair there.
It's funny, because I don't remember seeing her sit on the toilet seat..............but there's hair there.
It's funny, because I don't remember telling her to help herself to my Lucky Charms...but there's hair there.
It's funny, because I don't remember her crawling through my miniblinds....but there's hair there.
It's funny, because I don't remember her changing my furnace filters....but there's hair there.
It's funny, because I don't remember her making me coffee in the morning...but there's hair there.
It's funny, because I don't remember seeing her using my iPod headphones...but there's hair there.
It's funny, because I don't remember watching her fold my laundry...but there's hair there.
It's funny, because I don't remember noticing her crawl through all the heating vents...but there's hair there.
It's funny, because I don't remember driving herself to the vet in my car...but there's hair there.
It's funny, because I don't remember her putting on my Oakley's on a sunny day...but there's hair there.
It's funny, because I don't remember her weighing herself on my scale...but there's hair there.
It's funny, because I don't remember the last time she used my laptop to get online...but there's hair there.
You get the point. I guess the good news is she's with me where ever I go.

Blocks of wood make great gifts

As I procrastinate on my Christmas shopping again this year, I remembered one of my all-time worst gifts which I so graciously gave to my only brother. Sorry Chad.

I think I was about 11 years old and I had this cool box car kit. It came with wheels, nails to put the wheels on, and a wood block. It sat in my drawer for a long time until I decided that I was going to put it to good use and make a really cool, homemade gift for my older brother, Chad. He is my only sibling, which is unfortunate, because he got lots of crappy gifts from me and had no other source for gifts except my parents.

So, I started on my project. I went out to the garage and started carefully shaving wood chunks off what was meant to be the front of the car. Thankfully, I had my trusty cub scout pocket knife to assist me, but after carving off the edges to create my masterpiece (a grueling 20 minutes or so) I realized it was going to be pretty hard work and it was going to take a while. I decided I needed a break and went inside for a glass of lemonade. Unfortunately, I never worked on it again and before I knew it Christmas had rolled around. So, I put the wheels on (but I did that wrong because they didn't actually turn) and wrapped it up (actually, I think I had my mom wrap it). I didn't paint it. I didn't draw cool logos on it. I just ... put the wheels on. It didn't even look like a car. It looked like a piece of wood that had been used as a door jam for a while ... and then someone ... put wheels on it. As you can expect, it wasn't his favorite Christmas. Sorry Chad.

More creative than you think

I'm not sure why, but when I was young (like, really young...4 or 5 years old), after finishing going to the bathroom, I would close the lid, turn around and sit backwards on the toilet. Then, I would flush it while pretending I was starting up a truck and driving away. The good news is I always remembered to flush so I guess my mom was happy with my little game. It's been years since I've done that....seriously. However, I still remember to flush. I think it's random creativity like this that led me to improv later in life.

"It's the worst thing you can think of"

With mother's day approaching, I thought I would share some life lessons from mom.

When I was about 6 years old, my brother and I were playing football in the front yard and our annoying neighbor (Otis) came up to our house. He wanted to be included in the fun, but we really weren't interested in his company. After he asked a few times and we told him to go home, it was obvious he wasn't going to give up and we needed to take further action.

So, my brother being the smart one had me do the dirty work. My brother holds up his middle finger and tells me to go up to Otis, put it in his face and say, "Get off our property." Nice Chad. Me, being the young innocent non-tainted mind sibling had no idea what it meant but apparently it was a nice way to tell Otis to go home. So, I did it. Otis marched right past me through our yard, rang the doorbell and informed my mom of what I did. "Thank you, Otis" she replied...."Now go home" (she didn't really like him either). I knew by the tone of her voice when she called me inside that I probably shouldn't have listened to Chad's solution for getting Otis home. "Toby, we NEVER do that" my mom said. I was clueless and said, "Why not? What does it mean?" Instead of giving my six-year-old mind descriptive details, she just said, "It's the worst thing you can think of." WOW! I felt terrible and I'm sure the horrified look on my face communicated to my mother that I would never do that again, at least not until I was old enough to start driving.

A few weeks later, I was spending the night at a friends house in his tent in the backyard and we were telling dirty jokes and eating the white bread we snuck into the tent. (Yeah, white bread. Apparently that was the best we could come up with). Anyway, I decided to share my insight with my friend, Jonathan, so I held up my middle finger and said, "Check this out....it means POOP!"

Things I Miss From Childhood

These are the things that made my childhood so cool:

MR BUBBLE

Heck with Rubber Ducky, Mr Bubble made bath time lots of fun for me. My mom would always measure a tiny capful, then when she left the bathroom we would add another few cups of Mr Bubble to the water. If you read up on Mr. Bubble, it was actually intended to encourage kids to take baths. Worked for me - I took a bath every Saturday night until I was 16 (This statement is for humorous purposes only. It is not intended to represent or classify actual time spent bathing).

SUPERMAN PAJAMAS & UNDEROOS
Oh yeah, these were very cool. I ran around in them all day, jumping from the 4th stair so my cape could flap in the wind a bit and I could feel the thrill of flying for 0.2 seconds. After a full day of super activities in my pj's, I would wear them to bed. I'm sure they had an awful stench.

BIG WHEELS

I'm not sure why these were so popular. I guess they were good for kids like me who didn't learn to ride a 2-wheel bike until later than most children. But the design of Big Wheels seemed a little sub-par. No matter how fast you pedaled, the flat tractionless plastic wheels just kept spinning. If you were riding along with your friends, there was no hope for talking to eachother because the plastic on pavement made so much noise, you had stop just to make sense of any conversation. Plus, the brakes on those...uummmm, I don't think they would have really served you well in a true emergency based on the fact you would still skid a good 5 feet after fully applying the brake pedal. Perhaps that most dangerous part of these cheap plastic contraptions was going down a hill where you could no longer move your legs fast enough to keep up with the pedals and you ended up whacking the hell out of your chins and feet. Way to go on introducing pain to children at an early age Mr. Big Wheel.

LAZER TAG

Very retro. Padded vest and dorky trucker hats with sensors provided hours of fun. They also used gobs of batteries and after a few stuntman dives across the floor, the guns didn't work so well.

ZOTS

There were two types of Zots. One, (Zotz) were an individually wrapped hard candy available at the local 7-11 that had a fizzy-center filling. The second type of zot was the typical boy invention - pieces of ordinary paper, folded up many times, then folded in half. Often times, we would put tape around them as well. Then, you wrap them around a rubber band and shoot them at each other like a sling shot. We had hours of zot wars in our basement growing up. My moms only requirement was that we wore goggles to protect our eyes. We also used our Lazer Tag vest to protect our core since the lazer tag set pretty much broke after the first few months we had it. We were huge dorks, but it was lots of fun. It was sort of a younger version of "Paint Ball" - we had many welts and red marks from some brutal zot shots.

Thanks for reflecting with me, and thanks to Stef N for the inspiration to write on Mr Bubble.

I'm chewing the ocean

True Story: I was out with my (then) girlfriend to Black Eyed Pea for lunch. The waitress knew me, because I had given her a hard time in the past. At one point, I begged, "Please don't spit in my food" and from then forward, it was her joke everytime I came in. I would order chicken fried steak, green beans, and mashed potatoes and she would ask, "Would you like spit in that?" Yeah, I didn't think it was funny either. Anyway, this particular day, she asked the same question and I responded, "You know, I hope you really don't spit in my food or poison it every time I come here." Ha, ha, ha we had a good laugh, blah, blah, blah. Part of her daily pitch of specials included a Blackberry cobbler, made fresh for the lunch hour rush. We were there around 1pm for a late lunch, and I was surprised there was any left when I ordered some for dessert. So, back to the conversation with my girlfriend (she's married now, I kind of blew that one). We were having a fairly serious conversation and she was close to tears as I took my first bite of cobbler....there was something terribly wrong. It was, perhaps, the worst thing I've ever had in my mouth. I didn't want to cause a scene or interrupt the serious conversation, so I kept chewing, gagging, and finally swallowed what tasted like a huge bite of chunky ocean water. Finally, Sarah (the relationship I once had) noticed by the contortions in my face that something was wrong and paused the conversation to check in on me. Yeah, it was bad. I knew immediately - they made the cobbler with salt instead of sugar. Apparently, I was the 1st lucky customer of the day to test the awful mix of ingredients. I'm still not sure why I didn't just spit it out. So, we called the waitress over to inquire why she really went through with the threat of poisoning my food. She alerted the manager, who made the entire staff try the disgusting concoction and then they threw away all 6 pans of the wretched mix. Really, I can't ever have Blackberry cobbler again. Thanks Black Eyed Pea for a ruined relationship and bad food.

Thinking back, TV shows saved my life

We're so funny as kids - we create the weirdest games with our siblings and friends, and somehow they are fun and become tradition. In fact, many times the rules are "unspoken" but you just KNOW what you can and can't do.
For instance, when my brother and I would watch TV growing up, we played a little game. It doesn't have a name, so we'll call it "Beat to Death in 2.5 Minutes." Basically, whenever we were watching TV together, at the start of any commercial break we would start wrestling. It could be dangerous, because if you didn't "see the commercial coming," you would suddenly receive a blow to the head, tackle from behind, or a shoe flying through the air in your direction. We would absolutely ravage each other for the 2.5 minute commercial break, but as soon as the show started you had to stop whatever you were doing. This factor often saved my life as my brother was crushing me under his 200 pound body while he laughed as he made me punch myself with my own hands (I hated that one - I could never figure out how to stop it when he grabbed me by the wrist and made me punch my own face). Thankfully, as soon as GI Joe, Ducktales, or C.H.i.P.S came back on my life was suddenly extended for another good 15 minutes. Sometimes it amazes me I made it through childhood. Oh, yeah...sorry if you didn't know this, mom. This is how the wall got punctured in the kitchen. My head got crushed between Chad's massive body and the drywall.

Wanna Treat?!? It's still warm...

I just spent the last 8 days dogsitting my parents two dogs. I don't know why I don't have a dog...oh..wait...I remember. Because I don't enjoy picking up steaming hot dog poop with my hand wrapped around Tuesday's blue newspaper bag. Notice, I didn't say Sunday's bag. That's because the Sunday paper is stuffed with ads and that Parade Magazine that no one reads. All that extra weight usually results in the paper hitting the porch a little harder at 4AM on Sunday morning when the unemployed Intel worker delivers my paper. The force of his anger and the extra weight of the paper usually rips a hole in the corner of the Sunday bag and that makes for poor protection of my hands 30 seconds after the dogs have pinched off a fresh one in the neighbors yard. Although, even after a short week of this delightful duty, I started learning other tricks to save time and the feeling of repulsiveness of picking up Pedigree biproducts. For instance, if you carry a bag along with you while you walk the dogs and throw some rocks in it, then bend down and grab a handful of grass directly next to the target, the neighbors think you're cleaning it up. Also, I was a little confused what to do with the bags full of poop? Is it okay to just throw those away in the Bestway dumpster? I hope so. Sorry Bestway...oh, and sorry to the neighbors who's yard I left poop in and just pulled some of their grass out.

What's under YOUR bed?

Have you ever stayed at "one of those" hotels? Last weekend, I went up to Denver for 2 events. First, there was the Great American Beer Festival on Thursday night and then the Denver Improv Festival on Friday and Saturday. I decided that I didn't really care to fight Denver traffic both morning and night, so I got a hotel room. If you don't know me, let me tell you that I'm not exactly a "planner". So, 2 days before I went to Denver, I started buying my tickets for the fesitvals and checking on hotels. Unfortunately, there were a lot of major events going on in the city that weekend and rooms were hard to find. However, I thought I had found the deal that everyone else had somehow overlooked. A hotel room for $40 per night! What a steal - man, am I lucky. I don't know how everyone else passed this up! It was just on the other side of the bridge from downtown on Speer at the highly-exclusive Knights Inn. Well, I quickly figured out why there was still vacancy. It was a small, cinder block building painted a beautiful dirt-cream color, with a spacious courtyard in the center. The rooms were still decorated for this century, with Goodwill quality couches and hammock style beds (meaning you roll to the middle no matter where you lay on the bed). There was no alarm clock, or clock at all for that matter, so you can just relax in your flea-bag room and not worry about the time. Although, relaxing on the bed was hard since there was a glass sliding door just inches from the bed that exited to the ground level courtyard where you could buy any variety of the latest street drugs. Now let's venture back to the bathroom. The yellow-tinted lights made it difficult to see if the tile was actually yellow too, but there was just enough light to verify a large brown stain on the cheap white towels. Mmmmm. Although the water initially spurted out dark brown, it quickly turned an off-yellow color, probably safe for brushing your teeth...I think. Let's go back out to the main room and relax......OHHHH...WHAT'S THAT SMELL? Yeah, it was late Thursday night when I caught a whif of a very bad odor...like baby poop. My first thought jumped back to an episode of Myth Busters where an unsuspecting couple found a dead body decomposing under their bed. So, I looked behind the olive green couch - no, not there - then under the bed. AHA! A half-eaten english muffin (which is funny since the hotel didn't provide breakfast) and a baby sippy cup further under the bed. Okay. Let's head back to the bathroom, puke a little, and then get a trash bag. I stuck my hand inside, wrapped it around my arm, layed on the bed and reached WAY under to grab the clear sippy cup. I had definitely found the source of the stench. Apparently, Junior wasn't very hungry and tossed his breakfast under the bed a few months ago. The sippy cup had a large, white,rock-hard piece of chunky milk in it. Back to the bathroom to vomit a little more, and then out to the dump with my check-in surprise. Thank you Knights in for two lovely nights in Denver - for only $89.99 with tax!

Jobs we never admit to

Thinking back on all the jobs I've had, I start to wonder: What was I thinking? As you know if you've read my blog, I was Chuck E Cheese for a while. I remember actually thinking as I applied how cool it would be to wear around that huge rat costume. Truth be told, it was terrible. It was so hot - you're covered by layers of padded fur and you have to dance every hour. The mini fan in the head of Chuck E doesn't come close to cooling you down. I used to sweat so much, my glasses would slide off my face inside the Chuck E head. Plus, you've got kids pulling a tugging on you wanting constant attention. I think parents who don't give thier kids enough attention take them to Chuck E Cheese. That way, they can get hugs and have someone hold thier hand as they walk around, while mom and dad sit at the table drinking cheap beer and even worse wine. I guess those help wash down the awful pizza and make parents forget they don't give their kids enough attention. Then kids can win cheesy prizes for playing games and collecting tickets. I don't know what the attraction is, but I'll admit I loved going there as a kid too. But working there was a whole different story. What was I thinking?

Drooling while you sleep can be socially awkward

When I was in high school, I went to a white water rafting camp in Oregon. Basically, it was a week long and we went white water rafting every other day. It was perhaps one of the greatest weeks of my life and full of memories. One memory in particular was not so good. After a long day of rafting, I was headed home on the short bus with the other kids from my raft group. The girl next to me was obviously exhausted from the day and fell asleep almost as soon as we sat down. I didn't know her at all - never met her, never seen her, except for that day and even that day I never actually talked to her. So, about 10 minutes into the ride her head falls onto my shoulder. Let's be honest - she was really not all that attractive so it was one of those awkward moments - I didn't want to wake her up and embarrass her, but I also really didn't want her snoozing on my shoulder. But, being the nice guy I was, I didn't wake her up. A few minutes later, the bus started heading down a hill and her body wasn't prepared for the transition. The next thing I knew her whole body flopped over and her head was in my lap. As her face slapped against the back of my hand in my lap, she immediately woke up, sat straight up and looked at me with this horrified expression, then laid her head against the bus window and went back to sleep. The whole thing happened so fast, I was still trying to piece it together when I noticed the entire back-side of my hand covered in a pool of warm drool. This wasn't just a droplet, we're talking a full, chipmunk-size-storage mouthful. So, I grabbed her shirt that was sitting on the seat next to her and soaked it up - what! I wasn't going to wipe it on my clothes! I don't think she ever fully knew what happened...it's probably better that way.

Tossing the salad

Well, as some of you know, I used to work at Chuck E Cheese pizza. Although I was only there for 5 months, I gained many stories and life lessons from that awful place....most aren't worth telling, but here's a good one.
When I wasn't "in Chuck E Cheese" as we say in the industry (i.e. dressed up in the costume getting punched by children) I was a host. Basically, I was a personal slave to grouchy parents for 1.5 hours at a time. They would book their special birthday party for Jimmy and invite all his little friends and I would set up the birthday table and serve them greasy pizza and cheap sheet cake. One Friday night was particularly busy with a full dining room of parties so I was rushing around trying to keep up. As I headed pass the salad bar back to the kitchen I had no idea what I was about to walk into. Someone had diligently mopped the tile floor after a major soda spill created by one of the little pipsqueaks but failed to put up that annoying bright yellow sign that says "Caution: Wet Floor" in Spanish. Feeling rushed from the madhouse of customers, I was walking briskly back to the kitchen when I took one step on the wet tile and...well, let's just say my back hit the floor before you could say "advierta el suelo mojado". However, in that brief second in mid-air I managed to reach out towards the salad bar to try and catch myself. Try is the keyword there. Instead of breaking my fall, I managed to wrap one finger around the crouton dish, one finger around the sunflower seed bowl, and one on the bacon bits....you know, those ugly maroon unbreakable dishes they use on salad bars? I'm not sure how it happened, but all the salad toppings beat me to the floor and I landed in all of them. If it wasn't obviously enough that I had fallen, the three unbreakable dishes bounced around on the floor like a set of drums, drawing even more attention to the guy laying in salad toppings. "Attention all employees. Clean up on aisle one, salad bar. Stat."

Optical illusion? No, just a bad day.

It looks like the front end of a car in the back seat! How is this possible? Optical illusion?
No, just a bad day.
You see, Colorado was hit with a bad snow storm last week and I was one of the many unfortunate people to get stuck in this mess. Interstates and highways were closed, Denver International Airport was shut down, and even the post office was closed for 2 days right before Christmas (rain, snow, sleet, or hail....but apparently not blizzards). For some reason, I decided to go to work (actually, it's still my hobby) and as I pulled into the parking lot of my company my car got stuck in the snow. As I tried to get unstuck, I was throwing the car into reverse and heard an unfortunate noise. That was my front bumper snapping off. Apparently, the underneath side of my bumper cover was serving as a large snow shovel under my car, scooping snow until it couldn't handle any more. I was trying to dig my car out for almost 2 hours and of course, I didn't have a shovel with me, so I was down on my knees reaching under the car, trying to pull the snow out with my hands. Now, I'm left with frost-bite on my knee caps and a rather strange looking car and a bill for over $1,000 for repairs. Donations are always welcome.
Ideally, you should have a Winter Car Kit during this time of year in case this happens to you too. This includes everything from a shovel, to a bag of kitty litter in case you can't go (that's for traction under your tires - it has nothing to do with relieving yourself). Maybe I'll take my own advice and put all the stuff in my car someday.
Anyway, I think it's time to move to Phoenix where I don't have to deal with Colorado snow storms.